To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

The Thing About Luck chronicles the experiences of Summer Miyamoto and her family while they are on harvest.

What I liked:

• Kadohata kept me guessing about her primary purpose in writing this book, all the way to the end. Regardless, I definitely think the book holds a valuable place in Nikkei literature. As far as I know, there are not a lot of novels depicting contemporary JA experiences in agriculture, especially for young readers.
• The next time someone asks me about “voice” in writing, I think I’ll point them to this book. Kadohata captures the mentality of a twelve-year-old JA girl so well, I started having flashbacks to my own middle school years. I especially enjoy the way Summer often interrupts herself or goes on a tangent mid-thought; her thought processes felt incredibly familiar and relatable, even though her day-to-day experiences are very different from mine.
• Jiichan’s and Obaachan’s ways of speaking English are captured perfectly; I could hear their accents and inflections clearly in my head. I was also intrigued by how often they choose to talk to each other in English rather than Japanese. From my own experiences, I know language choice varies greatly by individual and is not solely determined by generation, age, or speaking ability.
• Kadohata captures intergenerational relationships and family dynamics beautifully – this is a common thread in all of her works (that I’ve read thus far). Her characters are so real in their thoughts and actions, a definite counterpoint to the “Japanese” characters often written by non-Japanese authors.
• There is so much more that could be said about this book – it would be interesting if a JA online publication did a roundtable of JA readers/writers from varied backgrounds discussing their thoughts.

What I learned:

• I learned many agricultural terms from this book. Even with Summer’s step-by-step explanation, I still don’t fully understand how a combine works. I also had no idea “harvesting” was a business run separately from farming.

Questions I had:

• Why did Kadohata decide to write a book about Japanese American harvesters? Although I haven’t yet done any external research about this book, as is my usual practice for Book Spotlight posts, I’m curious about the harvesters named in the Acknowledgments. Are any of them Japanese? Does Kadohata know any Japanese American farmers or harvesters, or was she drawn to the subject for some other reason? I have relatives who are farmers in the Midwest…I wonder what they would think of this book?
• Upon initial publication, was this book made accessible to JA readers with backgrounds similar to the Miyamoto family? I wonder how many JA families working in agriculture knew about the book prior to its winning the National Book Award, or even how many of them know about the book now.
• Is there a Japanese translation of this book? If so, what has been the response of 日本人 readers? I would be especially curious to know if any 日本人 readers living in rural areas, especially any farm kids, have read this book.
• How did Kadohata decide on Summer’s obsession with mosquitoes and her experience with malaria? Incidentally, I’ve gotten some of my worst mosquito bites during summers in Japan, so though I’ve never had malaria, I can relate to Summer’s paranoia about going outside during mosquito weather, and I also somewhat associate mosquitoes with “Japaneseness” or maybe my personal experiences being JA/Nikkei…how strange to think of mosquitoes as a bridge between places for Nikkei.
• Jaz’s disability is never specifically identified, but I’d be interested in knowing if any JA/Nikkei with a similar disability have read this book, and if so, what they thought. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a JA organization dedicated to supporting disabled JAs (as distinct from senior support services, though there can certainly be overlap). I would assume there might be several such organizations in Hawaii, given the size of the Nikkei population (occupying population? settler population?), but I wonder about the Bay Area and other parts of the US. Definitely something to look into.
• Fellow JA/Nikkei readers, what did you think of Kadohata’s depictions of racism in this book? Even now, coming back to this draft to write this section after thinking about it for a few days, I’m still not quite sure what to make of it. Summer and her family members face constant racist microaggressions from white characters. Yet, Summer often finds ways to rationalize these microaggressions as something else – a personality quirk, having a hard life, being stressed about harvest. In some ways, this makes sense to me. Before I fully understood what racism was and had my understandings validated by other POC, I also tended to try to rationalize racism directed at me as something else. At the same time, this book won the National Book Award. I need to see if I can dig up any articles or interviews with details as to why, but at this moment I can’t help wondering if this “soft” approach to race made it palatable to the decision makers, some of whom presumably were white. In particular, I wonder if Summer’s behavior fit someone’s stereotype of Japanese Americans as the model minority.
• All of that said, I don’t necessarily think Kadohata should have written those scenes a different way. As mentioned above, Summer’s experiences with racism are very consistent with my own childhood – race is not a thing you become automatically aware of just because you’re on the receiving end of racist behavior. Kadohata provides some details about Summer’s daily life which suggest Summer is not tuned into social media or in an environment where she is regularly exposed to social justice thinking. Instead, Summer responds to racism with the resources she has – her own common sense and her ever-supportive family. Although I don’t know who Kadohata’s intended audience was, I wonder if part of her intent in writing a story about JAs in Kansas was to highlight the contrast between their experiences and the experiences of the coastal/urban/suburban/Hawaii-based JAs more frequently depicted in Nikkei literature. The question is, was Kadohata doing this for a JA/Nikkei audience, or for non-Japanese readers? Was the impact of the book greater on JA/Nikkei readers or on non-Japanese readers?
• From Kadohata’s perspective, what does “American” mean in the context of JA/Nikkei experiences? For example, some critics might claim one merit of this book is how Summer is depicted “like any other American kid” – but this assumes “American” to be a good thing, an identity JAs should embrace and/or strive toward. (Come to think of it, I’m not sure if a book which situates/indicts JAs and other POC in a settler colonial context would ever be considered for a national award – are we at that point yet? I haven’t been keeping up with recent award winners – unless it was an academic text.) Based on her previous works, I get the impression “American-ness” is something Kadohata considers a positive for JAs. If so, then in the context of Nikkei literature, how might we position Kadohata relative to, say, writers like Brandon Shimoda? All communities of marginalized writers encompass varying levels of social awareness, of course, but specifically in our community, where “American-ness” is inherently linked to the narrative of WWII incarceration and its legacies, how do we reconcile our histories with the present and ongoing need for accountability and change?

