I do think the joke is kind of funny because this man is giving his life for his country, and when he comes back from the war no one wants to be near him because he isn’t the same anymore. It’s like people expect others to go and fight for them and then do not respect and honor them when they get back. This joke is exaggerated when it comes to where certain body parts are placed, but it is true that in life if one is not like others.. they will be dropped and forgotten about in a second.

Marjane completely changed from the little girl we first met at the beginning of the story. Instead of reading books as she used to, she is smoking cannabis and hash. She and her friends “trip” so that she doesn’t have to face the shame and disappointment of what she has become (pg 218, 3rd panel). I didn’t expect this from her, although I think that the direction that her life is going in is really interesting. I’m curious to see how she will act when she goes back to Iran. She is used to the freedom of Austria and being able to live without her parent’s for so long, that her going back will be something to see.

     I enjoy reading this novel. It is interesting to see how Marjane develops mentally as a person. She is proactive when it comes to learning, and loves to read. I don’t know what the other children are like, but I think this will pay off well for her in the end. When the decision is made for her to go to Austria and leave Iran, she is upset and sad to leave her friends. She will undoubtedly grow a lot within the coming pages and I’m excited to see how she acts in a new and foreign land. Will she stand true to who she is or will she sacrifice her beliefs to fit into a new culture?

            In the graphic novel, Persepolis, the roles of communism and God are as similar as night and day.  At the start of our story, the narrator, Marjane, is convinced that she is going to be the next great prophet at the age of 6.  During this phase of her life, she claims to be visited by God each night. As the Iranian Revolution becomes more heated, she is exposed to demonstrations and hears of how corrupt the current system is, a corruptness that leads to mass murders.

            It is her parents as well as the books that she has been reading that pave the way for Marjane to begin thinking like a Communist. It is when she begins to speak of communism and of such figures as Che Guevara and Fidel Castro, that God visibly exits from her life. (pg. 16, panel 3) In my opinion, it is debatable that the auther and illustrator are saying that communism is ultimately evil. If God leaves as communism enters, it can be said that the two are to be found on opposite poles, and that by choosing communism, one turns their back on what is considered good.

Works Cited

Satrapi, Marjane. The Complete Persepolis. New York: Random House, 2003

         At first I was skeptical about reading a Graphic Novel.  I thought that it would be childish; that it would not make me think. In Persepolis, written by Marjane Satrapi, the pictures and story line have joined forces to prove my preconceived notions wrong. For me, it is the pictures that make the story come to life.  Readers are taken on a journey and are able to see the world from a ten-year old Iranian girl’s point of view.

         The pictures are in black and white; they allow the readers to focus more on the message of the author. Readers will never be distracted by the images, if anything, they only add to the story, they never take away. Sometimes there isn’t a definite form when it comes to the images presented. The lack of form actually helps the reader deduce what is happening in the scene. Is our author dreaming? Is the scene graphic?  Both her sentences and pictures are to the point. There isn’t any added fluff. On page 15 of Persepolis, Satrapi is able to make it clear to her readers in four sentences and two pictures what some history books may take an entire section to write about.

          The Expressionistic way in which the pictures have been developed and displayed only adds to the meaningfulness of the story. As the Comics Handout suggests, Satrapi is able to “represent the world within by having it reflect the world without.”  Because of the “cartoonish” type way in which her characters have been drawn, Satrapi allows readers, no matter their age or nationality, to relate to the story being told.

         After looking through the novel and reading over forty pages, I have come to the conclusion that without pictures, Persepolis would not be as powerful.

Works Cited

Satrapi, Marjane. The Complete Persepolis. New York: Random House, 2003

McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics. New York: HarperCollins, 1993

So you think you have the cojones to live in Indiana?

I thought I did too until I got here.  Let me be quick to point out that it takes more than being able to say “French Lick” without smiling to make it big. Learn from my mistakes. This short and to-the-point guide is your one-stop-shop for a successful transition into life in Indiana!

10.  Don’t ask what a “Hoosier” is. I’ll let you in on a little secret: no one really knows. There are about 20 different definition variations depending upon what part of the state you’re in. Just except that they flexibly use the term and move on.

9.  There is a lot of corn here; try not to be intimidated. And unless you want to pray to the porcelain maiden, stay away from the hard corn; it’s for the farm animals to eat, not us.

8.  You will be immediately judged and labeled as soon as you answer the seemingly innocent question: “Purdue or IU?” Choose wisely.

7.  Layer! I cannot stress this enough, the weather is out of control here. 80° one minute, 60° the next; get used to it and welcome to your new home.

6.  Midwesterners are some of the friendliest people you will ever meet. You aren’t in New York City or LA anymore, if you open doors and say, “Hello” to people, the favor will be returned.

5.  Say it with me: “WAH-bash.” You will be looked at funny for saying something preposterous like “was-BAHSH.” It is the WAH-bash River.

4.  Learn to pick your battles wisely while you’re here. You can ask for a soda as many times as you’d like, but until you politely ask for a “pop” you are going to be extremely thirsty.

3.  It is WINDY here!  For those pushing 120 when wet, may I suggest a hearty breakfast and rocks in your pockets to keep from being swept away. Note: Wind Travel comparable to Rowling’s mythical “Floo Network”; regardless, much more convenient than bussing system.

2.  Let it go, we know there aren’t any mountains here.  Every once in a while, close your eyes while you’re taking the steps.  You may physically be walking up six flights to get to your apartment or dorm room, but mentally you may very well be scaling the Rockies and no one is any wiser.

1.  Two words:  Bottled Water.

It is packed.

Like a herd being transferred to the slaughterhouse, we stand still and bundle together, preparing ourselves for the inevitably brutal elements that await us. As we are jostled to and fro, we are bounced off the cool, unforgiving metal. We nervously pray for the doors to open, like cursed animals that have accepted their cruel fate.

It is quiet.

Like a sanctuary on a dark night, we feverishly murmur our wishes to the faceless surrounding us, praying to find a pair of eyes who will care. “Will I be late for class?”  “Why is she such a bitch?”  “Oh, how I wish Johnny liked me!” The voices soon cry out in despair; the wind mockingly whistles its response through the cracks in the glass.

It is dark.

Like an abandoned city, people stand as tall and impersonal as skyscrapers, wrapped in their dark cloaks; the sunlight disappears into the shadows. My eyes glance from one cold face to the next, wishing. . Hoping to find a glimpse of life behind the empty stares.

It is cold.

Like a newborn yearning for its mother, we cling to our coats and scarves. We are valence electrons, shivering, aching to leave; we long for the moment when we are able to disconnect ourselves from the umbilical cord, step outside and say, “HELLO, WORLD!” Until then we are condemned to shiver and shake like scrawny alley cats, searching for warmth.

It is LOUD.

Like an umbrella in the wind, we are thrust backwards as we come to a grinding halt. As the brakes squeak and the supports groan, we surge towards the doors. A gust of wind races to meet us, like a long lost lover, and embraces us, threatening to never let us go.

It is packed.

I don’t like taking the bus.