I was struck by Satrapi’s ability to cover so much ground in 153 pages: war and childhood in the midst of violence, becoming a young adult during a revolution, loss of religion, changing relationships between family and friends, forms of rebellion and methods of survival.
While graphic novels have the ability to cover a lot of ground due to the efficiency of images (rather than spending a page of prose to describe a scene, for example), I think there is something especially unique about memoir in graphic novel format. Memoirs are subject to different expectations in terms of plot structure. Multiple threads of narrative have their own moments of tension-release-climax, which occur at different times. I like when authors juggle these storylines and maintain a singular arc; I felt that the larger arc in Persepolis was the war, and various threads orbited around it: the acquisition of Western clothes/posters/tape cassettes, rebelling against teachers, growing close to her uncle before he was sent to prison, loss of faith, and many many more.
Originally in this post, I was going to point out places where characters exerted their own agency through acts of rebellion. I thought about relating this to a prose, where you’ve got to give your characters grit and something to fight for if you want the reader to be invested. But really, I’m fascinated by the graphic novel as a medium for memoir. If Satrapi were to sit down and talk with you about her life, I doubt she’d lay it on you in the form of individual scenes with dialogue. To tell your story with images is to give yourself more breathing room, more creative ability to articulate an emotional truth with fewer words and therefore, fewer pages.
I’ll try to explain this a little further with a direct example (would I really be a neuroscientist’s sister if I didn’t use analysis in my blog posts?). So, I'd like to look at page 22, the bottom panel, when Marji finds out her grandpa used to be a prince.
Notice how all of a sudden, Satrapi uses texture? The air is swirling with magic. If this were prose, we might expect a shift in language to indicate we were going into a fantastical realm, and we might get this “information” through the form of internal dialogue. Who knows. But one thing I am certain of is that this panel feels like entering the world of Narnia for just a brief moment, if for no other reason than the Teletubby sun in the corner, the lion with a sword (which I think is a figure on the Persian flag?), the teensy castle and forest on the left, and her grandpa pleasantly riding an elephant while wearing a crown. It’s a world of fantasy in the space of one frame. But in that frame, I see a window into a child’s mind. Notice the cursive “My grandpa was a prince” and how Marji is right underneath it, like it’s the credits to her own movie? Isn’t that Marji actively imagining and letting the reader in? I think this frame was meant to contain multitudes... and I think that's why I'm in love with graphic novels that are memoir. There's more possibility to savor or linger or confront, with so much more economy.
Great observations as always HJ and that particular panel is different and it is establishing her sense of value and so when the revolution comes and life is changed, the fall is long and hard.
ReplyDeletee
Hi Hannah Jane,
ReplyDeleteI'm interested in this part of your post:
Originally in this post, I was going to point out places where characters exerted their own agency through acts of rebellion. I thought about relating this to a prose, where you’ve got to give your characters grit and something to fight for if you want the reader to be invested. But really, I’m fascinated by the graphic novel as a medium for memoir. If Satrapi were to sit down and talk with you about her life, I doubt she’d lay it on you in the form of individual scenes with dialogue. To tell your story with images is to give yourself more breathing room, more creative ability to articulate an emotional truth with fewer words and therefore, fewer pages.
As we're all kind of shifting into "big project (thesis) focus," I've been thinking about character, nonfiction, truth, and craft. You mention that the characters exert their own agency, how we've got to give the characters some grit to keep readers invested. In relationship to memoir/nonfiction, I'm thinking about how much I can really do. I'm wondering how much I can push it. And where of course is that elusive line between fiction and nonfiction?
Hannah Jane, I noticed the swirly texture thing as well! I didn’t necessarily consider how that would have worked if this were a prose memoir, and I’m not sure if any effect would have been the same to me as a reader. I like the way that it seemed as though individuals also lost their sense of self in these moments, it felt very much like people banding together to me. People in these moments would be illustrated very similarly, pretty much exactly the same honestly, so what does it mean when we see a body mirrored in this way? You always give me a lot to think about.
ReplyDeleteI really like how you pointed out how the images changed in the "my grandfather was a prince" section. The cursive was such a big change, and the fantasy like drawing showed Marji's excitement over this. All the emotions the author doesn't write is obvious in how the scene is drawn. Many times in the book seeing her imagination drawn out let me understand the character so much better.
ReplyDeleteI envy the ability to set a scene with images. Being able to show the reader something new, and then move on with the story sounds really appealing. I often struggle with describing new things in a way that makes sense and is artistic enough, so being able to show these things would be a really big change.