O australiano Shaun Tan será cabeça de cartaz, depois de ter vencido o Grande Prémio deste ano, com Là où vont nos pères (Dargaud).

As presenças anunciadas de Daniel Clowes, autor de David Boring e Ice Haven, Posy Simmonds, conceituada autora britânica e colaboradora do Guardian enquanto cartoonista, Melinda Gebbie e Alan Moore - autores de Lost Girls - explicam a grandeza do Festival no próximo ano.

Imaginez qu'il ne vous reste que 24 heures. 24 pages en 24 heures. C'est le principe de ce marathon de la Bande Dessinée, au combien excitant pour tout auteur avide de créativité. 24 heures pour produire 24 pages, soit au moins autant de manière de raconter une histoire. Cet exercice de style, cette année je m'y suis essayé et voilà le résultat...

...à un ou deux litres de café près...

     

Cette série exceptionnelle a déjà été plébiscitée un peu partout tant elle est attachante par ses récits comme par sa composition.

Didier Lefèvre quitte Paris, fin juillet 1986, afin d’accompagner une équipe de Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF) en Afghanistan, en pleine guerre entre soviétiques et Moudjahidins.

De cette première grande mission photographique, il ramène un témoignage et des documents très poignants. Les albums nous invitent à marcher avec l’équipe médicale, à découvrir les conditions dans lesquelles elle peut intervenir, ses contacts, ses anecdotes. Puis le retour que Didier Lefèvre décide d’effectuer seul, sans la protection du groupe, sans parler la langue… avec les conditions extrêmes qu’il va devoir traverser.

Ces albums ont un art exceptionnel de faire « jouer » ensemble photos prises sur place et dessins. Le travail épuré d’Emmanuel Guibert y puise des paysages et des atmosphères qui ont l’âpreté du pays et parfois la magie de ce que ces hommes et ces femmes peuvent tenter dans des conditions extrêmes. Ce va et vient entre dessins et clichés photographiques tisse un récit qui gagne étonnamment en ampleur par les échos, les ellipses ou les métaphores qui sont ainsi construites. C’est superbe !

Didier Lefèvre est décédé d’une crise cardiaque à son domicile de Morangis le 29 janvier 2007. Il ne nous a pas laissé simplement un reportage mais une grande leçon de témoignage !

Hommage à tous pour ce monument de la BD !

Le Photographe, série complète en 3 tomes (S : Didier Lefèvre; D : Emmanuel Guibert et Frédéric Lemercier) édités chez Dupuis, Collection « Aire Libre » d’octobre 2003 à janvier 2006

Bizarre, excentrique, loufoque, space, cinglé, ouf… à vous de choisir !

Le dessin de Nicolas Dumontheuil, avec ses couleurs pimpantes, souligne à merveille l’expression de tous ces personnages étranges et quelques peu déjantés : c’est le 36ème crime qui a lieu en 6 ans dans un petit village.

Un comédien débarqué de la capitale, Lucien Lurette, ne peut s’empêcher de mettre son nez dans ces sales affaire… et c’est bien fait pour lui car il en devient le coupable idéal dans ce village où tout le monde soupçonne tout le monde. IL faut dire qu’en M. le Comte qui manipule la population, M. Le Curé qui ne sort plus de son lit, Victor le colporteur qui vous colporte tous les ragots que vous voulez et la Lison, il y a de quoi faire…

Et si vous doutez encore « Qui a tué l’idiot ? » a reçu le prix du meilleur album en 1997 à Angoulême et le prix René Goscinny en 1996

Qui a tué l’idiot ? de Nicolas Dumontheuil, chez Casterman, avril 1996, 94 pages

Il suffit que je m'énerve un peu et tadaaaaaaa !

Bon, il est vrai que c'était pratiquement sûr et qu'on attendait juste la confirmation mais quand même, je commençais à désespérer.

En tout cas, les Raconteurs seront donc présents le 18 juillet à la Garden Nef Party d'Angoulême (sachant que je vais voir Leonard Cohen le 12 à Amsterdam, je vais un peu passer une semaine de folie)

Les pass sont en vente : 61€ les 2 jours.

