To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Nori, written and illustrated by Rumi Hara, is a graphic novel depicting the day-to-day adventures of a girl growing up in Osaka in the 1980s.

What I liked:

• Hara is interesting to me because she appears to be shin-issei, an identity that occupies a nebulous space within nikkei and/or ‘Japanese American’ communities. I do not know anything about Hara’s personal experiences in her time here, so I cannot speak to the exact perspective she brings to her work, but I believe certain distinctions can likely be drawn between her perspective and the perspective of, for example, a yonsei or gosei creator. I wonder about the decisions Hara made when she wrote the text for Nori. How did she decide on her preferred English translation for distinctly Japanese text, such as song lyrics and sounds?
• Although my family is not based in Osaka (except, possibly, a relative or two?), I saw many familiar references in Hara’s settings, which made the story feel very nostalgic. For me, the familiarity of the settings also helped to offset the distinct creepiness of Hara’s character designs. I do not know if she is emulating a certain style, or if this is the style she brings to all of her work, but I did not find any of the characters particularly cute or visually appealing. Instead, the appearance of the characters emphasized the dreamlike quality of the book, specifically the kind of dream where, even if things appear benign on the surface, you know some kind of threat or unease is lurking just out of sight, making you want to get to a place of safety as soon as possible (I have never studied psychology, but I’d be curious to know the meaning of dreams like this). The potential intersections between dreams and memory are fascinating to me, especially when considered a step further in the context of intergenerational trauma in WWII JA history. Given Hara’s background, I do not believe the JA history piece applies to her, but I did find myself thinking about intergenerational trauma and memory during the scenes when the elders recount their wartime memories. It was interesting that the shopkeepers encourage Nori and Hana to go to Hawaii as a way to validate and/or “make up” for their own struggles and hard work. I need to read up on nihonjin perspectives of Hawaii. Apart from being a perceived destination for immigrants, what else does Hawaii represent in the minds of nihonjin, specifically nihonjin who stay in Japan? Is there any thought given to the politics of painting Hawaii as a vacation paradise, without regard for Native Hawaiian rights? How might such a discussion be linked to ongoing changes in Japan’s own tourist economy, or, alternatively/additionally, to Japan’s relationship with indigenous peoples such as Uchinaanchu and Ainu?

What I learned:

• How much has the canon of Japanese children’s songs changed over time? I grew up with songs taught to me by family members, some of which resurfaced years later in weekend Japanese school. Even as a child, I had the sense many of the songs had long histories, maybe even very specific origin stories, but I’ve never investigated this feeling to see if it’s true. The events of Nori take place about a decade before my childhood memories in Japan, yet I recognized every single one of the songs, once I figured out the translation from English to Japanese. (On a separate note, there is an odd sense of disconnect, trying to translate song lyrics that I never thought of in English before, and then seeing if they matched what Hara had written, to try to identify the song.) I was not expecting to be able to identify each of Hara’s cultural references so on-the-dot and this makes me wonder about the evolution (or lack thereof) of Japanese children’s culture in the postwar years (maybe even the pre-war years, if the war did not, in fact, constitute a major shifting point in this particular area of Japanese culture).

Questions I had:

• To be honest, I have not checked, but has Hara published a Japanese edition of this book? If not, are there plans to do so? I feel the story would read very differently in Japanese and I’m curious to know what Nori sounds like, what sort of character she embodies, in her native language.
• Does Hara have an intended audience for this book? Since the book was published in English, does she not envision a non-English-reading audience? For example, does she have any desire for nihonjin readers (specifically, those who do not normally read in English) to read this book?

Follow-up:

• Incidentally, I recently bought Hara’s newest book, which made me remember that Nori was buried in my TBR.

Here are the results for my 2022 reading goals. I’m happy to announce I got bingo by reading all the books in the third column! Scroll past the table to see a complete list of titles and authors. Click here for the original post, including all of the bingo categories for 2022.

