Armaveni: A Graphic Novel of the Armenian Genocide

by Nadine Takvorian

A bold, autobiographical graphic novel chronicling one girl’s quest to uncover her family’s history during the Armenian genocide.

Nadine loves stories and her mother loves to tell them—all but one. Nadine would give anything to learn about her family's history in Armenia and Turkey—where they came from and how they came to America—but it is just too painful for her parents. All Nadine knows is that they were caught up in the Armenian genocide.

Until one day the dam bursts. And through that flood of stories and memories, and a trip back to their people's homelands, Nadine discovers a key to unlocking her own heritage and the courage to speak up when injustice rears its head again. 

Told in interwoven historical, contemporary, and fantastical sequences, Armaveni is a gripping graphic novel debut and a much-needed historical document.

Genres: Graphic Novels, Nonfiction, Comics, History, Biography Memoir, Historical, Memoir

344 pages, Hardcover

Published March 10, 2026

Reviews

[Lindsay · Rating 4 out of 5]

Happy Release Day to Armaveni by Nadine Takvorian! 🥳🎊🎂

Armaveni is a graphic novel that needs to find it’s place in the shelves of elementary and middle school libraries. Takvorian beautifully illustrates a dual narrative story that approaches a often ignored and denied part of global history… the genocide of Armenians by the Ottomans and the continuing persecution of non-Turkish minorities in modern Turkiye. This story is so very important, but does lend a risk of push back against this narrative… a pushback that is shown on the page, embodied by the character of Nadine’s AP World teacher. Acknowledgement of the Armenian genocide has been controversial globally as Turkiye and Azerbaijan have taken a strong stance of denial that it was a genocide; these states’ tensions with the nation-state of Armenia continue to persist today (I will not be diving into the full spectrum of that geopolitical conflict today). Only recently in 2021, did the United States’ formally recognize the genocide, joining 33 other UN recognized nations in recognizing the Armenian genocide. The prior sentence is only desernable to me, because I spent 4 years as a Model UN delegate in high school. If y’all (my GR friends) need clarification please let me know in the comments.

With that histiopolitical spiel in the books, let’s chat about the story which is the core of why I enjoyed this book. The author weaves to fictionalized, semi-autobiographical stories of two Armenian girls. Nadine, who is a fictitious version of the author and Armaveni, who is based on her late grandmother as a young girl. Ultimately, the PoV from Armaveni is how Nadine processed the unspoken and hidden experiences of her grandmother. This history being unspoken and left to die with those that directly expierenced it, is something that I imagine many, many people will resonate with. In my own family, my great grandfather refused to speak about his experiences being a US army medic during World War 2, until my mom (his granddaughter-in-law) managed to break through his shell and get SOME stories. We finally learned why that man had two Purple Hearts. For people in the Armenian diaspora, I imagine this denial of information was even more profound, because of the impact of ethnic cleansing and forced cultural lose. As this is a fiction that Takvorian is expanding on the autobiographical facets, I wanted more detail. Lay out the history clearly. I know chatting to your Mom and Nana, doesn’t lay out the sociopolitical context or multiple PoV of events, but there was an opportunity to give more robust explanation. I did find SOME of that context when I read the Afterword, but let’s be real as a kid I never read the Afterword or dedication.

Realistically, the timeline in this book is incredibly hazing. Especially as Nadine’s parents discuss their experiences in their life, before coming the United States. I’ve been fortunate to have a fairly robust global historical education (by US standards… my AP World teacher was not a jerk like Nadine’s) and have personal experience interacting with both Armenian , Turkish and Azerbaijani people in a school context, so I was able to guess some of the context that was left unsaid. Naturally, children will not have had that experience and context which to me is necessary to pay off the themes explored in this book.

Overall, Armaveni definetly has a purpose to it and I would recommend for history minded kids. This book would benefit from parental involvement, to age appropriately help children approach this subject matter. Also, understanding even barebones history of the Ottoman Empire would be a huge help… I am definitely the first to admit that my review is from the context of the US’s education system, so other folks might not need this history scaffolding.

Lastly, as a graphic novel, we should talk illustrations. This volume wasn’t my favorite in that regard, I didn’t really vibe with the monochromatic theme with pops of purple. I like pops of color to serve a thematic purpose, but I wasn’t able to discern a particular purpose. Now I adored that the historical timeline was represented by a BEAUTIFUL border around the pages, that was so so helpful to figure out the changing PoVs.

This is a solid 3.5 star read, that deserves to be rounded to 4! While not perfect in my opinion this book has definitely put Nadine Takvorian on to my radar, and I would be interested in further works from her.

Thank you to Nadine Takvorian and Levine Querido publishing for a digital ARC of this via Netgalley!

[Carrie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and Levine Querido for a free digital copy in exchange for a review.

Full disclosure, I am somewhat biased in reviewing this book as I am of Armenian descent and I found it really meaningful to read and experience this book. But are we ever truly fully unbiased in reading a book?

Nadine Takvorian uses a blend of autobiographical, historical, and fantastical to tell and illustrate the historical events of the Armenian genocide her family experienced, as well as the generational trauma that has effected her family. Nadine's exploration of her identity feels natural and relatable, her curiosity to learn more about her culture is contagious and leads the reader into discovery of both wonder and sorrow.

Both the historical and more contemporary storylines were easy to separate in terms of narrative, but the connective themes and events allows the reader to see clear parallels between Nadine and Armaveni's lives. Additionally, Takvorian includes a decorative border for Armaveni's story to further help the reader distinguish between the two. She also uses a monochromatic palette of purple, making a memorable color scheme outside of black and white or sepia. Takvorian's art is filled with life and she captures the complex emotions the characters feel throughout the story. I am really excited to hold a physical copy of the book.

Again, due to my background, I really connected to Nadine in her intense curiosity and need to learn more about her family. I envy her ability to ask her family questions and found her search for the truth inspiring. I was delighted every time I found a connection to her experience, whether it was the food she was eating or learning her grandfather and my great grandfather had the same name. Despite the emotional toll many scenes took on me, there were parts I found genuinely joyful.

I would recommend this book to people who want to learn more about historical events and those who enjoyed They Called Us Enemy and Silenced Voices. This is a great book for teens and adults. I plan on buying a copy when it is released.

