When Zeina was born, the civil war in Lebanon had been going on for six years, so it's just a normal part of life for her and her parents and little brother. The city of Beirut is cut in two, separated by bricks and sandbags and threatened by snipers and shelling. East Beirut is for Christians, and West Beirut is for Muslims. When Zeina's parents don't return one afternoon from a visit to the other half of the city and the bombing grows ever closer, the neighbors in her apartment house create a world indoors for Zeina and her brother where it's comfy and safe, where they can share cooking lessons and games and gossip. Together they try to make it through a dramatic day in the one place they hoped they would always be safe—home.
Zeina Abirached was born in Beirut, Lebanon. She studied graphic arts in Beirut and later in Paris, France. She has published 3 graphic novels: 'Beyrouth-Catharsis' '38, Rue Youssef Semaani' and 'Mourir, Partir, Revenir - Le Jeu des Hirondelles'. These were originally published in French, and have been translated into Dutch, Italian, and Spanish. Her mainly autobiographical works, illustrated in black and white, document her experiences during the Lebanese civil war in the 1980's.
"A Game for Swallows: To Die, to Leave, to Return" didn't do much for me. It tells the story of two children spending the night in their foyer while their parents are stuck just blocks away behind the east/west barricade. Neighbors stop by, some worrying ensues, we get a backstory or two, then the graphic novel ends.
Let's talk about the elephant in the room: the artistic similarities here between this graphic novel and Marjane Satrapi's "Persepolis" graphic novels. Zeina Abirached owes a lot to Satrapi, as the art style is really, really similar to "Persepolis." The artistic similarities, along with the narrative's perspective, make the work feel a bit too familiar. Less homage, more facsimile. As a person lacking creativity, as a non-artist, perhaps I'm being too hard, a bit too critical. I get that Satrapi can't own the whole black-and-white genre, but really, the similarities between the two go beyond the shading. With that said, Abirached's visuals lack the nuance and quiet subtleties that really made Satrapi's graphic novels. Satrapi's work is just more purposeful.
Unfortunately, the story didn't move me very much either. The story starts in media res, which I think is a mistake. You never get to see the parents interact with the kids, so when the story starts there isn't an established bond. Similarly, the story's ending seems a bit rushed -- all over in about ten pages. There's just no emotional impact, and so I'm honestly quite surprised by all the high ratings here.
I was hoping this could replace "Persepolis" for us as senior summer reading. It won't. Disappointed.
A Game for Swallows is an absolute treasure of love, resilience, and bravery. Set in 1984 East Beirut, the story centers around Zeina, a six-year-old girl during the civil war. She and her younger brother's parents have gone out to visit her grandmother. But, amongst the bombing and shelling, when they don't come home as expected, the circle of friends and family rally around supporting each other. It is a sensitive, intimate look into the impact of war on people and how they manage stressful situations, using hope, love, and humor.
Much like I Remember Beirut, this is a graphic novel memoir of Abirached's childhood during the civil war in Lebanon. But it approaches the idea from a different perspective. I Remember Beirut was a scattered, but effective, glimpse at a difficult life through details only. A Game for Swallows is a single day in depth, which allows for more perspective, more storytelling, and more character growth. Both books are equally absorbing, and together give a much fuller idea of the life that Abirached is trying to describe to her readers. I wish I'd read these two books together, instead of a few months apart.
Durante la guerra que asola Beirut durante los años ochenta, los vecinos de un edificio señorial se reúnen para narrar historias, hacer planes de futuro, pasar el rato y protegerse. Este cómic cuenta una historia íntima sobre las consecuencias que las guerras tienen en las personas que las sufren en primera persona y que nunca son protagonistas de las crónicas ni de las portadas. Es un canto a la humanidad, a la comunidad, a la tribu. Abirached compone unas viñetas en claroscuro que nos recuerdan que solo la gente salva a la gente.
A beautiful, strikingly quiet, intimate and atmospheric book for one set during a bombardment. Required reading in this moment when Lebanese people are once again sheltering from bombs.