SFF novel	Artie and the Wolf Moon	Blackblood Acolyte	In the Spirit of a Dream	Never Open It
Novel in verse	The Widows of Malabar Hill	Love in the Library	Short story collection	The Things She’s Seen
Almost American Girl	Himawari House	Sweet and Sour	Adapted for TV or film	Check, Please: Sticks & Scones
Horror	Essay collection	Call Us What We Carry	Saucy	Novella
The Immortal Rules	Under a Painted Sky	Check, Please: Hockey	The Waiting	History or sociology

Here are the titles, authors, and genres of all bingo-qualifying books I read in 2022.

Note: Links to Book Spotlight posts are provided if the post is already linked on the Book Spotlight Post Index page. Some posts for books I read in 2022 will be published in 2023, as I now schedule Book Spotlight posts at an average rate of one post per month.

• Almost American Girl – Robin Ha (graphic novel)
• The Immortal Rules – Julie Kagawa (YA SFF)
• Artie and the Wolf Moon – Olivia Stephens (graphic novel)
• The Widows of Malabar Hill – Sujata Massey (mystery)
• Himawari House – Harmony Becker (graphic novel)
• Under a Painted Sky – Stacey Lee (YA hist fic)
• Blackblood Acolyte – Phu Vuong (graphic novel)
• Love in the Library – Maggie Tokuda-Hall (picture book)
• Sweet and Sour – Debbi Michiko Florence (MG contemporary)
• Call Us What We Carry – Amanda Gorman (poetry)
• Check, Please: Hockey – Ngozi Ukazu (graphic novel)
• In the Spirit of a Dream – Aida Salazar (picture book)
• Saucy – Cynthia Kadohata (MG contemporary)
• The Waiting – Keum Suk Gendry-Kim (graphic novel)
• Never Open It – Ken Niimura (graphic novel)
• The Things She’s Seen – Ambelin Kwaymullina & Ezekiel Kwaymullina (YA suspense)
• Check, Please: Sticks & Scones – Ngozi Ukazu (graphic novel)

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

The Eternity Cure, by Julie Kagawa, continues Allie Sekemoto’s journey as she searches for her mentor in a race against time.

What I liked:

• To reiterate what I stated about The Immortal Rules, I really appreciate the way Kagawa grounds Allie’s character in realness. This is not to say Allie is always pragmatic, but I feel her thoughts and actions in different situations are consistent with how a forced-to-grow-up-too-quickly teen would react, how I would maybe have reacted in her shoes, and I continue to find her remarkably relatable as a person. I’m not sure I would go so far as to say Allie feels very Japanese or nikkei as a character, since her ethnicity has thus far never been specified on the page, but I wonder if creating this character felt natural to Kagawa in the sense that she may have been writing from a shared space of identity. It’s been interesting for me to realize how imposing my own assumptions on Allie as a nikkei reader has likely significantly influenced my response to this series, in a positive way. I wonder if I would have enjoyed this series as much if not for the possibility of Allie being nikkei.
• Zeke’s loss is a major blow to Allie and an obvious cliffhanger for the final book in the series. As I mentioned previously, I am not a huge fan of Zeke as a character, but respect how he provides a foil to Allie’s battle with her ‘monster’ self. I wonder if Kagawa planned Zeke’s fate from the beginning of the series, or if it occurred to her later as a way to keep the plot fresh. I’m very interested to see how Allie’s journey progresses without Zeke at her side. Their romance scenes felt a little cliché to me, so I won’t really miss those, but this could also be because I’m past the target age for this book. It’s quite possible my tween or teen self would have loved Allie and Zeke’s romance.
• Kanin lives! I like Kanin, though in light of what he is guilty of, I feel Kagawa shapes his character in a way that plays to the reader’s sympathies, when he could easily be portrayed like another Sarren. He does seem incredibly compassionate and patient, given the length of his life and the breadth of his experiences, but since I don’t know any vampires in real life, I’m not sure if this is ‘realistic’ or not. Jackal’s personality is much more in line with what I would expect of predator immortals in a dog-eat-dog world. For the record, I do like Jackal as well and I think Kagawa intends him to be likeable, to a certain extent. He reminds me of the characters in Rebecca Roanhorse’s Sixth World series. His unpredictability is a refreshing addition to Allie, Zeke, and Kanin, all of whom are clearly intended to be ‘good’ characters.