[ohna · Rating 4 out of 5]

as someone who has only heard about the armenian genocide only is passing conversations and has little knowledge about it armaveni was the perfect introduction. the art feels very soothing to the eyes, almost melancholic. I really loved the panoramic panels of the places Nadine visited but I have to say one of my favourite panels was the one with a snake spiralling a hairbrush. the author’s note in the end really sealed the deal for me. it was heartbreaking to read what countless people have witnessed and suffered but it frustrated me to know the oppressors will always show history through the lens that fits them the best.













p.s the country we dont talk about was mentioned once idk how to feel about that

[Maggie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thanks to Edelweiss for the ARC of this graphic novel. The art and this story were gorgeous! I cried reading it. I already knew some information about the Armenian Genocide but it was so much more impactful with a more personal story like this. It really exemplifies how trauma like this carries through generations.

[Kuu · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC!

In this graphic novel, Nadine Takvorian tells the fictionalised story of how she found out the history of her family and their experiences with the Armenian genocide, as Armenians from modern-day Turkey, showing the discrimination they face within the wider Armenian diaspora community, as well as the struggles they experience as Armenians in a world in which the genocide is still denied by certain actors.

For the very technical details, I liked the pale purple colour this graphic novel was drawn in, but would recommend the publisher edit the PDF so that each PDF page only includes one comic page, rather than two, as I had to zoom in anyway to be able to read the text (which caused unnecessary hassle, as opposed to just dividing it from the start). I would also recommend the translations of words to be added to the page they are said on, rather than a glossary at the end, which would make it easier for readers who are not familiar with Armenian or Turkish to understand what is being said without having to scroll back and forth (which is even more difficult in a digital version, as opposed to a physical book where you can just put a bookmark).

I really liked the art style, when drawing nature, buildings etc., but less so when it came to how Takvorian draws people. Ultimately, it didn't matter much though, as the focus was on the story, not so much on if I personally like the way she draws faces.

As for the content of the book, I do not feel qualified to say much about it as I really am not knowledgeable at all about the Armenian genocide, so I cannot speak on how well/authentically the experiences were portrayed. I will leave this to readers that actually know what they are talking about. As someone who does not know much about the genocide, other than that it happened, and who also does not know about the contemporary politics of Armenian identity, I did however feel like this graphic novel gave me some impression of the issues Armenians faced and face to this day. Of course, it was not an exhaustive list, and somewhat "limited" as it shows the history of one single family (with other histories mentioned briefly), but I did not expect a history book when I read this. While I am sure there are so many more issues faced by the Armenian diaspora that were not featured in this graphic novel, emotionally, I think this graphic novel was successful in giving the reader an impression of the issues Armenians face due to the genocide and its ongoing denial.

[Stan Yan · Rating 5 out of 5]

A powerful memoir that I connect with so much. Nadine grows up in America in a family with a hidden, tragic past, much like my own, but unlike mine, this past is also hidden as a part of a state-sanctioned coverup of the the Armenian genocide that has rewritten history and led into misinformation about it to this day. I wish it didn't feel like the lessons of this past weren't in the process of repeating itself in the US today. But, as she and other characters in this memoir prove, we can find peace if we find our commonalities instead of dwelling on our differences that divide us and empower those who would use these differences against us.

[Demetri Papadimitropoulos · Rating 5 out of 5]

How “Armaveni” Turns Inherited Pain Into Art: A Review of History, Diaspora Identity, and Intergenerational Memory
By Demetris Papadimitropoulos | February 23rd, 2026

There are books that teach history, books that inherit history, and books that show what it costs a family to let history cross the threshold and sit down at the dinner table. Nadine Takvorian’s “Armaveni” belongs to the third category. It is a graphic memoir-novel about the Armenian Genocide, yes, but even that description is too static for what the book is actually doing. Takvorian has made a work about transmission – the way grief moves through a household as silence, as ritual, as food, as language, as warning, as joke, as story, as the strange ache a child feels before she has the words to name what the adults refuse to say. I’d rate it 91 out of 100.

The title gives away one of the book’s central achievements: Takvorian builds a symbolic architecture so cleanly that it feels discovered rather than imposed. Armaveni is the grandmother’s real name, the one Nadine could not pronounce as a child, and the one the family story has half-hidden beneath the tenderness of “Mamani.” Later, in one of the book’s loveliest and most revealing turns, Nadine learns that “Armaveni” means date palm tree, and that the scientific name for the date palm is “Phoenix dactylifera.” There it is – date palm and phoenix, grandmother and fire bird, survival and recurrence – a braided emblem hiding in plain sight. A lesser book would underline the connection. Takvorian lets it bloom across the narrative, linking the grandmother’s silence to the child’s fascination with birds, stories, flames, and return.

“Armaveni” opens in the register of childhood insistence. Nadine wants to know why Mamani’s eyes are sad, why she cries when she hugs her, why no one will explain. The adults deflect with a bedtime story about a golden grove and a phoenix, a radiant bird in a place without hunger, fear, or violence. The sequence is enchanting, but even there Takvorian plants the note of unease. Paradise, in this book, is always a narrated place – an elsewhere imagined against the pressure of what cannot yet be spoken. Nadine, who “always did like stories,” grows into the kind of child who wants to play “book” with her friends, who sketches the fire bird, who receives the world first as image and scene. This matters because Takvorian is not only telling a story about inherited trauma. She is telling a story about a future artist learning the formal means with which to hold it.

The contemporary sections are among the book’s great pleasures, not because they are light but because they are so textured. Takvorian is excellent on the ordinary life of a diasporic household in California: the family deli, the Saturday shifts, the multilingual banter, the food as both commerce and memory, the codes of the church community, the sly and affectionate collisions of Armenian, Turkish, Arabic, and English. The pages hum with specificity – dolmas and bourek, British biscuits on the shelves, coffee hour arguments, a friend practicing “Eminem” on flute, teens talking about “Batman,” “Harry Potter,” and “Lord of the Rings.” This social world is not decorative. It is the book’s argument. Takvorian shows culture not as abstraction but as atmosphere, the thing you breathe before you can define it.

That is why the insults land so hard when they come. Nadine is called “Bolsahye,” then “Turkified,” by another Armenian girl, Ani, who polices authenticity with the confidence of the newly orthodox. Takvorian understands, and renders with uncommon patience, a difficult truth of diasporic life: people who have inherited violence often inherit its categories, too. The question “What does it mean to be Armenian?” becomes the book’s refrain, and Takvorian wisely refuses to answer it in a single register. The answer is linguistic and culinary, liturgical and historical. It is also fractured, argued over, regional, classed, accented, and vulnerable to shame. The book’s most generous move is to dramatize that argument without pretending it can be tidily resolved.

