The first time I read Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis, I was fourteen years old, and 9/11 was still fresh in the minds of many Americans. I had been raised in a conservative white family with little knowledge of the Middle East outside the horrors on the news, and the few Middle Easterners I knew were hesitant to draw attention to themselves in the face of anti-Islamic propaganda. Although I did not agree with the sentiments of the time, I regret not speaking out more against the hatred I saw every day, and while I can hardly say that I am an outspoken person now, I hope that I have shown even the slightest bit of personal growth in the ensuing years. Persepolis, an illustrated autobiography based on Satrapi's experience growing up in post-Revolution Iran, was one of the events that marked the starting point in my change.
I do not doubt that Satrapi's upbringing was wildly different from mine. That first glance into her childhood, starting with her recollection of the year following the Islamic Revolution, showed a girl confused and frightened by the changes happening around her. Satrapi was as lost in this strange new world as I was, and that made it all the more simple to see things from her perspective.
Source: Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis. Pantheon, 2007. |
Humans by nature are drawn to iconic images. Simplistic art, rather than realistic art, is more likely to catch a reader's eye because they recognize what it is supposed to represent. A realistic drawing, especially in a foreign setting, may not resonate with all readers because they may not recognize the significance of the finer details. Satrapi's style, therefore, breaks down the foreign elements of post-Revolution Iran and conveys them through small, easily digestible pieces. A Western reader may not understand the importance of hijab and abaya in the context of the comic, but the cartoonish expressions and body language are more readily accessible, familiarizing a common situation in a strange, foreign setting.
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