Nathalie wrote:

“Would you get more of a sense of the story if you did or did not have to wait between issues/volumes? Or does it not matter because maybe Satrapi’s ambivalence is intentional (as opposed to being the product of weak structure)?”

Analyzing these comments in the wake of hearing a bunch of people’s dissatisfaction with Persepolis’ ending, it’s hard to re-contextualize the book’s structure and think of it in terms of a serial. In the end, though, I think that Persepolis’ storyline may have made more sense in increments, as opposed to reading it in one blast straight through. I think the problem with any collected edition of  serialized comic is that it removes the built-in anticipation and sense of momentum that one feels presented with a story incrementally. Being presented with chunks of a story one at a time instead of as a whole forces our brains to work much as a collator instead of a passive sponge, and it makes for a more committed, attentive reader, as opposed to one speed-reading his or her way through a work. It’s a very old trick, and one used by nearly every form of media.

You almost have to wonder if that sense of momentum (maybe that’s not the right word, inertia, perhaps?) that you get from a serialized work is a part of the artist’s process.  The breaks in the story line are as scripted as the character’s words and as useful in developing a sense of pace and motion. Maybe that’s why people have said that Persepolis doesn’t have much a storyline: by serializing her own life and contexualizing it with the troubles in Iran, Satrapi imbued it with a sense of linear progression that we don’t get by having it presented in one, semi-meandering chunk.

After Nathelie’s presentation, we spent the remainder of the class discussing some of the literary elements taking place in “Percepolis.” As a class we analyzed the importance of role reversals and the significance of the veil in the novel.
In a country where even history changes depending on who comes into power, the manipulation of history and role reversals is prevalent. Sometimes it is difficult to keep up with the “truth.” When the teacher contradicts what was previously taught, Marji questions her and is reprimanded. Marji herself encounters personal role reversals in her character. In the middle of a shopping trip in which Marji exudes a great sense of confidence, a bomb explodes toward the end of her street. Frightened for her loved ones, she rapidly sheds the persona of a confident adult and seeks comfort from her mother.
The veil is often used as a metaphor to convey that she must often hide her true identity to stay safe from figures of authority. When she is stopped by one of the scary “preservers of religion” ladies after purchasing the tapes, one of the first things the lady remarks is that Marji is wearing her veil incorrectly. She goes on to impugn Marji’s Nikes, denim jacket, and Michael Jackson pin. Marji, who is usually quick on her feet when she finds herself in trouble, spins a tall tale about a dead mother and an abusive stepmother, successfully wheedling her way out of a dangerous situation – the veil representing the lie behind which Marji must hide. Another example of the veil representing a lie is when her mother confronts her about skipping school (pg 113) and Marji, the veil covering her face, lies to her mother about having gone to class.

Doing the reading for today, I almost wish I had picked this section to do my presentation on, just because of page 206. I feel like what Satrapi is doing here is characterizing the mother-daughter connection she has as something distinctly Persian by couching it in terms of mythology and tradition. You certainly don’t have to be Persian to be close to your mom, but the two female friends I have from Iran have such a similar family relationship to these characters that I am constantly reminded of them as I read. I think of Satrapi and her mother’s unique relationship as a distinct cultural marker.

What first caught my attention on this page was the sentence, “I spent twenty-seven days by her side.” The combination of a very specific number of days (which contains 7 and is a multiple of 3, two numbers that are very significant in many cultures) and the idea of spending every minute learning from a wise elder made this sound like something out of a myth. The last panel, on the other hand, contrasts the first not only because the mother leaves, but because the time period given is “several months,” a much less specific and more modern phrasing. It retains the feeling of a fable, though, because the narrator is shown traveling with a gift she recieved after her twenty-seven day vigil: “a bag of affection” that seems to sparkle magically.

