Holocaust Graphic Narratives: Generation, Trauma, and Memory by Victoria Aarons

Abstract

Reviewed by: Holocaust Graphic Narratives: Generation, Trauma, and Memory by Victoria Aarons Beth B. Cohen Victoria Aarons. Holocaust Graphic Narratives: Generation, Trauma, and Memory. Rutgers UP, 2019. vii + 241 pp. In her work on creativity and trauma, psychoanalyst and Auschwitz survivor Anna Ornstein grappled with the role of art and literature in preserving the memory of the Holocaust. How, she wondered, can artistic representations, especially by second-hand witnesses, authentically and responsibly interpret and transmit the Shoah to future generations? How can artistic representations by second-hand witnesses authentically and responsibly interpret and transmit the Shoah to future generations? Victoria Aarons addresses this question, and more, in Holocaust Graphic Narratives: Generation, Trauma, and Memory, in which she convincingly argues that graphic narratives are a compelling, even ideal genre for furthering Holocaust memory. Moreover, because of their unique structure, the author posits that these works can serve to combat "Holocaust fatigue" (6) in a world increasingly exposed to all "things Holocaust." The publication of Art Spiegelman's Maus in 1986, followed by Maus II in 1991, furthered the graphic novel genre in general and Holocaust graphic novels in particular. With Maus's widespread critical and popular acclaim, the genre has continued to evolve and take its rightful place as serious literature deserving scholarly attention. Indeed, Maus has spawned a large body of critical literary analysis. For this reason, Aarons begins her study in the post-Maus era. She recognizes Spiegelman's ground-breaking work, but it is not her focus. Rather, she throws a spotlight on what has happened since Maus; how other artists have interpreted and visualized their own relationship to the Holocaust. Choosing five graphic narratives that are a product of the twenty-first century, she analyzes how these books function as both personal and collective memorial pieces. [End Page 570] Aarons largely concentrates on works by individuals who have a familial connection to the events they write about, that is, individuals who are Holocaust survivors or children or grandchildren of survivors and identify as either the second or third generation. There are two exceptions; one is by Joe Kubert, whose Polish-Jewish parents immigrated to the US in 1926 but lost numerous family members during the war, and the other is a comic book created in the mid-1950s by EC Comics, one of the first US Holocaust-related comics drawn in the postwar era. Aarons proposes that, due to the complexity of the subject, Holocaust literature in its myriad forms, including the graphic narrative, belongs in its own category; the genre of rupture, which she locates in the nexus of two Jewish literary traditions; midrash and lamentations. Thus, she explores the graphic narrative as a sacred text, and the deeper analysis of them as midrashic, looking to fill in and interpret the fissures. Moreover, because of the hybrid, disruptive, and unconventional nature of graphic narratives, she contends, the genre parallels, in a sense, the struggle to plumb the depths of comprehending the unimaginable. Aarons argues persuasively that the graphic narrative is particularly conducive to personal retelling of Holocaust memory. Its very structure, designed around gaps, provides a natural ability to visually portray absence and loss. Some artists play with the gaps where empty or darkened pages confront the reader with the rupture and dislocation that was part of the Holocaust on both an individual and a meta level. Similarly, as Aarons observes, the authors' limited use of color is significant. While most of the artists' texts and drawings are composed in black and white or gray, some use color to contrast or even shock. For example, Katin's book in black and white includes a few pages in color that highlight a shift in time, signifying her life as a young mother in the safety of postwar America. Their pleasant sketches are a dramatic contrast to the darkly drawn past while serving as a stark reminder of the persistence of traumatic memory, even for child survivors like Katin who lived most of her life after the war. Aarons also calls the reader's attention to Kubert's startling and only use of color on the cover of Yossel: April 19, 1943. As Aarons points out, grappling with...