Euh... Que dire d'autre ? Ah oui ! La prog qui tue sa maman quand même :

Vendredi 18-07
THE RACONTEURS (gniiiiiiiiiiii)
JUSTICE (euh non mais non quoi)
THE KILLS (agaaaaaaaaa)
NADA SURF
BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE (rhooooo)
SIMIAN MOBILE DISCO
ARCHIE BRONSON OUTFIT
ALELA DIANE
MORIARTY

Samedi 19-07
IGGY & THE STOOGES (sa mère !)
THE HIVES (Pelle ! Pelle ! Pelle !)
THE BELLRAYS (enfin !)
THE DO (là par contre, je dis non)
HUSHPUPPIES
PATRICK WATSON

Hophop : le site

http://www. dingo-lanef. com/garden2008/news. php

(Je remercie Magali qui était destinée à me donner cette nouvelle, je remercie le Mr au guichet de la Poste qui m'a regardée comme ça O_O quand j'ai eu la sus-dite Magali au téléphone en l'accueillant d'un "Putainputainputain... Sac en papier... Maintenant..." Voilà !)

Je me calme et je reviens !

The Drimn group in front of a school in Angouleme, France.

Q: The Dalai Lama has often spoken of following the middle path, of not wanting independence and only seeking a ‘high-degree of autonomy’ for Tibet. Clearly, Beijing will never allow Tibet to practice a different political system. Should the dream of a sovereign Tibet be abandoned?

A: Why should the people of China not decide one day to have a more transparent, democratic system? Democracy has been percolating all over the world. Why not in China? In the 1980s, nobody had predicted that the Soviet Union would collapse so fast. The Dalai Lama recently mentioned the European model, where member-nations decided to surrender part of their sovereignty and share it with other members. While each nation keeps a large autonomy within the Union, more and more topics or subject matters come under the Union’s jurisdiction. It is a model that has brought peace and prosperity to Europe for the past 50 years. Other models can be envisaged more suited to particular circumstances and historical background. One thing is certain; a totalitarian regime has no future in the long run, especially in an era of globalisation. I would like to add that even the Chinese Constitution recognises the autonomy of the different “nationalities” within the People’s Republic of China. The Communist leadership in Beijing should first implement its own Constitution. Were they to do so, it would be a great step forward towards a long-term solution to the Tibetan issue.

Q: Reports appearing in the Western media seem to suggest that Tibet is on the path of a mass uprising against Han Chinese communist rule. As a foreigner, do you consider the West is biased in its reportage of China?

A: One cannot say that the West (or India) is biased in its reportage, because we are living in the Internet yuga (age). A Google search on “Tibetan unrest” throws up thousands of nuggets of information. It is up to people to choose which information is relevant. I think it is interesting to have different points of view on the same topic; however, it is true that the West has double standards, particularly in the economic field. Whether it is Bush or Sarkozy, most Western governments are ready to condemn Beijing, but nobody is ready to go a step further in order to not spoil opportunities of big contracts in China. I will tell you a story showing the double standard of most heads of state.

In 1998, the world community celebrated the 50th anniversary of the adoption of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights by the General Assembly of the United Nations: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights. They are endowed with reason and conscience and should act towards one another in a spirit of brotherhood.” Paris, the heart of the French Revolution, had logically been given the responsibility to organise the festivities to which all the Nobel Peace Prize laureates were invited. But while sending the invitations, the office of the French President “forgot” one inconvenient laureate, the Dalai Lama. When the matter got known to the media, the French daily Libération was the first to break the story. The Elysée Palace had to quickly backtrack and pretend that the postal service had “lost” the invitation and that a fresh one would be sent to the Dalai Lama. The latter then decided to attend the celebrations. During a private function, President Chirac was introduced to the Nobel laureates one by one. When he reached the Dalai Lama, instead of shaking his hand and saying a few words of welcome, he simply ignored him and passed on to the next dignitary. I heard the story from someone who was present. Just a few years earlier, Chirac was always speaking of “my friend the Dalai Lama”. I must say that the situation is not much different in India.

Q: In Bylakuppe, Mysore, many third-generation Tibetans appear to lead fairly content lives. The residents of the Dickey Laorsoe Tibetan Settlement have registered themselves under a cooperative society and earn a living through farming, making incense and handicrafts, and the more enterprising lot has taken to breeding dogs! When asked if they would like to return home, to Lhasa, the answer was always: “No. But maybe for a visit.” Comment?

A: It will probably depend on the “deal” (if any) that the Dalai Lama will get from China. One can envisage that Tibet will have tens of thousands NRTs (Non-resident Tibetans), living abroad, often visiting and investing in their motherland. This is particularly true for those who are today settled in the West.