Just looking at all the pictures in between, especially those with the black backgrounds, the page seems to tell a story that combines many elements of quest stories and fairy tales. I am not very familiar with Persian stories, but I am sure they retain some of these archetypal scenes, and anyway Satrapi is a product of the West as much as the East. The weary traveler is given a safe place to rest by the older woman who takes her in; they talk in a secret language that the reader is never privy to; the traveler aids the older woman; she recieves in turn traditional warnings and advice; she is given gifts that she will carry with her as she continues her journey. The panel at the lower left-hand corner switches back to a white background, and in my opinion back to the modern day. There is an airport in the background, which is not extremely realistically drawn but is more concrete than in the previous panels. The narrator and her mother are not archetypal characters anymore, but real people with real emotions.

I’m not sure if anyone is doing this page for their presentation, but it would be interesting to see how anyone else’s interpretation differs from mine.

A couple of other people have talked about their dissatisfaction with the ambivalent ending. I too, was struck by it, but this wasn’t the first time. The copy I have is divided into two volumes (Persepolis and Persepolis 2). The ending of the first volume was also very jarring. She suddenly leaves for Austria, her mother faints at the airport, and the end. Apparently in the original French, it was divided into four volumes (Persepolis 1-4), averaging at 90 pages each and was later combined in a single volume in 2007. This made me wonder if the other volumes also ended in an awkward fashion and where she chose to end them.

I think part of the reason people found the endings so dissatisfying in their ambivalence is that there’s no real structured plot to the story (not to say that that’s a bad thing!). Things just sort of happen. The narrative moves along and people get sucked into it, but when there’s no longer a story left to tell, it just ends. Some memoirists try to tie things up in a nice little bow as a means of explaining what they think the meaning of life is. I don’t think Satrapi does that. She’s just here to tell her story and that’s it.

I wonder if I wouldn’t think there was so much of a discord in the overall story if I’d read it in four separate volumes. To me, Persepolis 2 is far more distinctly a memoir (with less of an emphasis on historical events). It’s about adolescence, growing up, angst over guys, etc. It seems disconnected from the first volume (maybe that’ s the intent?). However, if it were divided in smaller pieces, maybe I would find everything blends together better? This is also my second time reading it. I wonder if I had read it in a single volume the first time my reactions would be different. It reminds me of the trade paperbacks a lot of American comic books publishers put out, collecting several issues (or one story arc) into one book. Would you get more of a sense of the story if you did or did not have to wait between issues/volumes? Or does it not matter because maybe Satrapi’s ambivalence is intentional (as opposed to being the product of weak structure)?

I find it interesting that the assigned section covers Marjane’s identity crisis. I don’t know if it what was by design or coincidence but it was nice either way.
The first chapter of the section for the week was The Vegetable. I like how it started off with a very detailed look into the awkwardness of growing into an adult. The self consciousness of how you know they are staring at your foot that is bigger than the other one, or that random mole or blemish. It is an interesting look into the personal fable of all teenagers.
The more Marjane tries to fit in the more she ends up becoming the person everyone else wanted her to be. She cuts her hair to look more punk, and smokes joints because her friends do. There is even a point that she lies about heritage at a bar to just fit in.
She goes back and forth between moments of experimentation and returning to herself. After she gives up the punk look she goes through a brief period of returning to herself, but then she starts dating. It is no longer about pleasing everyone, but instead pleasing that one person. Marjane even goes as far as becoming a drug dealer for Jean Paul.
Finally when she returns home she finds out how far her life in Europe has taken her from what she was. In one scene her girl friends ask her about sex and when Marjane tells them she has had sex with multiple men they call her a whore. She goes from one extreme a sexual revaluation to the repressed ways of the fundamentalists. At this point I think it is when Marjane realizes that her attempts to be accepted in Europe made it so she no longer fit in at home.
I think it is sad to what lengths people will go to fit in. Peer pressure is a powerful thing, even more so when a person is in an experimental stage of their life. In trying to find where she would fit in during her years in Europe, Marjane loses sight of everything she was. The thing I found profound about this section is that this is where the influences of Marjane’s past mix with her present desire to be accepted, and are boiled down in the crucible of her adolescence to leave behind what will solidify into the person she becomes. It is a very personal journey and one she is lucky to survive despite her suicide attempt.
Also just to add about Marjane’s suicide attempt, I wonder if it was something did wholly on her own or was it because of a compounding effect of the drugs. Anti-depressants have a history of provoking suicidal thoughts, even more so for anyone still going through adolescences because of the constant fluctuation of hormones.

