Marjane Satrapi is both outrider and champion in graphic novels’ charge on respectability. Being Iranian, and a woman, she significantly broadens the reputation of a format that is dominated by white men nostalgic for their youth. Ms. Satrapi also writes about her youth, but is not exactly nostalgic, as explained in her “graphic memoirs,” “Persepolis 1” and “Persepolis 2.”

In these books, eager to introduce the good parts of Iranian life along with the bad, Ms. Satrapi emphasized the secular culture that preceded the Islamic Revolution in 1979. The woman’s veil – sometimes a requirement, sometimes a choice – became a primary symbol of her childhood’s subtleties. Ms. Satrapi wanted the world to know that even if the veil must be worn in public, it is often removed in private.

Her new book, “Embroideries” (Pantheon, 144 pages, $16.95) is a collection of stories told in an unveiled coffee klatch led by Ms. Satrapi’s grandmother, a relatively liberated opium addict who yet councils Ms. Satrapi’s character to let her eyelids droop a little. “You really think I look vibrant and intelligent like this?” Ms. Satrapi asks. “No, but you’ll find lovers more easily.” This air of liberated cynicism dominates “Embroideries.” To their credit, these characters are as frank and as variously experienced as any western group. Only these women have the significant added problems of Islamic law.

Ms. Satrapi’s black-and white drawings are childlike, Matissian. Her visual style, like Art Spiegelman’s, employs meek body language to suggest the dignified restraint of the oppressed. Ms. Satrapi’s women do their most important gesturing with their eyes, sometimes hooded, more often wide open, with playfully dilating pupils and more serious crow’s feet.

In many ways less satisfying than the “Persepolis” books, “Embroderies” is essentially a story collection. Ms. Satrapi’s exploration of sexual politics in Iran is timely and sometimes surprising, but it does not have the dimensions of her earlier books.