What I learned:

• Although I read across genres, I probably read less dystopian/post-apocalyptic novels than other types of novels. I mention this because I noticed the contrast between the settings in Blood of Eden compared to, say, S.A. Chakraborty’s Daevabad series (epic fantasy, for those who are unfamiliar), and how Kagawa gets away with comparatively fewer descriptions because her books are tightly focused on plot. In Kagawa’s case, I also imagine extremely detailed descriptions of what seems to be a grimly monotonous post-apocalyptic landscape would quickly bore readers (The Two Towers, anyone?). To be clear, I never felt Kagawa provided less description than necessary – it was simply interesting for me to recognize this distinction between her books and some of the other books I’ve recently read.

Questions I had:

• I noticed this a bit in the first book, but more strongly in this book. Sarren is consistently described as “crazy” and “psycho” in the text, which, while perhaps an accurate assessment of his mental state, is probably language that might not pass editorial inspection if this book was to be published right now. Did the question of correct disability terminology ever arise during the editorial process for this manuscript? Although I doubt many readers sympathize with Sarren, and, indeed, I don’t believe Kagawa intended his character to be a relatable one, I do wonder how readers with mental health problems, who themselves may have been described as “crazy” or “psycho” by people in their lives, reacted to this terminology. Since, as previously mentioned, Allie is never explicitly identified as Japanese or nikkei, it seems a stretch to link this language to perceptions of mental health in nikkei spaces, but I do hope no nikkei readers were harmed by seeing Allie express these thoughts.
• Does copyediting happen all over again when a book is reprinted? I believe my copy is a reprint and I definitely felt it could have benefited from another pair of eyes on the text. There were multiple misspellings and omitted words throughout the book, occurring frequently enough to be noticeable.

Follow-up:

• Naturally, I will be reading the third and final book in the series. I’m still on the fence about whether to read Kagawa’s other books.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

The Immortal Rules, by Julie Kagawa, follows the journey of human-turned-vampire Allison Sekemoto as she navigates a grim world of shifting goals and alliances.

What I liked:

• Those who follow me online know my TBR growth vastly outpaces my actual reading speed. Case in point, I’m not entirely sure how many years ago I purchased The Immortal Rules before I found it in a pile the other day. Regardless, it was definitely in the right place at the right time, because I had no idea I was in the mood for post-apocalyptic vampire/zombie stories until I started reading and couldn’t stop. Major kudos to Kagawa for creating a plot and characters so compelling I forgot I picked up this book on a whim.
• Although I enjoy a rollercoaster plot as much as the next reader, characters definitely tend to stay with me longer than their storylines. In this case, I really appreciated and admired Allison. She is unquestionably courageous, but also frequently conflicted and angry, and these emotions grounded her as a real, relatable person. Zeke strikes me as a bit too good to be true, but I do think his personality is an effective counterpart to Allison’s constant struggle with her vampire/monster self.

What I learned:

• As I read this book, I found myself thinking about what constitutes ‘commercial’ YA versus YA that is not deemed commercial. To be clear, I really enjoyed The Immortal Rules, but at the same time, I’m not entirely sure it contained any unique points, anything that made me think, ‘wow, I haven’t seen that before.’ Instead, the book felt like a combination of sellable elements neatly packaged with the goal of putting it on a bestseller list. I’m certainly not suggesting this is a flaw on Kagawa’s part as a writer, because I suspect the choices made in creating this book were very deliberate, but I would be curious to know how Kagawa feels about her own work. Would she agree that this book is ‘commercial’ or would she say otherwise? What are Kagawa’s priorities as a writer? Does she write to the market in order to generate income, or does she prioritize other factors? Again, this is not intended to be a critique of Kagawa’s motives; some writers depend on the income generated by their books, while others do not, and I personally do not believe writers in one category are superior or inferior to writers in the other.

