A very interesting representation of the author looking back on her struggles to adjust to a new life in Zurich and coming to terms with her past life in Iran and who she was at different periods of her life. ( )

This is a compelling memoir about growing up in Iran under its oppressive theocratic regime. It's impossible to not compare this book to Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis, and Nylon Road does suffer in comparison but it is a perspective unique from Satrapi's and certainly worthy of an audience. ( )

Parsua Bashi explores her life growing up in Iran through staged discussions with herself at various ages. The entire narrative is told through a flashback, revealing particular events in Bashi's life which may not have formed her but do define her. I love this set-up. The older I get the more I want to talk to my past selves. My opinions, held so tightly when I was 16, seem naive now that I am 31. Bashi with love and forgiveness argues with her younger selves, challenges their thinking while simultaneously feeling nostalgic for those versions of herself which have passed.

While Islamic Iranian culture is explored, the primary focus remains on Bashi, an internal exploration of her world through her eyes. I really appreciated this personalization as too often memoirs can stray a bit too far into cultural analysis without acknowledging the subjective bias inherent in a "memoir".

As so many reviews of this graphic memoir mention, no comments on Nylon Road are complete without a comparison to Marjane Satrapi's Persepolis, a graphic memoir about growing up in Iran (all hail the similarity). Most reviews will tell you that Persepolis is "better" than Nylon Road; I am neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Satrapi's memoir is certainly more historical and epic and the such not, but that is exactly why I feel it disingenuous to place to important a value on comparing the two. Just because they are both memoirs about girls growing up in Iran does not mean they should be judged against each other. I think it sufficient to say that they are both good.

Moving away from the narrative to the images, grays, tans, and white are the only colors used, and I am curious to know why. What is it about this color scheme that appealed to Bashi? And why does it appeal to me? At this point, I don't really have any answers. ( )

Sadly, it is impossible not to compare Nylon Road to Persepolis, not just due to subject matter (or the fact that the author mentions it upfront), but also as a result of the medium employed. While I certainly enjoyed Bashi's story, and found it an adequate and interesting addition to the historical, realistic graphic novel genre, I felt as if the amount of time devoted to her life as an expat far outweighed what I was really interested in: her life in Iran and her decision to leave.

I appreciated the technique of bringing her past selves forward in time to react to and comment on the drastic changes she underwent once in Europe, but at times it felt far too introspective, to the point where it hobbled the narrative itself. As an autobiographical work, it stands on its own two feet, and is quite solid and interesting, engendering moments of both joy and triumph on behalf of Bashi, and moments of deep irritation and frustration. As a political, historical work, however, I felt it was somewhat lacking. Perhaps I simply read it too close to Persepolis to appreciate it for what it is: the story of an expatriot struggling to understand the culture around her and find her place within in. ( )

Any quirky, lovable OGN about growing up in Iran written by an expat making her living in the creative industries in a European country is inevitably going to be compared to Persepolis, but this is pretty different, and if ultimately less definitive, not without its own charms. The first major difference is that Bashi came to Europe as an older person, so unlike Satrapi's heartstring-tugging tale of a young girl's separation from her family in a time of uncertainty and sorrow, a child's-eye view of the revolution &c., Bashi gives us a quirky, cantankerous psychodrama in which her past selves visit her and confront her with all the ways in which she believes, in her dark moments, that she has betrayed each of them, the hardships and truths of her past. It's an exile's dilemma dramatized, and while Bashi ultimately seems at terms with her life in Switzerland and at peace with her losses and the paths not taken, the regrets, the furious arguments about a people's destiny that a great nation seems always ready to engage in, and the disgust and difficulty a (quirky, cantankerous) middle-aged woman has in coming to terms with the European bounty and what the Europeans do with it (the Swiss come in for some extra kicking--I can't believe that they wear THAT many belly tops over THAT many sagging guts and have THAT many nipples falling out of their shirts all the time--nipples?), these make for an interesting clash-of-cultures diversion and primer on breakfast conversation in emigrant Iran. ( )