Marjane Satrapi

As part of the Drue Heinz Lecture Series, Marjane Satrapi, author and illustrator of the acclaimed comic book Persepolis, came to Pittsburgh last night at the Carnegie Music Hall.  Ten scholars, along with Dr. Lenz, sat in during Satrapi’s lecture and learned new things about the author and her perceptions of her work.

An important opinion that Satrapi pointed out was that she most certainly did not want her works to be called “graphic novels”.  She said that they should be called what they are–comic books.  She realizes that most people view comic books as for children and for “retarded adults,” as she herself put it.  But the term graphic novel, to her, recalls such novels as Lady Chatterly’s Lover.

Satrapi’s most important point in her lecture was that she wrote the comic book for others to simply understand through one perspective the vastness of the Iranian, and even Middle Eastern, culture.  She wanted to point out that she has more in common with Americans than she does with the Mullahs of her homeland and that such fanatics have more in common with previous American government than they do with their own people.

When asked about her favorite part of Pittsburgh during the question and answer section, Satrapi replied that in downtown Pittsburgh she was delighted to find a bar in which she could smoke.  That, she said, was the mark of civilization.  Another person asked her about her favorite music to which she replied that rock was her favorite but she couldn’t stand R&B.

Overall, Satrapi brought wit and depth, the key aspects of her comic books, pairing the horrifying with the comical, so, as she saids, to ward off cynicism.  Her lecture was both humorous and serious, drawing on the politics of Iran and America but also speaking of her childhood and life.

Cathy Bao Bean Dinner

Two nights ago, assorted Scholars and Chatham University student leaders sat down to have dinner and talk with author Cathy Bao Bean.  After getting a little lost trying to find Chatham, as most of us can empathize with, Bean joined Chatham students in the PCW room in Anderson Dining Hall, wearing a chain mail vest.  Immediately, we knew we liked her.

Cathy Bao Bean is the author of The Chopstix-Fork Principle, a book detailing the immigrant experience and Bean’s life as a Chinese-American.  She regaled us with stories about her life in the country in New Jersey, where she had the distinct opportunity to eat beaver tail!  She also told us about an all organic Catholic school near her, which peaked the interest of many of the environmentally conscious Chatham students.

Sadly, she had to leave dinner in order to give a presentation to the rest of the Chatham community on herself and her book, but we were extremely grateful for her time.  It was an extreme pleasure to have such a dynamic woman come to Chatham and even share a meal with some of the University’s students.

The Metamorphoses

Last night, members from all years of the Scholars program attended The Metamorphoses, a play based on Ovid’s work at the O’Reilly theater in Downtown Pittsburgh.  We met at the Chapel at 5:45, an early start to bypass traffic.  Four Scholars with cars drove the fifteen of us Downtown for the exciting play.

One of the highlights and most publicized aspects of the show was the central pool and its use.  Throughout the show, characters would fall, walk, or even dive into the pool of water.  An interesting point for me was not only the fact that the actors played multiple characters but also that they served as their own stage hands and technicians.  As water was so central to the show and splashes and spills are inevitable, the actors literally mopped up their messes as part of the show.  This was an interesting directorial choice, because usually techies dressed in black would have done such work.  The first time this happened the actors on stage sung which made for an interesting juxtaposition of typical theater roles, the strict actor or the strict technician.

I, and most of my classmates, especially enjoyed the actor Bhavesh Patel who portrayed hilarious dexterity throughout the show, and portrayed such famous characters as Poseidon, Hermes, and Bacchus.  His use of accents and comedic timing won the audience over.

Overall, I think the night was a success.  We were able to enjoy Pittsburgh, theater, and the company of each other, and learn more about the modern, or perhaps not so modern, theme of identity, a prevalent trope in Dr. Lenz’s first year scholars course on Literary Modernism.

Admitting You Have a Problem

Okay, so I lied. Living off-campus does eventually make it more difficult to convince yourself to come to class. I’m talking your typical end-of-the-semester stubbornness multiplied by innumerable other factors. The weather, the fact that the brakes on your car are struggling to make it through the onslaught of winter, the dog curled up on your bed keeping your feet warm– you name it, and it’s an excuse to just stay in bed.

With the end of the semester nigh, I keep thinking back to a conversation I had a few months ago with some friends. We were talking about school and other various mundanities when I, in my infinite naivete, whined something about this semester being particularly difficult.

“It’s not like I have that much more work to do, or am taking more classes than usual,” was my embittered conclusion.

“Well,” said my wizened friend who had already completed her years within the higher education system, “junior year is always the hardest.”

