One of the more illuminating sections of Maus II is the extended conversation that Art has with Francoise on their way to see Vladek. Art discusses what life was like growing up in the shadow of Richieu, his older brother that did not live through the holocaust.

“They didn’t need photos of me in their room…I was alive!…the photo never threw tantrums or got in any kind of trouble…it was an ideal kid, and I was a pain in the ass. I couldn’t compete…It’s spooky, having a sibling rivalry with a snapshot!” (pg 15)

Respondents: Is it possible Art is discussing his fears about having published Maus? Is the book the new picture that he won’t be able to compete with?

The opening conversation exposes deeper themes about Art’s anxiety towards  an accurate depiction of life (a snapshot) versus a stylized version of life (the graphic novel)? Does his comment on page 16 (“…In real life, you never would have let me talk this long without interrupting” accurately sum up the anxieties he’s discussing? By consciously acknowledging the manipulated nature of narrative versus objective fact, does Maus sometimes negate this distinction?

Respondents: Do Maus’s dives into metafiction (which is, according to the internet Wikipedia science, is “fiction that self-consciously addresses the devices of fiction”) strengthen or weaken the book’s impact?

Throughout Maus I, we saw an ongoing interspersing of Vladek’s story and Art’s progress of his comic book. The beginning of Maus II gives a little more emphasis to Art’s own life and story. Maus certainly could have stood on its own with only Vladek’s story of his struggles throughout the Holocaust. However, the addition of Art’s story and his own personal struggles adds depth to Maus. It’s interesting to learn more about Art’s personal issues this way; at first we see him light-heartedly sketching animals to represent Francoise’s character, but as the novel continues, Art opens up a bit to reveal his own feelings toward his dad. Art mentions a strange wish that he could have been at Auschwitz, to experience what his parents experienced. He feels guilty of having an easy life. I can’t imagine how this must have felt to him. Art knew that his parents essentially survived Hell, and he was able to grow up in a comfortable home and had a comfortable childhood (as far as I can assume). In addition to feeling guilt about what his parents went through, Art also has to deal with his insecurities and guilt revolving around his “ghost brother.” Richieu died as a young boy during the turmoil of the war, and Vladek and Anja lived the rest of their life with only a picture of their lost son hanging on the wall. As hard as it must have been for the couple to lose their first-born son, Art had a difficult time with this as well. He always had to live in his brother’s shadow, looking up to the unfamiliar picture of Richieu on the wall. Art never knew his brother, yet he felt the pressure to live up to this “perfect son” and prove himself to his parents as an adequate and deserving child. All these struggles that Art went through in his own life really add to the depth of Maus as a whole. Through the novel is primarily an account of the Holocaust through Vladek’s memories, Art’s personal experiences give another dimension to the story; his parent’s experiene during the Holocaust molded how Art grew up, as well as his relationship with his parents and his “ghost brother.” I think Art sells himself short when he feels guilty for not having been at Auschwitz: he had his own personal struggles, and through not as dramatic or life-threatening as his father’s, Art’s story was important in itself and deserved to have its place in Maus.

some initial insights:

As this is a true story, I appreciate the numerology on page 28 that the Priest observes in Vladek’s tattooed ID number. The intelligent religious man re instills hop e to Vladek.  Also, Vladek’s outstanding resourcefulness helps him make friends (pg 34 spoon, shoe and belt for Mandelbaum). Even in the concentration camp, Vladek manages to barter and trade to help him survive.  (Giving the shoe to a real shoesman in return for food to save his life and win a sausage) (also pg 93-94 his froggy French men share their food. ) I also noticed this second book is more gruesome in images (mice burning, mice dying of disease, being beaten, etc.)

some initial questions:

Vladek’s tale is straightforward and requires little additional questions. As Art is doing the interviewing, most questions are asked by him. However, Art confuses me. In the beginning of chapter 2, he is wearing a tied on mouse mask, that has exasperated eyes. Drawing this tastefully and keeping the seriousness of Vladek’s history is well represented on page 41, with the mound of dead, emaciated mice on the floor of his drawing table, like rolled up drafts discarded. Art for the next few pages illustrates his difficulty with his father’s tail (haha sorry) by drawing himself as a little mouse when feeling pressured and confused. When he talks with his shrink, he grows back up into man mouse. I want to know why Art includes his own thoughts and mental confusion randomally in the middle of his fathers’ tale. To me, its an interuption and I feel his confusion and stress loses credibility because he’s not nice to his father. See page 47, when Vladek is trying to vent about his problems with Mala, and Art (selfishly) yells, “ENOUGH! TELL ME ABOUT AUSCHWITZ!” Perhaps he realizes his own detachment from his father, and his lack of willingness to be a friend to his father, instead of a selfish interview, because he shrinks back into baby mouse form. I want to know if anyone else thinks like this about Art and Vladek? And if so, what motives drive Art to illustrate his disdain for his father’s personality so freely in such a widely publicized book? I view Art’s regard for Vladek as an embarrasment.