Υπέροχο graphic novel!! Σε συνεπαίρνει, και είναι απο τις περιπτώσεις που νιώθεις να βρίσκεσαι κάπου εκεί δίπλα. Αφορά μια πολύ γλυκειά παρέα που συναθροίζεται σε ένα διαμέρισμα στα όρια της "πράσινης γραμμής" στο Λίβανο την ίδια ωρα που η πόλη βομβαρδίζεται. Δείχνει την αγωνία και τις όμορφες στιγμες που μπορούν οι άνθρωποι να περνούν σε τέτοιες καταστάσεις. Άκρως επίκαιρο λόγω του μεταναστευτικού. Η σχεδιάστρια, πτυχιούχος της σχολής καλών τεχνών του Λιβάνου, καταφέρνει μέσα από έναν ιδιότυπο και εντελώς δικό της μινιμαλιστικό σχεδιασμό να περάσει την αγωνία και την συγκίνηση στον αναγνώστη. Το συστήνω ανεπιφύλακτα.
A Game for Swallows was my first foray into a graphic texts. The subject matter seemed incongruous with the format, yet now that I’ve experienced it, I can’t imagine a better way of approaching it. The artwork is sufficiently innocent, providing a stark contrast (just as stark as the black and white pages) to the wartime setting. The author doesn’t shy away from what is going on outside the apartment and never lets you forget what is happening, but just as the characters (and I do mean characters) have created their own version of reality during bombings and during ceasefires, Abirached draws you into that reality and you forget you’re sitting safe and sound holding a book. The concepts that set me to pondering were: a) the creation and recreation of “normal” through routines “organized around cease-fires” and also during bombings; b) the meanings of community and family as they play out in the story; c) the important role of memories in light of reality and uncertain futures; d) repurposing of space and evolving definitions of home, privacy, security, and family. Of course, when the characters expressed so much joy and appreciation for a washed head of lettuce, I felt horribly guilty knowing there’s a half-rotted head in my refrigerator at home. Not only was I forced to consider my wastefulness, but also my comparatively sprawling home and sometimes inhospitable attitudes. Abirached succeeded in winning me over to graphic texts and also succeeded in making me very antsy. The tension, anxiety and sadness seeped off the page and onto me like so much black ink.
To, co Abirached robi świetnie, to ukazanie wspólnoty, zagrabianej przez wojnę przestrzeni oraz ciągłego oczekiwania, ale w porównaniu do porównywanego do Jaskółek Persepolis brakowało mi tu zdecydowanej i spójnej narracji. Bardziej kameralnie, ale nadal interesująco z perspektywy społeczno-historycznej.
"Em Outubro de 2006, no site na Internet do Instituto Nacional do Audiovisual, encontrei uma rua situada na proximidade da linha de demarcação, que cortava a cidade em duas. Uma mulher, bloqueada pelos bombardeamentos, na entrada do seu apartamento, disse uma frase que me perturbou: 'Sabem, acho que, mesmo assim, se calhar, estamos mais ou menos em segurança, aqui'. Essa mulher era a minha avó". Foi assim que a libanesa Zeina Abirached encontrou a inspiração para escrever e ilustrar "A Dança das Andorinhas".
A história é autobiográfica e passa-se em 1984, numa noite, durante o cerco de Beirute, no prédio número 38 da Rua Youssef Semaani, onde a autora viveu durante a infância. Nessa rua existia um muro que não só limitava a liberdade de movimentos dos seus habitantes, como era também uma constante recordação de que a cidade vivia em guerra. A vida organizava-se em função dos cessar-fogos e os bens básicos, o saneamento e a comida eram escassos.
Quase toda a história se passa na entrada do 1° andar, o lugar mais seguro de todo o prédio, onde os vizinhos se juntam nas noites de bombardeamento para beber, comer e conversar enquanto esperam pela chegada dos pais de Zeina. São famílias que tentam sobreviver e levar uma vida tanto quanto possível normal, apesar de todas as vicissitudes.
O livro ganhou o Prémio Face/Vozes de França do Pen American Center e a autora foi nomeada para os prémios de Angoûleme em 2008, tornando-se um sucesso em França e editado em mais de 10 países. A Dança das Andorinhas foi publicada pela Cambourakis em 2007, sendo uma espécie de homenagem às vítimas inocentes dessa mesma guerra, que o país ao tentar apagar o seu passado, quer deixar esquecer.