This remark puzzled me. As I had already stated, it wasn’t as though the workload was bigger or that there were more credit hours bogging down my schedule. Sure, I was holding down two jobs, but I had done that last year as well. What was the uncommon factor? What made junior year so much more challenging than freshman or sophomore year?

I began to peg through my own personal logic formula. Yes, I lived off campus now, but in all actuality, did that make a difference? There was more space for me to find somewhere quiet to work– or noisy, depending on my mood. I have a great roommate, unlike freshman year. What could the problem be?

Then I realized I was just denying the undeniable. I am a Grade-A, finely-tuned, permanent procrastinator. If I could look on from someone else’s point of view, watching me trying to get work done would be like watching a trainwreck. It’s time to face the facts: My study habits have finally caught up with me, just like my mother and high school teachers had always warned they would.

And no one likes accepting the fact that their mother was right.

Class Today – Persepolis

Today in our Scholars First Year Seminar class we studied the graphic novel Persepolis.  It was awesome to explore a new medium of modern literature.  We discussed not only what the graphic novel said and how it said it, but we talked about the purpose of graphic novels.  One of my classmates mentioned that it opens the reading experience up to a whole different audience.  I have to agree.  Despite my addiction, some people just don’t like reading.  It’s tragic.  Comic books and graphic novels can open the door to reluctant readers and show them an entirely different world.  Books like Harry Potter and the infamous Twilight Saga work the same way for teenagers, showing them that reading can be fun! (However cheesy that may sound).

I wasn’t always so enthusiastic about graphic novels though.  For a long time I really despised graphic novels and comic books.  At first I thought that it was because I liked using my own imagination to conjure images from the strict text, but then I realized my dislike came from an inability to truly read the medium.  I was bad at it.  I would skip the pictures, maybe glancing at a particular color or image if it caught my eye, but my eyes largely followed the words, as they had been trained to do with traditional novels.  It took the realization that the art was just as, if not more, important than the words themselves for me to truly begin to learn to read graphic novels.  Once I knew to savor each image and each word, I found myself loving graphic novels and even comic books.  Today I stand an intense fan of the genre and am eagerly awaiting the Watchmen movie! 

Persepolis seems to embody modern literature and art, utilizing and combining different creative outlets. As someone in the class noted, the art and the drawings are universal.  Marjane Satrapi, the author, was born and raised in Iran but later moved to France.  Persepolis was originally written in French and while the translation may be faulty,the graphics remain the same, exactly how she intended them to be.  We could say that they are more true to her original concept than the written word in this case.

Satrapi also opens up the debate on Iran, especially its place in the modern world.  So many people assume that the minority is the majority and that all Iranians are like the extremists of the hostage crisis that began in 1979.  Satrapi urges her readers to think differently though.  She paints a unique, intimate, autobiographical portrait of her childhood in Iran, one not so different from an American’s or Westerner’s.

As our Professor, Dr. Lenz, asked us, both in our study of Persepolis and the original Japanese version of “Shall We Dance?”: how can we study or learn about another culture?  Is it possible?  Are we ever capable of fully understanding another society?  Another person, even?  In the case of Persepolis, does the visual aspect make this understanding easier or more accessible?

Serious Business? A Senior’s Reflections

Being a senior means business, serious business—and funny business. There is this thing called a tutorial to take care of, meetings to hold, clubs to be officers of. You have to put on your respectable face, give the underclassmen something to look up to. You have to dress well, show up for class on time, and get the best grades you ever got.
Well aware of all this, I woke up at seven a.m. on the first day of my senior year (even though I didn’t have class until noon). I looked out the window of my little room in Laughlin to the dewy treetops and made the first cup of coffee of the year. I had just, only two weeks before, come back from studying Arabic in Egypt all summer, and was feeling on top of the world. I was going to take on the next level Arabic at full-swing, I was going to get my tutorial started, I was going to be so ahead of the game in everything this year.
Enter into First-Year Science. Being a transfer student, I haven’t gotten around to taking a science yet, and so I find myself, three days a week, sitting in the basement of Buhl, trying to wrap my brain around mitosis and the parts of the cell. On Tuesdays I am often found with a furrowed brow, attempting to make what little sense I can of the intricate universe of Microsoft Excel.
Then, of course, there’s Arabic (nothing is ever as easy as it seems). For much of our first week, my fellow Arabic students and I found ourselves without an instructor, without a class time to attend at all. We spent the first few days jumping from office to office, email to email, trying to get our class under way. With only four to five interested students, getting a teacher and time and place configured had become an epic saga. By Wednesday, we were in the dean’s office, pleading our case before an understanding, if slightly bewildered Dean Skleder. By Thursday, alhamdu’allah, our voices had been heard and we were speaking Arabic by the mid-afternoon.
Enter The Tutorial. In the spring of my junior year, I thought I had planned well. I had my foot in the door, my toes in the water, and my head in the game, but when the time rolled around, I wasn’t sure I was ready. My topic, a post-colonial analysis of the novel The Map of Love, by Ahdaf Soueif, seemed somewhat dry and, although I was excited about having been to Egypt, I had already drilled into a new well of other new and exciting ideas. But I was stuck, and really, this was for the best. After what was essentially freaking out, I made peace with my topic, and have, in fact, developed a new interest in it. With further research, I found that the author herself has written a batch of non-fiction which supports my analysis of her novel, and have been riding high ever since.
Let the literary games begin.