The hinge that opens the family archive is almost novelistically perfect. Nadine receives an Ottoman coin and a note from Mamani – a small, intimate relic, sentimental and material at once. The coin arrives with script Nadine cannot easily read, and that difficulty matters. In “Armaveni,” inheritance is not a sealed box of truth passed down intact. It is damaged access. It is a note you need help translating. It is a name you mispronounced into a nickname. It is a memory adults delayed because they thought delay itself was protection.

When the parents finally begin to tell what happened, Takvorian shifts into the historical storyline set in Marsovan in 1915, and the book’s visual and emotional temperature changes. Here “Armaveni” becomes, in part, an atrocity chronicle, but Takvorian’s control remains impressive. She stages horror in increments – first rumor, then raids, then disappearances, then the bureaucratic language of “registration” and “departure,” then the suddenness with which ordinary streets become lethal. Young Armaveni is introduced in a household with song, school, tea, and the poem of the crane – “Groong” – and that early tenderness gives the later pages their force. The book does not merely depict destruction. It depicts the destruction of a lived texture.

Takvorian is especially good at showing how genocide appears, at first, as social distortion before it becomes annihilation. People stare. Shops are attacked. Men are taken. Gossip hardens into knowledge. The town crier’s announcements, the whispered references to earlier massacres, the adults’ clipped, strategic speech – all of it conveys a civic order turning predatory. The family’s fear is not abstract and not sudden. It is cumulative. The atmosphere curdles panel by panel.

The figure of Hagop, the miller, introduces one of the book’s most devastating themes: survival by exception. He is spared because he is “essential,” a word Takvorian wields with bitter precision. The state can suspend your humanity and still claim your labor. Hagop’s proposal to marry Armaveni for protection is not framed romantically but structurally. It is an emergency arrangement under genocidal pressure, a decision made inside a machine designed to eliminate choice. Takvorian writes these family decisions with clear-eyed compassion. She does not sentimentalize what coercion does to kinship, but neither does she reduce the characters to symbols of victimhood. They are making impossible decisions in real time, and the book honors that fact.

The sequences involving Rebecca are among the most harrowing in the novel. Her abduction and sale, and the forced marches of women and children into the desert, are rendered without spectacle but not with euphemism. Takvorian’s instincts here are closer to witness literature than to prestige historical drama. She lets the brutality remain brutal. At the same time, she keeps returning to the family frame – the sister, the mother, the child – so that the violence never dissolves into a generalized montage of suffering. Even in the historical chapters, “Armaveni” remains insistently relational.

So, too, with the French school sequence, which may be the book’s most searing episode. Takvorian builds the scene through crowding and separation: women here, children there, room to room, doors, locks, voices, panic. The page rhythm matters as much as the plot. You feel the bottlenecking of bodies, the partitioning of mothers from children, the perversity of administrative order in the service of sadism. When the building is set on fire, Takvorian gives the women prayer, smoke, screams, and an interruption of conscience from outside – a voice shouting about children in the flames. It is one of the few moments in the book where moral witness appears inside the machinery of atrocity, and because it is so brief, it feels all the more fragile.

What distinguishes “Armaveni” from many historical graphic narratives is the way Takvorian refuses to leave the genocide in the past. The book’s middle and later sections move through Armenia and Turkey with a formal confidence that recalls, at different moments, the intergenerational layering of “The Best We Could Do,” the adolescent political awakening of “Persepolis,” and the testimonial urgency of “They Called Us Enemy.” Yet Takvorian’s book is wholly its own in the way it stages return as argument. The church trip to Armenia is advertised as a homeland pilgrimage, and Nadine immediately catches on the word itself. Homeland for whom, exactly? Her family is from Bolis – Istanbul – from what was once western Armenia. The maps do not match the inheritance. The available language does not match the feeling.

The Armenia trip lets Takvorian widen the frame without losing the intimate one. She gives us the tourist itinerary – “Khor Virap,” “Keghart,” “Garni,” “Tsitsernakaberd” – but she also gives us the emotional itinerary: awe, irritation, group hierarchy, shame, flirtation, linguistic confusion, sudden insight. Ani continues her gatekeeping, mocking Nadine’s dialect and calling her insufficiently Armenian, and then the book introduces Seda, the guide, who becomes one of its wisest voices. In Seda’s hands, the book articulates a principle that feels both political and humane: Armenian identity is not a checklist. Bolsahyes preserved language, faith, and culture under conditions outsiders like to simplify. Takvorian lets that correction arrive in dialogue, in public, with just enough firmness to register as a rebuke and a rescue.

There is a wonderful visual thought in the Armenia section – Nadine noticing a tree that has been cut down and reworked with metal branches and leaves, “the same, but different.” The line is simple; the metaphor is not. It catches the book’s whole method. “Armaveni” is a reconstruction, not a restoration. It is not trying to return anyone to an untouched origin. It is trying to build continuity out of rupture.

The scenes at “Tsitsernakaberd” carry the weight they should. Takvorian knows better than to make the memorial a site of pure closure. Instead, it becomes a place where names become geography, and geography becomes testimony. Marsovan appears among the provinces of deportation. Teenagers begin telling one another their family stories. The communal dimension of the book comes forward here. Nadine’s story is specific, but it is also one filament in a much larger web of narrated survival. The memorial is not simply where history is remembered. It is where private stories become speakable in a shared grammar.

If Armenia is the book’s site of symbolic return, Istanbul is its site of contradiction. The Turkey chapters are exceptionally strong. Takvorian captures the intimacy of extended family visits, the pleasure of cousins, food, and city wandering, while never letting the reader forget the conditions under which Armenian life persists there. The city is beautiful, inhabited, layered – and dangerous in a more ambient, bureaucratic way. Nadine’s cousin Nairi explains that Armenians helped build some of the Ottoman Empire’s most iconic landmarks, including those designed by the Balyan family, and then, in the next breath, describes racist graffiti on churches and schoolroom denial. This is one of the book’s most important political insights: erasure often coexists with dependence. A nation can live in buildings you designed and still demand your historical disappearance.

Takvorian is equally sharp on the afterlives of state violence in education. The “Mr. Ward” subplot begins with promise. He teaches ethnic studies, invites students to reflect on American identity, and seems, at first, like the kind of teacher who opens doors. Then the floor gives way. His remarks about being “American first,” his enthusiasm for Turkey’s hospitality, the later discovery of Institute of Turkish Studies funding, and most of all his insistence that the Armenian genocide is “ambiguous” produce one of the book’s clearest contemporary parallels: the classroom as a battleground of narrative legitimacy.

