Relativism – Public Knowledge and Private Experiences
Media
There’s no universal criteria

Foer, Jonathan-Safran. Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2005. Print.
That was not it, not the whole story
As much as we admire the finished product that lay before us, what’s to stop us from wondering what goes on behind the scenes? Is the information fed to us actually primary, or was interpreted by somebody else through their own interpretations and their own lenses? My experience looking through the Kogawa Fonds in the rare books library opened me to a whole new perspective into Obasan.
The novel itself is the finished product, and in it lay Kogawa’s own literary style of jumping back and forth between the 1940s and 1970s. Although the novel’s public praise in the 1980s was noted by the prime minister when issuing a formal apology, how do we know that that was the whole story? The book’s eye-opener on the “truth” into Canadian treatment of Japanese immigrants could have caused great controversy, with people ignoring it and critics using all the methods in the book to avoid a direct analysis on the Japanese-Canadian population. Of course, this might not be to the scale of the 1950s social backlash against the then-radical Awakening novel from Kate Chopin, but with Canada emphasizing multiculturality to its fullest and subduing its inconsistent past, evidences may be hard to find.
The artifacts are in no particular order and seems to be given to the rare books library without being screened or filtered in its content order or organization. Nevertheless, to do so might rob away the essence of the “rare books” and “primary” aspect of the content. A group of students spotted intense writing in mandarin talking about how the 1970s government wanted to push forward a program to educate Canadians of a third language. Although we can only speculate about Chinese language being the possibility, nothing was ever confirmed. Nor was there historical evidence of Joy Kogawa understanding this language in the first place, and a flip over the same piece of paper reveals countless scrap papers where Kogawa wrote down ideas for her novel. Another group saw Obasan’s countless drafting processes of the novel, yet all of them does not seem to stray too far from the finished product itself. A group even saw private letters between her and her alleged affair, which really encouraged us to think why does she even put this into a public library.
Another interesting question to ask is; what’s not being given to this library? We saw what was given, but we will never see what was not given, nor can we ever know if there was anything left that Kogawa decided not to give to this rare books library. Was there a criteria for Kogawa when she decides to donate these items? This is one of the beauty of primary sources; they are in their original form and SHOWS us something instead of TELLS it. We don’t know why they are in the library, but we won’t know is that the whole story or not, nor what’s left out and what’s missing. This goes in line with Kogawa’s decision not to make Obasan an official historical discourse itself, where it is a piece of primary experience to a historical event, but not intending to be an actual piece of the history books? Still, who’s to say that this makes it less important or less accurate than history books? If anything, history books rarely dig far into the content of any event, and is a second-hand account that has already been analyzed through one’s mind.
Visual realism and violence
The popular first-person game GTA has a 97/100 critic score. In many ways, that is one of the highest-rated games I’ve ever seen, and yet it compelled me to ask questions like why are my family banning me from playing it, or like why is it officially banned in certain countries? After seeing the gameplay, it becomes clear, this is diametrically opposed to Persepolis’ exemplification on minimalist representation of damage and violence.
Though I’ve never played it myself, utilizing internet resources such as YouTube to reference other people’s gameplay experience gives an empirically good sense, and GTA allows for nothing short of endless freedom of choice. It is not beyond GTA’s capacity for a player to rob, steal or shoot anybody at any time. In certain missions, you as the main character also drives a girl home for sex. GTA has been referenced as a source of some street murders, and has been banned by Brazil, Saudi Arabia, South Korea, Thailand and the UAE.
It was seen as something extreme, showcasing reality to its full potential, and the resulting factor is the downfall of high-level abstraction and a strong tendency to neutralize a person’s perspective, making extreme events seem “normal”. This is extremely problematic to young children, who does not have the full decision-making capacity of the brain at this point in their life. Being influenced by violence from a very young age will make them think that violence is part of everyday life. If this becomes a collective youth problem, the quality of the entire society’s welfare would deteriorate, especially since these kids will grow up to become future adults who has to educate their kids. Taking this in context of Satrapi’s Persepolis, it wouldn’t have arouse much attention anyway if she were to make the violence fully graphic realism, thus when Satrapi toned-down this, it is intriguing to note whether people would feel any effect at all. Without the visual showcase of her traumatic past, will the young readers be able to interpret it for themselves? Things like GTA has literally feed players with extreme violence all the time, and that level of violence would’ve made Satrapi’s traumatic experience “obsolete” in those eyes.
