Perspective Chapter: Visualizing the Unseen – Multilayered Narrative of Violence in Graphic Novels by Francophone Middle Eastern Women

Abstract

This chapter focuses on the post-9/11 testimonies of women from the Middle East whose work has gained international recognition. It explores four graphic novels written by female authors with a Middle Eastern background: Persepolis (Marjane Satrapi), A Game for Swallows (Zaina Abirached), Bye Bye Babylon (Lamia Ziadé), and Poppies of Iraq (Brigitte Findakly). Within this examination, the chapter delves into the various visual techniques used by these authors to unfold/re-view the layers of violence that these women experienced. Through their works, they experiment with diverse representational possibilities, aiming to capture the psychic impact of distressing experiences on both individuals and the collective.

1. Introduction

Since the early 2000s, the recognition of the graphic novel as a respected art form has coincided with a profound transformation in the genre, encompassing changes in themes, techniques, authors, and publishing companies since the publication of graphic novels such as Art Spiegelman’s Maus, Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Kyle Baker’s Nat Turner, Parsua Bashi’s Nylon Road, or Paul Hornschemeier’s Mother, Come Home. These authors, hailing from various parts of the world, used the graphic novel to navigate the intricate mental landscapes of fictional and non-fictional characters affected by potentially traumatizing events. Through their works, they experiment with diverse representational possibilities, aiming to capture the psychic impact of distressing experiences on both individuals and the collective. In the context of the Middle East, Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis played a pivotal role in legitimizing comics as a meaningful tool for reconstructing the past through the lens of memory. Satrapi’s foundational contribution paved the way for subsequent creations, resulting in a substantial body of over 60 pieces that explore the Middle East from various angles. These works encompass genres such as autobiography, journalism, and fiction and have been published in Farsi, Arabic, Turkish, Hebrew, French, and English, collectively contributing to a diverse and comprehensive exploration of the region’s complex issues.

This chapter focuses on the Francophone graphic novels that emerged in the early 2000s. During this period, graphic novels by Middle Eastern writers were more oriented towards European publishers and the global market, as seen in the works of Marjane Satrapi, Zeina Abirached, Lamia Ziadé, and Brigitte Findakly. However, since the uprisings of the Arab Spring, they have established a remarkable presence in the region. Lebanon, Iran and the Maghreb¹ are the main countries producing graphic novels. In Lebanon, a group of friends in Beirut established Samandal in 2007, the very first adult comic magazine in the region. Also, in 2011, two graduates from ALBA, Zeina Bassil and Wissam Eid, launched the fanzine La Furie des Glandeurs which includes-single-panel comics and illustrations [1]. In Algeria, the founder of Dalimen Press, Delila Nadjem, and a group of Algerian artists, launched the first edition of the Festival International de la Bande Dessinée d’Alger (FIBDA) in 2008 which quickly became a network for artists, publications, and magazines. The reputation of Iranian comics belongs to its exilic authors including, Satrapi, Amir (Zahra’s Paradise), Mana Neyestani (An Iranian Metamorphosis), and Dara Naraghi (Persia Blues, Volume 2: Love and War, 2015). In Iran, each book (or translated book) must be approved by the Ministry of Culture and Islamic Guidance before being published. As such, most of the international comics are subject to censorship. The local comics are children’s books or have for theme the eight years of the Iran-Iraq war, martyrdom and biographies of religious (Shiite) characters [46–47, 1] [2]. In the past few years, the internet has provided comics creators with avenues such as personal blogs, Facebook, Instagram, and other social media platforms to publish their work, making it readily accessible to the public. Remarkably, comics have emerged as a favored medium for young individuals, enabling them to critique various facets of their lives in the Middle East. Despite the omission of many Middle Eastern realities in official media, comics serve as a medium that empowers ordinary people in the region to gain awareness of unspoken events.

This chapter will limit its span to the representation of violence in the graphic novels published in French including Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Zeina Abirached’s A Game for Swallows, Lamia Ziadé’s Bye Bye Babylon: Beirut 1975-1979, and Brigitte Findakly’s Poppies of Iraq. In doing so, it looks at how these artistic creations are hybrid in nature meaning they explore a transcultural identity of a Middle Easterner to whom migration was imposed. It also highlights how these individuals found a third space from which new perspectives of identity emerge. This in-between space is intrinsically critical of essentialist positions of identity and a conceptualization of “original or originary culture” ([3], p. 211). According to Bhabha, this hybrid “third space” is an ambivalent site where cultural meaning and representation have no primordial unity or fixity. The medium of comics enables contemplation on the conflicts that contribute to the misunderstandings and miscommunications between the East and the West.