Questions I had:

• Is Allison meant to be nikkei? As far as I saw, the word ‘Japanese’ never appears in the text. Curiously, Jake is identified as a Black man, but most of the other characters are never identified by race. Perhaps this will be answered in the subsequent two books of the series, but I did wonder if Kanin and/or Jackal are people of color, perhaps even Asian. I assumed Zeke is white based on his physical description. Did Kagawa make these decisions about racializing (or not) her characters, or was her editorial team involved? I point this out, not because I felt race was important to the story (as far as I can tell, the human racial dynamics were essentially a nonfactor compared to the human-versus-vampire-versus rabid dynamic), but because I’m not sure if this book provides another example of the white default in US publishing.
• Allison is described as “exotic” once, maybe twice, in the book. If, as I assume, Allison is nikkei, what was Kagawa’s intent with this word choice? Or, again, it might be the editorial team at work.
• Who picked the katana as Allison’s weapon of choice? It seemed a bit cliché to me, but on the other hand, if Kagawa was writing back against Euro-centric, white-centric narratives inspired by western European medieval cultures, I understand why she might have made these choices.
• I have not looked up any interviews with Kagawa, but I know she is a well-established YA author. What are her thoughts on race and representation in literature, particularly in the context of the conversations that have been happening in the last five or six years? How does she situate herself and her work within the existing body of nikkei literature? Specifically, does she have any thoughts on the concept of nikkei YA?

Follow-up:

• I will most definitely be reading the rest of this series! Kagawa’s other books appear considerably different, but I hope to give them a try later on.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Just So Happens, written and illustrated by Fumio Obata, is the story of Yumiko, a London-based designer who returns to Japan upon her father’s death.

What I liked:

• Obata’s art is just fascinating to view. His style, specifically his renderings of characters, objects, and backgrounds, and his use of bold, solid color, feels very “nihonjin with a dash of something,” which may reflect his experiences living outside Japan. Additionally, because so much of the story, including the drawings themselves, seems to be firmly anchored within Yumiko’s perspective (meaning, it felt as if we were intended to be looking through her eyes), the sense of Japanese-but-also-a-bit-off that I experienced while reading the book felt very intentional, as if the entire work was created to embody the experience of being nihonjin-outside-Japan-returning-to-Japan. Although my background is different from Yumiko’s, the push-and-pull emotions of being Japanese outside Japan versus in Japan felt incredibly familiar.
• Another thought-provoking quality I appreciate about Obata’s work is the sketchiness, or deceptive simplicity, of his images. I especially noticed this in his depictions of Japanese settings, where his spare lines and broadly brushed colors create a feeling of place rather than a photographic image. Based on my own experiences in Japan, I recognized many of these places and could call up sensory memories to “fill in the blanks” so to speak, but this experience made me wonder if Obata’s depictions of Japan are meant to mirror Yumiko’s own lifelong familiarity with her birthplace and/or Obata’s own familiarity with his first home. It could also merely be a factor of artistic choice – perhaps Obata renders all of his settings in this style, regardless of personal connection. I wonder about how Obata’s depictions of Japan, and other nihonjin depictions of Japan in the graphic novel medium (in this case, meaning graphic novels as distinct from manga) compare to nikkei depictions of Japan in the same medium. Anyone who has been a tourist or has hosted a tourist probably knows this feeling – as a visitor, one tends to fixate on details which are unseen or unimportant to longtime residents. Would a comparative analysis of graphic novels show more “tourist” details in nikkei depictions of Japan versus nihonjin depictions of Japan? Subject matter would also need to be considered as a factor, of course, since any nikkei creator focusing on being a tourist in Japan would likely produce images heavily skewing toward these “tourist” details. Additionally, personal artistic choice and style, as well as target audience, would also need to be considered. The same question could also be applied to literature. As a writer, I often consider how much detail to include, with my primary considerations being, what is best for the story AND what is best for my target (nikkei) audience.

