Maps and Memory in Takoua Ben Mohamed’s La rivoluzione dei gelsomini

Abstract

AbstractWithin the growing field of transnational comics culture, marked by the great success of works such as Art Spiegelman’s Maus and Marjane Satrapi’s Persepolis, Italian comics have not received sufficient attention. This paper reads Takoua Ben Mohamed’s latest graphic novel, La rivoluzione dei gelsomini (2018), from a Mediterranean and transnational perspective. My analysis focuses in particular on the dynamics of memory and space as they emerge in the visual narrative of the book. Through a series of maps that either lack definite points of departure and arrival or fail to show a clear way of getting from one point to another, the novel visualizes the non-linear movement of Takoua’s personal and collective memory across the Mediterranean, a memory that cannot be attached to a singular space, but rather constantly travels, and that can only be archived “on the move.” On a broader, collective level, Ben Mohamed’s graphic novel foregrounds the non-linear, rhizomatic, and constantly shifting movement across spaces and boundaries that necessarily characterizes contemporary transnational memories and experiences, while also pointing toward—and visually mapping—alternative ways of inhabiting and belonging within and across boundaries and borders.Keywords: Ben MohamedmemorymaparchiveMediterraneangraphic novel Disclosure statementNo potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).Notes1 For a reflection on this “multireligious, multicultural and multilingual reality,” and on the specific condition of Muslim women in Italy, see Brioni and Ramzanali Fazel Citation2020. On how this urban African diasporic generation is changing the literary legacy of the Horn of Africa in Italy in particular see Lombardi-Dio Citation2020.2 By often foregrounding the racialized experience of Blackness in contemporary Italy, Igiaba Scego’s work has pushed Italian society to come to terms with the legacy of its colonial past, as well as forcing it to engage with a transnational discourse around Blackness.3 See Chute Citation2010. 4 It is interesting to note, in this sense, that Ben Mohamed makes explicit reference to the Jasmine Revolution in the novel’s title, whereas Satrapi names her novel after the capital of the ancient Achaemenid Empire. While Satrapi’s choice might have been influenced by the risks associated with referring to the contemporary situation in Iran (and the novel was indeed banned there), it also adds a dimension of nostalgia for the past and anticipates the writer’s struggle in coming to terms with the multiplicity of her country’s and her own identity.5 See Inf. 1.1-3: “Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita, mi ritrovai per una selva oscura, che la diritta via era smarrita.”6 See Erll Citation2011.7 Although the use of Arabic is limited throughout the novel, at times the author chooses to juxtapose Italian words/sentences with the Arabic version of them. This is the case for all the chapters’ titles, as well as, to cite an example, one of the letters that Ben Mohamed’s mother receives from her husband. For a reflection on the translingual and self-translating aspects of Ben Mohamed’s work, see Spadaro Citation2020.8 Interestingly, she had also informed the reader on the previous page that Douz is the twin city of Isernia, a city in the south of Italy, which she defines as a small village. In fact, Isernia is one of the two provincial capitals of Molise, and with a population of approximately 20,000 residents is much larger than a village. However, it could be perceived as such given its isolation, to the extent that, like Douz, it can appear to be in the middle of nowhere, stuck at the center of a region, Molise, which is often ironically addressed by Italians from other regions as non-existent.9 I am assuming here that one would “read” the novel (i.e. look at the panels) from left to right, though this can only be an assumption in a work produced by an Arabic native speaker.10 The reader (viewer) might note, for instance, that the relative positioning of Ben Mohamed’s house and her grandparents’ oasis in the bottom panel on the right does not match that of the bottom panel on the left.11 See Caruth Citation1996. 12 See Chambers and Cariello Citation2019. 13 It is true that Dante ultimately condemns the Greek hero’s curiositas, insofar as it prevented him from going back home to his “ethical” duties (see Cacciari Citation1997). However, it is precisely this dramatic condition of oscillation between the desire to return to Ithaca and the parallel desire to keep traveling that makes Dante’s Ulysses a troubled and troubling figure.Additional informationNotes on contributorsSilvia CasertaSilvia Caserta writes about space and narrative in the Mediterranean. She works in Italian, French, and Arabic, and her research interests include geocriticism, ecocriticism, visual culture, translation, and world literature. She holds a Ph.D. in Comparative Literature from Cornell University and worked as a Lecturer in Italian and Comparative Literature at the University of St Andrews for six years. Her first monograph in English, Narratives of Mediterranean Spaces: Literature and Art across Land and Sea, was published by Palgrave in 2022.