A arte tal como referenciado no prefácio, fez-me lembrar "Persópolis", mas talvez tenha mais a ver com o facto de ambas as ilustradoras trabalharem a preto e branco e não tanto pelo traço, uma vez que Zeina utiliza muito a repetição de um determinado padrão e o preenchimento de cenários. A história é contada com humor, sensibilidade e muita ternura por aquelas pessoas, que eram muito mais do que apenas vizinhos. Uma bela homenagem às pessoas de Beirute.
A night of bombing in Baghdad and all the neighbors meet up in the safest house of the building. And we learn their stories. The book is actually very "light", seen from the perspective of a child. The drawing is very good. I just wish I learned something more about the war. I know nothing and the book didn't say much, just the personal stories and some information about the situation at that time.
Ordinary life in war-torn Beirut. Given the subject matter and the art style, comparisons to Marjane Satrapi's work are inevitable. Abirached's figures are more stylized and her page compositions are more design-y. It's beautiful to look at, but heart-rending to read. Just the notion that life under such conditions could be "ordinary" and "routine" ... For such a slender book, it packs a powerful punch.
Las memorias de Zeina Abirached en formato gráfico siguen una sola noche de 1984 en el este de Beirut, mientras la Guerra Civil Libanesa se libraba enfrentando a cristianos contra musulmanes. Los padres de Zeina salen para ver a su abuela materna, y sus vecinos pasan durante el bombardeo para compartir historias, comida, bebida y todo el buen humor que uno pueda reunir en tiempos de guerra. Una lectura maravillosa que revela la naturaleza angustiosa y sin sentido de la guerra.
Zeina Abirached’s memoir in graphic format follows a single evening in 1984 in East Beirut while the Lebanese Civil War was raging pitting Christians against Muslims. Zeina’s parents slip out to check on her maternal grandmother, and their neighbors drop by during the shelling to share stories, food, drink and as much good cheer as one can summon during wartime. A wonderful, wonderful read that reveals the nerve-wracking and senseless nature of war.
Uma história simples sobre civis que sobrevivem dentro de uma guerra cuja narrativa visual é única e muito inesperada. A ilustração é bastante monocromática, só há preto e só há branco, e a princípio parece "barata", contudo, a repetição é muito utilizada e não é maçadora, bem pelo contrário, dá força à linha temporal e deixa-nos envolvidos nos acontecimentos. Fui surpreendida, adorei esta "dança" e só tenho pena que não haja mais serões.
The illustrations in this graphic novel are all in black and white, intense, no shades of gray, emphasizing the gravity of the situation a handful of people in an apartment building in Beirut, Lebanon, find themselves in as they wait for the snipers to stop shooting. Zeina and her little brother wait for their parents to return from a trip across town to visit their grandmother. The entire story takes place in the space of a day and night.
The author bases this on her own experiences as a child during the civil war in Lebanon in 1984. What amazed me is how these people have adapted to the constant threat of violence and death. Zeina and her family are reduced to living in the foyer of their apartment, which is the safest spot, farthest from the windows. Despite the constant tension and worries, they manage to carry on some semblance of normal life, sharing meals, playing games, listening to the radio. I felt bad for these children, who should be running and playing outside and going to school. Freedom from constant fear of attack and death is something we here in the United States take for granted. Reading books like this should make us appreciate what we have and make us sympathetic to refugees from countries involved in war or civil war. Books like this should make us strive for peace in whatever way we can.
The story takes place during a few hours one evening when the bombing intensifies and the kids are waiting for their parents to return from their grandma's house. The houses are separated by strategically placed containers and barricades to deflect a sharp shooter's view as people need to travel from one side to the other of the artificial divide. As the children wait in the small hallway of their first-floor apartment, neighbors drop in on them, not only because the children are alone, but also because this particular spot is the safest in the whole building from shrapnel. Indeed, the family does not live anywhere else in the apartment, just the tiny entryway.
The story and the art capture the claustrophobia of war for civilians extremely well. That the outside world becomes forbidden, that fears amplify in small spaces, that a simple task like making coffee may become an act of bravery...
