One of the things that I enjoy most about Maus is the fact that it is so aware of itself, or rather, that Art Spiegelman is so aware of himself as character and author. The accuracy in story telling is something that all memoirists struggle with, and I read the metafiction, as Alex’s first reader post points out, as something that makes it a bit more authentic. The fact that Art points out, “In real life, you never would have let me talk this long without interrupting” (16), putting his anxieties to the forefront, actually sort of builds trustworthiness of the narrator. Specifically in the “Time Flies…” section, he is upfront about his struggles as an author again for an extended period of time; this is incredibly powerful. This snapshot of Art, because the novel is so non-linear, is something that keeps it all bound together. Not only is Art aware of his own anxieties as the author, he is aware of the reader’s anxieties on trying to find meaning in his book. He starts to shut down on page 42, as interviewers are hounding him for a message he didn’t mean to convey and things he hasn’t even thought about. Art as the character and the author doesn’t have all the answers and hasn’t considered everything, and that frankness is something the reader is now aware of. The more honest Art is with himself in Maus, the more honest he is with the reader, and strengthens that relationship as well as the book’s impact.