Persepolis (by Marjane Satrapi)

(Amazon UK link)

One of the reasons I joined a local book group is to expand my somewhat limited repertoire of books to read. Rather than picking up unlikely novels at random, I read those chosen from recommendations online that we’ve selected for each month. And this month’s book, ‘Persepolis’ by Marjane Satrapi,  is one that I would never have picked up myself - or, if I did, I would promptly have put it back. 

That’s because this is a ‘graphic’ book. That doesn’t mean it’s violent or explicit; just that it’s all in cartoon form, with images and speech bubbles in capital letters. It’s the kind of thing I associate with the comic section of newspapers. I know graphic novels are very popular nowadays with teenagers, but I have never been able to get into them. 

However, I finally picked it up a few days ago, sighing inwardly, expecting that I would struggle through in a week or so, and then donate the book to the monthly church bookstall. I quickly realised that this is not - as I had thought - a  novel, but a biographical account of the author’s childhood. And it’s very relevant to current news, as it’s set in Iran. 

There’s an introductory section (in text format) explaining why the author wrote the book - basically to give an insider’s view of life in the country, growing up observing everyday family life and customs. She acknowledges that life wasn’t always easy, but equally that it’s not the exaggerated society that the west seems to consider it. At least, that was the case in 2002 when the book was published.

The ‘graphic’ part then starts in 1980, when the author was ten years old. A year earlier, she told us, there was an ‘Islamic revolution’, and now she and her friends must wear veils, or at least headdresses, when they’re out. She had been at a mixed, French-speaking school. But now bilingual schools are closed, and boys and girls can no longer be educated together. Marjane - known as Marji - is an only child, and her parents are quite radical. So she’s brought up to think for herself, and to question everything. She has to balance this with the need to follow rules and to appear to comply with the authorities, or risk arrest (or worse).

The cartoon style makes it quite difficult to remember who is whom, particularly when all the women have their hair and clothes hidden any time they’re outside or in mixed groups. But gradually I found myself caught up in the story. It’s very cleverly done, with some humour here and there. Marji sometimes gets things wrong, or misunderstands, and sometimes she asks highly intelligent questions. She reads a lot, and for a while thinks she’s a prophet…

But the light-hearted sections are punctuated with some horrific ones; people, including family members and friends, are arrested and tortured. I found that shocking; yet it’s sympathetically portrayed, something Marji hates and finds upsetting. The slightly bizarre images might be disturbing for someone who had experienced that, as they’re drawn as if by a ten-year-old, cartoon style.  

The years pass, and Marji starts to mature; at fourteen her parents decide that she should travel to Europe, where she can live with a family friend and be educated more broadly. She agrees to go to Vienna, and her parents say they’re going to join her six months later.  The first section of the book (‘Persopolis 1’) ends with Marji going through the airport after saying goodbye to her parents.

Part 2, starting in 1984, charts her time in Austria. Unfortunately things didn’t work out well with the family friend, and she’s at a boarding house. And while she does learn a lot, it’s not just academics. She starts picking up some European habits and ideals that aren’t positive or helpful for her. She begins to smoke and drink, and befriends some rather dodgy people… 

It’s very clever, I thought, contrasting the apparent freedom of the west with the strictness of her own country, yet also contrasting the loneliness she experiences away from her circle of relatives and close friends. She misses Iranian food and hospitality. At the end of the second book, Marjane is grown up and leaves Iran for the second time, I assume permanently. 

There’s a lot more, too. I quickly got over the awkwardness of reading capital letters in speech bubbles, and found it quite difficult to put down, at times. And because there isn’t much text on each page, it was quite a quick read despite being nearly 350 pages in my paperback. 

It’s an account that will stay with me, I think. It must have required a lot of courage to write it, giving real names and situations, albeit without a lot of detail. I would recommend this highly to adults or older teenagers who want to know more about the background in Iran, and what life would have been like growing up there at the end of the 20th century.

I understand from others in the reading group that this book hasn’t been formatted well for the Kindle, although it’s possible to download it in pdf form, if one purchases the Kindle edition, and it can then be read on a computer. So I’m glad I was able to find it, second-hand, in paperback format. 

(Note that sometimes the two volumes are published separately; my edition is just called 'Persepolis' and contains both of the original books).

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