The Cartoonist Collective. I
Won’t Pretend These Missiles Are Stars. Life in Iran During the 12-Day War. An
Anthology from The Cartoonist Collective in Tehran. Brooklyn, NY: Street Noise Books, 2026. 212 pp. US $22.99
(Paperback). ISBN: 978-1951-491-55-0.
In these dark days, nothing is more important than
spreading the voices of Iranians out there. In the end, we have only one
request, remember us, remember Iran, and speak loudly about it.--The Cartoonist
Collective
It
is February 19, and I write this, remembering Iran and my friends there, as
war-monger and war-profiteer Trump has just deployed an overkill and
provocative mission of multiple destroyers, the U.S.’s largest supercarrier,
attack aircraft, drones, electronic warfare jets, and more to Iran in
preparation for an invasion.
I
Won’t Pretend These Missiles
Are Stars is an apt graphic novel to be reading at this time, with its
vivid accounts of the fear, hopelessness, indecision, and sense of foreboding
experienced by civilians when their abodes are under attack--in this case,
those of Iranians during the 12 days in June 2025 when they suffered constant
bombing by Israeli aircraft.
Packaged
in 15 segments, each told and illustrated by a member of Tehran’s The
Cartoonist Collective, their titles foretold their contents, examples being,
“I’ll Tell You a Story If We Don’t Die,” “Under the Same Roof,” “Until after
the War,” “Stay Alive,” “Tehran Apocalypse,” and “The Fireworks.”
The
stories recount the wide array of feelings and preparatory plans and actions of
those under threat of death. A sampling includes what, in normal times, would
be considered preposterous or laughable:
“When bombs hit, my first instinct is not to scream but to prep my own
corpse like a mortician on overtime.” “I still want to die but I have a
deadline to meet.” “You can’t fully let your anger out, because you’re still
raw from the last wound, and then it flares up again.” “It hurts my heart to
see how people with dreams and hopes…become emotionless statistics when it
serves the interests of the government.” “My friend stays up at night, hoping
for peace and a clear sky, and I stay awake at night to think about my
funeral.” “I hated the word war, that small three-lettered word, that took so
much from us, the wounded people of Iran.” Another story shows a young female
cartoonist decked out with loads of jewelry given to her by her mother and
friends which she described as “a little something to hold on to as I passed
away, or at least to make looting my corpse more of a luxury experience.”
These
stories are powerful accounts of non-military people encountering wartime
conditions, which we seldom hear. The book is an assemblage of first-hand
stories told in everyday conversation, drawn in a variety of styles and color
schemes, and designed in an easy-to-follow format.
I
Won’t Pretend These Missiles Are Stars
is highly-recommended for comics art practitioners, academicians, and
aficionados, because of its superb storytelling and art, for anyone who still
believes war is glamorous, and for the many of us who have not had to suffer
war.
Posts