What I learned:

• Yumiko’s commentary on Noh was fascinating, especially her musings on the relationship between the structured artistry of Noh and the self. I’ve never seen Noh performed and it’s not currently a particular area of interest for me, but my inner art historian is clamoring to research some articles or books by Japanese (nihonjin or nikkei) scholars examining the role of self in Noh. On an academic side note, it would also be interesting to examine varying definitions of “self” as analyzed by nihonjin versus nikkei scholars, and to consider how these definitions shape each scholar’s work on Noh. I’m here for all those complex intersections of academia and diaspora identities!

Questions I had:

• What inspired Obata to create the character of Yumiko? This may be my own bias showing, but I’m often wary of Japanese – specifically nihonjin – men when it comes to gendered media portrayals. To be clear, I had no issues with the way Obata portrays Yumiko in the story, and the depiction of how constrained she felt her career to be in Japan felt consistent with my own observations. Nonetheless, I’m curious to know how nihonjin women, especially those whose life trajectory mirrors Yumiko’s, reacted to her character.

Follow-up:

• From what I can find, Obata’s two other graphic novels both appear to be written by some white dude living in Japan, with Obata illustrating. I sincerely wish western publishing would take a hard look at the racism inherent in this problematic pattern of Japanese writers and artists co-creating Japan-related content with white people, along with the overwhelming whiteness of Japanese-to-English translators. Let’s not set a precedent that Japanese creators “need” a white co-creator in order to get published in mainstream channels. I also wish Japanese (specifically nihonjin) publishers would take a hard look at the extent to which whiteness is privileged in Japan and consider what this implies about colorism and racial preferences in Japanese culture.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai, by Debbi Michiko Florence, follows middle schooler Jenna Sakai as she navigates family problems, scholarship applications, and peer relationships.

What I liked:

• Jenna works hard to expand and develop her thought processes, while never losing sight of who she is, a quality I both admire and can relate to.
• Much like Florence’s previous book, Keep It Together, Keiko Carter (read my post here), Just Be Cool, Jenna Sakai is pleasantly readable, with short chapters, good pacing, and just enough subplots to keep the reader turning the pages. This is exactly the type of story I enjoy reading when taking a break between tedious tasks, and I thank Florence for deepening my appreciation of MG contemporary as a genre.

What I learned:

• Is JANM a destination spot for nikkei living in SoCal? If so, it would be fascinating to read an academic analysis by a nikkei scholar, or perhaps an anthology of nonfiction by SoCal-based nikkei writers – especially young writers – focused on the role JANM plays in the lives and experiences of SoCal-based nikkei individuals and communities.

Questions I had:

• I love milkshakes as much as the next person, but Jenna seems to consume…a lot of them. Same with Rin. By the end of the book, I was definitely starting to worry about the effects on their health, even though they are probably both at the age when kids are relatively free to eat what they want. From a writer’s perspective, milkshakes are probably one of the quirks intended to tie Jenna and Rin together while also cementing Leigh’s diner as a key setting, but I also worry about what young readers will learn from this imagery. I remember emulating my favorite fictional characters when I was in middle school, just to feel closer to my favorite books, and though overindulging in milkshakes was never a danger for me, I could easily see a couple of young readers imitating Jenna and Rin’s weekly diner get-togethers. Is this the type of thing that keeps parents up at night?
• Is Rin’s name being pronounced correctly by most of the people around him? The question of pronunciation never really came up in the book, which I found interesting. I remember going to school with a nikkei student named Rei, but everyone around me, including Rei herself, pronounced her name “ray.” This situation makes me wonder how we, the nikkei community, have (and will continue to) come to terms with historical, cultural, and familial legacies in the face of generationally progressive language loss. For my part, I’m glad to see many nikkei youth in the Bay Area actively engaging with Japanese language and culture.