Follow-up:

• I have Kadohata’s newest book somewhere in my TBR…one of these days, there will be a post about it.
• As noted above, I will be doing my own investigation into the existence of support services and writings for/by disabled JAs.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Ghosts for Breakfast, written by Stanley Todd Terasaki and illustrated by Shelly Shinjo, is the story of a boy who accompanies his father to investigate “ghosts” in a nearby farmer’s field.

What I liked:

• Daikon! It never occurred to me the ghosts might be daikon. I’m glad everyone gets to eat daikon pickles at the end. I wonder how many nikkei farmers – specifically, the men – did their own pickling.
• I’m assuming Terasaki chose the names Ono, Omi, and Omaye for their onomatopoeic similarity to certain English words. It’s amusing, but also a bit strange for these secondary characters to have names, whereas the main character and his parents are never introduced. I can see why this happened, since Terasaki is retelling a family anecdote and already knows who everyone is, but it does give the Troublesome Triplets a somewhat more substantial presence than the supposed main characters. At the same time, the use of the first-person narrative and the nameless narrator might make it easier for young readers to imagine themselves into the story, which I think is a goal of many children’s books.
• Shelly Shinjo’s illustrations are so much fun! Her characters are rendered with empathy and humor, and her use of curved lines and rounded forms lends her images a homely, familiar quality. That said, I initially thought the food depicted on the cover was some kind of dumpling, and wondered why a story purportedly about nikkei history would so prominently feature what appeared to be Chinese cuisine. The daikon pickles depicted in the last few pages of the book are easier to identify!

What I learned:

• Are the Troublesome Triplets a group of bachelor farmers making a living together? According to the notes at the beginning of the book (I read the paperback edition), the story is set in the late 1800s and based on an incident from Terasaki’s family history. What were the demographics of California-based nikkei communities at this time? Were farmers with families more likely to become community leaders?

Questions I had:

• What was the market for daikon at this time? Was there any demand for it outside of nikkei and other Asian communities? My uncle grows daikon behind his house, so I know it can be cultivated in small quantities. I wonder if various nikkei farmers took turns growing Japanese vegetables for circulation within the community, so that everyone could enjoy familiar dishes without worrying about cutting into their cash crops.
• Who is Terasaki’s intended audience for this book? What was his purpose in writing this book?
• From whom did Terasaki first hear this story? I’m assuming it was passed down orally through the generations. Specifically, I’m curious about the use of “pon” as the sound for knocking – if the story was written in Japanese, I would expect とんとん or どんどん to be the sound, depending on the strength of the knock. It could be that ぽん was commonly used in this manner at this time, or it could also be a feature of a certain dialect.