This is where “Armaveni” turns explicitly toward the present, and where some readers may find Takvorian at her most polemical. Mr. Ward is not granted much interiority, and his function is obvious. He is less a full character than a structure with a face – a pipeline from institutional prestige to denialist discourse. But the book earns that compression. Takvorian is not writing a campus novel about a conflicted professor. She is showing a teenager recognizing, in real time, how polished liberal language can carry historical violence forward. “History is complicated,” Mr. Ward says, and Takvorian’s book replies: yes, but complication is often the first refuge of bad faith.

The subplot deepens after 9/11, in one of the novel’s most resonant bridges between past and present. The family watches the attacks unfold. The mother immediately fears riots and retaliation against anything read as Middle Eastern. Their store is egged. They put up an American flag. Suddenly an old family tactic – flying the Turkish flag in Istanbul so mobs would pass by – reappears in a new key. Takvorian does not overstate the parallel. She does not equate histories. She does something better. She shows how a family memory of vulnerability shapes instinct under a different wave of collective panic. The past has entered muscle memory.

This is the deep intelligence of “Armaveni”: it understands intergenerational trauma not only as feeling but as behavior. The adults’ silence, the parents’ caution, the grandmother’s sadness, the child’s persistence, the quick reading of danger in public mood – these are not abstract inheritances. They are learned adaptations. Takvorian’s later pages, especially the ones in which the family finally completes the story together, carry an almost physical sense of release. “Heavy. Burdens. Weights.” The words are plain, nearly blunt, and all the stronger for it. When the mother says it feels like a weight has lifted, Takvorian lets relief coexist with grief. Finishing the story does not cure the history. It changes who has to carry it alone.

The ending is quietly superb. Nadine remembers Mamani brushing her curly hair without causing tears. The “Groong” motif returns. The bird comes back not as fantasy escape but as a messenger finally recognized. “Welcome home,” the page says, and then, more importantly, “I exist.” It is a simple line, but in the context of a book about extermination, denial, and cultural survival, it lands as both lyric and thesis. Existence itself becomes a historical claim.

Takvorian’s “Author’s Note” extends the book’s documentary ambition and makes plain what the narrative has already implied: denial is not epilogue but continuation. Her references to Article 301, Hrant Dink, the criminalization of genocide speech, and the more recent destruction and displacement in Armenian lands bring the book into immediate dialogue with our era of memory wars, curricular fights, and state-managed narratives. In another writer’s hands, this might feel appended. In Takvorian’s, it reads as the final panel in a story about what happens when testimony must compete with official forgetting.

Visually, too, “Armaveni” sustains its argument. Takvorian’s line has a handmade steadiness that suits the memoir mode, and her washes – created digitally but retaining a watercolor softness – move deftly between warmth and dread. Domestic scenes are often airy, crowded with labels, foods, and talk; the historical pages thicken into shadow, smoke, and compressed space. The lettering, derived from her own handwriting, matters more than one might expect. It gives the whole book the feeling of a personal archive being made public without surrendering intimacy. In a field where polish can sometimes sterilize feeling, Takvorian’s pages remain textured, human, and alive to the tremor of the hand.

If “Armaveni” has a limitation, it is mostly the one that accompanies urgency. At moments, especially in the school confrontation, Takvorian’s moral design is so clear that the dramatic texture narrows. Mr. Ward’s scenes are effective, even galvanizing, but they are not the book’s most nuanced passages. The family and diaspora scenes are richer, stranger, more contradictory – and therefore more enduring. Still, this is a small reservation in a work whose ambition is not to luxuriate in ambiguity but to break a silence. “Armaveni” knows exactly what kind of intervention it wants to be, and it achieves that without sacrificing artistic shape.

In the crowded and increasingly vital shelf of graphic works about history and inheritance – from “Maus” and “Persepolis” to “The Best We Could Do,” “Displacement,” and “March” – “Armaveni” claims its place not by scale but by voice. Takvorian’s distinct contribution is to show genocide memory as a domestic practice of incomplete telling, and to render the fight over language – who gets to name the past, who gets to define belonging – as a drama that begins in childhood and never really ends.

By the final pages, “Armaveni” has become what its heroine always wanted stories to be: not an escape from reality, but a way of making a survivable shape around it. Takvorian has made a book that remembers, argues, mourns, and sings. It carries history heavily, yes, but it also carries forward the thing history failed to extinguish – the voice.

[Rosh · Rating 4 out of 5]

In a Nutshell: An OwnVoices graphic memoir offering some insights into the Armenian genocide. The intent is worth appreciating; the content needs more detailing. Good illustrations, but I didn’t like the colour scheme. A valiant attempt at highlighting a part of history that’s never discussed. Recommended for awareness. Not an easy read.

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In September 2025, I read Pablo Leon’s ‘Silenced Voices: Reclaiming Memories from the Guatemalan Genocide’, a graphic novel highlighting a genocide in Guatemala I had never heard of. When I saw this book, I was stunned that yet another graphic memoir has opted to showcase a genocide that doesn’t get attention anywhere. It makes me wonder how many mass massacres throughout history have actually been brushed under the table or even been denied their occurrence as propaganda. Kudos to such graphic novelists for making their voices heard and showing the truth.

The author is a professional illustrator who has sketched for several children’s books and graphic novels. This is her debut writing effort. While it is a creative first novel exploring several facets of Armenia’s past and present, it still needs some finetuning.

Takvorian, whose family was originally from Turkey, is a first-generation Armenian-American,. When Turkish Muslims declared “Turkey for Turks” (So many variants of this slogan exist around the world even today! 😢), they started to assassinate the local Armenians, who were Christians. The author’s grandmother Armaveni lived through these painful times, but passed away without revealing much about those dark days or how much she had lost. Her daughter – the author’s mother – also refused to speak on the genocide for a long time. When she finally revealed her suppressed trauma, the author could understand the crux of her Armenian identity.

The story comes through interconnected historical, contemporary and fantastical sequences. The contemporary section was the most appealing to me as the journey of a young girl towards her roots showed awareness and spunk.

As this book is mostly autobiographical, there is a undertone of genuineness to the narrative. We see the pain of Takvorian and her family, we see her excitement at visiting her homeland for the first time, and we see the emotional upheavals she faces in Turkey. All of these emotions come out strongly.