At Least Now I’ve Got A Helmet – A Junior Scholar’s Fall Musings

I check the time on the dashboard as I slam my car haphazardly into a spot on Shady. Swearing loudly to no one, I put next to no effort into caring about which direction the ‘No Parking’ sign is pointing. It’s 9:25 and far later than I would have liked to be on the first day of junior year. This is just the first of many occasions in the next few weeks that will lead me to the following conclusion: Living off campus doesn’t necessarily make it more difficult to convince yourself to get up and go to class. It does, however, make it far more difficult to be on time.
Bounding out of the car, I flout oncoming traffic and rush across the street to the small pathway that will lead me up onto campus. Sure, it was dangerous. But when being late makes you more anxious than you really care to admit to anyone, you tend to live your life a bit further on the edge than most. It’s not even that I’m running that late—but I still need to buy books, etc., and as a scholar, it’s also my duty to be almost disturbingly early for every class. It’s an unwritten rule in the non-existent handbook. You can look it up. I clutch my coffee to my chest as I half-run, half-totter in my three-inch heels. Yeah, heels on the first day of class. Now that I’ve had caffeine, I recognize what a poor choice that really was. Oh well—with home over twenty minutes away in good traffic, I’m just going to have to deal with that particular decision (and beg the post office boys for band-aids later).
Twenty minutes and almost seven hundred dollars later (you think I’m kidding), I stumble out of the bookstore in shock. I keep glancing down at the bags in my hands, giving a particularly nasty stink-eye to the French book and workbook set that made up just about half of the total cost. (I will later learn that I have bought the wrong workbook and then spend approximately half an hour metaphorically patting myself on the back for not removing the shrink-wrap.)
For the rest of the day, I enjoy the feeling of being a first-semester junior. (Mostly since I know that the euphoria will vanish instantly as soon as spring semester and tutorial planning rear their ugly heads.) It’s a great feeling—that of knowing where you stand and what to expect. As a first-year, I think I was so confused and overwhelmed that most of the time, I didn’t even know I was confused and overwhelmed. Sophomore year, I made a lot of changes to my plans and my major and had to deal with the aftermath of all of those changes. I feel as though while I still may not be the best hitter on the team—at least now I have a bat. And a helmet.

Never A Dull Moment The Thoughts Of A First-Year Scholar

As my first month at Chatham draws to an end, I find myself invigorated and excited for my future.  At first, I was definitely homesick.  More than homesick though, I was afraid of the unknown of my future and the loss of a past I truly enjoyed.  It was daunting.  I couldn’t help but think, “I’m still just a little kid!”  It’s different now, though, as I knew it would be.  I knew I just needed to get past the awkward adjustment phase and that just took time and the settling into a routine.  It happened.  Going to classes and hanging out with newfound friends have really helped me find my place here, if even just a small one now.  The Scholars program here has also helped me adapt, allowing for me to see a set group of people who are just as in love with learning as I am Monday through Friday.  We are all so unique and our discussions in class are refreshing and interesting, delving into the intricacies of Plath or the practical purposes of standard deviations.  I find myself engaged in classes, appreciating the instructors’ knowledge and willingness to go that extra step for their students.  I love the breadth of subjects that I’m studying both for my major, English, and for fun, such as Arabic and Philosophy.  I simply love being in classes, as nerdy as that may sound.

It’s not all about school though, being in the city is so much fun, as well.  University of Pittsburgh and Carnegie Mellon are both about a 20 minute walk from Chatham, or a short bus ride away.  Just last Friday, I went swing dancing at Carnegie Mellon.  It was so much fun!  There are so many activities here at Chatham as well.  There truly is never a dull moment.  Last week, I helped host a screening of the new Invisible Children documentary “Go”, and went to an additional showing of it at University of Pittsburgh.  Everyone here is so active and interested in social justice.  The community is involved in not only having a good time, but helping out, whether politically or socially.

Being here is an amazing experience and I’m so excited to see where it takes me.