Q: The young are the future of every community, it is said. Here’s a what a Chinese student in the USA has to say: “My piece of advice to the Chinese government is to dramatically raise education levels for Tibetan women. Female Tibetans having been educated in Chinese universities, will not be satisfied returning home to Tibet to live with their hick husbands…”

A: From day one, when the Dalai Lama took refuge in India, his main preoccupation has been education of the youth. In fact, during his first meeting with Nehru, the Indian Prime Minister told him: “I will not do anything politically for you, but I will educate your children.” The government of India has followed this policy. Though always over-cautious politically, it has greatly helped the Tibetan community in receiving a good education.

In a recent interview the Dalai Lama told me something interesting about women: “Today, I feel that education alone cannot solve all our contemporary problems, we need more emphasis on compassion. Due to biological factors, women are more sensitive about others (human beings), and they are more compassionate. Men are more aggressive, often tough. Take war heroes for example, they are mostly men. Therefore, female rule for humanity is perhaps more important than ever, not only do we need education but also warmth, sensitivity and compassion. Women are more equipped for this.”

Q: The Dalai Lama has said he is considering breaking with centuries-old tradition and naming a successor while still alive. More recently, he threatened to quit should the violence escalate in Tibet. What are the implications of his statement for the future of Tibet?

A: Tibetans consider the Dalai Lama to be the reincarnation of Avalokiteshvara, the Bodhisattva of Compassion and Saint-Patron of Tibet. His “job”, as the Dalai Lama would put it, is to protect the land and the people of Tibet and make sure that the Buddhist tradition flourishes in the Land of Snows. The Dalai Lama is perfectly aware of the weakness of the Tibetan system of “rule by incarnation”. During the interregnum between the death of a Dalai Lama and the attainment of majority by the newly reincarnated child, there is a political vacuum lasting between fifteen to twenty years. The regency has been the weak link in the governance of the Tibetan State during the past 150 years. Once the Dalai Lama admitted to me that regency was a disruption: “Many unfortunate things happened during regencies. After the death of 13th Dalai Lama, I had 2 regents. Of course, both of them were my teachers, my gurus and I respected them and had full faith in them, but their conduct was not always up to the mark, sometimes even harmful [to Tibet’s interests].” That is also why he stated that if in certain circumstances, a female form is more useful; he could certainly come back in a woman.

When he recently mentioned the possibility of naming a new Dalai Lama while he was still alive, the Chinese Foreign Ministry spokesman immediately declared that it would blatantly violate the historical conventions of Tibetan Buddhism. But the Tibetan tradition is undoubtedly less rigid than the rules propounded by Marx. Whether the Dalai Lama returns as a man or woman will not change the situation. The present struggle for genuine autonomy needs continuity and naming a successor could go a long way in solving the regency gap.

Q: The Dalai Lama believes “the past is past” but India’s negligence leading to the war of 1962 must be acknowledged...

A: If one goes through whatever historical record is available in India, there is absolutely no doubt that Nehru and his advisors sacrificed Tibet for the sake of a chimerical friendship with China. One could quote hundreds of his statements. Already, in 1950, Nehru considered the invasion of Tibet as a fait accompli: “China is going to be our close neighbour for a long time to come. We are going to have a tremendously long common frontier.” It was a surprising statement made when the Chinese troops had not gone further than Chamdo and were still several weeks walk away from Lhasa, but for him: “I think it may be taken for granted that China will take possession, in a political sense at least, of the whole of Tibet.” And then, for the Tibetan people: “autonomy can obviously not be anything like the autonomy, verging on independence, which Tibet has enjoyed during the last forty years or so.” About the border issue, speaking of Aksai Chin, Nehru said: “All these are high mountains. Nobody lives there. It is not very necessary to define these things.”

Q: Do you think that India’s China policy needs an overhaul with regard to Tibet?

A: Since the words of Nehru quoted above, the policy of the GoI has not changed. It is high time to review this policy in the present context, without any aggression towards China, but with great firmness. For example, the incursions into Indian territory in Arunachal and Ladakh are unacceptable. India could also help a great deal to find a sustainable solution to the Tibet imbroglio. It would be to the advantage of India, of China and also the Tibetans.

Easter Monday, we are spending the day with my auntie F and cousins in Angouleme.

