To start us off on this term’s focus of trauma and the “War on Terror,” our ASTU class has begun to discuss Jonathan Foer’s novel, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close. This novel brings in multiple perspectives through alternating narrators, as well as visual aids to tell the story of 9/11, while also painting a complex narrative of trauma (e.g. Dresden bombings, Hiroshima, the Holocaust) in the background. This layering effect gives much for the reader to dissect, and as Andrea beautifully writes, this story “hits close to home and continues to ring loud in our memories.”

The blog posts this week touched on some central talking points such as, absence as an expression of trauma, fear culture, and finding closure after loss. Your thoughtful perspectives accompanied with personal anecdotes made it a pleasure to read.

Symbols of absence and missed connections are reoccurring in this novel, ranging from emotional disconnects such as Grandpa’s inability to connect with his son or Oskar’s distancing from his mother, to the more physical loss of the twin towers and loved ones. In Foer’s novel, Grandpa and Grandma exemplify a state of disconnect in their lost touch with the present, due to their haunting pasts. Amy had a personal take-away from reading about the traumatized characters of this book. By looking at their missed opportunities she reflected on her own life, and suggested the need to “seize the day,” so as to not live in a similar state of regret. Rowan brought up an excellent point in her post when she acknowledged all of the successful connections that were the product of Oskar’s trauma. I like this observation, because although absence and missed connections are definite themes of this text, there is an equally noticeable theme of unification. This conversation steers us into the direction of what English scholar, Ilka Saal, describes as the universal feeling of suffering and grievance that can connect us, in her close reading of this text.

Islamophobia, and the resulting fear culture, were discussed by a number of classmates, given the traces of it in our text as well as its presence in the forefront of our modern times. Robert looked critically into media portrayals of extremism and the cultivation of fear culture, stating: “despite the fact that the news organizations should be reporting the news they are in fact the leading contributor in the spread of Islamophobia.” Devon shared a similar discontent with the growing fear culture, and stated that we are unlikely to progress as a society, “if we allow this fear to stay so deeply rooted inside us.” To connect this sentiment to the broader messages in our CAP stream, another result of this media portrayal is the sort of “moral panic” that we discussed in our Sociology class. With this chronic fear, often comes an overstep in the nature of the retaliatory actions taken. Furthermore, the rhetoric of “us” vs. “them” can begin to slip into the daily vernacular of the victims, thereby serving as a twisted justification for further violence.

-Lauren

Back in September, Mckaylee touched on what she believes the ultimate goal for global citizens is: turning “History” – a perspective coming from a dominant voice, into “Histories” – a plural and all-inclusive memory of many individual testimonies. In the past few weeks of writing my focused papers and presentation on “national memory” I have made a similar argument against having an all-encompassing remembrance of history, one that poorly reflects the views of all for the benefit of the few.

Although having a broad perspective on history may seem like a pretty unanimous desire in a classroom of “global citizens,” it is evident that this sentiment is not felt in all parts of the world. Just this month, there have been protests ongoing in South Korea because the Korean government has announced its planned replacement of the current varieties of history books available, into one universal text for the entire nation to follow. I can’t even begin to express my frustration with this blatant attempt to manipulate history. The good news, however, is that the public is responding critically to this decision. To quote professor Chung-in Moon from Seoul:

“Why should we have one version of a text-book? We need multiple views so students can choose. History can be subject to multiple interpretations.”

I think he sums up my stance perfectly in these few, brief sentences.

Please take a moment to hear the details of this story from the original BBC report.

Thank you for reading, and thank you for the original post, Mckaylee.

-Lauren Shykora

BBC article: “Why South Korea is rewriting its history books.” Retrieved from: http://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-34960878

Fiona’s last post compared Joe Sacco’s detailed imagery in Safe Area Gorazde to Satrapi’s simplistic drawings in Persepolis. She concluded that the style of the graphic narrative was directly related to the authors’ age at the time of their experience, and whether it was a first-hand experience or not. I’d like to bring Joy Kogawa’s Obasan into this discussion on detailed storytelling.

Obasan has its obvious distinction from the aforementioned graphic narratives in being a written book. However, on the topic of detail, Kogawa’s work is on the same page. Kogawa is able to paint elaborate scenes with her words, and finds a way to tell her story just as vividly as Satrapi and Sacco tell theirs. However, is there a preferred medium in telling a detailed story?

Sacco makes a point in an interview that persuades me to think that graphic narratives have an edge over the written book when portraying detail. He notes graphic novels can be as repetitive with details as the writer wishes, without ever coming across as redundant. To describe this point he talks about mud (17:06; 20:00); muddy streets are constantly featured in the panels of Sacco’s other work Palestine, but the reader is never bored by its presence. Yet, as Sacco argues, to leave out every-day details such as thick, inconveniencing mud, would subtract from the imagery of the story he is trying to report. He has the ability to let these minute details follow the reader throughout the book, whereas a prose writer would struggle to keep these details interesting to the reader.