Follow-up:

• I wish there were more nikkei-authored picture books chronicling aspects of nikkei history outside of the camps. Books like Ghosts can serve as an entry point to nikkei history in Japanese school, and help students draw connections between what they see on the page and their own family experiences.
• I really need to read a memoir or family history chronicle about the lives of the earliest Japanese immigrants to the US – my grandmother’s parents would have been part of this pre-camp generation and no one in the family seems to know much about their experiences.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

They Called Us Enemy is a graphic novel memoir of George Takei’s childhood in Rohwer and Tule Lake, as well as a reflection on how these experiences influenced his later life.

What I liked:

• Takei’s child’s-eye view of the camps, combined with his present-day commentary, really brought together the experience(s) of JA incarceration for me in a way other works have not. His firsthand recollections illuminate the complex meanings of “resistance” in the JA community at this time, and the many ways incarcerated JAs kept moving forward in spite of (or in defiance of) their circumstances.
• One aspect of the book I especially enjoyed is Takei’s close observations and analysis of his father’s and mother’s actions. I think most nikkei would agree the camps played a significant role in shaping JA community mentality in the years after the war, and that this mentality continues to permeate our spaces in various ways. At the same time, I’m curious about the origins of this mentality – specifically, in the camps, when issei, nisei, and sansei intermingled in close quarters, what kinds of clashes of opinion occurred? Some of these conflicts are more widely documented than others, such as the loyalty questionnaires and enlisting in the US military. But on the day-to-day level, especially in the early years of the camps, when these people were just learning how to live with each other, what kinds of differences did they encounter in one another, and how did they react? In hindsight, it’s easy to generalize about certain groups, but at the time, I imagine there were so many points of divergence, and not just by generation.
• On a related note, I wonder what my grandfather would have thought of this book, especially the many sensitively depicted instances of cultural, personal, and ethical conflicts witnessed by Takei. The panels in which Takei confronts his father about leading their family into the camps rather than putting up a fight made me wonder if anyone in my family ever did the same thing. I assume my grandfather answered yes-yes to the questionnaire, since he was never relocated from Topaz, but what were his reasons for doing so? As Takei demonstrates through his own family’s situation, responding to the questionnaire went far beyond how loyal or disloyal any given JA might have felt toward the emperor. In my grandfather’s case, I don’t know how much English he understood by the time he was incarcerated – as far as I know, the questionnaires were not distributed in Japanese – and I wonder, if only English copies were available, how many issei fully understood what was being asked, or took it very seriously?
• Takei consistently reiterates how he, his family, and other incarcerated JAs questioned why they were put in camps. He highlights the confusion and uncertainty of the incarceration, and candidly discusses the racism underlining the US government’s actions. It’s difficult to determine solely from reading this book how far his activism extends (I have not been following him very closely on social media) – for example, where do indigenous peoples fit into his vision of social justice? – but I feel he has made a meaningful contribution to nikkei-authored literature on the camps, and I hope he continues to pursue his activism with the same directness demonstrated in his writing.
• “Sakana beach”…I didn’t get it at first, but it was absolutely hilarious afterwards.
• Harmony Becker’s art is incredibly engaging – especially her ability to capture a wide range of emotions via facial expressions. I’m so glad a nikkei artist was chosen for this work – I’m not sure I would have read it otherwise, given my feelings about non-Japanese-created visual depictions of the camps. I don’t know much about Becker’s background at the moment, but I noticed several techniques highly reminiscent of manga in this book and I wonder what, if any, Japanese art forms she considers an influence on her own work.
• I appreciate the closing reference to the unjust treatment of immigrants by the US government – I see more and more activism in the JA community linking our histories with current events, and I hope even more nikkei will be inspired to act after reading Takei’s story.

What I learned:

• Did I know some nikkei chose to renounce their US citizenship before the end of the war? I suppose this is implied for US-born nikkei who voluntarily went to Japan before the camps opened, which I did know about, but I can’t recall if I read about nikkei renouncing their citizenship in the camps. At any rate, new or old, this is definitely a topic I plan to read more about. My grandfather would never have had this choice as issei, but I wonder if he ever considered returning to Japan while he was in Topaz, or at any point before or after.
• I had no idea Takei marched with Dr. King! It would be interesting to read about this period in Takei’s life – I hope it’s covered in his autobiography, which is on my TBR list.