My auntie F is the supreme French woman: stylish, 100% proficient in the cooking sphere, a strong minded individual with black spunky eyes. She described her food as true peasant style (a background she is very proud of). Peasants food was obviously excellent and consisted of stuffed goose neck, Hen's stew*, the usual leafy salade, cheeseboard followed by Cornuelles, Oeufs au lait...all of it washed with a consistent amount of ...

A pretty normal meal..."repas de circonstances" for Easter here in Charente.

* recipe transmitted from generation to generation and never ever written down by anyone...knowing that bit added extra flavour to the dish instantly!

Last week we went up to Angouleme looking for Converse. DS-D had promised Alex a pair as part of her Christmas and birthday presents. She's been looking for ages in the UK, but none of them have been the right colour. We decided to start looking over here - a bit more expensive but at least we knew they would fit AND, most importantly, they were the right ones. Angouleme did not have the right ones - well they did, but not in her size. I've never walked round a town so many times looking for shoe shops "just in case". However, I did come across these.

which when zoomed in on looks like this

Turned round and opposite was this

And then, would you believe, this!

I'm serious - this is for real!  Can you imagine entertaining your friends, sitting on this balcony having an aperitif or digestif and every passer-by watching you!

Got a lot of things to do between now and Monday next when I am off on my jaunt.  I hope to upload towards the end of this week the latest progess on Crumbs from my Table, which, even if I say so myself, is looking good after a bit of re-arranging.

Yes.  We did find her some Converse in the end.  Nontron of all places came up trumps!

A+

I've been sitting on this one a while, as you can tell. Broken up into parts for your convenience.

1 “Angoulême is old, old, old”
2 General overview of demographics, genres, comix culture and industry in France
3 A very short glossary
4 Playing the bass
5 Gatecrashing
6 Notes on the panels
7 Schtroumpfs noirs
8 Party in the alt comix tent
9 Readers on the lawn of the Hôtel de Ville
10 “Je tombe amoureuse”

1 “Angoulême is old, old, old”

Angoulême is old, old, old. Bruges was quaint, pretty, and well-preserved; Angoulême is not. It looks decrepit, dilapidated, and homely. No crow-stepped gables here, just high, square white buildings with crumbling edges and black shutters and doors made centuries ago when people were shorter. Walking down the narrow mazy cobbled streets between the high white buildings feels like walking down corridors. Everything is quiet and rather cold and there is a peculiar ancient light.

2 General overview of demographics, genres, comix culture and industry in France

Looks familiar?

France is one of the very few nations, aside from Japan, to have a true comix culture. Comics aren’t an especially weird or geeky interest. As in Japan, there are lots of magazines in which comics are first serialized before being collected into proper albums. There’s also lots of stuff for kids and young adults – a stark opposite of the North American market. It’s not coincidental that people from my generation, coming of age in the early ’90’s, first encountered comics through Tintin, Astérix and the Schtroumpfs (Smurfs).

Far more North American comics make it over to France than vice versa, of course. The same goes for Japanese comics. There was a building just for manga, with a nice little CLAMP exhibit with profiles of all the creators and a documentary screening. And there were many vendors selling translated English-language graphic novels...but solely from the Fantagraphics, D&Q, Top Shelfy kind of range. No Marvel or DC in sight!

Anyway, all this means that the crowd at Angoulême is anything but a herd of smelly otaku; you’ll find the gamut of demographics represented. The real difference, however, is the amateur/professional divide. Whereas cons back home are largely for fans, here it seemed that nearly everyone I ran into was a cartoonist or an editor or at least working their way up.

3 A very short glossary

BD (bandes dessinées): comics
auteur: cartoonist
album: graphic novel/comic book

4 Playing the bass

The trip down was longish but uneventful. Train from King’s Cross to Gare du Nord, then on the Metro to Montparnasse, then to Angoulême. The trip from Paris was quite nice; I woke up from a doze to see we were passing through the French countryside in golden afternoon light. And it looked...gorgeous. It looked like a Van Gogh painting. I sat back and let myself fall in love with the landscape.

Once in Angoulême I wandered around trying to get a bit closer to my host’s place and buy a cabine téléphonique so I could phone her (the phone booths only accept special cards). Oh yeah, and in this age of mobiles there’s no phone booths. My own mobile had died the night before, naturally. Finally I got in touch with her and she sent a friend to collect me.

T.’s place, a tall and narrow medieval house on one of those narrow cobbled streets, is immensely homey. Think the Funhouse thirty years in the future: chaotic, cluttered, always with people passing through or sleeping on the couch...a haven, somewhere where you can be yourself, which for a bottly person like me is a rarity.