Though similar to Satrapi's style, Abirached's art is more embellished (both are highly influenced by the centuries of Persian and Middle Eastern art). One can see influences of Assyrian, Egyptian, and Persian art, Abirached bringing us the cultures of the region like Phoenicians who used to live in what is now Beirut who transmitted culture and goods all across the Mediterranean. Abirached also has a knack for abstraction, which she usually uses to intensify the claustrophobia of every day existence inside a war zone.
Overall, a brilliant and moving story of a significant day in a young girl's life in the war zone, a turning point in her life due to circumstance of conflict and disaster. Highly recommended for those who like potted plants, traffic jams, and coffee.
Agora que comecei a descobrir a novela gráfica, acho que corro sérios riscos de me viciar neste género. Depois de Fun Home, aventurei-me com A Dança das Andorinhas. Aproveito para vos falar da colecção Novela Gráfica da Levoir, que está a sair semanalmente (quinta-feira) com o Público. A colecção já vai no número doze, o preço é simpático (€ 9,90 cada volume), e tem livros bastante interessantes. Esta Dança das Andorinhas é o número quatro e não lhe resisti. Pela história e pelas ilustrações, a que cada vez dou mais importância. Passar uma noite na entrada de um apartamento de uma cidade em guerra. Vizinhos e amigos juntam-se numa noite de bombardeamentos, temem pelo futuro (se é que se podem dar ao luxo de pensar no futuro) e pelos familiares que ainda não chegaram a casa. Neste caso os pais da autora, que também está na pequena entrada partilhada. Trata-se de um olhar muito pessoal da guerra do Líbano, pois nessa noite em Beirute Zeina é ainda uma criança. Como a própria refere “até aos dez anos a guerra foi a única realidade que conheci”. Uma história contada com memórias. Como poderia resistir? Confesso que esperava gostar mais, mas foi uma tarde muito bem passada a observar tudo o que as personagens têm para contar. http://planetamarcia.blogs.sapo.pt/a-...
Life during wartime, in 1984 Beirut. The residents of an apartment building are taking care of each other, carving out some kind of normal in unimaginable circumstances. The story is of one day in author's childhood. She and her little brother are the only children in the house. Their parents went out for a quick visit with their grandparents a few blocks away. This is a perilous journey; neighborhood residents have carved out a relatively safe path, which involves running, jumping, and hiding from snipers with specific zig-zagging. The parents have been delayed on their way home. As day turns into evening, the other residents gather in the author's apartment, which contains the one room in the building that is safest from shelling.
In with the events of the evening, the author gives background on each of the residents. We find out how they manage to get food, water, and gas for the generator so that they can have small amounts of power. One couple even has a stockpile of top-notch wines. The parents finally make it home, but the building doesn't last much longer, and the author updates us about where each of the residents went next.
Their life is grueling, but it has become routine, especially for the kids. It's also grueling just to see these circumstances. The art is beautiful, and the story is well told. There's a nice introduction by Trina Robbins, too.
Το απόλαυσα ιδιαίτερα. Αυτό που με τράβηξε δεν ήταν το βαθιά κοινωνικό σενάριο, το οποίο υποθέτω χωρίς να ξέρω ότι είναι βιογραφικό μέχρι ένα σημείο, αλλά το πολύ προσεγμένο σχέδιο - πολύ πιο σύνθετο από την πρώτη ματιά. Η δημιουργός έχει καταφέρει να αιχμαλωτίσει ένα πολύ σημαντικό χαρακτηριστικό της εικονογραφημένης τέχνης, να λέει ελάχιστα γραπτώς και πολύ περισσότερα σχεδιαστικά (λ.χ. Σελ. 68-69).Οι εναλλαγές τύπου αρνητικού φωτογραφίας σε άσπρο και μαύρο, τα σταθερά σκίτσα από πάνελ σε πάνελ με τις ανεπαίσθητες διαφορές που σε ιντριγκάρουν να τις ανιχνεύεις και να καταλάβεις την συναισθηματική κατάσταση των προσώπων, η ταπετσαρία που στέκει ακλόνητη σαν το μοναδικό σταθερό στοιχείο μιας άλλης εποχής που έχει ισοπεδωθεί από το απόλυτο του πολέμου κ.λ.π.
