Graphic novels and the Middle East
Why are so many authors who write about the Middle East turning to comics to tell their stories?
Dancing barefoot on a floor made of needles is likely a more palatable experience than being a newcomer to political debate regarding the countries of the Middle East.
There are few discussions where positions are so pre-rehearsed and intractable, divisions so bitter and hostile to the opposing point of view, and emotions so fractured that any attempt to broach the subject for the first time will inevitably prompt a retreat to simpler issues – like, say, the democratic deficit created by illicit tax structures in a globalised world.
This dilemma feeds into the work of writers who set their texts in the countries of the Middle East, and who embed the themes of their work in one of the most virulent geo-political subjects of our time. There is always the risk that writers will be accused of trading nuance for dogma, or of avoiding the realpolitik of the region altogether in favour of creating characters and plot.
It’s not surprising, then, that so many writers are choosing graphic novels as the way to present their narratives set in the Middle East. Graphic novels like Joe Sacco’s Footnotes in Gaza (2009) and Leila Abdelrazaq’s Baddawi (2015) have helped to hurl comics into the literary-critical mainstream by showing that comic books are able to express hugely complex issues such as the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and aren’t the sole reserve of PVC capes and star-spangled tights.
Benefits of the form
The comic book form provides snapshots and short sequences, avoids the need for lengthy diatribes about historical background, and is also highly selective by nature. The writer has to choose which limited images and dialogue are vital to the story’s progression and should be framed. At the same time, the illusion of simplicity provides a useful tool of deception for drawing in readers who might otherwise run in the opposite direction when confronted with a lengthy novel about the politics of the Middle East.
The decision to use the comic book form to indirectly tackle the affairs of the Middle East is also a subversive choice. The majority of Western readers are familiar with comics through the world of American superheroes: throughout the 20th century, we have seen mutants and heroes with superhuman abilities trawl the pop culture screen and page in every variety imaginable.
These superhero creations are often portrayed as the last defenders of prescribed American values in a dangerous, threatening world (even if the method is sometimes dubious). Superman is a defender of justice, attacking lynch mobs and wife beaters, while Batman utilises his corporate wealth to tackle corruption in Gotham City’s police department. Illustrating a demolished Palestinian home in the Gaza strip in the same medium in which the patriotic figure of Captain America wages war on his enemies is a potent statement in itself.
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At a time when America and its allies are engaged in military interventions in the Middle East, depicting a young girl growing up in the Islamic Republic of Iran using the same format that has been associated with such staple characters of American pop culture as the martial, hyper-masculine Thor serves to undercut the idea of a clash of civilisations. This is what Marjane Satrapi does in her much-lauded comic Persepolis (2000).
A young Satrapi speaks in the same snappy ripostes and speech bubbles while dancing to punk rock music and partying, in the same kind of action shots that you would expect to find in a host of comics portraying the lives of adolescent Americans – although the tangles of public life in post-revolution Iran are very different.
Marjane Satrapi – Persepolis
In Palestine (2001), journalist Joe Sacco draws himself as a reluctant, aloof outsider with ‘a rule of thumb’ to ‘avoid groups of teenaged boys,’ who is often found at the corner of the frame wondering how he’s ended up strolling the streets of Ramallah. He’s persistently panicking and perspiring at the constant threat of violence and aerial bombs as a result of the First Intifada, a Palestinian uprising, in the West Bank in late 1991 and early 1992.
Among the desolate images of barbed fences and the abundant stories of brutality and torture, Sacco’s detailed, monochrome drawings also show Palestinians playfully bartering about the quality of their tomatoes, and children playing in the puddles of the comic’s most striking, sprawling image of a refugee camp in the Gaza strip (‘Refugeeland’). Sacco never allows you to hide behind a familiar screen of despair, where the people involved are simply rendered as vehicles of human suffering rather than fully realised people with a sense of humour, hope and the shadings of everyday life.
Graphic novels can redraw and reimagine our imaginings of a place that we’ve never seen before. Anyone glancing at the news on a daily basis, even uninterestedly, will find it easy to conjure up the images of murderous beheadings, displaced refugees and oppressive dictators that dominate the newsreel coverage of the Middle East. As a visual form, comics are proving a useful counterpoint to these pictures by showing us images that we never get to see: of parties, dancing and laughter.
Graphic novels and the Middle East: some titles to start with
Neil Gaiman, The Sandman #50: Ramadan (1993)
The Sandman #50 looks at the city of Baghdad and parallels the myth of its exotic and mysterious character (magic carpets and harems) with the bombed city of the Gulf War. The comic knowingly interrogates how mythology surrounding the Middle East has seeped heavily into our consciousness and continues to affect how we think about the region.
Emmanuel Guibert, Didier Lefèvre and Frédéric Lemercier, The Photographer: Into War-torn Afghanistan with Doctors without Borders (2003)
This comic focuses on Lefèvre's journey to Afghanistan during the Soviet war. The distant horrors of war are made personal through Lefèvre’s experience, and the intricacies of foreign policy become digestible through the striking images of the book.
Joe Sacco, Palestine (2001), Footnotes in Gaza (2009) and Journalism (2012)
It would be remiss of any list of this type to skip over the work of Joe Sacco. His pioneering work is a mish-mash of memoir, journalism and narrative, and results in a highly accessible and transfixing – as well as distressing and violent – exploration of realities, from deprivation in the Gaza strip to the soldiers involved in the Iraq war. You definitely won’t regret reading Sacco’s work.
Joe Sacco – Palestine
West Bank Stories: The Graphic Novel (2010), edited by Rebecca Cox
As part of a scheme launched by Project Hope, young people from Palestine have created a collection of comic book stories in their own words. It’s common to see stories about the area written by Anglo-American journalists where the Palestinian people become mere subjects, but this graphic novel allows them to be authors of their own work and speak in their own voice.
The Djinn in the Skull: Stories from hidden Morocco (The Bluecoat, Liverpool, 17 Jul, 3.30pm, free), part of Liverpool Arab Arts Festival, 16-24 July
arabartsfestival.com