After reading the first 100 pages of Book II in Maus,

It interested me to look for more information on the crematoria explained on page 70-72

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/Holocaust/augas.html

This page has a real pictures and the blue prints of the crematoria during the holocaust.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x3EeTFtYr5E

is the virtual reconstruction of the Crematoria II described by Vladek.

What struck me about Maus is the structure of the narrative, which is very self-aware (or dare I say reflexive?). Rather than it just being Spiegelman’s father’s story, it’s a memoir about the whole writing process. At first I found the parts in the present tense distracting—they’re taking away from the meat of the story! However, key facts about the present make you want to keep reading: Anja’s suicide (Why? How? ) and Vladek and Mala’s marriage (Why? How?). Additionally, it’s really easy to get lost and depressed when reading Holocaust fiction or nonfiction. The switch in time literally gives you a break (the presence of relatively short chapters does this too).

Respondents: What do you think of the present tense action? Is it necessary? What are some other reasons he might have structured the story with flashbacks intermingled with the present? How does this compare to Watchmen’s use of the flashback?

Another thing I noticed was the usage of dialect/vernacular/whatever you want to call it. In the present and when he narrates his flashbacks, Vladek speaks in accented English. Yet when the reader is fully submerged in the past, all of the dialogue is in standard/informal English. Compare page 39 with page 37. I think this is just another way Spiegelman tries to suck you into the story.

Respondents: What do you think of the usage of dialect? Is Vladek the only one to speak in accented English? Is it effective? Confusing? Offensive?

Finally, there’s Vladek’s pedaling. What could that possibly symbolize? He does it for medical reasons, but does it contribute to his obsession to survival? Is he somehow “biking through” his past?

It’s hard to explain, but Maus unsettles me in a way that neither Watchmen nor DKR could.  Maybe it’s that this story is based much closer to reality, but I think it’s just the sheer moral ambiguity and uncertainty that permeates all the characters’ actions.  Vladek’s opportunism and Art’s enthusiastic reactions to getting the material stand out the most in this respect.  Vladek’s attitudes towards relationships and life in general is well-summed up by Mala’s outburst at the end of chapter four, and seems to illustrate his behavior from his own introduction up to our current stopping point.  Everything is so much more personal.

The narration is a little confused, a mix of unreliable first person and limited-omniscient third person (the text boxes and the art/speech bubbles).  Still, this adds to the ambiguity of the entire narrative.  There’s no clear way to say that people are doing the right or wrong things to this point, or even if such distinctions apply given the horrific circumstances.

The art itself is mesmerizing.  It’s abstract in purest form, almost absurdist.  Who would think of writing a comic book about the Holocaust starring funny animals?  It makes no sense to the point where it makes perfect sense.  Irrational divisions defined the whole affair on all sides, and the mental absurdity takes form in the distinctions between nationalities and ethnicities that aren’t actually an integral part of the story.  The Jewish characters during the Nazi occupation wear Stars of David; Vladek appears to wear a stationary pig mask to appear Polish.  The species of the characters do not reflect any actual distinctions; this is an abstraction that makes the whole story all the more terrifying.  How exactly is this piece supposed to make the reader feel?  It’s unsettling and strange.

Maus was the first graphic novel I have had the pleasure to read (well, that’s not true there was a western comic that belonged to my uncle when he was a child, but I digress). I have a certain fondness for the story, maybe because I am a World War II junkie or that my family is Russian/Polish and was affected by the war, or possibly just because it was merely entertaining to read. I don’t know but the fact that I get to do a brief analysis of it now brings a smile to my face.

Since the first two novels that we have gone through thus far in the course have been tales of action heroes with fantastic sketching, intricate story lines, and posses great explanatory words like “Poom!”, “Bamm!”, “Fap!” and “Ktang!”. I would have to say that one of the best parts is the amazing color. It brings vivid and bold new life to the 2-D world that we enter as readers. It shows emotion, depth and takes the audience into the world of the story. Maus is very different. The novel is completely based in black and white with subtle shades of grey shading. Tick bold en like strokes replace the thin, delicate, quick lines of the superhero comics. No color is used to help bring the story to life. This books relies mostly on the story itself to help the reader along. The dull hues add to the somber and morose topic of the Holocaust. Being black and white also adds to the realness of the story. There is no sugar coating or bold colors to entrance one’s mind. They are the cold hard “black & white facts” of the world’s history. If Spiegelman had decided to make his masterpiece in color, I doubt it would have had the same effect. Maybe that can be contested seeing as how the protagonists are Mice, the Nazis are Cats and the Polish are Pigs. This is the only fantasy that Art added to his artwork.

