Persepolis 2 -- Bildungsroman

First, I hope I don't cause any heart attacks by posting so early.  I'm working really hard to get ahead in my classes so I can make space for all my upcoming presentations and papers.  Usually, I'm still struggling to finish reading the book on Sunday night before I post, and I want to say here, publicly, that 4:00 or 6:00 a.m. Monday is *still* Sunday night to me.  If I haven't been to bed, it's still night.

Because there was much debate about whether the first Persepolis is a Bildungsroman in class last night, I'll share what the Penguin Dictionary of Literary Terms and Literary Theory has to say about the Bildungsroman:

Bildungsroman (G 'formation novel')  This is a term more or less synonymous with Erziehungsroman -- literally an 'upbringing' or 'education' novel  (q.v.).  Widely used by German critics, it refers to a novel which is an account of the youthful development of a hero or heroine (usually the former).  It describes the processes by which maturity is achieved through the various ups and downs of life.

The OED says, even more simply, that it is "a novel that has as its main theme the formative years or spiritual education of one person (a type of novel traditional in German literature).

By both those definitions, I'd say Persepolis would be a Bildungsroman, if it were a novel, which, of course, it is not.  But, let's pretend that Persepolis 2 is.  

Satrapi opens the second book by telling us that she had gone to Austria "with the idea of leaving a religious Iran for an open and secular Europe and that Zozo, my mother's best friend, would love me like her own daughter" (155).  It's not long before Marjane realizes that Zozo doesn't love her at all, and doesn't even want her around.  By the end of "The Soup," she's in a boarding school, where she feels mostly lost, but she finds her tribe in "Tyrol" (164).  "Pasta" is even more concerned with her education.  She is learning about the culture in which she is now living and its social norms.  She also delves into educating herself while her friends are on vacation, so that she will understand more about them and their conversations.  When a nun makes an offensive and ignorant generalization, "It's true what they say about Iranians.  They have no education" (177), Marjane strikes back.  She stands up for herself, for the first time in these new surroundings.

In "The Vegetable," Marjane's growth starts as physical.  She gains seven inches in a year.  She develops a more punk appearance, but is basically trying to fit in with her new friends.  After overhearing some other kids talking about her, and the fact that she had told someone she was French, she loses her temper and screams, "I am Iranian and proud of it."  Here we see a different kind of growth.  Her attempts to fit in become less important that her acceptance of who she is and where she is from.  I think both these examples of Marjane standing up for herself display her formative years and her spiritual growth.  They are also examples of the "ups and downs of life," but we get more intense downs soon.

Marjane starts dealing drugs (I found her declaration that she "was no longer a simple junkie, but my school's official dealer" (222) took me out of the story momentarily; that's pretty strong language for someone who "smoked joints to distract ourselves" (222)).  She enters her first serious relationship and experiences her first heartbreak.  She becomes homeless (as a direct result of the relationship, as she had spent all her money on her boyfriend) and so ill that she must be hospitalized.  She returns to Iran and finds herself in the middle of an identity crisis and serious depression.  She attempts suicide.  She has a lot of downs in her life.  For those who think an epiphany is necessary in a Bildungsroman, here you have it:  When Marjane tells her therapist about her failed suicide attempt, her therapist responds, "That dose should have been enough to finish off an elephant!  Even though I'm not a believer, aside rom divine intervention, I can't find any other explanation for your survival" (273).  Marjane infers that she was not meant to die and decides to take control of her life. "Aha!" moment and spiritual growth during her formative years:  check.

Now she has some ups.  She changes her appearance, starts exercising and teaching French and aerobics.  She finally seems to be taking care of herself (except for the non-stop smoking).  She finds a new boyfriend.  She gets into art school.   There seems to be a setback in "The Makeup) when she causes an innocent man to be arrested.  I was very shocked when that happened.  I appreciate that she included this in the book, though.  I think this, along with some of the earlier chapters in which she questioned her parents' beliefs when compared with their actions, makes her characters more real.  They aren't perfect.  They have all the contradictions of everybody.  She has seemed to be very conscious, but then she throws somebody into a dangerous situation to avoid danger herself without even thinking about it.   I was also shocked that Reza found the situation funny.  I felt relieved when her grandmother reacted so strongly.  This was another major moment of realization for Marjane.

She gets married, has a life completely separate from her husband (separate beds, even), but tells us "in retrospect, i can see that I had always know that it wouldn't work between us.  But after my pitiful love story in Vienna, I needed to believe in someone again...so much so that I continually lied to him" (318).  She becomes depressed again, but this time her father confronts her, lighting the proverbial fire under her ass.  She is admitted to grad school in France.  The end of the book felt a bit abrupt to me.  She is leaving for school, and just like the end of the first book, her family is with her.  This time her grandmother is there, too, and she tells us "The goodbyes were much less painful than ten years before when I embarked for Austria: there was no longer a war, I was no longer a child, my mother didn't faint and my grandma was there, happily..." (341).  Besides all that we've seen her go through, she tells us she is no longer a child.  The action she is taking now, leaving, is an action she is taking for herself.

So, yes, if this book were fiction, I'd definitely call it a Bildungsroman.  But, it's not.