Persepolis, or why a country that changes its name along isn't always so stable

It took awhile to get there, but I finally got my library copy of The Complete Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi, and read it in 3 sittings on Sunday. (The complete version, by the way is Persepolis 1 & 2 - or 1-4 in the French. So it takes you from her childhood in Iran through schooling in Vienna and back to Iran for college and young adulthood.)

Without wanting to look for proof of this, I am sure that others have written more eloquently that I will about the ability of the graphic novel to address trauma and tragedy. (See also: Maus, by Art Spiegelman) Because in some ways it is really seeing the innocence in Marji's big dark eyes that hits home... but without feeling so overwhelming that the reader just turns away. (I was discussing this recently in terms of the way we deal with war veterans, and how our guilt in some ways makes us unwilling to hear and understand them.)

I'm not sure what all to say about the book. I am glad I got the complete version and got through everything at once. But I think that reading about the younger Satrapi separately from her teenage and older self would have been good. Clearly, the Islamic Revolution and its impact is a central theme throughout - but in many other ways the child and the teen have very different stories. All very eventful though. To say the least.

This is one of those times where I wish I felt more willing to write an insightful review. But I am not there. Maybe because there was an earthquake - and it's still earthquake weather - or maybe just because so much has already been said about Persepolis, the book and when it came out as a film as well. And I have yet to see the film. But I will.

(Oh, and I've written about memoirs of life in Islamic Iran before (and here). Just wanted to mention.)

PS - I loved the artwork. I was particularly fond of the depiction of all the little girls in their veils, and God, and more disturbingly the ghosts of the all the lives lost.