Cartoonist Joann Sfar opens To Life, his unremittingly honest new book, with personal anecdotes: he remembers where he was on September 11, 2001, and on the day when cartoonists at the French magazine, Charlie Hebdo, were murdered. Sfar’s casual discussion of these terror attacks — for instance, he describes undressing with his girlfriend when news broke of the terrorist attack in France — implies that a more solemn tone would be useless for telling the truth. His account is immersive and exhaustive, but not defeatist.
The book’s length and density are suited to the intensity of its subject. Blue, black, and white drawings rendered in carbon ink pen and brushwork, accompanied by digital lettering, portray a broad range of characters and settings. Sfar, who is from Ashkenazic and Sephardic backgrounds, reports on his life in France, as well as time spent in Israel after the Hamas attack on October 7, 2023. Family members, colleagues, friends, and victims are treated with dignity and ironic humor. The reader observes Sfar’s meditations on questions about Jewish identity and his thoughts on the conflict in Israel and Palestine. These aspects of the book are deliberately unsettling; there is unremitting criticism of the antisemitism that masquerades as support of liberation struggles, but also of right-wing extremism within Israel that denies any possibility of violations of human rights.
The book’s framework is based around Sfar’s relationship with the concept of chai, the Hebrew word for life, and his observations about Jewish survival. He pays special attention to the situation in France, where there have been frequent threats and violence against its Jewish community. He dedicates an entire page to a list of precautions taken by Jews who are frightened into making themselves inconspicuous, such as avoiding calling their children’s Jewish names in a loud voice at a playground and removing mezuzot from doorposts.
Sfar is particularly critical of those who interpret history ideologically — from all points on the political spectrum — and who may ignore nuances that might make them uncomfortable. He visits Israel, interacting with activists, artists, intellectuals, and soldiers. A friend of Sfar’s, who had emigrated to Israel from France, expresses frustration at the way that criticisms by Israelis of their government are distorted in order to delegitimize the state itself. The perspective of bravely outspoken women regarding October 7 is also central to Sfar’s account — several of them remark bitterly on the abuse of hostages and the refusal of some feminists in Europe and the United States to acknowledge the rapes perpetrated against Jewish women on October 7.
Words and images emphasize Sfar’s disbelief at the minimizing — or even outright denial — of horrific crimes. One striking picture featuring delicate sketches of wide-eyed child hostages captioned with their names and ages quietly communicates their status. Before they were hostages, they were just children. Yet for all his anger, Sfar will not give in to simplification. An Israeli who repeatedly refers to “so-called Palestinians” irritates him as much as the offensive distortion of the term “Zionist Entity.” Anticipating criticism for his prayers at the Western Wall (given his self-described identity as a nonbeliever), his defense is that “the desire to be consistent is something I got over a long time ago.”
An artist and writer, Sfar concedes that “my only weapons are books, and I know how small their impact is. But it’s all I have.” The stunning design and courageous message of To Life negates the modesty of that claim.
Emily Schneider writes about literature, feminism, and culture for Tablet, The Forward, The Horn Book, and other publications, and writes about children’s books on her blog. She has a Ph.D. in Romance Languages and Literatures.
