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Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Maus I, chapters 1 and 2

I love the relationship between Vladek and Artie--it's so complicated, so rich, so real.  I mean, I don't know many people who have flawless relationships with their parents--and fathers and sons can be so tricky.  So this just rings true to me, from the start.

There are things that I immediately wonder about, though, as I began to read these early chapters.  First, I wonder why Artie hasn't seen his dad in awhile?  What is the nature of this relationship and why don't they visit more often?  I wonder about Artie's mother's suicide, and what happened to her that she lost all hope?  Of course, I automatically assume that is is residual depression related to being a Holocaust survivor.  I think it's not as uncommon as it might seem for survivors to commit suicide.

I'm also trying to figure out the animals and who they represent.  I get it that the mice are Jews.  On pg. 15, when Vladek is on the train, he's sitting with pigs.  Are they Poles who are not Jewish? I guess I will figure this out as I read . . . are they Nazis? They can't be yet, though, because this part of the story is before Hitler is in power, right?

I like at the end of chapter 1, after Vladek tells his whole story of the love affair with the clingy and stalkerish Lucia and ultimate meeting of Anja and marriage to her ... after ALL of that, Vladek tells Artie not to put this part in the book because, "It has nothing to do with Hitler, with the Holocaust." To which Artie replies, "I want to tell your story, the way it really happened." (p 23). This is really interesting to me because it seems to set up a tension between what Vladek thinks is worthwhile for his "story" versus what Artie hears and wants to include in the story.  It is a comment, I think, on how we are often not very good judges of our own stories--of what other people want to know. It reminds me of how rich our lives are . . . how many stories we have, and how we sometimes negate those stories because we think they are not interesting or, in the case of Vladek, not "proper" or "respectful."  Those are quite often the best stories . . . those improper and disrespectful ones.  Our character, our values, often come through in such storytelling.  And in any case, a story has to be told inside and out--good things and bad things--in order for it to be real and valid.  So maybe this ending to the first chapter is meant to set this up for us as readers?  I'm pretty sure that there is nothing left to chance in Spiegelman's writing...he's quite intentional.  The trick for me as a reader is to catch it all--to notice what he is doing as a storyteller.  Of course, I won't catch it all, but I can try.