Another interesting idea about the fact that this comic is fully black & white is the way it plays with the characters on the page. Because Spiegelman has chosen animals as his characters, they now lack the distinguishing features that humans have that make each one of us unique individuals. This makes the reader more aware of who the speaker in each frame is and what exactly they are doing. If the speaker is put into a large group of his/her peers in a drawing, the animal is now lost in the crowd. This is clever for a couple of reasons. Spiegelman is making sure that the reader is coherent and absorbing his story as well as representing each culture. The only thing that makes them different is the clothing that they wear. All the Jew’s look the same, all the Nazis look alike and yes, the same goes for the Pols. Even the males and the the females have the same physical characteristics, proving that we really are the same and no one is better than another.

When I started reading Maus, I quickly recognized that the artwork while adequate to tell its story was not on the same level as The Dark Knight Returns, or the Watchmen. At first this put me off but after a few pages the art grew on me a bit. While not as evocative as graphic novels and I did some interesting things like the different animals for the different ethnics and Vladek wearing the pig mask when he faked being a non Jewish Polish.
What I noticed above all else though is that Maus reads more like a novel than anything else we have read so far. When I think of the story I see more of my own mental images in my mind than Spiegelman’s art. At first I found this a bit unsual but I kept reading the story really pulled me. Soon I was at ease with the feel of Spiegelman’s work and the pages started to fly by.
The story itself is the strongest point of Maus so far. The dynamic between Art and Vladek as father recounts his story to his son is very relatable and familiar. I often see much of my own relationship with my father play out between the two with their simple family banter. I feel this really made the story more approachable which is important with such a grave plot.
Vladek’s tale is a bit slow at first but picks up when he goes off to war. I found the scene on page 50 to particularly chilling as Vladek shoots an enemy solider disguised as tree and continued to shoot him even after he surrendered. The story only grew more depressing from there, hopefully there will be some light at the end of this tunnel.

I have read Maus four times now. Every single time I take back a different emotion, sense, and overall opinion of the work. I agree with Pierce’s “first reader” comment that approaching Maus on the blog is intimidating, even a bit cold, because of the nature of the content. However, after reading this book in different contexts (for myself, for a history class, for English in high school, and now for graphic novel) I am still moved by the work every time. Some critics will say that Spiegelman chose to portray a horrible event such as the Holocaust through the character depictions of mice, cats, and pigs to further desensitize the event but I strongly disagree. There are certain panels of Maus that are so graphic, clearly not as graphic as the real thing, but they pull at your heartstrings nonetheless. In my previous readings of the work in addition to doing a ton of research, I have noticed that in Maus that the physical pen strokes made by Speigelman makes carry just as much emotional weight as the dialogue and images themselves. The stern, thick marks are as influential are the words. A lot of the frames appear to be overbearing with small text and images of despair but I find that the nature of the images bear the most emotional weight.

I will be interested to see how everyone else perceives the books after further discussion and a more in-depth look of the plot and text; and will be interested to see if anyone agrees with me.

When I was in ninth grade, I tried reading Maus. I think I got through about the first chapter before putting it down and picking up The Sandman instead (we had such a wonderful high school library). I wasn’t too experienced with comic books those days, and I guess I didn’t really get why it was in graphic novel form, since the actions are pretty straightforward, and the dialogue is colorful enough to tell us what we need to know. The question I’d ask my ninth grade self today, of course, is, “Why not a graphic novel?” I’ve since come to appreciate more the subtle visual effects, from the overt metaphor of wearing a Polish mask on page 64, to the fact that the hanged mice at the start of chapter four really do look like dead mice, perhaps bringing to mind phrases like “getting rid of vermin” or “mouse trap.” I also appreciate the attention to detail in period costumes and backgrounds, and the moody shading that turns the father’s narration into a war movie. I’d still like to know Spiegelman’s rationale behind choosing this medium, but I’m no longer surprised or turned off by it.

Another thing that initially confused me was, well, probably the most important part of the book: why were different races being depicted as different species? Isn’t that a kind of racist, Nazi-ish way of thinking? I guess I was envisioning the type of Nazi rationale depicted in Inglourious Basterds (yes, I’m referencing two Tarantino movies in as many posts), where the German is the aggressive predator and the Jews are cunning prey. And I’d like to take this opportunity to slap my ninth-grade self on the back of the head, because of course that’s what Spiegelman is making us think of. The fact that normal Germans going about their everyday lives are still cats, and even the sympathetic, helpful Poles are still pigs–see Janina, pg 37–shows that he is aware of the problematic nature of such characterizations and is forcing us to think of it too.

