Maus I: A Survivor's Tale: My Father Bleeds History in 100+ Books in 2025

May 16, 2016 Evan rated it it was amazing · review of another edition

Shelves: 2016-reads, ebook-special-coll, graphic-novel-or-comic, pulitzer-prize, nazi, survival, world-war-ii, history-euro, _lfpl-library, jewish

Art is a pathetic response to tragedy. It cannot turn back time, it cannot educate retroactively. It cannot wield a wand and say, "No, you will not do this today, now or ever." And it can't change willfully perpetuated ignorance now or in the future. But, it's a necessary response. Necessary, because it is silence that destroys us.

This graphic novel, probably the most praised of all time, is possibly too famous for me to review in a way that adds anything new. It has been done, I'm sure, very th Art is a pathetic response to tragedy. It cannot turn back time, it cannot educate retroactively. It cannot wield a wand and say, "No, you will not do this today, now or ever." And it can't change willfully perpetuated ignorance now or in the future. But, it's a necessary response. Necessary, because it is silence that destroys us.

This graphic novel, probably the most praised of all time, is possibly too famous for me to review in a way that adds anything new. It has been done, I'm sure, very thoroughly and very well by many others. But, I haven't read any of those critiques, and I do have a few things to say.

I will admit that, at first, I was skeptical about the cats (Germans)/pigs (Poles)/mice (Jews) strategy. I was concerned that it would not only be simplistic, but condescending and demeaning in some way. But, as I began to read, those doubts slipped away. Oddly, by depicting the Jews as mice, I found their humanity heightened; the incongruity of the imagery drew me in. It made me think about the issues, by distancing me from the ordinary. It illustrates the hierarchy in fascist societies and the predatory animal kingdom, and which "animals" are most or least valued in the pecking order. The touch of having the Jews "passing as Poles" wearing symbolic pig faces is ingenious.

In this context, depicting Jews as mice is not dehumanizing and it's not a simplistic metaphor of mice (meek, victims) vs. cats/pigs (strong, bad buys, victimizers). This is because, in the grand scheme of things, we are all mice, all just as fragile. Nazis are mice too; just as fragile. We know the Nazis were just as fragile because they were beatable; even when they seemed invincible. But, like all societies where rabid majorities hold sway, power derives from the mob; members become cats only through a governance of fear. It is not individuals who are cats, but the mob. The mob is the power of the state -- the guns, the delusions -- and individuals, its accomplices. The cat wins (temporarily) through cowardice. The bully backed by a gang will take out any individuals. We are not mice, not like them, they say. And they make sure of it, by brutality that offers a false sense of superiority. How long such power can maintain itself is not something we yet know. North Korea, for instance, goes on. How long? We do not know. What we do know, though, is what history tells us: that people will, and do eventually fight back, and overcome it. Sadly, far too late, for far too many.

Maus is just one part of a vast kaleidoscope, a torn tapestry woven from individual memories that can never be complete, because too many storytellers were lost to tell it, and most who survived are almost gone. Holocaust survivor Vladek relating his story to his son Artie in this book is not just moving for its sadness, but moving also for its threads of humane humor, and the silly flaws and concerns that he retains even after experiencing something that should have made such things irrelevant. Vladek's petty habits in later life, in a sense, become unconscious defiant acts; he stubbornly holds onto to his individualism, the good and the bad.

This is an amazing story of survival against impossible odds; engrossing from the first panel and a page-turner in the grand tradition. It reminds me, stylistically in some ways, of the work of Harvey Pekar and R. Crumb that I so enjoy and admire.

I've avoided this graphic novel since first hearing about it years ago. I was frightened of it, quite frankly. I don't seek to satisfy a morbid curiosity about the Holocaust, as too many do. I'm interested in more than that, but at the same time, delving into such painful memories demands an emotional commitment on the reader's part, and I am not always ready to do that. It can be enervating, and life requires energy.

I will proceed onward, after a bit of break, to part II. My review and rating will apply to both parts.

(KevinR@Ky 2016) ...more

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