Follow-up:

• I’m excited for Florence’s next book, Sweet and Sour!

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Shadow of the Batgirl, written by Sarah Kuhn and illustrated by Nicole Goux, chronicles the coming-of-age of Cassandra Cain as she grows into her own person with the support of her friends.

What I liked:            

• I picked up this book on a whim after seeing Kuhn listed as the author, since it seemed like an interesting addition to my Book Spotlight catalogue, and I’m happy to say I don’t regret my choice! I did wonder if Cassandra was Japanese American at first, but in the end I feel her specific ethnicity would not have significantly influenced the story arc. In this sense, I wonder if critical readers of Asian American literature would consider Cassandra a true ‘Asian American’ character, specifically in the way she seems constructed to be relatable to all young Asian Americans. This is separate from a discussion about what, if anything, constitutes an ‘Asian American’ character, since I do have other thoughts about the potentially problematic erasure of culturally specific reference points. On a side note, I’m curious about how much leeway writers like Kuhn have when scripting these graphic novels. I assume the original race and/or ethnicity of a ‘canon’ character cannot be changed, which is perhaps why we see ‘next-gen’ characters like Gene Luen Yang’s ‘New Super-Man.’

What I learned:

• I actually knew nothing about the character of Batgirl, other than a vague sense she might be associated with Batman, prior to reading this book. Since I don’t follow the DC universe with any regularity, after reading the book I still have very little idea of how “Batgirl” fits into the greater superhero network, but I do know I’d be interested in reading more of Cassandra’s adventures if Kuhn plans on writing them.

Questions I had:

• How do these spin-offs (?) come into being? Specifically, I’m curious about all of these recently published young-reader graphic novels set in the DC and Marvel universes, written by (often emerging) authors of color. Although, as mentioned above, I do not follow DC (or Marvel) with enough regularity to have sufficient information to analyze this phenomenon, I’m curious about the response of experienced critics of color who focus on DC and/or Marvel. Are these graphic novels a cop-out to earn diversity points by these mainstream comics publishers, or are they indicative of real changes being made to combat racial inequity in comics? To be clear, I believe every opportunity for a creator of color is a step forward, so long as it is not made at the expense of other people of color, and I’m not seeking to criticize Kuhn or other authors of color who have written these graphic novels.

Follow-up:

• I have a number of Sarah Kuhn’s novels in my TBR…one day, I promise I will get to them.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Love in the Library, written by Maggie Tokuda-Hall and illustrated by Yas Imamura, tells the story of Tama and George, two young nikkei imprisoned at Minidoka who find a way to happiness in the midst of hardship.

What I liked:

• It would be so interesting to listen to a group of intergenerational nikkei discuss Love in the Library in conversation with Displacement, by Kiku Hughes, and They Called Us Enemy, by George Takei. Come to think of it, I may have seen a virtual get-together with a similar theme advertised online somewhere, maybe one of the programs put on by JANM (?), but I think this type of conversation would be especially interesting as part of the interactive programming that occurs during JA pilgrimages, possibly the Manzanar pilgrimage.
• Imamura’s soft color palette sets the mood perfectly, never letting the reader forget we are following a story in a prison camp, but also lighting certain moments and objects, suggesting Tama never loses hope in spite of her struggles. According to the technical information at the front of the book, the illustrations are gouache and watercolor, yet Imamura’s use of line and shape makes people and structures and objects almost look as if they are cut from paper. I do not know if this is typical of Imamura’s style, but in the context of this book, I felt this choice was particularly effective in two ways. One, the majority of the story is set in a library, and libraries are filled with books, which are made of paper, so having a repeated visual reminder of the ‘paper-ness’ of paper helps anchor the reader solidly in the story environment. Two, the paper-like images appear fragile, as if on the verge of being blown away in a gust of wind, reminding the reader the camp experience, while extremely difficult, did eventually end for our nikkei ancestors. Now that I think of it, the idea of paper blowing in the wind also evokes the extreme weather conditions of the desert, which may be an additional way of subliminally drawing the reader into the story’s atmosphere.