Το σενάριο αντίστοιχα είναι όμορφο, ένα σύνολο επιμέρους ιστοριών ανθρώπων που μπορεί να ξεκίνησαν τις ζωές τους σε διαφορετικές οικονομικές και ταξικές αφετηρίες αλλά κατέληξαν να αγωνιούν αγκαλιά ο ένας δίπλα στον άλλο μιας και ο πόλεμος δεν κάνει διακρίσεις. Σίγουρα θα το διαβάσω ξανά. Edited March 9, 2016 by Θρηνωδός
Depois de ler Persepolis, de Marjane Satrapi é impossível não fazer comparações. No entanto, apesar de todas as semelhanças (não-ficção, a guerra, a sobrevivência e fuga do país, as ilustrações), é muito distinto e mostra uma individualidade da autora. A arte é usada para contar a história de uma realidade que não consigo conceber, porque nunca a vivi, mas que faz estremecer perante essa possibilidade. Este livro dá-me arrepios na espinha pela sua seriedade!
Jest rok 1984, wojna w Libanie trwa od 6 lat. Zeina z bratem i rodzicami mieszka w kamienicy tuż przy linii demarkacyjnej przebiegającej przez środek Bejrutu. Z drugiej strony tej niebezpieczniej granicy mieszka mama mamy dziewczynki. Odległość jest niewielka, ale niebezpieczeństwo, które się z taką wyprawą wiąże ogromne. Pewnego dnia rodzice udają się w odwiedziny do babci, ale w trakcie ich nieobecności rozpoczyna się kolejne bombardowanie miasta. W mieszkaniu rodzeństwa, które w trakcie wojny skurczyło się do przedpokoju - najbezpieczniejszego miejsca w całej kamienicy - zaczynają gromadzić się sąsiedzi, aby ukryć się przed bombami i wspierać dzieci na duchu. Cały komiks to opis tego jednego, jak się później okaże wyjątkowego, wieczoru.
Opisując swoje wspomnienia Zeina porusza ten aspekt konfliktów zbrojnych, który interesuje mnie najbardziej - jak wygląda życie zwyczajnych ludzi, w momencie kiedy cały świat wokół oszalał, a oni muszą to przetrwać. I naprawdę czuła jest jej opowieść. Jest tu dużo ludzkiego dobra i ciepła, wzajemnego wsparcia i troski, małych gestów, które pozwalają się uśmiechnąć, drobnych rytuałów, które pozwalają skupić się na czymś innym niż odgłosy wybuchów. Autorka pokazuje, że zwykli ludzie starają się zachować swoją zwykłą codzienność, czasem być może nieroztropnie. Najważniejsze zaś to umożliwić dzieciom bycie dziećmi. Cała ta historia narysowana jest mocną czarną kreską, dość minimalistycznie. Rysunki wyglądają jak odrysowane od szablonu, często pojawiają się motywy charakterystyczne dla perskiej sztuki. Zeina Abirached pokazuje też dużo szczegółów architektonicznych, fragmentów map, rożnego rodzaju detali, co bardzo pomaga w wyobrażeniu sobie niecodziennych okoliczności, które towarzyszyły jej dzieciństwu. Mnie ta grafika kupuje w 100%, jestem jej fanką. Nie tylko grafiki zresztą, ale całej opowieści. Czytając „Gry jaskółek” czytelnik oczywiście wie, że jest wojna, cały czas gdzieś w tle przewija się też wielka polityka. Jednak ten jeden wieczór, podczas którego ludzie otaczają się wzajemnie miłością i próbują stworzyć dom, pokazuje co tak naprawdę jest ważne i daje oddech nadziei.
3,5 Punto negativo: la historia se me ha quedado algo corta. Obviamente es una sensación totalmente subjetiva pero no podía evitar sentir como si se centrara en otras cosas para rellenar; como si no supiera que contar o como enriquecer la historia. Punto positivo: me sigo sorprendiendo de la capacidad de transmitir y de la creatividad para plasmar tantas cosas mediante el dibujo. Es el grado máximo del resumen y eso requiere mucha pericia también.
