Embroideries is the latest graphic memoir from Marjane Satrapi. Her comic book autobiography in two parts, Persepolis and Persepolis 2, tells of growing up in Iran during the Islamic Revolution, studying in Vienna and returning to Iran. Her self-awareness and openness to the bleakness, confusion and hope of adolescence is nicely layered with stories of the struggle to retain identity and spirit under a fundamentalist regime. The theme of feminism is organic to the story — not theoretical — and confides in, rather than confronts the Western reader.

I’m not sure I could have enjoyed Embroideries as much had I not already read Satrapi’s memoirs. Embroideries is a graphic memory of an afternoon drinking tea with a collection of female relatives and close female friends in Iran. The discussion is about love, sex and marriage. It’s gossiping, or as Marjane’s grandmother says, “To speak behind others’ backs is the ventilator of the heart.” Though Embroideries is funny and engaging it’s fairly simple and short — almost dare say it quaint. Because I was able to give the work credit for the entire back-story of the narrator, I enjoyed it. But I still have to admit Embroideries is best summed by saying, “There’s not a whole lot of there there.”

The book is funny, sad, wistful, resentful — the gamut of emotions we expect to find when a group of women frankly address their sexuality and relationships. What I liked most about it was the sense that I could hear the laughter of the women as I was reading it. I could hear the tone the grandmother takes when she admonishes a young women who has just told her tale of woe, “You wanted to marry this guy because of his motels and his ministers and his TMV [MTV joke reference] ... That’s life! Sometimes you’re on the horse’s back, and sometimes it’s the horse that’s on your back.” You definitely feel like you’re sitting on a settee drinking Samovar with the ladies, and that’s equally due to how it’s drawn as much as what it says.

The artwork, though described as comic, is a woodcut style or what I’m tempted to call block print with word bubble dialogue captions. (Sorry, I’m the book reviewer not an art critic). The images are black ink and the intentional use of negative space gives both crispness and warmth to the drawings. Each of the characters is uniquely and consistently drawn so the reader can easily follow the conversation and moods of the women. Embroideries doesn’t use artwork panels; instead each page is it’s own piece of art and movement. A style which perfectly suits the intimate nature of the conversation. This is a departure from the largely paneled style of Persepolis.

Unfortunately, Embroideries is simply missing the depth of cultural context that made Satrapi’s two-part autobiography so moving and intriguing. If you liked Persepolis you’ll definitely enjoy this return trip to the art of Marjane Satrapi, but if you’re looking for an introduction to her work I’d definitely encourage you to start at the beginning.