Didn't finish it. While the prose and the premise initially struck a chord, the characters failed to resonate and it felt like wasted potential. As the language intensified, the characters' lack of sincere motivation - or, more precisely, their motivations' inability to inform their actions - left everything in a slump. The sci-fi scenario that initially hooked me appeared only to be a bit of (thematic) setdressing and, as much as I wanted to keep reading to learn more about the Defractor, the characters seemed only interested in talking about what the Defractor implies for them. That is to say, they take its promises at face value. Even when one character acts sceptical about the utility of what it can show, he still seems to believe that what it shows is based on actual parallel universes. But if the entire point is that only accessible reality is actual reality, why not go a step further and recognise the Defractor doesn't offer alternative possibilities, it merely evokes waking dreams? If I have successfully predicted the moral or the twist or the third act reveal, then I'm disappointed. Because such a revelation could have come much sooner and made for a jumping-off point for a more interesting story, from my point of view. Then again, the validity of my point of view is worth considering because as much as I didn't like the characters, I'm not the kind of person who can relate to their struggles with intergenerational trauma or revolutionary politics. The story I wanted isn't what I got, but perhaps if I lived in a universe where I was the type of person to relate to these characters, maybe I would have been able to have it both ways.
A roundabout repetitive tale of how self-importance and social necessity clash and demand each other give way. With the skilful methods by which the author confronts the inevitability and unspokenness of society's most important expectations, it comes as no surprise when the characters invent new unspoken inevitabilities for themselves and challenge the reader to wonder how or even if they can come upon a solution. While I found the story to be boring and predictable in places as it relates to the main plot, the interceding details made the story as a whole very enjoyable, and the lengths the author went to avoid saying something obvious, or to bluntly relate the obvious as if it is a new revelation to the character long after its emotional relevance, always gave me a good chuckle.
A compellingly honest story of childhood, adolescence, and chafing against religious dogma and the reality those who do have to contend with. Simultaneously relatable and unthinkable, each episode treats horror and mundanity with deliberate importance that lets details wash over the reader nearly unacknowledged while leaving them with a sense of anxiety that demands constant reexamination of the text and, consequently, reexamination of similar situations in their own life and the imagined lives of those around them. Persepolis is a story that encourages empathy over anything else, and the unexpected forms it can take in desperate circumstances.