In war-torn Beirut, two children await the return of their parents, who left earlier in the day to visit the kids’ grandmother in an adjacent neighborhood. Set in 1984 and based on the life story of the author, this story feels like a more concise relative of Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis. The tale takes place almost completely during one night. We learn about Lebanon and the conflict there through the stories of the children’s neighbors, who gather in the family apartment as shells blast the streets outside. Physically, Abirached’s illustrations look a lot like Satrapi’s black and white blocky style. Abirached adds value by integrating several maps and the odd photograph which help provide context for the reader who might not be intimately familiar with this often overlooked country and its history. Giving the story the framework of this one night and the parade of neighbors works well as a way of getting to the meat of how it feels to live inside a conflict-ridden zone. A valuable selection for any library. \\pro review
I've thought of this book often in the years since I read it. Real content, whimsical illustration style - It's now earned its place as a standard in the genre.
Não sendo propriamente fã de novelas gráficas, este é um género que me vai cativando cada vez mais. No entanto, esta leitura deixou algo a desejar. Na minha opinião, a história poderia ter sido mais explorada já que há tantas vinhetas que não têm texto e são tão semelhantes entre si, que haveria espaço para tal. Percebo que dê uma ideia de espera, do tempo que não passa, de preocupação, mas haveria, com certeza, muito mais a dizer.
Não deixa de ser uma obra autobiográfica impressionante, feita de memórias. É impossível não se comparar com «Persépolis», de Marjane Satrapi, a começar pelas ilustrações monocromáticas, e de que gostei mais.
A narrativa desenvolve-se quase exclusivamente na entrada de um primeiro andar, o local mais seguro do prédio, por causa das bombas que fustigam a cidade em guerra. É uma história sobre os laços familiares e uma ode à amizade, aquela que salta à vista precisamente nos momentos mais difíceis.
Based on Lebanese (1975-90) civil war, this nonfiction comic offers a view in the mutual support system that people build up among themselves during war. The work is not as sharp as Marjane's Persepolis or Joe Sacco's Palestine. But I love the beautiful illustrations in rich black and white.
I think it's hard to find stories about war that are appropriate for kids. This graphic novel does a good job at showing exactly what living in a war torn country can be like.
"Morire, partire, tornare: è il gioco delle rondini. Questo è il destino del popolo libanese, costretto a migrare a causa dei continui bombardamenti".
L'autrice libanese Zeina Abirached sceglie di raccontare in questo graphic novel che ho davvero apprezzato molto, un episodio risalente alla sua infanzia, quando una sera lei e il suo fratellino restano soli in casa dopo che i loro genitori sono usciti per fare visita alla nonna. Là fuori la guerra ha trasformato Beirut in un enorme campo di battaglia in cui l'assordante rumore delle bombe risuona ormai a ogni angolo e le strade, soprattutto al calare della sera, diventano il luogo più pericoloso perché in questa Beirut sempre più spesso si muore sotto i colpi dei cecchini protetti dall'oscurità. I due bambini si preoccupano, i loro genitori sono fuori da troppo tempo, ma ecco che a calmare la loro paura arrivano gli altri inquilini delle palazzina che, da quando il conflitto ha fatto a pezzi la loro quotidianità, non sono più semplici vicini, ma una vera famiglia. Potrei definire infatti questo graphic novel una storia corale perché l'autrice ci presenta tanti personaggi, ognuno con la sua storia e attraverso i loro occhi noi lettori capiamo perfettamente che la guerra è diventata ormai parte integrante della loro vita, la loro quotidianità è fatta di paura, di sogni di fuga, di dolore ed è questo l'aspetto più straziante e sul quale l'autrice insiste molto. Mi è piaciuto tantissimo il fatto che ogni singolo personaggio abbia il suo bagaglio di esperienze, il suo passato, spesso doloroso, la sua personalità e che nessuno di loro venga lasciato ai margini della storia perché ognuno in queste pagine occupa uno spazio ben preciso. Nonostante i disegni non mi abbiano fatto impazzire, la storia invece mi ha convinto, mi ha tenuto con il fiato sospeso fino alla fine e il fatto di aver inserito spesso un susseguirsi di scene molto simili tra loro ha accresciuto il senso di angoscia e ha reso benissimo lo scorrere del tempo, visto che tutto si svolge nell'arco di una sola sera. L'altro grande tema della storia è il partire, un doloroso e forzato "migrare" alla ricerca di un porto sicuro, un migrare che ricorda un po' quello delle rondini.