I loved the opening, the first few sections that detailed the rise of comic strips then comics -- and particularly loved Hajdu's ability to weave in great anecdotes (one artist telling how his Mom would make two extra trips to the butcher to get more greasepaper, so he could spend more time tracing his favorites from the Sunday funnies) with incisive critical reflection.
He's also often quite funny, e.g.:
"Comic strips, having been created for an intrinsicially disposable medium, were thought of as worthless after they were printed; they derived their value from their freshness, like produce and journalism (and, to a degree, works of modernism)."
Nice. I was mad when the book-burners and crusaders and psycho-babblers came in to break up the party; the killjoys represented a disruption of the industry and of Hajdu's joyous accounting of that industry, and I hated them on both counts.