Boomsday vs. Persepolis
I once applied for a job at Borders since talking about books is my favorite topic of conversation. I didn’t drink coffee at the time, so of course when I was hired, the Borders management put me in the café instead of on the book floor.
I’ve stayed away from discussing books on this blog (well except this one earlier time), mainly because I’ve been too busy to read them. But over the holiday weekend, I read two: Boomsday by Christopher Buckley and Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi.
They could not be more wildly different, as Boomsday is a satire along the lines of Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal” while Persepolis is a graphic memoir about Satrapi’s life in Iran following the 1979 revolution. Guess which one was more fun?
Persepolis is an interesting digression to the graphic novel genre, a genre I’ve never really gotten into because I can be a literary snob. Or some people say. Anyway, I enjoyed Persepolis and it certainly did not take a long time to read, but I’m probably going to be sticking to non graphic novels from now on.
I give Satrapi credit for portraying both herself and her experiences in a unlikeable manner, but the book lacked some insight. In the first installment, “Persepolis: A Story of a Childhood,” the simple drawing and text made sense, in conjunction with her childhood. However, in “Persepolis 2: The Story of a Return,” Satrapi returns to Iran after graduating high school, attends university and later marries. None of these seem appropriate with the author’s tone.
At the same time, one of the graphic memoir’s biggest holes, in my opinion, is Satrapi’s lack of culpability in all her endeavors. While I certainly understand she was the victim countless times—especially many of her misadventures in Vienna, where she spent her adolescence—I had trouble sympathizing with an adult woman who cannot recognize contrary teenage behavior, whether in Iran or Austria.
My other criticism lay with Satrapi’s lack of perspective on her own experiences of the revolution. The Iranian Revolution and the Iran-Iraq War certainly created a “Lost Generation,” in my opinion, of youths. The most appropriate comparison I have is of the South African generation that won the battle against apartheid, but afterward had no training or therapy or experiences past prison sentences. Satrapi was rebellious even before the Revolution—she secretly wrote love letters for her maid when she was a little girl—but she offers no perspective on how those events created an entire generation whose focus is simply on appeasing the government officials, rather than leading a fulfilling life.
In the end, Satrapi is able to achieve her goal of a graphic memoir: she is able to paint the picture of modern Iran in ways many other writers have not been able to, and without divulging into cheap weepiness.
On a much lighter note, Christopher Buckley takes on the Baby Boomer generation in “Boomsday,” much to my enjoyment. As with most satire, the plot runs completely out of control, and to the point where I had no idea by the end any of the characters’ motivations. But, actually, that’s kind of the point: in Washington, things get done for no reason at all, while others are completely ignored.
Cassandra Devine, a twenty-nine-year-old public relations executive and blogger, calls for anyone over the age of 65 to take part in “transitioning,” or voluntary suicide to help ease the burden they could place on the next generation. Calling the Baby Boomers the “Un-greatest Generation,” Cass hopes the call to action will instead help bring much-needed reform to Social Security.
She gets the help of Sen. Randolph K. Jepperson and her boss, Terry Tucker, a public relations guru, and the bill starts to take off. Jepperson begins the regular Washington wheeling and dealing because he wants to run for president … and that’s about all I can say here without ruining any more of the book. Suffice to say, if you’re looking for a fun, light read with a touch of political satire, this is probably the book for you. Plus I read almost the whole thing on the subway and still could easily follow the plot, which is a major plus right now given the amount of schoolwork I know we all have.
I’ll leave you with the book’s epigraph, one of my new favorite quotes:
“Blessed are the young, for they share inherit the national debt.” – Herbert Hoover.
Oh and stay tuned, the New York Times is coming out with the Best Books of 2008 issue and I’ll be weighing in soon.