Questions I had:

• How much of the script did Takei draft himself? To what extent were the cowriters involved? How did Takei envision the role of his cowriters in this very personal project?
• How did Eisinger and Scott come to be attached to this project? Specifically, why were two (apparently) white men chosen to be cowriters on a work centering Japanese American experiences? There are plenty of graphic novelists of color, including nikkei, who might have been tapped for this project…it would be interesting to know how this team of creators was assembled.

Follow-up:

• According to the short bio at the end, Harmony Becker has created several comics, which I look forward to reading!
• Tule Lake is definitely a camp I need to learn more about – I’ve seen many nikkei writers discussing it, but I have yet to read a full history.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

The Last Kappa of Old Japan, written and illustrated by Sunny Seki, is the story of a friendship between a village boy, Norihei, and a kappa, Kyū-chan.

What I liked:

• The Last Kappa really reminds me of the Japanese children’s stories I grew up with! I read the Japanese text first, just to see if the story felt similar to ones I remembered, and it did. Both the Japanese and English versions seem to fit the story well, not surprising if Seki wrote them himself.
• Bilingual children’s books, especially by 日本人 and 日系 authors, seem to me one of the most important cultural touchstones for young nikkei readers, even more so for readers growing up in bilingual households. I don’t see too many such books being published these days, but I know there are plenty of bilingual, up-and-coming nikkei creators, and I’m hopeful for the future.

What I learned:

• The note at the end of the book seems to indicate TMNT started out as kappa – is this true?! I had no idea, but I’ve also never looked into the history of the show. If so, hilarious!
• A quick look at Seki’s website shows he has won Rafu Shimpo’s “Artist of the Year” multiple times, for some absolutely adorable illustrations. I wonder if very many emerging nikkei artists actively participate in art competitions within the community, and if any in the LA area have approached Seki for mentorship. The website also includes a video link to an interview with NTB (in Japanese, no subtitles). I only watched part of the interview, but it includes some interesting information about Seki’s background and creative approach.

Questions I had:

• Is Seki still actively producing bilingual picture books? He clearly has the skills and background necessary to execute these types of projects. I also wonder if he is acquainted with Robert Kondō and Dice Tsutsumi at Tonko House. It would be wonderful to see these three creators collaborate on adapting Japanese stories.
• How does Seki view his work in relation to work by other nikkei creators? I often think bilingual Japanese creators are potentially the most effective bridges between Japan and the diaspora, but also, no individual creator is obligated to promote this type of exchange.
• What do the Japanese immigrants of today think of creators like Seki? I’m thinking particularly of young and middle-aged Japanese professionals, who have left their established lives in Japan for the US or another country due to a work transfer. Do they find some immediate form of familiarity in work by creators like Seki or the opposite?

Follow-up:

• Seki has published several other children’s books, which I’m looking forward to reading as soon as budget allows.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Sora and the Cloud, written and illustrated by Felicia Hoshino and translated by Akiko Hisa, follows the adventures of a little boy who falls asleep on a cloud.

What I liked:

• Hoshino’s simple, quiet style works perfectly for the story being told – no big surprise, since she is both author and illustrator here. Overall, the book reminds me much more of Japanese children’s books than ones published in the US. The use of pastel colors and soft lines, as well as the leisurely narrative pace, strike me as choices that might appeal especially to Japanese audiences.
• A bilingual text is, I think, almost necessary for this book. Not only does this choice clearly point to Japanese/Nikkei readers as one of the intended audiences, but I suspect the presentation would fall rather flat if the book was written only in English. While reading the text, I found the English version a bit slow, but the Japanese version felt exactly paced to the way the scenes unfolded. This may simply have to do with the way I distinguish between Japanese and non-Japanese artistic/literary styles based on my personal experiences, but in a sense I think this is related to the reason Miyazaki’s films are so jarring in the English dub versus the original Japanese audio.
• Did any fellow Japanese/Nikkei readers appreciate the humor in the title そらとくも?
• Hoshino is also the illustrator of A Place Where Sunflowers Grow, which I discussed here. Although Sora is a dreamlike fantasy, whereas Sunflowers is grounded in historical events, it is easy to see Hoshino’s distinctive style in both books. Since her work seems so well-suited to narrative, I’d love to see her produce a comic or graphic novel, or maybe co-produce manga with a Japanese team.

