Satrapi vs. McCloud

While (re)reading Satrapi's graphic novel, I mostly tried to employ a McCloud-ian lens when examining the storyline in relation to the graphics, and when examining the work as a whole. The relationship between text and image, which was the focus when I initially read the novel, seems to somewhat disconnect the message from the visual, because of the lack of depth to the images but the heavy emotional weight of the content. There also seems to be another drastic disconnect that I noticed while reading the story this time around, and that is the disconnect between genre (which is possibly not the best way to categorize this aspect but explanation is eminent) and storyline. While carrying the story through deep-seated political movements and real-life events of the combat in Iran, it seems that the genre and delivery of the story should be through newspaper article, or autobiography, or even a blog on which survivors and citizens of war stricken countries can share their stories. One can hardly call it common to find a story like this under these material and visual circumstances, with almost amateur cartoons and not even in color. How is a reader to extract or invest any kind of sympathy, trust, or emotion in a story, how are they supposed to relate to these characters, if half of the components don’t add up? 

In previously having read McCloud, I was personally aware of my own perceptions and placement of myself into the images and story. While advocating the diversity and supremacy of the “icon” in comics, McCloud denies the coldness and emptiness that a very visually minded person could potentially extract from them. I found that I had some connection, or maybe a more McCloud-ian term would be “self-insertion”, issues while reading Persepolis; the believability and the sovereignty of the narrative, along with the emotions of the characters, seemed so falsified and stripped of any kind of detail that might make it believable. I was not at all inserting myself into the faces of these characters, but I was in fact skimming over the pictorial representations and focusing mainly on the text, because the images were almost distracting. I was not able to relate or truly sympathize because this is not my story to tell; it’s Satrapi’s. 

 The notion that she would create the comic to allow people to live through her experience almost takes the experience away from her and makes it anonymous. This is such a personal story, with so much information and detail that it seems wrong for the reader to try to posses it or give it a new meaning. Satrapi’s story is one that almost feels like it should be told in person, rather than through a comic book where the message and events seem almost to be satirized in some cases. The elementary style and level of drawing (not at all to condone Satrapi’s comic skills) are degrading to the deeply personal story of growing up in a war-torn country. 

For example, the frames in which Satrapi and Mehri come home from the demonstration and are punished for going (Satrapi, 39) provide a concrete example of my frustration. The girls are shown in the last frame of 39 with over-sized, dark, cartoonish hand prints on their faces, symbols of previous frames from when they were stricken across the face for attending a demonstration, which, obviously, was a potentially dangerous situation. The reader feels less reflective afterwards, as the intent is to simply move on in the story, but the representation of caste systems and political uprising, both extremely relevant and sensitive topics during this time, are literally cartoonized. Rather than feeling like they personally just took the hit with Satrapi, the reader simply watches the effects and turns the page. If she had sat there and verbally recounted that event, I highly doubt the reaction would have been the same.

Perhaps in some situations, McCloud’s point of view is very relevant. After all, the point of a comic is to provide a more light-hearted option in a world where printed information can be a lot to take in. Perhaps in most situations, icons are exactly what comics consist of, and that’s exactly why they work so well for their audience. However, in my opinion, and in Satrapi’s retelling of her devastating and unique childhood, it definitely comes across, for me as jeering and empty.

Works Cited:
McCloud, Scott. “The Vocabulary of Comics.” In Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: Harper Collins, 1994. 24-45.

Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis: The Story of A Childhood. New York: Pantheon, 2003.