Skip to main content

Review 18: Exit Wounds by Rutu Modan

Exit Wounds
Rutu Modan’s Eisner Award-winning debut graphic novel, Exit Wounds, is troubling and sweet by turns. Set in Tel Aviv, it draws (indirectly, I hope) from her experiences of day-to-day there to explore what it means to be living in Israel, and to be Jewish, particularly as a woman.

This isn’t a book that contains violence – it contains the aftermath of violence, and the constant threat of it. The way death and destruction is normalised is skilfully done; a recurring motif is the way people respond to the protagonists’ questions about a recent bomb explosion by confusing it with another one that occurred afterwards. The implication is clear – here, explosions are normalcy. You only generally refer to the most recent one.

For all that, this isn’t a book about Israel and Palestine. It doesn’t seek to make Israel a victim, or Palestine an aggressor (or vice-versa), or even mention Palestine or Palestinians at all. This is a book about people who have learned to live in a context of regular violence, without invoking specific national politics.

Specific politics it does explore are those around gender. We see how women are encouraged to adopt American ideals of womanhood – make-up, ‘celebrity’-style clothes, even the trappings of an American teenage girl’s bedroom, as informed by imported films and television. For the main female protagonist, Nuni, pushed towards these aesthetics by her mother and contrasted with her happily-Americanised sister, it creates low self-worth. For the main male character, Koby, it’s a prejudice for him to overcome.

She also explores gender expectations in terms of how all the characters relate to their common denominator – the absence of Koby’s father. He is clearly a man going through an identity crisis following his wife’s death, but all we see is the trail of destruction he leaves as he tries on and abandons the various roles his culture demands of him – father, lover, pious man. His way to achieve this, by making the women in his life disposable, speaks volumes.

From an artistic perspective, the style is simple, verging on goofy at times. This really works with the complexity of the themes and narrative that’re being explored – the contrast makes for a nice balance.

This is a quick but deeply compelling read. It does a fantastic job of making you really feel immersed in a culture at great speed, by dropping in little details that contribute to a complex wider picture. And if this all sounds a bit miserable (sorry), there’s also a storyline that genuinely feels pleasing and heart-warming by the final pane. As a whole, it’s a real achievement.


--

This is my eighteenth book review of 100 to raise money for Refuge, the domestic abuse charity. If you liked this review, or just want to help out, please donate on the link below!

JustGiving - Sponsor me now!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Review 34: The Long Song by Andrea Levy

I’ve read a few books dealing with black slavery as part of this challenge. It’s interesting how each one looks at it through a slightly different lens, adding slightly different perspectives to the whole picture. In The Long Song , the thing that rings as much through the book as the horror and inhumanity of slavery is the sense of humour between the slaves themselves. It felt odd to laugh out loud while reading this, but there are plenty of times I did. I guess that this in itself is important – humour is an essential and universal human trait, so if we deny the slaves’ humour in recounting their stories, maybe it’s another way of denying their humanity all over again. I tried rewriting this about five times to make me sound less like a pseudo-intellectual jerksack, but this is the best I could do, I’m afraid. Anyway, TLS is set in a Jamaican sugar plantation in the early 19th century, and spans the periods just before and after slavery was abolished in the British Empir...

Review 9: The Portable Veblen by Elizabeth McKenzie

The Portable Veblen is an odd read, and possibly not in the ways you’d expect. Picking it up, I assumed it was some sort of sci-fi or magic realist novel. Was a Veblen some sort of futuristic gun? A translation device? A highly treatable but somewhat embarrassing rash? In fact, as with so much in this world, it really only serves to highlight my troglodyte-level ignorance. Apparently Veblen is a reference to Thorstein Veblen, a Norwegian socialist and sociologist living in America in the late 1800s. He essentially decried capitalism and proposed an alternative system to Marxism, and it is after this prominent thinker that TPV ’s main character, Veblen, is named. For me, the novel is really about contradictions between people and between families as they try to adjust from being purely individual to being part of a wider group. How do you decide what to compromise on and what to retain? What is an unhealthy hangover from your upbringing and what is a genuinely core part of ...

Review 25: With the End in Mind: Dying, Death, and Wisdom in an Age of Denial by Dr. Kathryn Mannix

There’s not much more predictable than death. Not the exact nature of anyone’s death, but the fact that we’re all going to hit the doom saloon at one point or another. And yet we fear it; avoid preparing for it; create unhelpful taboos around it. On a scale of dopey things to do, this ranks right up there with Morris dancing. This is one of the key messages of Dr. Kathryn Mannix’s With the End in Mind . Through a number of examples from her time working in palliative care, she explores what death really looks like and how to come to terms with it in an age increasingly concerned with preserving life at all costs. There are some genuinely moving points in the book, but for me none was more so than the first time she watches a consultant describe the dying process to a woman with a terminal condition, who is scared of the pain and loss of dignity she believes it to include. Mannix carefully recounts the process for us to benefit from too: gradually increasing tiredness, regular cycl...