Book Review: Maus
8/10/2020
Book Review | Maus I & II by Art Spiegelman
Maus is one of those classic ‘one day I’ll read that’ books. Or two books, depending on which version you have. The downside to having a well-stocked bookshelf and a prolific book buying habit is that I’m constantly reminded of how much I haven’t read. And usually, or certainly in my case, though my intentions are good, a quick swipe through my Goodreads account and you can see that I don’t regularly go for the classics or massive tomes in my everyday reading. So, however lauded (and it is, it’s literally the only graphic novel to have ever won a Pulitzer Prize), a memoir about an author’s Father’s experiences in the Holocaust is not necessarily going to make the cut when, let’s be honest, I just want to chill out and forget about anything bad about the world.
Maus however is also one of those books that once you do start you just cannot put down. It had been sitting on my shelf for a couple of months, dropped off and highly recommended by my Mum, before I picked it up and finally gave it a go. It’s a unique book. Created by illustrator Art Spiegelman it’s a graphic novel following his parents’ experiences in the Holocaust, from their courtship up to his Mother’s suicide (that’s not a spoiler by the way, as crass as that statement sounds I felt like I should point that out). There’s much of what you would anticipate there. It’s very sad, sometimes deeply difficult to continue reading and there’s a strong personal connection that informs the author’s handling of his Father’s story.
There are though a couple of ways in which Maus stood out to me as perhaps the most beautiful and affecting Holocaust memoir I’ve read. Firstly, and the most famous aspect of it, is the metaphorical way in which animals are used. All the Jewish characters are drawn as mice. The Germans are Cats. And so on. It’s not of course difficult to see why Spiegelman went for the cat and mouse dynamic to represent these chosen groups and it’s a very affecting choice. The power struggle and the fear central to the story is so beautifully embodied in the drawing of these animals. There’s perhaps a moment, near the start, where you’re concerned it might feel like a gimmick and I’m not sure why but, although at first you’re hugely aware of the strangeness of the characters being mice, there’s a moment when that falls away and somehow the slight step away from reality results in the story feeling even more powerful. I’d love to spew out some literary theory about why that is and there’s a full book about it here but essentially it feels like magic to me.
Mice aside, the aspect of the storytelling style that made me this novel so special to me was the way in which Spiegelman weaves in and out of the main narrative. In addition to hearing the core story of Vladek Spiegelman’s experience during the Holocaust, we also see the behind-the-scenes moments as Art Spiegelman teases the memories out of his Father. There are little meta moments where the author questions the choices he makes and these make the novel especially interesting for other artists, seeing the actual construction being critiqued. Personally I appreciated the no holds barred way in which Vladek was presented. We see him throughout the novel as a strong-minded, creative and hard-working young man who forever manages to find ways to survive and keep his family safe in the most terrible of circumstances. But we also see him as a very young man, playing with the affections of a woman who loves him, and as a much older man in the present day, difficult and argumentative, miserly, unappreciative and demanding. Remarried, he complains bitterly about his new wife and spews racist nonsense that’s shocking, especially in light of his own experiences. At one moment in the novel the author steps out of the story and berates himself for drawing his Father in this way, concerned that he’s playing into the stereotyping of Jews as miserly and unpleasant but desperate to show the reality of what it means to be a survivor. It’s such a wonderfully messy moment that made it just such a very, very human piece of art.
I genuinely can’t recommend Maus more. Everything from the storytelling style to the beautiful illustration is incredible and so very personal. Spiegelman manages somehow to be loving towards his family without feeling the need to sugarcoat history or individuals. Maus hits you right in the heart and is totally unforgettable.