Despite its reputation—in Maurice Horn’s World Encyclopedia of Comics, for example—as a blatant expression of French chauvinism, René Goscinny and Albert Uderzo’s long-running comic series Astérix has joined the pantheon of classic bandes dessinées. Moreover, the diminutive Gaulish hero’s adventures have proven surprisingly exportable; readers from all over western Europe have been willing to laugh at the stereotypes of their own nations, while readers all over the world have accepted the idealized portrait of French “indomitability” as part of the joke. All over? Not quite; for the first attempt to introduce Astérix into West Germany in the mid-1960s, Rolf Kauka’s Siggi and Babarras, infamously sought to leverage the original’s jocular chauvinism into reactionary nationalism, transferring the setting to an ancient Germania that mimicked the American occupation and the rocky relations between the two Germanies. This well-documented travesty was halted by Astérix’ creators, and the license passed to a publisher who treated the source material with more respect. Surprisingly, after such a false start, Astérix has ultimately been embraced nowhere more enthusiastically than in Germany. This embrace has included a number of lesser-known appropriations by the political left (e.g. Asterix and the Nuclear Power Plant) or by feminism (Franziska Becker’s Feminax & Valkürax), in which the encroaching Romans represent internal German forces of oppression, rather than foreign occupiers. At the same time, there have also been apolitical parodies, such as Jens Jeddeloh’s Playing False with Alcolix or the anonymous Asterix presents: Gallas – Scandal at Chewing Ranch. Finally, there have been less transgressive nods to Goscinny and Uderzo’s work, most notably Franz Gerg’s comic series Max and Lucie, which is drawn totally in homage to Uderzo’s style. The number and variety of revisions of Astérix in Germany demonstrate that, however French he may be, Astérix is also seen by many Germans as one of them.