Persepolis was a great city of the ancient world – a vital center of the Achaemenid Empire between 550 and 330 B.C. – and its Persian ruins can be seen today in contemporary Iran. And when Marjane Satrapi titled her 2000 graphic novel Persepolis, she seems to have been giving a nod to the greatness of her country’s past, even as she denounces the cruelties and horrors of its more recent present.
Satrapi, born in 1969, was 10 years old when the Iranian Revolution took place, and therefore she conveys the events set forth in Persepolis with a perspective similar to that of Harper Lee's narrator, Scout, in To Kill a Mockingbird (1960): an adult’s experience-based look back at a child’s movement from a state of naïveté to a state of awareness. No doubt it is with this emphasis in mind that Persepolis is subtitled The Story of a Childhood.
The early part of Persepolis sets forth the cruelty of pre-revolutionary Iran, where the Shah Reza Pahlavi maintained his control of absolute power through his feared SAVAK secret police. Young Marjane learns that her beloved grandfather was a prisoner of the shah’s regime – “Prison had destroyed his health. He had rheumatism. All his life he was in pain” (p. 25) – and it against that historical background that broad-based opposition to the regime begins.
Someone reading Persepolis for the first time may be surprised to learn that the revolutionary opposition to the Shah’s regime included not only Islamists but also well-educated socialists like Marjane’s parents. These socialist "allies" of the Islamists eventually find, to their sorrow, that the Islamists have long harboured a detailed plan for seizing full power, locking out the socialists, quashing any moves toward democracy, and implementing a regime every bit as cruel and oppressive as that of the Shah. For the Islamists, it turns out, the socialists were what V.I. Lenin, in revolutionary Russia, referred to as полезные идиоты -- poleznyye idioty, or "useful idiots."
The graphic-novel format of Persepolis is central to the book’s success; the relatively simple, thick lines of many of the illustrations give them a childlike quality, and reinforce the idea that these dramatic moments from Iranian history are being presented from a child’s perspective. When, for instance, the family receives a post-revolutionary visit from two friends, a husband and wife who have just been released from prison, the evening is given over to a recollection of the various tortures that the two ex-prisoners suffered and witnessed while in prison.
The tortures, because they are presented from the young Marjane’s perspective, and because they are depicted through childlike drawings, somehow take on a particular horror – more, perhaps, than if they were presented in “realistic” full color. Satrapi, looking back on how she learned of these atrocities, wryly remarks that “My parents were so shocked…that they forgot to spare me this experience” (p. 51).
The stark black-and-white illustrations emphasize the oppression involved in the Islamist government’s adoption of a policy compelling all Iranian women to wear the chador. As Satrapi chronicles, "morals police" roamed the streets of post-revolutionary Tehran, threatening with physical or sexual violence any woman who dared not to wear the veil. Once the work of the "morals police" is done, the women whose individuality once showed through in their clothing and hairstyle now are all made to look exactly alike – their blank, pale, carefully expressionless faces framed in a sea of black. Satrapi even archly points out how the “modern woman” of post-revolutionary Iran would “show [her] opposition to the regime by letting a few hairs show” (p. 75) under her chador.
The horrors of the Iran-Iraq War of 1980-88 take center stage in the second half of the book – and we see devoutly religious Muslim characters start to question their faith, under a government that has ruthlessly exploited the Islamic religion for political purposes. A friend of Marjane’s mother, Mrs. Nasrine, describes how her 14-year-old son is being recruited as a soldier, offered a “key to paradise” to wear around his neck into battle, with promises “that in paradise, there will be plenty of food, women, and houses made of gold and diamonds” (p. 100). Mrs. Nasrine, anguished, says, “All my life, I’ve been faithful to the religion. If it’s come to this…well, I can’t believe in anything anymore…” (p. 99)
And a couple of pages later – because the graphic-novel format allows the artist to manipulate specifics like panel size for dramatic effect – Satrapi gives us a large panel that shows ten child soldiers, in silhouette, keys around their necks, being blown sky-high by an explosion. The caption sums up with laconic eloquence the cruel cynicism with which the Iranian revolutionary regime consigned children to a violent death: “The key to paradise was for poor people. Thousands of young kids, promised a better life, exploded on the minefields with keys around their necks. Mrs. Nasrine’s son managed to avoid that fate, but lots of other kids from his neighborhood didn’t” (p. 102).
Late in Persepolis, the reader learns that Marjane has a potential way out – a chance to leave Iran for Austria. Because she once went to summer camp in France, her parents posit that she will be prepared for life in the West – and they sense that this may be young Marjane’s last chance to get out from under the oppression of the Islamist regime. On the night before her departure from Tehran, young Marjane cuddles with her grandmother in bed; and the framing of the image – with grandmother and grand-daughter cuddled together in emotional warmth, against a backdrop of absolute blackness – reinforces how this is a brief moment of comfort in the face of an uncertain future. The grandmother’s advice to Marjane is eloquent and moving:
In life, you’ll meet a lot of jerks. If they hurt you, tell yourself that it’s because they’re stupid. That will help keep you from reacting to their cruelty. Because there is nothing worse than cruelty and vengeance…Always keep your dignity and be true to yourself. (p. 152)
On a note of mingled hope, sorrow, and apprehension, Marjane Satrapi leaves Iran for the last time.
In a 2002 afterword to Persepolis, Satrapi writes that since the 1979 revolution, “this old and great civilization has been discussed mostly in connection with fundamentalism, fanaticism, and terrorism. As an Iranian who has lived more than half my life in Iran, I know that this image is far from the truth. That is why writing Persepolis was so important to me. I believe that an entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists.”
Composed in a spirit of mingled love and grief, Persepolis provides a powerful look back at a crucial time in history. Even more importantly, it tells the story of a brave little girl who sought a way to fight back against a regime that sought to deny her personhood – and found her way of fighting back, through artistic expression.