Linking back, Satrapi adopted an entirely opposite technique. Chute remarked in her essay that “certain modes of representation depict historical trauma more effectively than does realism”. This is because realism in violence is able to do justice to the self-consciousness that traumatic representation demands (Chute, 102), hence no perspective can truly represent trauma. Satrapi never made this a second-hand account of her childhood or an accurate recollection of a part of history, it is a novel that actually reflects her younger self, Marji and Marjane. This is debatable since she wrote this when she was an adult and some experiences may have become “shady”. Traumatic experiences for a child can be so severe that one does not actually see anything at all. Satrapi portrays some visuals in Persepolis as a mere black page, showcasing how some violence and anger is beyond the human capacity to put down into pictures.
One can wonder whether she is insulting her own personal memory, or simply portraying it through the lens of a young girl, yet largely devoid of the traditional “innocence” associated with a person at such age. Persepolis and GTA are two very different types of entertainment, but the constant depiction of violence is mutually central. As for GTA, yes there are some evidence that suggests this game brought some violence to the world through inane users, but again it is also down to the individual’s part to play it through a safe and responsible lens, and knowing the distinction between gameplay and reality. At first, having Satrapi “neutralized” all the violence and traumatic experiences from the war might have robbed away the reader’s visual representation, but after making this connection I see the justification that Satrapi was trying to make for all of us to see.
Expressing Politics Through Comedic Lens
The prospect of studying a graphic novel in an actual class will always surprise some. When asked about personal perception on what constitutes a comic book, elements of visual pieces, double bubble and the widespread “fun” factor will immediately come to mind. Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi, presents a first-person perspective on a political experience that has affected the life of one young girl, albeit through the lens of a graphic novel. There are always dangers at attempting to filter such an intense, sensitive political issue through the lens of a genre that has its roots on comedy and fun factor. Arguably, the threat of angering those that sympathizes with islamic ideals is somewhat alleviated, and this is because the content is entirely upon and only upon Satrapi’s personal experiences. Nobody can make religious or political rebellions to a person’s memory, even if it is thwarted and reshaped by external factors.
Displaying a serious issue through comedic lenses produces interesting results. Gone are the implications of a “regular” novel; the formation of a plot that is sustained over hundreds of pages, with its words allowing for a myriad of different and unlimited interpretations by the reader. What comes in place is a consistent set of narratives that consistently flash-forward and flashback for much of the time. Our own individual creativity is instead replaced by a set of concrete frames outlined in front of us by Satrapi herself. This allows Satrapi to dictate what she wants and does not want us to see. The contrast between the first and second frame on the very first page justifies this well. The first frame is – naturally – a picture of her younger self, being the central focus of the book and also the same figure on the cover. Satrapi purposely frames the second picture in such a way that she does not allow the reader to see herself, and simply giving the information that she is “on the far left”. Yet this foreshadows the veil, an element that will have great religious significances later on. The veil is also a tool to somewhat suppress a person’s unique identity. While the facial features are predominantly different, the veil creates many similarities between the five girls.
The differences between utilizing flashback and not using it also affects the tone of the novel. Whilst Satrapi jumps back and forth to remind and emphasize on the more important political events (i.e. The Islamic Revolution), it also enables Satrapi to cast her different persona between the youthful Marji and the contemporary grown-up Marjane recalling her experiences. What this does is it places Marji in the midst of first-person action and relegates Marjane to a third-person narrator. Satrapi does not use flashback in order to emphasize on scenes that demands more in-depth comprehension of Satrapi’s expression of emotion. This is most evident on P.140. Marji’s neighbor’s house was bombarded by the Iraqi Scud missiles. Satrapi suspends all flashback devices and adopts a really slow-progressing dialogue, all framed in muted white background and a rare approach on equally-spaced gutters. She focuses on simplistic devastation – showing a few shattered glass only in the first frame. Certainly it compelled us to think that the modern world is full of media portraying destruction to a degree that all modern human beings are more than capable of imagining destruction. Her shock and fear is accentuated by the one-off sharp-edged dialogue box instead of the conventional bubble. The frame below displays only a hug expression without any dialogue, and P.142 shows her anger amidst pitch black scene. Satrapi conveys that this particular feeling at that time was so extreme – it is impossible to put the feeling into a concrete picture. And she does not want to leave it into words, otherwise the readers will form their own imagination out of it.
Other handful of aspects includes the lack of a frame on P.51 and only one picture in P.116. All these are used for a reason and suggests that Satrapi has every intention to shape the reading experience of the reader in her own ways. This is synonymous with Marji’s own rebellious and independent nature. The use of graphics in the first place is already effective in locking out the reader’s imagination and forcing them to see the situation through her lens. Is it a success? Indeed. Satrapi was noted to almost create a new sub-genre within graphic novel itself. However, the concrete illustration of god and direct backlash on the contemporary regime will nevertheless turn heads and arouse some criticism. It is indeed ironic to portray god directly the way Satrapi sees him, but chose not to portray a bombarded house.
Globalization, perception and media
Hello world!
Welcome to UBC Blogs. This is your first post. Edit or delete it, then start blogging!