The concept of The Veil returns in book two of Persepolis.  This led me to thinking about the way the female body is characterized to political ends, and the danger of such characterizations.  Using the female body as a symbolic representation for the nation is a common trope in nationalist imagery.  For example, a national personification is the anthropomorphized image of a nation;  for the U.S., we usually think of Uncle Sam, but there is also Lady Liberty.  Outside of the U.S. there are figures like Brittania (the U.K.), Germania (pretty obvious), Helvetia (Switzerland), Mother Svea (Sweden), etc.   All women, with the exception of Sam.  These bodies are invoked as rallying images especially during times of war.  The implication of choosing this symbol in patriarchal societies is pretty obvious in this wartime context.  If you don’t stop the “Other,” he is going to rape what is essentially a psychological surrogate of the woman/women in the male citizen’s life.   This imagining of the female body obviously denies the woman agency, and is overtly attuned to play off of (and promote attitudes of) xenophobia and the fear of miscegenation.  These statements may seem extreme and hard to fathom in terms of a symbol as ubiquitous and apparently innocuous as Lady Liberty, but looking at the Iranian regime’s codes of dress reveals the same basic concept.  By making the female appear increasingly deindividualized and iconic, they are more and more denied individual agency and become another symbol of the national body.  Similarly, the increasing social prohibitions shown in the narrative place the female body higher on a nationalized pedestal.  The woman’s sexuality is no longer her own, but is something to be called sacred and exploited by the regime to incite nationalist sentiment and reinforce the oppressive patriarchy which is necessary for its continuation.

The title of the second half of Persepolis is The Story of a Return. This means both a mental and physical journey for Marji as she still tries to understand and comprehend who she is and what she believes in. The return that I want to discuss in this blog entry is the chapter titled “The Return” where after four years of living abroad, Marji returns to her home country of Iran (pg. 92). I think we see Marji grow even more in this particular chapter because she is now looking at her origins through more realistic lenses. Before, in earlier sections, she has a whimsical and innocent view of the politics and current affairs of Iran. Starting the chapter off she says she immediatelythat she senses the “repressive air of her country”.   Marji is no longer the outspoken little girl that dreams she is a prophet. When she finally arrives home she is more reserved and quieter in her approach towards her parents as well as speaking about current topics in Iran. Even the picture panels have changed. The artwork seems to be more dark and somber (more use of black to cover the whole panel). Instead of bold heroes working to bring peace and justice to their country, the buildings/city is desolate, skulls add a feeling of dread and the constant look of shock/horror on Marji’s face prove her country is no longer the same. With all of these changes and additions to the setting, Satrapi makes it evident that Marji is growing up and viewing the world in a different light. On pages 95 and 96 Marji’s character looks very small and appears at the bottom of the panel. This shows that the problems of her country are looming over her and intimidating her. These could also be viewed as the problems of Iran are bigger than Marji can really comprehend. Even the large panel at the bottom of pg. 95 shows how the old country and old ways of thought (in the form of the traditionally dressed woman) hover over her. Through the chapter, Marji and her parents have discussions about the war and oppressive times that they have been suffering in this country while Marji jas been away in Vienna. Even she acknowledges that the country’s problems are bigger than her’s when she says “Next to my father’s distressing report, my Viennese misadventures seemed like little anecdotes of no importance.” She has grown much throughout the book but does a large part of it in her return home to her roots.

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.