Sitting on the couch with a glass of wine, strumming the bass rather badly, Yoda the cat purring beside me. I’m home.

5 Gatecrashing

Bandes dessinées oui!

But one doesn’t just stay in when it’s BD time! Fellow guests Cyn and Sofi, who Know People, are off to hobnob with the professionels at some party and so Jerome One (T.’s hosting two Jeromes) and I decide to tag along. First we get a drink at a little pub where we just happen to bump into a well-known auteur. Jerome engages him in industry banter while Cyn and Sofi press a sketchbook into his hands. One of the bar staff walks into this meeting and crash! glass everywhere. We stay long enough to get the sketchbook and run off to the hotel where the party is.

It’s packed with people. We can just walk in, though. There’s much chatting and mingling and drinks and auteurs and such. At one point I’m literally falling asleep on my feet, so I leave relatively early and find my way through the medieval labyrinth of streets back to T.’s. Presently Jerome arrives, giddy and babbling and name-dropping. Apparently we were rubbing elbows with the Alan Moores of BD. The significance is lost on me, but I feel vaguely impressed.

6 Notes on the panels

I totally did a sketch of Charles Burns but have been too lazy to scan it. Just imagine it.

Despite my disorganisation busy schedule I managed to see two panels, one with Joann Sfar on drawing, the other with Charles Burns and Ludovic Debeurme on sexual imagery. My heard French is...well, more like isn’t, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to see Sfar, who is one of my favourite cartoonists. He was riffing off pairs of illustrations presented by the moderator, and seemed to mention The Lord of the Rings more than you would expect at this least geeky of cons, and spoke for a while about the tension between striving for a serious, realistic style and creating iconic, easily recognisable characters – think Tintin and Peanuts. Or he could have been talking about something entirely different, I don’t know. You’ll be happy to know it was far too crowded for glomping.

(It wasn’t a glomping sort of con anyway. Everyone did the two baises, very French.)

A memorable line from Charles Burns: “And I promise you that I’m not afraid of women.” That’s the thing with cartoonists, you can’t take that for granted.

7 Schtroumpfs noirs

I really don’t remember this from my childhood, but apparently Smurfs aren’t all blue. Some of them are black.

And evil, natch.

Comics will break your heart, indeed!

8 Party in the alt comix tent

Ah, the alt comix tent...obscure indie and small presses as far as the eye can see, hopeful auteurs hawking zines and minis like waiters outside the curry restaurants on Brick Lane. A guy at the Turkey Comics table pulls out an electric guitar and a teeny little amp, and another guy at the Warum booth opposite takes his acoustic, and they start playing punk covers. A crowd starts to gather. Kids with Spirou hats are watching the musicians with shy admiration. Someone arrives with a couple six-packs of beer. People are mingling, drinking beer, and tapping their feet. Yes, a party has spontaneously sprung into life.

One woman’s little daughter ran out and started dancing in kick-ass toddler style in front of the guitarists and grinning at them with star-struck awe. You could see the cogs turning in her little toddler brain grinding out the equation CARTOONISTS = ROCKSTARS. I can just see some young woman twenty years in the future, starving and passionate and turning out brilliant bandes dessinées to hawk at her very own table in the Angoulême alt comix tent, and it all started when she was a toddler jumping around to “Blitzkrieg Bop”. And so the cycle continues...

9 Readers on the lawn of the Hôtel de Ville

It is a gorgeously warm afternoon. Clusters of youths are spread out across the lawn of the Hôtel de Ville, those giant paper bags from the manga building piled beside them, reading comic books. Parents with their kids, reading comic books. People on the park benches reading. Back to the derelict afternoon quiet of the Place du Minage, the bare centre square, bare trees, sun-yellowed gravel, still fountain. It’s a fine day out there.

10 “Je tombe amoureuse”

Walking the ramparts of Angoulême on Sunday afternoon in the warm, brilliant sun, I look down at the green hillside that slopes down to the city below and know with certainty that I am falling in love. Impossible - there is no one I am in love with - but nevertheless there is no denying it.

In love with France? With comics? At any rate, creative times ahead.

La suite là-bas !

