I sped through this book in the space of one afternoon. It grabbed me, pulled me into Iran in the late 1970s, dragged me to Europe, then back to Iran and then threw me into the couch in front of the evening news where the whole damn thing played out all over again. This book is, in a way, linked to my research as I’m looking at autobiographical representations in transmedial (or in this book’s case, transmodal) literature, but… um… honestly, I picked it up because I’d had a conversation at one of the conferences I’d attended recently with someone I’d developed an almost instant (and probably flagrantly obvious) crush on and she’d raved about the book. What? I’m superficial like that and I have *no* game. And she was really cute and smart. Hello, that’s like kryptonite.
Anyway. Persepolis, provides a heartbreaking insight into what it is to be othered within one’s own culture and to find one’s culture othered in the wider world. It explores an unstable world through the eyes of a young, dynamic, and thoughtful woman as she grapples with her position within. Graphic novel form provides an emotive quality that might otherwise be hard to find in the simple and unapologetic language. The aesthetic is simple, almost spare but suits Satrapi’s voice. This is definitely a book I will read again, that I will pass on to others and that I will more than likely incporporate into my research. I’m also going to track down the cinematic adaptation of this text, although I’m not sure I’m going to be able to watch it on my own.