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Dust of Eden is the story-in-verse of Mina Tagawa, who is forcibly relocated from her home in Seattle to the Minidoka concentration camp in Idaho.

What I liked:

• This book is extremely readable – Nagai has a talent for capturing details and establishing settings with just a few words. I almost wonder if the book’s format makes it a good choice for teaching Japanese students about Nikkei wartime experiences, while also honing reading comprehension skills.
• Nagai gracefully combines Japanese and English in her poems, though I could do without the in-text translations. At the same time, because the Japanese in the book is so clearly written by a native* speaker, it gave the story a different, almost dreamlike feeling for me, in contrast to other Nikkei-written camp literature. I felt at times as though I was reading a 日本人 reimagining of Nikkei camp experiences, bolstered in part by the fact that Nagai does not appear to have a family connection to the camps. According to the note at the end, her family physician was in a camp.
• The strong visuals of the story suggest it could be brilliantly adapted as manga or anime, by a dedicated and skilled team of Japanese/Nikkei artists. There are many visual adaptations of what happened at Hiroshima by 日本人 creators – I think it would be fitting to see some of them work with Nikkei creators, especially individuals with family connections to the camps, to create similar adaptations spotlighting this part of JA history. Weedflower would also be a good candidate for this type of adaptation.

What I learned:

• Gary Kunieda’s story was very interesting to me. I know some Nikkei chose to leave the camps for Japan, but I have not yet read a work dedicated to their experiences. What happened to them when they reached Japan? Did any of them end up fighting for the Japanese army? I would be especially interested in reading a Nikkei-written adaptation, fiction or nonfiction, of a multigenerational story rooted in this part of JA history. Bonus points if the writer is inspired by their own family history!

Questions I had:

• Why did Nagai decide to write this book? Was she personally interested in learning more about the camps? How does she conceptualize her own Japanese/Nikkei/other identity in relation to the topic of the book? What contribution did she envision making to the existing body of Nikkei-written camp literature?
• I noticed multiple omitted words in the poems – were they editorial errors? Initially, I wondered if they were intentional, but since most of the book is written from Mina’s POV and she is Japanese American, there is no reason for her English not to be perfectly grammatically correct. I’m a bit disappointed if the omissions are editorial in nature, because the book was just reissued with a new cover and I would hope someone took the time to proofread the content as well.
• The content of several of the poems was disturbing to me, primarily because I could not discern the purpose of including topics which, while perhaps historically “accurate,” might well be hurtful to certain readers. I’m thinking particularly of the scene where Nick and his friend ask which bathroom they should use. I cannot imagine a Black reader finding this scene particularly amusing. What sort of audience did Nagai envision when she drafted this portion?
• As Nikkei readers and writers, how do we make sense of the intersections of settler colonialism and cultural attitudes regarding land? This question was often on my mind as I read the (many) sections where Mina ponders the meaning of being American, as well as the depictions of Grandpa and his roses. Grandpa’s personality, echoed and exemplified by his treatment of the land, felt in many ways quintessentially Japanese to me. I can see in him the bridge between Japan and JA gardeners. At the same time, we have lines such as, “We tame the land with our hands,” which is not particularly distinguishable from the rhetoric of Manifest Destiny or a sentence from the Little House series. I wonder if any indigenous/Native readers have read this book and if so, what they thought of this line and others like it. I also wonder about the effect of these lines on a Nikkei reader – what sort of image of being “American” is conveyed here?
• Continuing from my last thought, what then is the responsibility of contemporary Nikkei writers and creators? What is the value of putting racism, anti-blackness, settler colonialism, etc., on the page unchallenged, especially in fiction, when doing so perpetuates ideas and practices which are harmful to living communities – and by extension, potential readers? Perhaps this is what Cynthia Kadohata wished to accomplish with Weedflower. For reprints or new editions, if writers and/or publishers do not wish to update the original text, they might advocate for an author’s note which explains why certain ideas or topics were included. It is also vital for writers to clearly identify their intended audiences. For example, if I knew a Black reader was preparing to read this book, I would let them know about the bathroom scene.
• What sources did Nagai utilize when writing this book? I would be interested in taking a look at her bibliography. The suggested reading list at the back of the book seems primarily targeted to young white readers to give them a basic understanding of Nikkei wartime experiences. I’m glad to see some Nikkei-written books on the list, but I wish the ones written by white people could be replaced with additional Nikkei-created sources. For the camps, especially, there is more than enough material by JA/Nikkei to educate young readers, without sending the message (however implicit) that white people should always be involved in the chronicling of nonwhite experiences.

Follow-up:

• I realize my lengthy comments above may make it seem I’m highly critical of this book, but I did genuinely enjoy reading it. I think it would be a useful example in any intracommunity discussion comparing and contrasting Nikkei-written camp literature.

*I can’t recall if there was dialogue online about utilizing the term “native” to describe people who have spoken a language since birth. I’m not overly fond of the term “mother tongue,” but I need to check back and see if other alternatives were discussed.