Edité ! :p

Blijkbaar heeft het VFL al verschillende uitgeverijen gecontacteerd om enkele Vlaamse strips te vertalen en uit te geven buiten onze landsgrenzen. Laat ze maar alvast beginnen met Boerke van Pieter De Poortere, dan hoeven ze enkel de kaft te vertalen. Net zo met het woordenloze Nachtdieren van Brecht Evens of Ooievarken van de onvolprezen Stedho. Aan de Engelstalige strips van Philip Paquet zal het VFL nog het meeste werk hebben, want van Engels hebben de Fransen niet veel kaas gegeten.

Dat in het voorlopige lijstje uitsluitend namen zitten die al steun genieten van het VFL is ergens niet verrassend. Maar het geeft toch te denken over de werking van het VFL. Ofwel is het VFL echt overtuigd van het unieke talent van de auteurs die het steunt, ofwel kent men de Vlaamse stripauteurs onvoldoende. En wat is dan precies het uitgangspunt voor het thema 'nieuwe generatie'? Moet het daarbij om quasi-literair of artistiek werk gaan? Want alles welbeschouwd zijn de hierboven genoemde strips geen kaskrakers. Dat ze hun verdienste hebben - de ene al meer dan de andere - staat buiten kijf. Maar met tentoonstelling van een selectie kunstzinnige strips gaan we het niet redden. Zijn we dan nog altijd vies van commercieel leefbaar werk? Als het erom gaat de Vlaamse strip in de zoeklichten te plaatsen, zouden de muurtjes tussen het commerciële en artistieke circuit niet overeind mogen blijven.

Uiteindelijk zal het met zo'n thema moeilijk anders kunnen. De stripauteurs die commercieel haalbaar werk leveren horen doorgaans niet (meer) tot de nieuwe generatie. Ik denk aan kleppers als Marvano, Griffo, Bosschaert of Steven Dupré. Ze zijn allemaal niet meer van de jongsten. De jongere generatie die aan succesreeksen werkt, doet dat al te vaak onder de naam van oude coryfeeën en beschouwt het artistieke werk als een luxe uitstapje. Hoe dan ook zal het VFL veel getalenteerde stripmakers links moeten laten liggen. Eerlijk gezegd zou ik niet in hun schoenen willen staan...

The former paper producing town of Angoulême (incl. Rizla rolling paper), plays host for the 35th time this year to the Festival International de la Bande Dessinée.

I visited the place in southwestern France from 23-28 January. It was great. Some pictures can be seen here.

Contrary to what one would think with 'International' in its title it was all mostly french, french & french. I know, it is the best language with Belgium and France as the source of the World's best comics, but where were Drawn & Quarterly, Fantagraphics and Top Shelf? Maybe Belgium, Holland or even England could be a better host for an international festival, where all the non-french speakers can also enjoy the richness of these comics!

Originally published to wide critical acclaim in France, where it elicited comparisons to Art Spiegelman's Maus, Persepolis is a bittersweet memoir about growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. In powerful black-and-white comic strip images, Satrapi tells the story of her life in Tehran from ages six to fourteen, years that saw the overthrow of the Shah's regime, the triumph of the Islamic Revolution, and the devastating effects of war with Iraq.

"Unfortunately, it happened in a country where people were very traditional, and other countries only saw the religious fanatics who made their response public." In her graphic novel, Satrapi shows readers that these images do not make up the whole story about Iran.

An illustrator, Satrapi chose to tell her story in a graphic novel.

“Images are a way of writing. We learn about the world through images all the time. In the cinema we do it, but to make a film you need sponsors and money and 10,000 people to work with you. With a graphic novel, all you need is yourself and your editor.”

Persepolis paints a portrait of daily life in Iran: of the bewildering contradictions between home life and public life and of the enormous toll repressive regimes exact on the individual spirit. Satrapi's child's-eye-view of dethroned emperors, state-sanctioned whippings, and heroes of the revolution allows us to learn as she does the history of this fascinating country and of her own family.

The book starts right into a challenging subject, especially to Western readers: the veil that all women were told they must wear. The ten-year-old Satrapi complains of the rule not out of politics or social concerns, but because it’s too hot and other girls steal them to play with. The girl’s logic isn’t predictable, and the deviation from the expected can be amusing. She’s interested in her uncle’s stay in prison, where he was tortured, because she wants to brag about it to her friends. Events become stories instead of memories, even as she loses her dreams and her relatives to fundamentalists.

Her follow-up volume, Persepolis 2, won the Angoulême International Comics Festival Prize for Scenario in Angoulême, France, for its script and in Vitoria, Spain, for its commitment against totalitarianism.