However the narrative stays focussed only on her personal experiences and doesn’t dive much into the political and cultural status quo in Turkey during those years of upheaval. Several necessarily facts have been skipped from the book. As it is, the timeline isn’t always clear; the book randomly jumps across the past story, the present-day events, and the imaginative interludes, all juggling for attention. To add to this confusion, the book focusses a lot on the whats of the genocide but offers barely a line or two about the whys. There’s no historical note explaining the political situation in the Middle-East during that era, which should have been the logical first course of action. This makes me feel like the book is not a great starting point to learn of the genocide as it presumes familiarity with certain historical events.

It might have helped if I had had some awareness of this massacre. But this book is the first time I have even heard about it. This lacuna in my knowhow affected my comprehension to a great deal, especially at the start. As the chapters progressed, I got a vague idea of the genocide, but even after completing this 344-page graphic memoir, I doubt I have grasped all the intricacies precisely.

That said, it is not easy to read such books during these dystopian times, when so many countries are still committing the same mistake that these countries did: considering one race/ethnicity/religion superior to the others. When humans look at each other only through the distorted lens of race or religion and not through the 6/6 vision of humanness, our future seems dire. Such books help spread awareness of historical crimes, and hopefully, (which is just a teensy-weensy barely-present glimmer of dull hope at present), someone somewhere will read such books and say, “I need to stop viewing others based on their race or religion. We are humans first.” (Such a big assumption on my part that racist bigots like to read diverse books!)

There is a helpful glossary at the end of the book for the Armenian and Turkish words. But even more fascinating is the author’s note: a marvellous way of setting things straight and clear.

The text is in typeface created from the author’s own handwriting. No complaints at all about this; her writing is very legible. The Armenian dialogues are indicated by a <> in the text bubble.

The illustrations left me with mixed feelings. I loved the sketches of all the human characters. Nadine’s curls are especially lovely. However, the colour scheme is monochromatic, mixing white with a darkish purple shade. Given how there are three types of stories in the book; present, past, and imaginative, the colour scheme could have reflected this, using one distinct colour scheme for each story. In its current format, the only indication of a shift in narrative is a kind of page border at the bottom of the historical narrative focussing on Armaveni’s timeline.

Overall, I did like this memoir, but I expected to learn a lot more from it. Given that it is aimed at adults, it could have gone darker and deeper into history so that the contemporary timeline were perfectly clear. In its present format, it feels more YA, even though the events it covers are far from YA.

Recommended to fans of true-life narratives focussing on a tragic event of the not-so-recent past.

3.5 stars, rounding up for the intent.


My thanks to Levine Querido for providing the DRC of “Armaveni: A Graphic Novel of the Armenian Genocide” via NetGalley. This review is voluntary and contains my honest opinion about the book.

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I follow the Goodreads rating policy:
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ - Lifelong favourite!
⭐⭐⭐⭐ - I loved the book.
⭐⭐⭐ - I liked the book.
⭐⭐ - I found the book average.
⭐ - I hated the book.
The decimals indicate the degree of the in-between feelings.

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[Doreen · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars.

The older I get, the more I wonder why people who commit genocide are so hellbent on pretending it never happened. It adds a layer of weaseldom to an already terrible thing. Like, it's bad enough you're a mass murderer but when confronted with the evidence, you'll pretend it never happened? That feels like a double erasure, of not only a person's life but also their very existence.

Perhaps that's the point, which is why it feels especially important in this day and age that the stories of the murdered, displaced and those otherwise affected by state-led actions of eradication continue to be told. The tragedy of the Armenian genocide is probably one of the best hidden of the 20th century. Even as well-read as I've been throughout my lifetime, I didn't know about it until maybe ten years ago? I'm glad that people are speaking out, and that Nadine Takvorian has turned her family history into this compelling Young Adult graphic novel.

Partially set in 2001, the teenaged Nadine of this book comes from an Armenian American family that doesn't like to talk about the past. California-born Nadine loves drawing and loves stories, tho knows that there are certain ones that her family refuses to share. Her parents run a specialty food store in the city, where she and her brother Sayat help out on Saturdays. A passing question from a customer regarding her identity, and an essay assignment on what it means to be American from her history teacher Mr Ward, soon combine to have her question her own heritage with greater intensity.

Her mother finally relents and begins telling Nadine and Sayat the story of their great-grandmother Armaveni, who'd been a 16 year-old schoolgirl in braids while living in 1915 Marsovan, Turkiye. In order to protect Armaveni, her family married her off to the local miller Hagop Tutjian, who'd been spared from execution by virtue of being an essential worker despite being part of a hated minority. That would be only the first in a strange and often harrowing series of events for young Armaveni, before she would eventually be able to comb out her great-granddaughter's curly hair in California decades later.

Nadine herself takes the opportunity to go on a heritage trip to Armenia, despite the company of at least one bitchy girl who doesn't think Nadine is Armenian "enough." She and Sayat take a detour to stay with Armenian relatives in Istanbul, and get a bigger picture of what life is like for their still oppressed minority even in the 21st century. After getting home, 9/11 happens, giving her more perspective on what it feels like to be a minority even in the Land of the Free. Will Nadine be able to push back against the surprising, and frankly disturbing, number of people who want to erase her identity, and claim her entire heritage for herself?

What was most interesting (and, frankly, relieving) to me as a reader was how carefully Ms Takvorian made it clear that no religion or culture has the monopoly on oppression. Genocides are always about power, and almost always about providing a useful scapegoat for why those in power cannot deliver on their bullshit promises. If you focus the people's anger and energy on an out-group, after all, it's easier to dodge any blame as a member of the in-group actually perpetuating harm. We see that happen all over the world, even or perhaps especially today. What's truly remarkable about the Armenian genocide was how thoroughly it was papered over globally until quite recently.

Books like this one remind us how important it is to tell our stories and to share our histories. Not because we want to spread pain or to blame others, but because we want to able to let go of our grief and ensure that atrocities like this never happen again to anybody. Ms Takvorian contends so elegantly with the many aspects of her people's past and present that continue to impact Armenians today, in a way that resonates with anyone who's ever looked at injustice and sought to stop it. Frankly, this is a book that deserves to win awards.

Armaveni by Nadine Takvorian was published March 10 2026 by Levine Querido and is available from all good booksellers, including Bookshop!

This review originally appeared at TheFrumiousConsortium.net.