The only thing I still don’t really get is why Polish people are depicted as pigs. To me, the immediate connotations with that animal would be cute, smart and helpful, but I doubt that’s what Spiegelman’s going for. Is the idea that they are unclean? Greedy? Domesticated so that they can be manipulated? Maybe it was a cultural stereotype at the time that I am just unaware of, or maybe the answer is coming. Anyway, I’m more excited to learn how Spiegelman will play with the story, than to find out how the story actually ends.

Right off the bat, I want to say that I read both books through last night, so there may be “spoilers,” but more than likely they’ll be thematic, not specific.  I don’t think there’s much to spoil about the holocaust.

Approaching Maus here on the blog is a little intimidating, considering both the gravity of its subject matter and the amount of interpretation its already undergone critically, so bear with me.  A lot has been said already since the work’s publication about Spiegelman’s decision to visually “categorize” different racial and religious groups as different animals.  Many early readers were taken aback by it.  However, it becomes obvious through reading the text that this typing, (an apparent manifestation of racist attitudes similar to the Nazis own propaganda of alienation concerning the Jews) is intended to dissolve through the reading, to satirical effect.  Spiegelman himself has stated  that the decision to portray Jews as mice was based on the Nazi perception of Jews as vermin.  Co-opting this device, then, he uses racial branding to the exact opposite effect and intention of that of the Nazis.  There are fractures of solidarity in all of the “animal” types represented in Maus.  As a broad example some non-Jewish Poles are portrayed as sympathetic to the Jews, some flatly anti-semitic.  Now, jumping ahead to next Tuesday’s reading… (sorry.)

(MAYBE KIND OF A SPOILER? UP NEXT)

Perhaps the most telling example of how problematic (and arbitrary) Spiegelman finds this typing is at the very beginning of book two, when he is talking to his French wife about what animal type she should be represented as.  They argue, but in the process her conversion is brought up.  Apparently, she converted to Judaism strictly in an attempt to please Vladek.  This process is jokingly referred to by Spiegelman in the panels: “So, you and I go to a mouse rabbi.  He says a few magic words and ZAP! …. By the end of the page the frog has turned into a beautiful mouse! (12)”  This section highlights the generally arbitrary nature of racial and religious typing, while showing  Spiegelman’s own conflict about the way in which he represents these “types.”

I have to say I was glad to find a topic that was not about Chapter 7 or Laurie. I think that even though we constantly read about The Comedian and his history, we don’t really grasp him until Chapter 9. Along with what Jessie said, the pin is a large part of who The Comedian is. But the ironic part is that even though this is a “smiley face” and his name is The Comedian, neither actually go along with a happy or jovial personality. In fact, Edward Blake (his real name) is actually a dark and troubled soul. As stated in the original posting he is ” a power-hungry, forced-based individual with little qualms doing things that make him seem far more like a super villain than a hero”.  The true Edward Blake is revealed when he is introduced to his daughter, Laurie. He even seems to show some form of a soul when he comments about her beauty. He constantly tries to connect with her but is always thwarted. The reader even begins to feel bad for him when his daughter publicly humiliates him and is totally oblivious to who he is in her life. But it is hard to fully forgive him for the wrongs he has done in the past. Unfortunately, his bad deeds seem to outnumber the good. Edward or The Comedian is a complicated individual who is totally. The reasons behind his inner anger and vengeance are never completely divulged, but I’m guessing, that would be a whole different comic book by itself!

Alyse — “I also wonder what kind of social experiment the book would have been if a woman had been thrust into Jon’s omnipotent superhero position rather than a man.”

That’s quite an interesting proposition. While I agree with you 100% about how Laurie may/may not be portrayed appropriately as a “real” woman; I think the book would have had a totally different tone with a woman as Dr. Manhattan. I think the theme would probably take a feminist spin and instead of the space time continuum and the folds of the universe being topics that plagued Dr. Manhattan’s time it would be a struggle between the affection for the Earth and sympathy for its people.

Why Dr. Manhattan’s character is such a conundrum and a headache to understand at times is mostly because his character is a man. We see him struggling with saving humanity or even caring seeing time as the definitive decider in life. Whereas a female Dr. Manhattan’s personality may be more centered around motherly topics.

I don’t think Dr. Manhattan as a woman would work for the plot or with other Watchmen characters. Even though Laurie is a handful and possesses some of the worst womanly qualities, she works in her own way. She’s inherited her mom’s fame and doesn’t like it – or maybe she does? She’s the cliché woman that can’t make up her mind, her emotions, or her relationships.

In most respects, I hate Laurie and Silk Spectre. She is easily replaceable and is needed for so little in the Watchmen. She serves to complete a point of the love triangle, but doesn’t have any other purpose.