“You don’t have the book Maus, do you?”
“Yes, I have a copy. I was just talking about it at church this morning.”
“Would you mind if I borrow it next time we meet?”
“Not a problem.”
I assumed my friend had texted me about Maus: A Survivor’s Tale that Sunday for at least two reasons. First, He knows my passion for books as well as my interest in a narrow type of graphic novel, so chances were good I might own a copy of the Pulitzer Prize winning book by Art Spiegelman. The second reason would be a news item that has been trending nationwide concerning a Tennessee school board’s decision to ban Maus from its eighth grade curriculum. He would want to see for himself what the fuss was about.
I have had a long relationship with Maus. I first came across some panels of it in an underground comic collection, Raw, edited by Spiegelman. I had been fascinated with “Underground” comics since I was introduced to them by some friends. These magazines were like trouble-making cousins of the “Approved by Comics Code Authority” comics I had grown up reading. These comics were were rebellious, risqué, and politically radical—a perfect fit for this long-haired, sometimes-college student and occasional musician.
The novel became a book in 1986 and although by that time I was a middle school English teacher and a purported card-carrying member of the establishment, I purchased a copy. It quickly claimed a spot on my Favorite Books list. I talked it up to anyone whom I thought might be interested. I didn’t teach it in my class, but I did have it on a shelf in the classroom. As far as I could tell, only a handful of students ever picked it up. Still, if someone did ask about it, I would warn them that even though Jews are portrayed as mice and the Nazis as cats, it was a pretty serious and intense read. It’s about the Holocaust, after all. How can you make that bit of history anything but dark? Hope you get something out of it, I would say.
In the summer of 1996 while vacationing in Philadelphia I saw a flier advertising “Art Spiegelman: The Road to Maus,” an exhibit that was showing at the National Museum of American Jewish History. We decided to go. I was captured by the book, once more. In room after room were walls and display cases filled with doodles, preliminary sketches, complete drawings, hand-lettered panels, and explanatory information that told the story of the creation of Maus. Once more, I went back for another read.
The book — books, actually; Maus is two volumes — follows Spiegelman as he interviews his father, Vladik, a survivor of Auschwitz. The story jumps back and forth between the present-day interviews to Poland during the 1930s and ‘40s. One thing the story shows is the incremental changes in laws, society and attitudes, and how these led Jewish people to be treated as less than human. These all-too-human attitudes about the Other, the Different ultimately led to the Final Solution.
Now, again, I am compelled to reach for my copy of Maus. This time it is because of the McMinn County School Board’s decision to ban the book. Their arguments — some language and one panel of a nude woman — seem a little weak to me. The insights and historical perspectives to be gained from this book seem like stronger arguments to keep it in.
On the censorship/anti-censorship continuum, I stand on the far end of freedom to read. That said, shouldn’t local communities have some input into what is taught in their schools? In 2021, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn was banned in Burbank, California, for offensive language. Was this the best educational move? A sidebar to censoring books is they often become forbidden fruit. Banning books seems counter-intuitive.
The next time my friend and I meet will likely be over coffee. Being somewhat opinionated, I’m sure he will have lots to say about the book, even before he reads it. I will have some thoughts to share, as well.
