This interview reflect in a deeper way what the book is about and the thoughts that the author developed at the moment of writing it.
The Holocaust Through the Eyes of a Maus (Art Spiegelman)
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I also would like to share with you an explicit poem that it is easy to understand about the Holocaust and the how protagonist of the poem feels about it. The feeling of Anger due to the cruelty of the Holocaust and the lack of importance that people gave to this issue it is pointed out in the Anne Sexton poem, an American poet, known for her highly personal, confessional verse. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967 for her book Live or Die.
Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.
Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.
Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
I say those things aloud. I beg the Lord not to hear.
The Holocaust Through the Eyes of a Maus (Art Spiegelman)
I also would like to share with you an explicit poem that it is easy to understand about the Holocaust and the how protagonist of the poem feels about it. The feeling of Anger due to the cruelty of the Holocaust and the lack of importance that people gave to this issue it is pointed out in the Anne Sexton poem, an American poet, known for her highly personal, confessional verse. Winner of the Pulitzer Prize for poetry in 1967 for her book Live or Die.
Anger,
as black as a hook,
overtakes me.
Each day,
each Nazi
took, at 8: 00 A.M., a baby
and sauteed him for breakfast
in his frying pan.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and picks at the dirt under his fingernail.
Man is evil,
I say aloud.
Man is a flower
that should be burnt,
I say aloud.
Man
is a bird full of mud,
I say aloud.
And death looks on with a casual eye
and scratches his anus.
Man with his small pink toes,
with his miraculous fingers
is not a temple
but an outhouse,
I say aloud.
Let man never again raise his teacup.
Let man never again write a book.
Let man never again put on his shoe.
Let man never again raise his eyes,
on a soft July night.
Never. Never. Never. Never. Never.
I say those things aloud. I beg the Lord not to hear.
When I finished reading Maus realized something similar to what you wrote in this post. If I had read a real novel about the Holocaust I would've probably cried during most of the book, but this graphic novel was so different, the way in which Spiegelman told his father's story mixed with the description of every visit to get his father's testimony made it ligher emotionally, and that was what I loved about it.
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