[Chelsea · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Armaveni: A Graphic Novel of the Armenian Genocide" by Nadine Takvorian is a dual timeline graphic memoir of the author's experiences growing up in the USA as an Armenian-American in the late 90s/early 2000s and her grandparents' story of surviving the Armenian genocide in the 1910s. A thread of magical realism in the form of an Armenian folktale about a phoenix ties together both narratives. Takvorian's work sheds light on themes of intergenerational family trauma, the complexity of identity in diaspora, and the meaning of home and having a homeland.

The gorgeous cover art is what initially drew my attention to this book, and the interior comics are equally beautiful albeit drawn in a monochromatic style. There were also some clever stylistic choices made like the intricate border on pages depicting the historical timeline and use of <> speech marks to indicate when a character is speaking another language but has been translated to English for our benefit. After finishing reading, I looked up the author's Instagram page and watched an interesting video about the many photos from family trips that she has used as landscape references throughout. It is clear how much of the author's heart went into creating this work and giving voice to her family's story.

The listed target age is YA, and I believe this would be appropriate for mature middle school- or high school-age readers. While obviously tackling serious topics and depicting acts of violence and cruelty, there is nothing overtly gory. It also has enough nuanced themes to reflect upon for an adult reader to find engaging, I was immediately engrossed and read through in a single sitting. Prior to reading "Armaveni", I knew only the basic facts about the Armenian genocide (i.e. that it had happened in the early 20th century, and Turkey to this day denies and suppresses information) from 20th century world history classes, but had never read a memoir or story of a family's experience to bring the reality to life.

This book had many elements which reminded me of previous graphic memoirs I have enjoyed like "Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood" by Marjane Satrapi, "The Rabbi's Cat" by Joann Sfar, "How to Understand Israel in 60 Days or Less" by Sarah Glidden, and "The Complete Maus" by Art Spiegelman. "Armaveni" is clearly following in the legacy of these graphic novels, and I believe has the potential to be regarded as equally important and impactful.

*DISCLAIMER: I received an eARC of this book from the publisher, Levine Querido, through NetGalley for the purposes of providing an unbiased review.*

[Xavier Whitman · Rating 4 out of 5]

Armaveni is another graphic memoir in a long line that focuses on the atrocities of the past (this time the Armenian genocide) and the generational trauma that follows, and I’m willing to say that Nadine Takvorian upholds that legacy.

The story focuses on the partially fictionalized life of the author Nadine as she finds her place in her Armenian identity and what that means to hold onto an identity that has been riddled with such hardships throughout history and present day. Armaveni really shines here, showing how that culture is still cultivated by her family and the profound impact that visiting her homeland had on Nadine. The passion that Nadine has for her Armenian heritage shows through in this novel both through the character and the author.

The story focuses more on the present (within the novel, as it’s set in 2001) rather than the past, which is not typical with these types of stories. This is not necessarily a fault and was clearly a purposeful choice. I would have enjoyed being able to see more of the history, but the pieces we received were still quite impactful. Especially with how they connected with the present in the story. The scene where Nadine’s parents put up an American flag after 9/11 being contrasted to her grandparents placing a Turkish flag hit quite hard showing the cyclical nature of history.

The art in the book is beautiful. For the most part, the art is fairly literal, but I found the moments where Takvorian allows for more surreal imagery to be more impactful. The constant through line of the firebird connected the story in a really satisfying way that I won’t spoil here. Additionally, the panel where the Turkish bandits are portrayed as wolves quite literally stopped me in my tracks.

From a technical point of view, I also appreciated the choice of adding a border around the pages when Amaveni’s story was presented. It added a nice bit of separation, which was extra beneficial since the book was very stream of consciousness with a lack of chapters.

I did have one minor flaw with the book and that is mainly that I wouldn’t recommend it as someone’s first source of the Armenian genocide. I was already somewhat familiar with it before reading this book, but I fear that I would have been very lost if I hadn’t been. I found myself googling while reading just to understand what was being discussed, especially about Bolsahye Armenians. Takvorian does provide some recommendations for further reading on the topic at the end which I do appreciate.

Overall, Armaveni is a beautiful book that discusses the generational impacts of genocide. A topic that is needed more now than ever. However, it functions better as the reflection of one woman and her familiy’s reflections on that genocide and how it impacted their lives rather then an straight history of the Armenian Genocide.

Thanks to NetGalley and Levine Querido for providing me with an advanced copy of this book.
#Armveni #NetGalley

[Libby · Rating 4 out of 5]

A semi-autobiographical graphic novel set in the early 2000s that follows a high school girl trying to learn what happened to her family during the Armenia genocide. There are multiple levels to the story, ranging from issues of identity as an American-born part of a diaspora community, various divisions within that community, as well as the actual family history of the genocide that has been hidden from the author and contemporary (at least as of the early 2000s) attitudes about the events in the early 1900s.

I gave the book 4 stars because it is well done and will hold readers interest. It held mine. One of my favorite pages was when the two main characters are traveling to Turkey and are hear Turkish swirling around them, a language they couldn't understand, but that I could!

It is because I have lived in and love Turkey that I did struggle with a fact which is always true: one family's story can't capture all of the nuances of both history or contemporary events. I have no issue with the portrayal of the events of the genocide. I was uncomfortable as I finished the book with the impression that the author thinks all Turks are horrible. I don't want readers to hate a whole people group because of the truly awful actions and the beliefs held by some or because of government policies, past or present, that don't reflect all people in a country.

I wish there was a a timeline in the back matter, listing all of the key dates and events of the genocide in a straightforward way to give context to readers, as well as including efforts that have begun to restore some sort of contact between Turkey and Armenia. It could also include events regarding people Takvorian mentions in her author's note: Turkish authors Orhan Pamuk and Elif Şafak who have spoken up about the genocide to remind readers of those who stand against government narratives.

I also wish the suggestions for further reading included some nonfiction works like ABC-CLIO's The Armenian Genocide: The Essential Reference Guide, that would help readers place the narrative descriptions in historical context. We need to call out genocide and racism in all forms and at all times, and we also need to find ways to imagine moving forward. This is more than one book can do but something that might be hinted at in recommendations for further reading.

Review based on a DRC received through NetGalley.

[Miky · Rating 5 out of 5]

5✨️

This was incredible, the Armenian genocide it's sadly a subject that wasn't too familiar to me, so this was truly the perfect way to be introduced to this part of the history. The graphic novel also has two pages at the end filled with books on the subject for further reading that I greatly appreciated (already noted some in my notebook to tackle in the future).

The book starts with a direct quote from Hitler, which is pretty devastating in itself, considering the context of the novel. The panels are monochromatic, with shades of lavender filling the pages, making it feel like a distant dream.