2. Discussion

The authors of this study not only observe the violence and geopolitical instabilities in the Middle East but also reflect on their transcultural experiences through the medium of the graphic novel. By venturing beyond their homeland borders, they undergo cultural dislocation, immerse themselves in diverse cultures and geographies, and ultimately develop what I argue are transcultural identities [4]. Their mobility patterns have had a notable impact on other writers, particularly women across the Middle East. Writers such as Brigitte Findakly (Franco-Iraqi), Lamia Ziadé (Franco-Lebanese), and Leila Abdelrazaq (Palestinian-American) stand out among them. Their works, following the tradition of Persepolis and A Game for Swallows, vividly portray the complex issues of the Middle East. The perspectives presented in Persepolis, A Game for Swallows and, Bye Bye Babylon are noteworthy. Each serves as a personal narrative recounting the experiences of a girl growing up in the tumultuous Middle East, eventually immigrating to France. These graphic novels emerged during the politically charged era of the War on Terror, where media coverage and political discourse intensified focus on the Middle East, reinforcing stereotypical representations of the “other.” These authors offer firsthand accounts of wartime experiences through the unfiltered lens of a child, fostering sympathetic readings due to their direct exposure to adult violence. These graphic novelists face a significant challenge in navigating the tension “between what is “sayable and what is showable” ([5], p. 5). Scholars like Gillian Whitlock [6] and Hillary Chute [7] argue that the graphic novel has evolved into a privileged medium for portraying traumatic content in recent decades. The inherent page layouts and frames in this format create “multiple spaces for dialogue between individual narration and its context” ([8], p. 96). In essence, graphic novelists can articulate their emotions while placing them in proximity to broader sociopolitical, cultural, and historical contexts. Their works present a new image of determined women rebelling against fundamentalism, violence, and patriarchy within their homes. They convey their stories not only in French but also through the graphic novel format, recognized as a Western-style, effectively reconstructing their multifaceted worlds.

Persepolis grapples with the challenge of representing unutterable violence and the complexities of testimony. Leigh Gilmore ([9], p. 157) contends that the graphic novel insists on the notion that trauma holds the potential for bearing witness, even if it involves testifying to what was not shared or deemed shareable. Satrapi’s exploration of the interplay between presence and absence in traumatic scenes reveals the limitations of imagery when confronted with extreme violence, such as executions and death. In conveying her fear, anger, and trauma, Satrapi [10] employs distinct voices for her child, adolescent, and young selves, illustrating the evolution of the self over time.

Following the tradition of Persepolis, Lebanese artist Zeina Abirached provides readers with a recollection of her childhood in war-ravaged Beirut. Abirached was born in 1981, six years into Lebanon’s civil war. Growing up in half of Beirut (East), she experienced the city divided by the demarcation line between Christian East and Muslim West. Lebanon, since its formation in 1943, has consistently witnessed confrontations among its political parties, religious groups, and minorities, culminating in the Civil War of 1975–1990. Initially sparked by conflicts between Christian factions and the Palestine Liberation Organization in 1975, the war evolved into a multifaceted conflict fueled by both internal and external forces. Following the war, the State initiated the Taif Agreement, also known as the National Reconciliation Accord, in 1989, aimed at a balanced “mutual coexistence” among Lebanon’s various religious parties regarding their political representation. However, this agreement, considered a general amnesty, sought to deliberately sidestep the painful past. In 2002, as the Lebanese government began rebuilding Beirut and erasing war traces, Zeina Abirached felt compelled to share her personal wartime experiences in the city. A student at the Lebanese Academy of Fine Arts (ALBA), she discovered the works of French and American comic artists, including Jacques Tardi, David B., Art Spiegelman, and Chris Ware.

While Abirached has not explicitly cited Marjane Satrapi as an influence, many readers and reviewers have drawn comparisons between her black-and-white drawings and the style of Persepolis. Much like Satrapi’s graphic novel, A Game for Swallows [11] narrates a serious war story from a child’s perspective, marked by dominant black hues and flattened images reminiscent of David B.’s Epileptic. What distinguishes Abirached’s work is her Oulipian style, influenced by her time at the École nationale supérieure des arts décoratifs in Paris, where she became familiar with the Ouvroir de Littérature Potentielle group (L’Oulipo). Although not an official member, Abirached collaborated with its members, including co-writing Agatha de Beyrouthe with Jacques Jouet. Oulipian writers employ rules, rituals, and games to break with habit and stimulate creativity, even when addressing serious subjects. Anna Kemp [12], in “Je me souviens Beyrouth: Zeina Abirached’s Perecquian practice,” explores the influence of L’Oulipo, particularly the writings of Georges Perec, on Abirached’s graphic novels. Kemp concludes that Abirached finds comfort in a playful attachment to everyday objects and routines similar to Perec, evident in A Game for Swallows through playful layouts and framings that recreate geographical places and evoke a sense of security. Abirached emphasizes the importance of sounds, influenced by the French filmmaker Jacques Tarti, in remembering the war. The onomatopoeias in A Game for Swallows not only insert sound into the graphic novel but also reflect the physical space of war-torn Beirut. In addition to these Western influences, particularly French artists, Abirached deliberately chooses French over Arabic to recount her personal war story.

