The comic book form harkens deeply to my soul; a fan of the
sanitized color visions of Archie, Jughead, Veronica and Betty, Richie Rich,
Casper the Friendly Ghost, and—in high school—Mad and Cracked magazines,
as well as the extensive and prolific work of Robert Crumb, a contemporary and
peer of Art Spiegelman. MAUS II is a
rich and comprehensive retelling of the author’s father’s narrative, of
struggling to exist, amid one of the most horrific environments humanity has
ever known.
How does the comic book form work to convey elements of the
environment in this work? Actual photographic depictions within the walls of
Auschwitz, Dachau, and other nefarious locations are few; Speigelman’s drawings
may provide visual representation in a way few other documents may. While Raul
mentioned that “using a graphic novel to tell a horrible story of the Holocaust
is not the most enjoyable way to read a book,” I am challenged to invoke a
different creative genre that provides the reader both visual and linguistic
immersion, as well as establish and maintain resonant themes associated with
the form. A great deal of literature and historical narrative exists regarding
the Third Reich, yet few (in my estimation) achieve the level of engagement and
playful chronology of Speigelman’s efforts across Maus I and Maus II. Elie
Wiesel’s Night is a perennial choice
for high-school summer reading lists; an argument might be made to support
Speigelman’s Maus II as a viable, and
far more graphical, endeavor of historical engagement.
Maus II is
important for its leaps in time: the narrator, Speigelman’s father, appears in
the author’s present tense, as fulfilling stereotypes surrounding the elderly
(the complete narrative’s inciting incident comes as the father claims to have
had a heart attack, to garner his son’s attention). As the narrative’s
Holocaust thread is sandwiched between moments of interaction within a more
‘civil’ society—including a trip to a grocery store, the illicit occupation of
a backyard patio within a gated community, and an incident with a black
hitchhiker—the reader is challenged to anticipate characters’ reactions and
responses to their world. Glenda poses an important question in her commentary:
After the events of September 11th, 2001, how close did US constituencies
come, to victimizing ‘the other’ as a result of a collective pain and mourning?
My answer would be: as close as Speigelman’s father came, to having empathy or
tolerance for the black hitchhiker. The vilification of Arab-Americans
following September 11th, 2001 may have helped establish new themes
of distrust in our society: not unlike Vladek’s fear, that the hitchhiker would
have stolen their groceries from the back seat, some outlets for allegedly
“fair and balanced” journalism devoted an abundance of airtime to the
discussion of a mosque, to be established within blocks of Ground Zero, in the
decade following the events of September 11th, 2001. A similar
distrust might be identified in the relationship between Mitt Romney and the
Occupy Movement; certainly, the media and Presidential administration’s
vilification of those questioning the cause and true nature of those events
became a national pastime. A “9/11 Was an Inside Job” bumper sticker is likely
to be deemed unpatriotic by many demographic groups and political organizations;
similar characterizations may come in examining Joe Arpaio’s political movement
regarding Barack Obama’s citizenship, or even the beleagured supporters of Ron
Paul’s “End the Fed” movement (not to mention the excised Maine delegates at the GOP Convention). Because of Speigelman’s careful and earnest portrayal
of his father’s narrative and tribulations in Maus II, I feel as though a more clear portrait of the mechanisms
and personalities at work our divisive political climate may come into better
focus.
Spiegelman, Art. Maus II: A Survivor’s Tale: And Here
My Troubles Began. New York:
Pantheon Books, 1991.
No comments:
Post a Comment