Throughout the narrative of Persepolis, the reader is always moving forward. The narrative transforms and ages much like Marji does, therefore creating a unique connection between the reader and Marji. There are first hand accounts of acid trips, sexual encounters, and all-out disasters that are privvy to us and not to her parents. Perhaps returning to her homeland imprisioned her more than empowered her, but the ending of Persepolis was like an object at rest. There was a halt to movement, flow, and reason of the novel. All the while this young strong women is testing the limits and finding herself in a culturally mixed up world you would expect a stronger ending to come out of  it. All development was halted, as Marji was sent off again. I’m not expecting a happy ending with butterflies and songs, but a stronger statement could have been made. Yes, this is a memoir, and yes, that makes it inherent to Marji’s own life. But, as we discussed in class last week Marji’s life was defined by her country’s history — and a tumultuous one at that. Marji was such a  turgid teenager living in Austria that I personally expected her return to Iran to be one of political discourse, with power and uprising against what was being done to her country. Never did I expect for her to leave, especially after her parents wanted her back home so badly. This isn’t a narrow-minded rant about feminism or about revolution. It is merely a comment on a narrative, whether it be real or not.