Persepolis

Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi

I read this book on a gray winter day in December, but I don’t think it was the weather that made me so cold. The story behind Persepolis gave me chills that wouldn’t go away. I was saddened to the point that I couldn’t even cry; I was simply exhausted.

This book had a typical effect on me in regard to my upbringing. Whenever I read about war or poverty or any type of hardship that entire peoples have to endure, I feel embarrassed by the spoiled white American that I am. While there is incredible, frightening, even debilitating injustice in our country, I don’t think we have any sense of the painful realities in much of the world. I am not belittling those of us who serve in our military and expose themselves to the worst of conditions, or those of us who live in poverty or deal with abusive families. Of course, there are many difficult, tragic, or painful issues Americans deal with on a daily basis. But, when reading a book like Persepolis, many problems we deal with here in America seem to pale in comparison to the lack of freedom or lack of power in other parts of the world.

After reading this book, I went to see if the movie would be interesting to watch and found a few trailers on youtube.com. Interestingly, one of the trailers included a small clip that helped clarify my reaction of feeling so completely out of touch with reality in other parts of the world. In the movie, it appears there is a group of students sitting around talking to Marji and they seem amazed that she has actually witnessed a revolution and a war:

One of the students reacts to her experience: “Wow, that’s wild!” This little scene really helped me clarify what I was feeling, and I was happy to know the author had that intention in some way (or I assume it would not have made it into the movie). Because of its ability to open the readers’ eyes to different, very real experiences, I think the book does a wonderful job appealing to many types of readers, especially teens whose worlds typically revolve very much around themselves.

Since I am not up to speed on Iranian/Persian history, I appreciated the simplicity of the way Persepolis was told. I felt I was given enough background – the preface was extremely helpful – to understand enough of the story and even get me interested in learning more about the history and current environment of this country. Yet, the book was not overly focused on historical content. Satrapi strikes a good balance between the historical element of this book – you could even put it in the historical fiction category – and the storytelling element. Neither element is compromised by the other; on the contrary, both the historical piece and the characters grow through their being so intertwined.

Given that this is a graphic novel, the illustrations are obviously important. I found Satrapi’s black and white style not only appropriate for the story, but also quite meaningful. The simple style of the illustrations helped illuminate the simplicity of the story itself. While this story may seem anything but simple, I think the way it is told through a child’s eyes forces us to remember that any human story actually is quite simple when it comes down to the major themes we see repeated in literature of all eras and all nationalities: love, peace, power, death, war (to name only a few). This story is no different in its ultimate simplicity: all people want to be happy; all parents want to protect their children; all children want to understand the adult world; all people want to be heard.

The black and white illustrations also serve a more subtle, and possibly more important, purpose. In a world full of gray areas, a world where there is seldom a right or wrong solution to a problem, the monotone illustrations expose two other ways of thinking: the simpler workings of a child’s mind and the right/wrong viewpoints of fundamentalists. As we read the story, we might knowingly smirk at the way young Marji fully embraces, then fully rejects, what she is taught. For example, she first explains to her parents, “I love the king. He was chosen by God” (p. 19). Upon further examination, however, she decides she absolutely must join the protests against the king. A similar childlike response is exhibited when Marji decides to attack Ramin because his father “killed a million people,” but then was easily convinced that she must forgive him (pp. 45-46). As readers, we can see how her all-or-nothing viewpoints make the complications of real life quite difficult for her to understand, and the illustrations further exemplify this type of thinking.

Likewise, we see this right/wrong approach, again illustrated through the stark simplicity of the monotone illustrations, in the decrees of the Islamic regime. There are now rules on everything from wearing the hijab to closing the universities until the government can gain control over what is being taught. There is now a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things – not much different than the childlike views of Marji.

Finally, the cartoon-style of the illustrations seems to lend a sense of lightness to a subject that is anything but light. They add to the child’s narrative voice and keeps a sense of curiosity for the reader. This seems a brilliant way to get a history lesson, as well as a life lesson on the fragility of family and the weariness of war.