Marjane Satrapi was born in 1969 in Rasht, Iran. She grew up in Tehran, where she studied at the Lycée Français before leaving for Vienna and then going to Strasbourg to study illustration. She currently lives in Paris, where her illustrations appear regularly in newspapers and magazines. She is also the author of several children's books.

An animated film version of the book won the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2007.

Brat's Eye View

Salon.com commentary

Originally published to wide critical acclaim in France, where it elicited comparisons to Art Spiegelman's Maus, Persepolis is a bittersweet memoir about growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution. In powerful black-and-white comic strip images, Satrapi tells the story of her life in Tehran from ages six to fourteen, years that saw the overthrow of the Shah's regime, the triumph of the Islamic Revolution, and the devastating effects of war with Iraq.

"Unfortunately, it happened in a country where people were very traditional, and other countries only saw the religious fanatics who made their response public." In her graphic novel, Satrapi shows readers that these images do not make up the whole story about Iran.

An illustrator, Satrapi chose to tell her story in a graphic novel.

“Images are a way of writing. We learn about the world through images all the time. In the cinema we do it, but to make a film you need sponsors and money and 10,000 people to work with you. With a graphic novel, all you need is yourself and your editor.”

Persepolis paints a portrait of daily life in Iran: of the bewildering contradictions between home life and public life and of the enormous toll repressive regimes exact on the individual spirit. Satrapi's child's-eye-view of dethroned emperors, state-sanctioned whippings, and heroes of the revolution allows us to learn as she does the history of this fascinating country and of her own family.

The book starts right into a challenging subject, especially to Western readers: the veil that all women were told they must wear. The ten-year-old Satrapi complains of the rule not out of politics or social concerns, but because it’s too hot and other girls steal them to play with. The girl’s logic isn’t predictable, and the deviation from the expected can be amusing. She’s interested in her uncle’s stay in prison, where he was tortured, because she wants to brag about it to her friends. Events become stories instead of memories, even as she loses her dreams and her relatives to fundamentalists.

Her follow-up volume, Persepolis 2, won the Angoulême International Comics Festival Prize for Scenario in Angoulême, France, for its script and in Vitoria, Spain, for its commitment against totalitarianism.

Marjane Satrapi was born in 1969 in Rasht, Iran. She grew up in Tehran, where she studied at the Lycée Français before leaving for Vienna and then going to Strasbourg to study illustration. She currently lives in Paris, where her illustrations appear regularly in newspapers and magazines. She is also the author of several children's books.

An animated film version of the book won the Jury Prize at Cannes in 2007.

Brat's Eye View

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Hypothetical Question

If, somehow, I found a way to get to the Angoulême International Comics Festival, who should I check out/cosplay as/learn more about/say hi to? I depend on your expert wisdom.

So far, I am leaning towards cosplaying as Seth. I will wear a fedora, round glasses, and an expression of profound, nostalgic melancholy.

“Er...no. I don’t think so.” Shouldn’t she be the one giving the answers?

“When did you last eat?”

“Two-ish, maybe?” It’s evening now.

She frowns at the bit of paper again. “Wash your hands.” When I’ve done so she pricks my finger and draws the little drop into a digital thingamabob. The number means nothing to me, but it puzzles her: “Well, blood sugar’s fine.” She tells me to make a doctor’s appointment.

The discrepancy is probably nothing, but alarming nevertheless. Yes, I know that diabetes has gone from an early death sentence to a common, serious but manageable medical condition. But it’s an annoyance. And I like my sweets, damn it all.

I’ll make an appointment tomorrow, before they need me too much at work.

P. S. I discovered, rather too late, that the Angoulême comics festival is coming up in only three weeks’ time. Getting travel and accommodation together in time is a bit of a gamble and I will probably end up just attending next year’s.

P. P. S. Must go, cat wants love.

Charente Libre : Angoulême sur la liste noire de l’immobilier

This Saturday was such good fun. It had all the key ingredients that spelt a good day out.

Angouleme, had The Gastronomades on.

Angouleme is the capital of Charentes where life is slow and everybody wears Charentaises. This week-end it opened its doors to gastronomy.

Located at about 1h45 minutes drive from us, it took little consideration to decide to go over and check out what Gastronomades were all about.

The good thing is, that every single individual in the Dixie family enjoys a bit of food so the risk of being a poor day out was very low...