What I learned:

• I’m sure I’ve read (or seen) multiple depictions of camp libraries, but Imamura’s illustrations starkly highlight the sparse resources available to nikkei in the camps. I wonder if my grandfather, while imprisoned in Topaz, ever visited their library (I assume Topaz had a library). I have no idea if he read recreationally in English, or if, like my mom, he only read in English when necessary and did all his leisure reading in Japanese.

Questions I had:

• How many nikkei continued with the ‘occupation’ they held in camp, in life after camp? For example, would someone like Tama have pursued work in a library after leaving camp? I’m thinking of the intersections of memory, PTSD, and the very real need to survive in a hostile US, all of which were major factors impacting the lives and experiences of nikkei after camp. Perhaps a different way to approach this question would be to ask, did any nikkei discover their new or future occupation while in camp? I realize this would not have been possible for every field, since opportunities in camp were limited. I have no idea what my grandfather did while imprisoned with his wife and children at Topaz, though I know he ran a laundromat after being released.

Follow-up:

• I would absolutely love to read more collaborations between Tokuda-Hall and Imamura! I’m already somewhat familiar with Tokuda-Hall’s work, but I’m super excited to see what Imamura has in store for us.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this.

Squad, written by Maggie Tokuda-Hall and illustrated by Lisa Sterle, is the story of Becca, a high school student searching for her place in the world.

What I liked:

• Tokuda-Hall expertly depicts characters’ emotions and thought processes. A story like Squad, with a broad fantasy world condensed into a graphic novel script, heavily relies on the reader’s emotional investment in Becca and her friends to be successful. I’m happy to report Tokuda-Hall’s writing sucked me right in, the quietly compelling opening scenes – such as Becca giving Marley a tampon – reminiscent of many of the school story manga I’ve read, with their deceptively restrained but slyly addictive beginnings.

What I learned:

• Piedmont is a real place! I’m not sure if the Piedmont depicted in Squad is based on the actual Piedmont in the East Bay, but that was a bit of a fun fact for me, since, in spite of being a Bay Area kid, I had never heard of Piedmont.

Questions I had:

• Is Becca meant to be nikkei? I read her as such, but I was also conscious of potentially being wrong.
• How much did the plot and cast of Squad evolve from start to finish? Specifically, I’m curious about editorial revisions made with regard to race and/or ethnicity. For example, I read both alphas as being white, but is this correct? If so, what was Tokuda-Hall’s (or her editor’s) reasoning behind this choice? A fascinating discussion about the racialized social dynamics of Bay Area high school cliques could be drawn from this point, but since I’m not sure if my assumptions about the alphas being white are correct, I’ll leave things here for now.
• Does Tokuda-Hall have future works planned in the Squad universe? It would be interesting to delve more deeply into Becca’s family story, as well as her future adventures.
• How do gay nikkei readers feel about the portrayal of Becca and Marley’s relationship? (Note: I do not know if the gay representation is #ownvoices for Tokuda-Hall.)
• How do Black readers feel about Amanda’s portrayal? What made Tokuda-Hall include a Black character in Squad?

Follow-up:

• I need to look up some interviews with Tokuda-Hall. I’m so curious about her overall approach to writing, how she decides what types of stories and genres to write, and how she views her work in relation to work by other nikkei writers.