The style of A Game for Swallows diverges significantly in its portrayal of trauma, illustrating how Abirached grapples with her past and the events of the Lebanese the Civil War by reconstructing her fragmented memory through space and everyday life. She belongs to the second generation of post-war authors who, having lived through the war as children and adolescents, seek to (re)construct a temporal and spatial framework of reference to contain an experience of war” ([13], p. 588) as a response to the State-ordained amnesia. Abirached’s entire body of work contributes to the reconstruction of war’s memory within the urban landscape of Beirut. An examination of her texts reveals the frequent appearance of the urban space of Beirut in the titles. Initially timidly enclosed in parentheses in the first graphic novel, (Beyrouth) Catharsis, the city gains stronger representation in the book of memories, Je me souviens: Beyrouth. The capital also appears metonymically in 38, rue Youssef Semmani. The recurring presence of this address in most of Abirached’s works can be interpreted as her attempt to create a monument or memorial representing Beirut’s history of war. Abirached utilizes spatiality on the page to capture the intricate connection between war and geographical space, exploring maps of both the interior (home) and the exterior. The inside signifies Abirached’s entryway, the site of gatherings and social rituals, while the outside represents the unknown city beyond 38 rue Youssef Semaani, where she resides. Through transacting black lines—sometimes chaotic—on a white comics page, Abirached conveys the sense of a claustrophobic space in which she lived. The stability of the panels, maintaining mostly the same size, and the consistent representation of content demonstrate Abirached’s effort to organize her memory of war. Carla Calargé and Alexandra Gueydan-Turek ([14], p. 209) argue that Abirached’s drawings often serve as semiopaque screens, covering and indirectly revealing the traumatic aspects of violence. However, I contend that the avoidance of explicit violence should not be viewed as an incapacity to depict trauma in the graphic novel medium. Instead, it is a deliberate aspect of Abirached’s project to universalize her personal experience, allowing anyone, regardless of their differences, to engage with a narrative of war.

In the vein of Zeina Abirached, Franco-Lebanese artist Lamia Ziadé delves into the memories of the first 4 years of the war from a child’s perspective in Bye Bye Babylon: Beirut 1975–1979. While not a historian, Ziadé’s work seamlessly merges art with a fragmented, non-chronological history of the Middle East. Ziadé seamlessly intertwines historical, military, and political references with personal anecdotes about her family and the harrowing experiences of night bombings. The child narrator (similar to Persepolis and A Game for Swallows) grapples with a desire to comprehend the horrifying violence, realizing the absence of innocence or evil in such circumstances. Her work Ô nuit, ô mes yeux: Le Caire / Beyrouth / Damas / Jérusalem partially explores the illustrious history of the Middle East through the lives of two female singers. These texts collectively contribute to constructing a framework of an inhabited war.

In Bye Bye Babylon, Ziadé [15], at the age of seven, resides in East Beirut as the war unfolds. Although labeled a graphic novel, the style defies genre conventions. The sketchbook approach incorporates full-page images alongside short paragraphs resembling captions, omitting traditional speech bubbles. Ziadé’s panels not only captivate with their stylistic uniqueness but also transcend the boundaries of conventional comic book forms. Ziadé employs unframed fragmented pictures to narrate events from a personal perspective. This graphic painting memoir can be perceived as an exhaustive catalog of the civil war. Diverging from Satrapi and Abirached, Ziadé opts for bright colors to depict violence. The graphic novel traverses the author’s childhood favorites to the tools of war, from bubble gum to war equipment. Ziadé skillfully juxtaposes the familiar with scenes of shocking violence, illustrating how war becomes ingrained in daily life. Representations of the familiar, like Nivea cream, offer a semblance of security to the child grappling with a world full of contradictions. Rather than presenting a political polemic, Ziadé provides a glimpse into the emotional impact of witnessing the shift from the comforts of foreign brands to the harsh reality of everyday violence. Amidst a backdrop of state-maintained amnesia, Bye Bye Babylon contributes to the archival project initiated by Lebanese writers. Ziadé’s and Abirached’s graphic memoirs vividly unveil the representation of Beirut, shedding light on the less apparent but deeply infrastructural violence.