As we arrived, (late) the show I was most interested in had already started: "Window On Japon" a Japonese workshop on Japonese cuisine...(how much I cursed that we were late...) by the time we finally had found a place to park I hated every single person in the car and told them!

So, late we arrived and started watching the screen demo of an amazing chef turning its carrots into masterpieces. A lost girl was handling out random numbers to what will turn out to be raffle tickets. I took one and dismissed it trying to concentrate on the fuzzy screen, *Ben Ouai by that stage was telling me how thirsty he was...

The place was smelling amazing and with my aunt we were trying to figure out what was the white sticky texture they were playing with in front of us. Food appeared to be all ready.

"Hum, must be raffle time" we agreed...

"Numero 103..."

"Maman, c'est moi, je suis le numero 103"

Bein Ouai had only got the right number! We both walked towards the stage, bein Ouai had to answer a few questions like:" Does he prefer Mc Donald or Sushi..." and we then got directed towards a private room where it became apparent that we were going to sit down and gorge ourselves like kings...

Ben Ouai being only 8, me being there was not even questionned....

In the background I could still hear the numbers being called out.

"104"...non?

"104" rang a bell, "it must me one of us", I am expecting to see my aunt, but no one shows....looking for my camera...I find my number. It reads:"yes, 104!"

So, not only was I going to eat a Japanese feast on the back of being a chaperon but I now could eat it totally legitimately!

The food exceeded all expectations of course! I served lots of water to Bein Ouai and was the perfect guest bien sur just slightly disappointed I have to say to be there legit...

You would assume it would be pretty easy, just follow the road you came in, but that doesn’t take account the wonderful world of 1 way systems, and our now well known lack of direction. So we began to work our way through, and up and down the hilly roads of Angoulême.

Note: Let me point out, in an unfamiliar car, when every junction seems to be on a rather steep hill and some Frenchie is stuck up your jacksie, it’s not always easy to pull out into the rather mad French traffic.

We look out for signs that would point us in the right direction. I then noticed a sign ‘Touts Directions’. This lit the old light bulb in my head, something I remembered from French lessons back in school, those French exams I failed miserably (the only ones I did fail, though I was very proud of my ‘F’). I was sure the sign meant something like ‘All Directions’, so we took a punt and chose to follow it. Remarkably we were successful and back on the road that we came in on and back on our way to La Rochefoucauld.

La Rochefoucauld is what Pam would call a quaint little town, picturesque views as it spreads across the hillside, and from virtually any viewpoint you can see the Chateau, looking down across the town.

We turn off the main road and through, yet again the tight narrow streets. We hit a crossroads with a sign for the Chateau, but typically French we are unsure whether it means to the left or straight on. Again we guess and go straight on. Again our lucks in and we come out from the buildings and see the chateau across the river on the hillside.

We park up in the car park and make our way across the bridge over the river. The bridge crossing is slightly dicey due to there being no footpath and, well, French drivers.

For more pictures click here.

Once on the other side we headed up the hill to Chateau de la Rochefoucauld  however Pam decided we should make a slight detour when she noticed a sign say ‘Chocolatiere’. So we popped into a little old shop to rummage around looking at some more chocolates.

A couple of bars of delicious milk chocolate purchased later and we march on towards le Chateau.

We walk up the steep road that curves its way up the hill, the Chateau looming over us as we do. As we reach the top we walk through the gateway and are met by a magnificent view of the Chateau before us with a cloudless blue sky as the perfect backdrop.

Note: The only thing spoiling the view, as with many tourist places we saw, was the ever present scaffolding as that whole part of France appeared to be having a refit, including the roads, they seem determined to build roundabouts about every 500 yards in some places, certainly every mile you tend to hit one, don’t get me started on Frenchies roads.

The first building was built in 940AD, and like British Castles, it has been modified and rebuilt over the years. Over recent years the Family, who still live in half the Chateau, have been restoring it to it’s former glory.

Now this kind of place I can take or leave, the actually building I like to look at, but the furnishings inside normally don't float my boat. However, this is old stuff, some very old stuff, and so right up Pam's alley.

Though there were a couple of rooms that did interest me. These were the libraries, stuffed to the brim with ancient original books, dating as far back as the 14th Century.

There are several other rooms that can looked in to, such as the kitchen, the grand dining room and others, you can even go down beneath the Chateau into the caves below to see the original rock that was used to build the Chateau.

After a good tour round, we decided to head back to base camp, and prepare for the next leg of the tour tomorrow.