Armaveni, named after the author's grandmother (found this really sweet), is an autobiography that follows our author in teenage years on a mission to discover her heritage and family history. After finding out that her family was a victim of the Armenian genocide, Nadine goes on a trip to the land where her family's roots lie in order to deepen her connections to the past.

The graphic novel manages to present gut-wrenching themes, like genocide and discrimination, in a way that is appropriate and east to understand at any age. There is also a really nice transition from Nadine to Armaveni in the first part of the novel that was really nicely done, caught my eye immediately.

Armaveni is a love letter from Nadine to her grandmother, her family, her heritage, and even to herself, transforming itself into a promise that gently says, "I will not forget my roots, I will honor them as long as I am still alive, and whenever my time comes I will pass them on to the next generation."

Thank you, NetGalley, Levine Querido, and Nadine Takvorian, for providing me with an ARC in exchange for my honest review.

[Irene · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and Levine Querido for the ARC!

I was scrolling through NetGalley looking for an ARC to read and review since I haven’t had the app for a while and this was one that was automatically approved so here we are.

I haven’t read too much about the Armenian genocide so when I saw this book on NetGalley, I had to read it! I predominantly read YA books anyway and I haven’t ever read a graphic novel before so this was exciting.

This was a very short story about Nadine’s history as an Armenian living in Turkey. It tackles genocide, discrimination, identity issues, and life as an Armenian student in America. Nadine endures hardships within her own home where her mother has refused to tell her about her family’s history given the trauma it evokes. She endures hardships at school with a teacher that refuses to address that the genocide happened. But Nadine is insistent to know the truth and learns about her grandmother’s experience during the genocide. She also gets to go on a church trip to Armenia and visit her homeland.

I love how this story didn’t gloss over the religious aspects of history and I appreciate the research that went into writing this. There definitely needs to be more books about this part of history as the evils of Turkey and the Ottoman Empire are not usually addressed.

[Eden R · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm very glad I read this book. I know that it's not an intricate telling of the genocide and all the political turmoil occurring during that time, but it did something that school never taught me, and that was the genocide. I knew nothing about it, and considering things that have happened recently in the world, it really does make you wonder what other genocides have been hidden. I will definitely be reading more into it.

The story itself is full of heart and is devastating simultaneously. Through Nadine, we see what happens to the families of those surviving the genocide and a slight spoiler, but the fact that the very same person who made her want to visit her home is the same person who then refuses to acknowledge what occurred there is so devistating and I was close to tears. It's just not fair, I don't knwo hwo to word it other than that, it's just not fair for Nadine, and then finally when you think all is well and the characters can move to preserving their history and their truth you are swiftly remindied of when this book takes place and thats when the past begins to mimic the future and it's just soul crushing. It's even more soul-crushing knowing about recent genocides, and history is repeating once again.


Thank you to NetGalley and the Publisher for the ARC!!!

[Jeanette H.]

Adjacent by Nadine Takvorian

Thank You, Ms. Takvorian, for such an insightful book! Your illustration is wonderful. But your story is the reason that people should read your book!
As a 2nd generation Armenian American, I was never permitted to ask anything about the genocide that my Grandmother and Grandfather were lucky enough to have lived through. We weren't allowed to learn our Armenian language, much less let anyone know that we are Armenian. My Grandparents feared for our lives, even though they no longer lived in Armenia. In school we had to pick a country and write a report. I chose to write a report about a Volkswagen Beatle that climbed up Mount Ararat in Armenia, I even included an article which I had read about it. My teacher gave me a Very Large F with a note that said All lies, there is no such place! I left school crying, not only did this ignorant person insult my intelligence she did it in front of the whole class to humiliate me. My Grandmother, my Auntie and my Mother all went to talk with the principal and had the ignorant teacher apologize to me in front of the whole school. Unfortunately to this day I still don't know what my Grandparents went through or where they came from. I'm old now and miss my family so much, but I know that when it's finally my turn to go home, my family will come for me and then I'll be whole again.

[Alicia · Rating 5 out of 5]

This feeling autobiographic graphic novel on the Armenian genocide both in the past and the present understanding of the history and culture of the area through the eyes of Nadine who wants to know about her heritage, but the difficulty is finding anyone willing to step back to that emotional time and share it with her. It's important to her because she's being targeted in school for her looks and background. Fortunately for her, she also gets an opportunity to explore the region by traveling with a group of others.

An element of nonlinear storytelling is placed strategically with a visual element to know when a reader is back in time versus contemporary. The muted choice of white and a light purple color as the entirety of the graphic novel feels comforting with the deep content being delivered and would be perfect for our World Experience class to dive into. Plus, as a personal experience, it's even more important to explore through the eyes of Takvorian with illustrations of historical sites, for example, but also food and people.

This review isn't doing justice to the heart wrenching feeling of significance I felt when reading it. I can't wait to share it with others (though I just did with a room full of librarians!)

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's 2001, USA, and Nadine (the author, but semi-fictionalized) is in high school. She is Armenian-American, and wants to learn about the genocide that happened to her people - especially the members of her own family who had to flee - but her family is reluctant to speak, their history is too painful. Her teacher, for reasons we learn later, is also of no help, and keeps her silent in class.

But as Nadine continues to ask to know the history, her family finally begin to tell their stories. We witness on paper the genocide, not just to the family but to the Armenian people as a whole, even decades later. Even in 2001, when the graphic novel takes place, Nadine and other Armenian's still have to fight hard to blend in, both in Armenia/Türkiye, and in the USA when terror strikes the nation.

This was a well written story, the art style was easy to follow and nice to look at, and it was a great introduction into learning about the genocide. The author notes at the end really bring in the reality, with photographs and additional information, as well as helpful pronunciation guides and direction to where readers can learn more.

[Թ · Rating 5 out of 5]

“Armaveni” by Nadine Takvorian tells a story that resonates with each and every Armenian: the need to search for the past to understand who we are.

By way of a beautifully illustrated graphic novel, Takvorian takes us through her journey as she unpacks the aftermath of the Armenian Genocide generations after it had taken place by inquiring about the survival story of her grandmother, Armaveni. Between life in the United States and trips to Armenia and Istanbul, she ponders the meaning of identity, home and belonging - questions that frequent the minds of many diasporans.

She highlights the violence and hardships that continue to follow Armenians and other minorities in Turkey (notably the pogroms of 6-7 September 1955) and emphasizes the importance in resisting denialism by governments who are hellbent on rewriting history to cover up their crimes.

