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Okorijizō, written by Yamaguchi Yūko and illustrated by Shikoku Gorō, is based on the true story of ojizō-san in Hiroshima.

*Note: All romanization choices are my own, as I read the original Japanese edition of this book. I’m not sure if there is an English translation. In keeping with Japanese language conventions, the author’s and illustrator’s names are written last name-first name.

What I liked:

• To be honest, this book has sat in my TBR for close to five years. My mom and I visited Hiroshima Peace Park while we were in town seeing my cousin and this book was one of the items I picked up from the museum gift shop. It seems strange to think of a gift shop there, but maybe not (see my post on Mariko Nagai’s Irradiated Cities for additional thoughts on this topic). I finally sat down to read it because I needed to clear a spot on my bookshelf and I was pleasantly surprised when I realized it was based on a true story. It may have been advertised as such in the gift shop, but I don’t remember – I think I picked it up because I liked the illustration of ojizō-san on the cover.
• For any fellow nikkei readers who decide to read this book, don’t miss the author’s note at the end! Yamaguchi’s account of her personal experience of the bomb, her nostalgia for the ojizō-san, and the remarkable story of their journey from Hiroshima to Matsuyama lent the book a sense of gravitas which I wouldn’t have felt otherwise.
• Probably all Japanese readers are familiar to some extent with the human stories of Hiroshima – specifically, the catastrophe of the bomb and the aftermath (I recommend Akiko Hashimoto’s The Long Defeat for more on Japanese war memory), but personally I can’t say I’d spent much time thinking about the non-human things affected by that day. I’ve always liked ojizō-san and keep an eye out for them when I’m roaming around Japan – I remember a childhood book (should I reread it for Book Spotlight?) about the gratitude of ojizō-san bestowed upon a kind old man for his gift of straw hats. That said, ojizō-san are one of those aspects of Japanese-ness which I suppose I’ve always taken for granted. I would never have anticipated finding a book linking them to Hiroshima.

What I learned:

• Are there any rules – formal or informal – for Japanese creators telling stories about 原爆, and if so, how have these rules changed over time? Do expectations differ for creators with a direct personal connection (hibakusha, or descendants of hibakusha) versus other creators? Yamaguchi indicates her book had relatively humble origins, but is this the case for most books in this genre? I find myself more and more interested in the politics of 原爆 storytelling in Japan, specifically with regard to how we as nikkei readers might relate these works to our own narratives of JA incarceration.
• This book also led me to consider what culturally-specific trauma might look like for Japanese people, both nihonjin and nikkei. What does it mean to use “trauma” as a framework for analyzing events like Hiroshima and JA incarceration? How might we consider trauma in relation to the push-and-pull of moving forward and looking back? If a group of nihonjin and nikkei youth met today to discuss difficult topics such as 3/11 and Black Lives Matter, what ideas would be exchanged?

Questions I had:

• Is there an international organization – probably a nonprofit – dedicated to cross-cultural education in the form of books? I’m thinking specifically of picture books, though other types of books would work, too. For example, a teacher in the US would trade picture books about the Underground Railroad, written and illustrated by Black creators, to a teacher in Japan, who would respond with books about the bombing of Hiroshima, written and illustrated by Japanese creators. No doubt a number of schools have created such programs on a smaller scale, but it would be wonderful if there was an internationally supported, centralized organization with the resources to ensure access for any school or educator wanting to participate.

Follow-up:

• As much as I need to expand my knowledge of Japanese wartime history as part of my ongoing personal mission to understand what nikkei-ness means to me, it is difficult for me to read about Hiroshima. So, while I’m definitely interested in reading more Japanese authors’ portrayals of this period, it may not be any time soon.

• I would love to see these ojizō-san for myself the next time I’m in Japan, provided they are still on that mountaintop.