Similarly, Brigitte Findakley’s Poppies of Iraq, illustrated by her husband Lewis Trondheim is an autobiographical graphic novel that encompasses familiar tropes seen in contemporary graphic memoirs. Trondheim, renowned for works like Kaput & Zösky and the Donjon series, is also a founder of the French independent publisher L’Association. Setting itself apart with nonlinear comics frames, Poppies of Iraq introduces a distinctive storytelling perspective to themes reminiscent of Persepolis and Riad Sattouf’s The Arab of the Future. Findakly entrusts the reader to weave together her personal stories, fostering a nuanced understanding of the concepts of home and belonging while finding her place in between. Despite other authors, Findakley was born to an Iraqi father and a French mother. Findakly navigates the complexities of national identities, stemming from one parent in the Middle East and another in Western Europe. The narrative unfolds as a poignant coming-of-age story set against the backdrop of war-torn Iraq, where the allure of France plays a significant role. The novel portrays the beauty of home amidst cultural and religious repression. Brigitte Findakly presents a nuanced narrative in her recounting of the events depicted in Poppies of Iraq, interweaving elements of personal memories, historical events, and autobiographical reflections from her upbringing in Iraq since the 1950s. Notably, the graphic novel, published in 2016, emerges within the socio-cultural context of escalating Islamophobia in France following the Charlie Hebdo attacks. In contrast to Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Findakly employs a child’s perspective to articulate historical traumas with a distinctive blend of humor and irony.

An illustrative instance of this narrative approach is evident in a panel where Findakly initiates her recollection by stating, “durant les chambardements et les coups d’État des années 60, je ne me suis sentie en danger qu’une seule fois” [during the upheavals and coups d’état of the 1960s, I only felt in danger once] [16]. The accompanying imagery portrays Iraqi military soldiers brandishing guns. Subsequent frames depict Findakly and her family in a café, their tranquility disrupted by the presence of May 1968 protesters crossing the street. The final frame concludes with the reflection “je me suis dit que c’est dangereux, la France” [I thought to myself that France is dangerous] [16], drawing a parallel between the social movements in France and the upheavals in Iraq during a comparable period. This narrative strategy serves to illuminate historical events through a lens of levity and irony, offering a distinctive perspective on the convergence of personal and socio-political/socio-cultural dimensions of her life particularly after her immigration to France. Reflecting back on the Islamophobic perspectives held by her family members who, due to challenging living conditions, particularly for Christians, opted to migrate to alternative countries, Findakly arrives at the conclusion that she holds a profound appreciation for both religions and cultures. She concludes the final chapter with a full-page panel titled “Les bons souvenirs,” [Good memories] expressing, J’aimais bien les moments-là où nous devions rester tous ensemble dans la maison [I loved those moments when we all had to stay home together.] [16].

3. Conclusion

Outside their homeland borders, Satrapi, Abirached, Ziadé and, Findakly find themselves in a liminal position where they oscillate between two modes. Hamid Naficy describes the state of exile as “a process of perpetual becoming, involving separation from home, a period of liminality and in-betweenness that can be temporary or permanent” ([17], pp. 8–9). He considers cultures as being located in place and time. However, the exilic culture, according to him, is created at the intersection of other cultures. Much like Naficy’s notion of liminality, in the context of postcolonial discourses, Homi Bhabha’s concept of “third space,” describes “the new cultural identities that often emerge in the border zones between incommensurably different cultures” ([18], p. 40). While Naficy focuses on the challenges of the individual in exile, Bhabha is more positive about the new possibilities that the in-between position can offer to exilic authors. Both of these concepts are useful in understanding how the authors of this study became transcultural writers. The transcultural vision allows these writers to create new ways of thinking and imagining the notions of identity, home, and culture while creating points of contact between Middle Eastern and French cultures. Indeed, the medium of the graphic novel is transcultural. According to the comics scholar, Mark McKinney, comics depicts “transcultural movement and change through immigration” (p. 7) and also it is “a shared form across cultures worldwide” (p. 7). These authors “seem to be living in a dimension without any fixed borders or whose geographic, cultural, national or homeland boundaries and allegiances are self-identified, self-chosen” ([4], p. 7). As a result, their literary/artistic productions are innovative as they move beyond ethnic, national, racial, or religious concepts and offer a new perspective on the world and humanity while exploring and making sense of the roots of violence.