Persepolis was another book I’d been meaning to pick up for a long time; this year, it’s had the misfortune of becoming relevant again. Before I say anything else, this is a distinctive and beatiful graphic novel. Satrapi’s artistic style eschews excessive detail, and her compositions use bold swatches of black ink to draw out her subjects and settings. The look is playful and minimalist, which I think complements the story’s narrative (that of Satrapi’s childhood memories).
The memoir covers Satrapi’s experience growing up in Iran between 1980-1983. Following the Islamic Revolution, in 1980 it became mandatory for women to wear the hijab in public. Gradually, other civil rights are eroded and we see the fundamentalist regime begin using violence to enforce its moral vision. Heartbreakingly, we see how these events diminish Satrapi’s family as they endure and prioritize survival. Satrapi’s uncle, (Anoosh, a communist previously living in exile during the Shah’s rule), initially harbored hope that the fundamentalist regime would give way to a more egalitarian revolution. Tragically, he is arrested again and executed by the Iranian government. During the Iran-Iraq war, Satrapi and her family scarcely survive missile bombings of Tehran, and her parents make the difficult choice of sending Marjane to Austria for her safety.
In 2026, my own country is responsible for bombing Tehran. The materiel and fuel we’re burning is forcing parents to make unimaginable decisions just like those of Satrapi’s. In general, my country’s government and media often downplays or obviates the differences between the Iranian government and the people of Iran. We have an essential responsibility to reject this practice. None of us choose where we’re born, and the practical freedom to pick where we live is not as common as one would hope. Persepolis is a window into the humanity that we’re in danger of missing.