The publication of her story - our collective story - is one of many that bravely confronts and dismantles those lies in a mission to preserve the truth.

I strongly recommend this beautiful book to all readers and applaud Nadine for sharing our story in such a phenomenal style.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thanks to NetGalley for the review copy.
Somewhere in the past 16 years my love of graphic novels shifted from the heroic fantasy variety to the historical and/or storied style of Eisner. This is one of those gems I’m glad my interest shifted. The tale itself models a remembering and lived current reality of trying to deal with the Armenian genocide. Any country or regime’s first priority is to suppress the horrors of its history — it’s a sad, sick, virus built into our as human history. We are not prone to address the trauma, and yet, it is only when we begin to address the difficult sides of our history we can truly move into the light of the good of any countries history. The story is off putting at start, which adds a nice churning into the tale, which comes to a head when characters wrestle with individuals that acknowledge the tragedy and those that don’t. The art could use some contrast within different sections to heighten this, which is why it backed away from a 5 star.

[Cyn P · Rating 3 out of 5]

A really good find, a story that has elements of what people are experiencing today. Not feeling like you belong in one community or another, being bullied for being different, being you. And the twisting of events in history and today to fit a certain narrative. I thought this was an excellent look at the Armenian people and the genocide they faced and continue to go through.

In this autobiographical work, we follow our main character (author of the book), a high schooler, Nadine, and her family as she navigates high school and her family's identity. She wants to know her family history and learns that and more after visiting her homeland. This was great, I think it's an excellent perspective of tapping into one's culture and wanting to celebrate all that the Armenian people have lived through and still persevered. I liked the simplicity and style of the artwork and would like to add a physical copy to my collection.

[Ms. Yingling · Rating 3 out of 5]

E ARC provided by Edelweiss Plus

This graphic novel contained good information about various problems in Armenia, including the genocide. I would buy this for a high school library, but will look for something a little more linear for middle school. Since this went back and forth in time, and wasn't always as clear as it could have been in telling what years were involved (it took me a while to realize the main "modern" story was set in about 2001), younger readers might be slightly confused. There is also some violence that might make this a better choice for readers in seventh grade and up.

The E ARC was not in color, but I'm not sure about the final book. I did like that the drawings had some inspiration from traditional Armenian art. Comparisons to George Takei’s They Called Us Enemy and Kiku Hughes’s Displacement are very apt.

[Ana Ćupurdija · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is such a wonderfully illustrated and well-written book.
It is as much of a historical and societal testament as it is personal.

Nadine describes her journey of discovering her own national and cultural identity while uncovering the atrocities of the Armenian genocide. She is finding her own place in this world, while simultaneously keeping the memory of all those before her and their lives alive.

The illustration was magical, and I think it matches the story so well. I loved the added fantastical elements.

I cried so much reading this. It is a powerful story, depicted uniquely and beautifully.
I consider this one of my top reads so far this year.

Thank you to NetGalley, the author, and the publisher for granting me this ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Aila Krisse · Rating 5 out of 5]

Armaveni is a heart-wrenching graphic novel that chronicles the author’s experience learning about her family history. Her grandmother, the titular Armaveni, survived the Armenian genocide, many of her family and friends were not so lucky. This is a story about the importance of remembering, about family, diaspora and what it means to (not) have a homeland. With what happened in Artsakh/Nagorno-Karabakh only a few years ago, the topic of this graphic novel is unfortunately still highly relevant. The art style isn’t quite my cup of tea, but that’s really the only thing I found to criticise about it.
---
Many thanks to Levine Querido for the ARC

[Alastair · Rating 4 out of 5]

I very interesting semi-autobiographical graphic novel about being Armenian in the USA and the Armenian genocide. The artwork is excellent, but unfortunately rather monotone. At times it is hard to know when things are happening (there are no dates) and it is a shame colour wasn't used to differentiate times and places. As this was an ARC, there were still some layout issues which hopefully will be resolved before publication. All-in-all an excellent graphic novel which delves into the complicated and delicate history of Armenia, being Armenian, and the genocide, the denial and the consequences thereof.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

I read an advanced copy provided by Edelweiss Above the Treeline in exchange for a review.

A graphic novel memoir of a young woman's experience in learning of her familial and cultural heritage, and the different biases and prejudices Armenians experienced and still experience even in the "land of the free." The art is well done, and the narrative flowed; the horrors of the Armenian genocide were presented in a way suitable for young readers, but shocking all the same.

A timely release that can be used to aid discussions about current and past world events. This was a fast and enjoyable read, highly recommend.

[Curious Madra · Rating 4 out of 5]

I was really surprised how good this book was when reading about the characters Armenian heritage and the fact I hardly know about the Armenian genocide really opens your eyes. I was really sad on a scene where the women and children were about to be burnt to death in a locked building like for such a plain art-style, it really was gripping and horrifying! Of course this book would remind you of the ongoing Russia vs Ukraine and Israel vs Gaza wars. War never wins and that’s what Nadine Takvorian is telling us here!

Got this via Netgalley and publisher with thanks

[Lilly · Rating 5 out of 5]

I found this as an ARC on NetGalley, and was attracted to the cover. The description mentioned Armenian genocide, and I felt it was important to read. Both sides of my family survived Nazi Germany and raised us with knowledge of the atrocities and to never forget. It left me with a need to witness others and their stories. It was simple, beautiful, and left my heart pounding afterwards. I appreciate the list of resources at the end, as well as definitions at the end for non-English words (Armenian and Turkish).

[Marty Pirri · Rating 5 out of 5]

I already knew this story—I wrote my BA thesis on Artsakh and the recent Azeri occupation, and I’m familiar with the persecution of Armenians and the genocide. However, reading it remains just as emotional. I think this graphic novel could be the perfect way to share this story, especially with a younger audience. It’s important to talk about this part of history and to tell the stories of the Armenian people. I also love the illustration style and the metaphor of the phoenix, which I find really effective.

[manoureads · Rating 4 out of 5]

Armaveni is a moving and beautifully told story that really stayed with me after I finished it. The combination of tender storytelling and expressive artwork makes for an experience that’s both emotional and thought-provoking. It touches on difficult history with care and sensitivity.

What struck me most was how personal the story feels—it’s full of quiet moments that speak volumes about love, loss, and endurance. The illustrations add so much depth and emotion; they linger in your mind long after you close the book.

I’m so grateful to NetGalley and Levine Querido for the opportunity to read an ARC. Armaveni is a story I won’t soon forget.