As a graphic novel, Persepolis contains only brief reference to historical events, with vague descriptions, at best, of the key historical players involved. For example, in her report of the Iranian retaliation on Baghdad, she laconically paraphrases from a TV announcement: “140 Iranian bombers attacked Baghdad today”; there is no mention of the actual date of the attack, of the leaders on either side of the conflict, the number of killed or injured, the reasons that prompted the bombing, Iraq's reaction, or any of the other salient facts usually present in comprehensive reports of such events.
The quantity and, in some instances, the objective quality of information upon which Satrapi draws is further restricted by the fact that she writes only of personal experiences from her early teenage years and before. Perhaps more interested in Iron Maiden than the Iron Curtain at the time, Satrapi is correspondingly light on historical fact. Additionally, Satrapi's place in a family with obvious historical bias provides additional cause for caution. As a great-granddaughter in the ex-royal family and daughter of Marxist parents, Satrapi's description of the Shah's ascent to power ascribes no blame to anyone of genetic relation, concentrating primarily instead on a comical depiction of the Englishmen involved as stereotypically evil.
Paradoxically, however, the account's distinctive nature is also its greatest strength. The brevity of her captions allows Satrapi to distill what others might take paragraphs to express into single compelling sentence or phrase. Instead of writing reams to attack the fundamentalist regime's phony reports, she simply writes: “Every day they tell us that we've destroyed ten planes and five tanks. If you start from the beginning of the war, that makes six thousand planes and three thousand tanks destroyed. Even the Americans don't have an army this big.” Thus, Satrapi effectively discounts the regime's credibility with a single reference to a schoolyard conversation.
Similarly, Satrapi's non-professional style is entirely appropriate for her account due to the simple reason that the human race is not primarily composed of historians. Nor, it should also be noted, are historians the only readers of history. And most importantly, they are certainly not usually the prime actors or eye-witnesses to history as it happens. It is important for this very reason to study not only the in-depth analyses of historical experts on the period, but also the primary perspectives of those less historically inclined among us. Satrapi brings this to us, successfully communicating common attitudes of complex historical phenomena with explanations such as, “The more he tried democracy, the more his statues were torn down.” Through her simplicity of expression, Satrapi captures the essence of a prevailing and recurring theme in this account: the Everyman's perspective.
As important as the Everyman's perspective is the childhood perspective. Easily imprinted upon and often cultural barometers - even caricatures - of those around them, young children are very useful indicators of the prevailing attitudes of the time. Satrapi, careful to point out the irony of her patriotism, portrays her childhood perspective of the war with the caption, “The second invasion in 1400 years! My Blood was boiling. I was ready to defend my country against these Arabs who kept attacking us.” If historians can understand why the children of a region think in one way or another, they are-may be much closer to understanding the populous as a whole.
Satrapi's account, though clearly lacking in historical breadth, is rich in historical insight. It may provide scant detail and little of the background concerning the hundred-and-forty-aircraft attack on Baghdad, it may fail to offer a balanced, nuanced analysis of the Shah's rise to power, but what it does give the reader is a vivid, valuable impression of the emotional atmosphere, cultural attitudes, and social facets at the time. However unimportant it may seem to the conventional historian, Satrapi's knowledge of Iron Maiden - and of the countless other cultural phenomena in Persepolis - connects directly to my own life and opens a fascinating window onto hers. Her writing's accessibility transforms this account's apparent shortcomings into strengths.
