Representations of Islam in United States Comics, 1880–1922 by Maryanne A. Rhett (review)

In his groundbreaking Unflattening, Nick Sousanis identifies the fragmentation and territoriality that comes with most specialization. An antagonism arises as a result of finer and finer expertise in both professional and academic fields. "Distinct territories were drawn up, /delineating provinces of exclusion /claims staked /areas carved out /fields defined. /Walled off within isolated domains, /communication across boundaries was stifled. /They kept to themselves, pursuing separate paths to understanding."¹ Given that comics are a medium of communication both requiring and encouraging an interplay between word and image as well as segmented unit to the next, it is especially appropriate that they be used in reunifying or integrating various spheres with one and another. "As the coming together of two eyes produces stereoscopic vision /outlooks held in mutual orbits, /coupled, /their interplay /and overlap /facilitate the emergence of new perspectives."² This goal—to use and to study comics in order to desegregate—must be kept squarely in mind when reading Maryanne A. Rhett's Representations of Islam in United States Comics, 1880–1922, a work of greater potential than its title suggests.

At the outset of the book, Rhett states that her goal is to expand readers' "understanding [of] how Islam and Muslims came to be codified in the popular imaginations of the United States between 1880 and 1922" (1), and, to a large degree, she is successful. The chapters move from an overview of terms to a sense of the US religious populations in this era to Islam in the news and political discourse. Chapters four and five focus more specifically on the visual meanings behind harems and scimitars, respectively, as well as how Turkish involvement in World War I aligned a good deal of Muslim portrayal with nefarious Others (e.g., Germany and Austria). The next chapter is more clever, both analyzing the use of characters in disguise as a Muslim of "Turk" and revealing how (knowingly) false and constructed such outfits were. Concluding with linkages further into the twentieth and twenty-first century, Rhett nicely highlights the promise and the peril of Muslim representations in comics currently; criticisms of imperial heritage and the promotion of marginalized voices are to be lauded but not without a wary eye toward the infantilization of female characters and the relative dearth of research to be placed in responsible dialog here.

Any problem arising from Rhett's work is not with the content nor the analysis, both well-written and aptly researched, but perhaps with the scope. In one sense, she does an excellent job of embracing Sousanis's direction by ignoring barriers and lucidly traversing the worlds of fashion, journalism, gaming, and film in her examination of the time period. However, the examination of comics and cartoons themselves makes up a slim majority of this sweep over popular culture, less demonstrating how integrated it was with these other arenas and more undercutting the accuracy of the title. Passages touch upon Mutt and Jeff, Happy Hooligan, and Punch (reasonably argued as an ocean-crossing periodical) as well as later protagonists like Kismet, the heroes of The 99, Dust, Nightrunner, and Ms. Marvel. Unquestionably, there is effort and attention paid to comics, but their starring place in the title feels, across the various subjects deftly discussed, like a misnomer.

Considering the quality of the scholarship against the positioning of the book leads to a further criticism, though not of Rhett. In her Acknowledgments section, among the widespread gratitude she expresses to colleagues and family, none of it is explicitly directed to editors at Bloomsbury, fittingly. The publisher might have merited it had they steered her towards a more inclusive title—Representations of Islam in US Popular Culture, 1880–1922 works equally well—suggested she correct odd omissions like Green Lantern Simon Baz, or simply cared to correct typos large and small (e.g., the easily detectable punctuation of "Spiderman and Super Girl," whole sentences which embarrassingly repeating themselves, etc.). In short, Bloomsbury, not Rhett...