***who sucked me in***
Jen of Remembered Read on YouTube in their Friday Reads video published on Friday 27th of March.

Il Libano è stato devastato da quindici anni di guerra civile, le cui conseguenze si trascinano ancora oggi ma di cui colpevolmente noi occidentali sappiamo troppo poco (o almeno io). Questa graphic novel non ci aiuterà in tal senso, perchè non si propone di spiegare le ragioni del conflitto ma solo di offrire una piccola grande testimonianza su come era davvero la vita per chi ci è vissuto in mezzo.
E' il racconto di un giorno qualunque in una casa qualunque, di una "normalità anomala" in cui a certi riti quotidiani come il caffè e le chiacchiere tra vicini se ne affiancano altri diventati altrettanto familiari come il razionamento dell'acqua o i bombardamenti giornalieri. La paura è penetrata talmente a fondo nelle loro esistenze che ormai è diventata anch'essa la norma, tutti hanno subito lutti e perdite e tutti hanno imparato a conviverci. E' un mondo durissimo quello descritto all'autrice, ma lo tratteggia con grazia e anche con una certa dose di ironia; è chiarissima l'ispirazione a Persepolis della Satrapi (forse perfino troppo) sia nei toni che nelle illustrazioni, tutte sui toni del bianco e del nero e molto ispirate alla calligrafia araba.
Un fumetto adatto anche ai più giovani, che racconta solo un frammento di una storia molto più vasta e complessa ma che non manca di profondità. ( )

> Jondot Jacqueline. [Beyrouth] Catharsis. Mourir, Partir, Revenir ; Le jeu des hirondelles, Zaina Abirached, 2006-2007.
In: Horizons Maghrébins - Le droit à la mémoire, N°57, 2007. Créations palestiniennes. pp. 192-193. … ; (en ligne),
URL : https://www.persee.fr/doc/horma_0984-2616_2007_num_57_1_2575

> Mourir, partir, revenir, LE JEU DES HIRONDELLES, par Zeina Abirached - Ed. Cambourakis, 186 p., 20 €. — Même utilisation du noir et blanc, ressemblance des personnages, contexte oriental, inspiration autobiographique : le style de Zeina Abirached fait immédiatement penser à celui de Marjane Satrapi. Pour autant, réduire Le Jeu des hirondelles à un sous-Persepolis relève de la franche mauvaise foi.
 Ici, tout se déroule dans le Liban des années 80, déchiré par la guerre civile. A Beyrouth-Est plus exactement, où, pour se rendre d'un point à un autre du champ de bataille urbain, éviter les snipers et les obus, les habitants doivent emprunter mille détours. Et s'armer de patience. Un soir de bombardement, les parents de la narratrice tardent à rentrer. Autour d'elle et de son frère, les rares habitants restés dans l'immeuble font corps et tentent de chasser l'inquiétude. Savoureuse et attachante galerie de portraits – d'Anhala, la servante dévouée, à Ernest Challita, le professeur de français qui – déclame Cyrano –, Le Jeu des hirondelles est surtout un authentique et oppressant huis clos. Un drame en chambre où tout se passe hors champ, et dont Zeina Abirached excelle à rendre, graphiquement, la tension. La place accordée aux décors, des scènes comme celle où le tic-tac de la pendule envahit peu à peu les cases, certains détails en gros plan instillent ce qu'il faut de surréalisme pour rendre captivante cette histoire immobile.
—Stéphane Jarno, le , 25/03/2008, (Sur Telerama.fr)

The black & white artwork in this autobiographical graphic novel is impressive, particularly at the opening where the author uses stark contrast & abstraction to create the wartime Lebanon of her childhood. Zeina & her brother live with their parents in an apartment overlooking the demarcation line btw East Beirut (Christian) & West Beirut (Muslim). Powerful images underscore the matter-of-fact tone as Zeina describes her parents route to visit her grandmother: "Crossing the handful of streets between us meant following complicated and perilous choreography." (p. 17). It is this potent contrast between the child's voice & the dire circumstances she describes that absolves some of the choppiness of the narrative. While the children await their parents' return, they retreat to their foyer, the safest place in the building during bombing while neighbors trickle in with food, stories & solace.

So, even as the parents return & all resume life amid civil war, the reader is left with the dual taste of the kindness of others & the banality of war. Given current circumstances in Syria & other countries similarly fraught, this title might provide a glimpse of circumstances for those not yet ready to read Satrapi's outstanding "Persepolis."

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The black & white artwork in this autobiographical graphic novel is impressive, particularly at the opening where the author uses stark contrast & abstraction to create the wartime Lebanon of her childhood. Zeina & her brother live with their parents in an apartment overlooking the demarcation line btw East Beirut (Christian) & West Beirut (Muslim). Powerful images underscore the matter-of-fact tone as Zeina describes her parents route to visit her grandmother: "Crossing the handful of streets between us meant following complicated and perilous choreography." (p. 17). It is this potent contrast between the child's voice & the dire circumstances she describes that absolves some of the choppiness of the narrative. While the children await their parents' return, they retreat to their foyer, the safest place in the building during bombing while neighbors trickle in with food, stories & solace.

So, even as the parents return & all resume life amid civil war, the reader is left with the dual taste of the kindness of others & the banality of war. Given current circumstances in Syria & other countries similarly fraught, this title might provide a glimpse of circumstances for those not yet ready to read Satrapi's outstanding "Persepolis."

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