Authorial Presence in Art Spiegelman's Maus
How Much is too Much: One Author's Self-Disclosure
Art Spiegelman’s groundbreaking graphic novel, Maus: A Survivor’s Tale (Random House, 1986, ISBN 0-679-40641-7), treats the issue of authorial presence with a seemingly light-hearted touch that belies the deeply personal nature of the author’s disclosure. Interwoven with this disclosure are Spiegelman’s relationship with his chosen form and his struggles with it.
Writing in the Self
Authors continually struggle with objectivity – how much of the self should be consciously included in their work and how overt should their presence be? The answer depends a great deal on what type of work is being created, of course, and graphic novels are no different. Authors often write themselves into a work, whether subtly or otherwise, and many argue that it is impossible to leave the authorial self out of a work, as the work itself is a reflection of its creator.
In Maus Spiegelman takes an entirely candid approach that is both refreshing and a little uncomfortable. Because Spiegelman is fully open about the intentions of his work (overtly, to give voice to his father’s story of surviving the Holocaust) there is no second-guessing what the author might “mean” by certain things. It is, quite simply, a very honest and straightforward piece. However, because of that honesty and his proclivity to lay it all out on the table, the reader is often left squirming at the intensity and, again, honesty of his emotion.
A Precarious Father/Son Relationship
Spiegelman’s relationship with his father, one precariously balanced between love and unadulterated annoyance, is displayed for all the world to see, potentially, and his very conscious decision to write himself and the father/son dynamic so personally into the work (despite the readers’ discomfort at times) adds a richness and depth to the story that it would otherwise lack if the story were solely focused on his father.
Form vs. Content
Spiegelman not only writes his complicated relationship with his father into the text, but also his relationship with his chosen medium. To write about the Holocaust in comic form is unconventional to say the least (though comics have a long and illustrious history of conveying many a serious political and social satire/critique/commentary), but the form could also be construed as irreverent or disrespectful. Spiegelman side steps this potential landmine, however, by employing the same candid honesty he uses in portraying his relationship with his father in that he clearly states his personal anxieties about the gravity of his undertaking.
In volume II of Maus, Spiegelman’s character says to his wife, Francoise,
"I feel so inadequate trying to reconstruct a reality that was worse than my darkest dreams. And trying to do it as a comic strip! I guess I bit off more than I can chew. Maybe I ought to forget the whole thing. There’s so much I’ll never be able to understand or visualize. I mean, reality is too complex for comics…so much has to be left out or distorted" (16).
Despite Spiegelman’s misgivings, he obviously succeeds in his endeavor and brings a freshness to the subject matter that demands the reader take a second look at this period in history that has, in some respects, become stale to a modern-day readership. Spiegelman’s presence in Maus is necessary to accomplish this fresh and candid approach, the overtly personal nature of which succeeds because of his forthright method.
Fence and watchtower on the grounds of Auschwitz
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