Maus: Between The Lines

I was struck by Art Spiegelman's attention to even the minutest details. His style of telling a story is the polar opposite of Elie Wiesel's in Night. Wiesel's stark writing speaks to the reader up-front, taking the reader along on the journey just as it happens. Spiegelman, on the other hand, assigns heavier importance to the unsaid rather than the said. The reader has to carefully scan and take in everything, and think through not only the dialogue, but the accompanying images as well. Skimming or quickly reading through any of it is unacceptable-no, impossible-to do without missing some hidden element that completes the story. An excellent example of this is on page 12. Spiegelman is convincing his father to tell his story and his father retorts that "It would take many books" to recount his experiences. (12.5) In the drawing, we see that the father is working out on his bike. But as we look closer to the right of the image, we catch a glimpse of the father's arm, and on it a tattooed set of numbers. 175113. This small addition to the drawing immediately infuses it with a much larger, deeper meaning and gives the father's story greater impact. The reader sees that even though the father has moved on from the Holocaust, he has a constant reminder of that past's reality. He is forever marked by that particular stain on history; he may move on, but he can never completely forget. Yet, because of the shading on his arm and the overall busyness of the section, a reader who reads only the dialogue or just glances at the images would miss this detail. Spiegelman definitely intended his story for a careful reader, as is evident from the six digits emblazoned on his father's arm.

Peter vs. His dad

Peter Balakian struggled as an adolescent to find his cultural identity. He takes interest in the three main sports: football, basketball, and baseball. Peter becomes more introverted from his family, particularly his dad, during his teen years. He has a lot of fun with his friends, but his father thinks that he is not focused enough on his studies. “The more aloof, distant, and disapproving my father became, the more I thought of him as Armenian” (79). Peter thinks he knows what is best for himself, but his father disagrees and tries to forcefully intervene, leading to a lot of tension. This situation is a classic phenomenon in most households. Peter associates his father as Armenian because Peter does not associate himself as Armenian. The Armenian factor separates Peter and his father in Peter’s eyes.

"Born in New York City"

“The more aloof, distant, and disapproving my father became, the more I thought of him as Armenian. The truth is I never thought of my father as an immigrant…He was so thorough about not identifying with ways that might be thought of as ‘ethnic’—that generic word Americans like to use to refer to ‘the other’ …He sometimes told people he was born in New York City. ‘It makes it easier,’ he said. ‘When I die just put ‘born in New York City,’’ he told me once when I was in college. Around his Armenian friends he never said such things; they all knew he was born in Constantinople.” (79-80)

Balakian portrays his father’s desire to blend into American culture and not appear “ethnic” as a result, possibly, of his experiences during the Armenian genocide when he was part of “the other.” Negative experiences such as the “train departing Constantinople” (84), most likely the Berlin-Baghdad Railway, have made it easier for Balakian’s father to forget his past and “not identify” with the ugly side of the Armenian past. The emotions and memories Balakian’s father associates with his Armenian past are so powerful and influential that he does not even want to speak the Armenian language with his Armenian patients. Balakian’s father tells people that he was born in New York City to not only become part of the “we,” the majority of Americans born in the United States, but also to further distance himself from his Armenian past. Interestingly, Balakian’s father never mentions this false New York City birth story among his Armenian friends since “they all knew he was born in Constantinople.” Possibly, the shared experiences during the Armenian genocide have created an unspoken connection between Balakian’s father and his friends that delves deeper than the subject of birthplace. The power of these past experiences has created the feeling that only those who have lived through the same experiences can comprehend the magnitude of the Armenian genocide. Essentially, the Armenian genocide is a subject that Balakian’s father only feels comfortable acknowledging, even very subtly, with his closest companions.