Maus

Much of the final section reveals the admirable aspects of Vladek’s character. His recounting of his experiences at Auschwitz—even though they are horrific and unimaginable—is done in a way that shows he does not pity himself nor seek to be regarded as a victim. He takes an almost matter-of-fact approach to explaining what Auschwitz was like—an approach that shows Vladek’s coping strategy was constantly being on the lookout for ways to stay alive rather than admitting defeat (which, had he done so, would have been understandable). Not only does Vladek remain consistently optimistic about his own Survival in the Face of Adversity, but he does what he can to aid others. He recognizes that an “each person for him/herself” mentality abounds, but he does not harm others in the interest of his own survival, and he recognizes The Value of Bonds. In this vein, he is driven to see that Anja survives. Anja and Vladek’s love for her instill in him a kind of tendency to view their relationship through rose-colored glasses. He insists that they lived perfectly happily in the years after the Holocaust—indeed, Spiegelman reinforces Vladek’s desire to frame his experiences with a happy ending by closing the book with Vladek’s reunion with Anja. Volume I, however, indicates that Vladek’s views of Anja’s experiences and mental state after the war are skewed—the life-changing impact of Anja’s trauma is visible to an outsider (which Vladek asserts as here merely being nervous), especially via her eventual death by suicide.

Certainly, Vladek has been shaped by his trauma, though he refuses to admit to it (perhaps believing that doing so would be a form of defeat). There are rare moments, however, when Vladek voices his sadness, such as when he shares a collection of family photographs with Art. While looking through the photographs of family members—no longer living, some of them having been killed in the Holocaust—Vladek cannot help but feel sadness. This grief over their loss is not something Vladek allows himself to feel very often, and thus, this moment is instrumental in characterizing Vladek as a kind and loving person. The illustrations of the photographs—the kind that have become iconic in museums and documentaries today—are reminders of the immense damage caused by the Holocaust and the importance of the preservation of history. The future was irrevocably shaped by the removal of millions of people who would have otherwise gone on to live out their lives and make meaningful contributions to the world. In including such moments, Spiegelman points to yet another important motivation for writing the book.

As the novel ends, Spiegelman frames the present tense of the book in a way that underscores that the end of Vladek’s life is near. Though Vladek’s actual death is not included in the timeline of the novel’s plot, his increasingly deteriorating health and decline in mental faculties point to death being imminent. Indeed, the final pages of the book—by depicting Vladek lying down in bed to go to sleep, worn out from reliving the Holocaust—create a subtle echo of death. The juxtaposition of Vladek in the present tense with Spiegelman’s decision to end the series with Vladek’s reunion with Anja is a noteworthy one: It creates an ending that is mixed in tone. In a sense, it is a happy ending as Vladek and Anja are successfully united, but in reality, happy endings are few and far between where the Holocaust is concerned. Those who live, like Vladek, continue to suffer. The effects of trauma never heal for him, or for Anja—evidence of The Generational Impact of Trauma and Survivor’s Guilt.  

Other aspects of the ending’s visuals reinforce the notion of death: The final panel is not a true panel at all but the drawing of a headstone. Its detailing of the birth and death dates of Vladek and Anja has a way of suggesting that the end of the scene (depicting the end of an interview session between Art and Vladek) brings about the end of Vladek’s life. Giving Vladek and Anja a shared headstone underscores how important Anja is to Vladek—both during their marriage and after her death. Mala, again, is secondary to Anja in Vladek’s estimation, and therefore, her headstone is not included. Though true happiness is seemingly not possible during Vladek’s life absent Anja, Spiegelman suggests, via this visual, that in death, they can find peace and contentment. This final image, too, is a means to bring about a kind of closure to Vladek’s trauma—one that is not attained by Vladek during his life. A “happily-ever-after” after the Holocaust is dubious at best, but ending with Vladek and Anja’s reunion is the closest the book’s series might come to a happy ending.

The book closes with Spiegelman’s signature, as is customary for comics and other visual artists, but Spiegelman includes a set of dates. These dates indicate the time that Spiegelman devoted to writing the book. Placed beneath the headstone picture, however, these dates parallel the birth and death dates of Spiegelman’s parents, suggesting the writing of the book brought about the birth and then end of a new phase in his life, one where he conversed with Vladek about experiences, thoughts, feelings, and dreams that Vladek had never before expressed to Spiegelman. The aim of the book is multifold, and, in delving into his father’s history, Spiegelman confronts his own problematic relationship as the son of two survivors, linking back to the theme of The Generational Impact of Trauma and Survivor’s Guilt.