This point highlights my only criticism of Obasan; at times it becomes overbearing with details. Although these details are important, I would suggest that perhaps Sacco’s approach is favourable for their portrayal.

-Lauren Shykora

Hello class,

As our ASTU class has delved deeper into Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis and the analysis of Hillary Chute’s essay, it seems that Persepolis is still bringing about new avenues of discussion. I think that in itself speaks to the effectiveness of Satrapi’s powerful work. I enjoyed reading the unique perspectives of my classmates, and a couple of themes particularly stood out for me and raised some important questions.

The portrayal of violence in Persepolis, and particularly the frame on page 52 of a dismembered body, sparked controversy among my peers. Why was it drawn in this unrealistic fashion? Was this a failure of the graphic narrative style itself, in which grotesque images fall flat when put from pen to paper as suggested by Joey? Perhaps it is not due to the medium in which the story was told, but that Marji’s 10-year-old mind had no conception of this degree of violence as Naima claims?  Or as Harnoor writes, does “the minimalistic and innocent take on the images [create] a more powerful effect than a realistic one ever could, as it forces readers to reach for the truth in their imagination?” The latter falls in line with the suggestions made by Hilary Chute, in that these simplistic depictions of violence are deliberate and serve as a way to point out how there needs to be a shift in the mentality that violence could ever be ordinary or tolerable.

On this point I’m reminded of U.S. President Obama’s response to the Oregon mass shooting in his recent speech. Obama demanded the same kind of reform in the acceptance of violence as Satrapi, as he called to erase the assumption that gun violence is beyond control and an inevitable part of society. He spoke of how the responses to horrific mass shootings have become routine, just as the violence presented in Persepolis. I mention this example to bring this issue closer to home, because the issue involving gun control in the U.S. can be understood and related to better than the horrific accounts of violence we’ve witnessed through Marji’s eyes.

Memory is a central topic in our ASTU class, but what about forgetting? Naima justified Marji’s personal testimony because, as she points out, forgetting has less to do with time, and more to do with the event itself. Traumatic events are seared into memory and are remembered with clarity and precision. This is especially true for childhood traumas, because it comes as an even greater shock to the system on an innocent mind. Mariana spoke on this tragedy of children being “forced to grow up and toss themselves into the abyss of the real world,“ due to the situations that surround them. The significance of this point can be felt in shockwaves through generations, as the PTSD of an individual can have wide ranging impacts.

The views presented by these classmates led me to look into the deeper relationship between trauma and memory. Memories are so powerful when they hold deep, emotional roots. But when episodes of trauma are unrelenting and become a part of daily life, do these acts of terror have the same devastating impact on an individual as isolated ones do? Does ones tolerance increase? Or is it that hopelessness becomes insurmountable, and individuals become resistant to change? My original assumption would be that something that causes us trauma would strengthen our resolve to fix it in the future, but the inaction of citizens in the U.S. to make their country safer through gun restrictions, and the continuation of violence in Iran, are two examples that lead me to think there must be more to the story. I see violence as a source for trauma, and the repetition of traumas to be an impetus for the continuation of violence. In short, these two forces cause a cycle that is difficult to break free of.

I enjoyed reading through your posts this week, and it’s made me grateful for the chance to have my interpretations challenged and improved upon by my peers in this blogging format. This open exchange of ideas is essential in adopting a broader perspective on global issues.

-Lauren Shykora

Just as Olivia, I was also really taken by Taiye Selasi’s TED talk, and I agree that as we become more globalized, nationality will be of lesser importance than locality. This relates back to a discussion question my group came up with in the CAP joint-lecture. We wondered how individuals will identify themselves in the coming years of increased mobility, which has potential to create further ethnic diversity around the world. I think that what Selasi presents as an alternative to our traditional use of nationality as self-identity, is a very possible answer to our question. So thank you, Olivia, for making this connection, and reminding me of this video’s existence!

I was particularly interested in your comment, “If I say I am a citizen of the USA, does one automatically associate me with freedom fries, obesity, and poor gun control?“ I connect this sentiment with what Marjane Satrapi states as her central motivation to write Persepolis, in that she “believe(s) the entire nation should not be judged by the wrongdoings of a few extremists.” Just as Satrapi does not believe all Iranians can or should be represented by fundamentalists of Iran’s history, you challenge the generalizations made on American citizens that reflect government decisions, or statistics that paint the entire country to be one specific way.

In my 19 years of living in Canada, I have never been questioned of my nationality. This is because my appearance fits what most people would associate as North American. However, there are many individuals that are constantly questioned of their origins, simply because they are seen to stand apart from this stereotypical identity, despite Canada being a multi-ethnic country. This would be very frustrating and perhaps offensive for someone who truly is a Canadian citizen, but is always looked at as an outsider. This is why I see so much value in Selasi’s argument, and perhaps, as she suggests, changing a simple phrase of “Where are you from?” to “Where are you local?” could ease this tension, and foster inclusiveness.

-Lauren Shykora