What I learned:

• According to the author’s note, Hoshino chose to make the text bilingual so she and her husband could read the book to their children in English and Japanese. This seems like a touching way for authors and artists to provide cultural heritage connections for their families and communities. In this sense, Hoshino’s mission reminds me of the origins of Thank You Very Mochi, which I discussed here.

Questions I had:

• Is this book sold in Japanese stores? How have Japanese readers responded to the story and illustrations? I noticed the Japanese translation focuses on capturing the meaning of the English text, rather than being literal, which could make this book a useful tool in certain types of language study.

Follow-up:

• I need to do another search on Hoshino to see if she has similar books out. Maybe my little cousins in Japan would like a copy…

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Journey of Heroes, written by Stacey Hayashi and illustrated by Damon Wong, is a short and intimate history of the 100^th/442^nd, presented in comic book format.

What I liked:

• I only knew the very basics about the 442^nd before reading this book, and while it does not by any means strive to be a comprehensive history, it provides a compelling starting point for further reading. Hayashi’s notes at the beginning are especially helpful – I think I would have approached the material very differently if I had not been told all of the scenes depict actual events. Also, the idea of modeling the characters after actual members of the 442^nd/100^th is both a charming gesture of respect and an additional testament to the historical accuracy of the content. These choices immediately establish the parameters of the narrative as one circumscribed by the personal experiences of the people interviewed – we are reading real people’s stories, not a scholarly (and perhaps supposedly objective) overview.

What I learned:

• From my personal experiences meeting Nikkei born and raised in Hawaii, I’ve learned there are many differences between their communities and those of us from the ‘mainland,’ but I had not considered what these differences might have implied for Nikkei like those in the 442nd/100th. I also never knew Nikkei soldiers from Hawaii visited the camps – I wonder how those trips were arranged.

Questions I had:

• How do we, the JA/Nikkei of today, position ourselves relative to the experiences and actions of Nikkei such as the members of the 442^nd/100^th? No one in my immediate family was a member of these units, so in this sense my perspective should not be weighted over/against those of actual descendants of these Nikkei. At the same time, all JA/Nikkei currently living in the US participate in settler colonialism on some level, and benefit (perhaps more specifically phrased as, ‘have the privilege of residing in a nation which derives much of its power’) from [US] military imperialism and carceral capitalism. How do we consider this reality relative to the reality of those Nikkei who viewed military participation as the only way for their families to have safety and respect? Incarcerated JA/Nikkei had no idea when they might be released from the camps, if ever – imagine the terror and stress of wondering if even dying for the people who took away any semblance of socioeconomic security for your family would be insufficient to protect them. It is also useful to keep in mind that having access to this ‘big picture’ knowledge is a privilege – I only learned the term ‘carceral capitalism’ because I have the privilege of accessing certain resources. My grandfather, according to his NARA record (and probably verifiable by family members, if I ever remembered to ask), completed his education in Japan through the equivalent of eighth grade. He came to the US alone, not having any means of livelihood back home, and, if I had to guess, probably had more immediate concerns like where to sleep, what to eat, and how to find the money for basic living necessities. The term ‘settler colonialism’ would have meant nothing to him, though I hope the concept is one he would have understood, and acknowledged his own role in, if asked. To clarify, I do not want us, the current generation, to become the judges and/or arbiters of our ancestors and elders, without also being willing to simultaneously become the judges and/or arbiters of ourselves. This post is not about passing judgment, but rather about trying to figure out how the current generation of JA/Nikkei can move forward in a way that not only honors our community’s past efforts, but also ensures the best possible future for everyone.*

Follow-up:

• There is a wide body of Nikkei-authored literature on the 442^nd, naturally, but I think I might like to start by reading more memoirs, in conjunction with Nikkei-authored nonfiction/academic work on the war and its aftermath.

*‘Everyone’ might seem vague, but oppression does not stop at so-called national borders, and therefore, neither should resistance.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Thank You Very Mochi, written by Paul Matsushima, Sophie Wang, and Craig Ishii, and illustrated by Jing Zheng, is a heartfelt story of mochitsuki as a Japanese American family tradition.

What I liked:

• This book is published by Kizuna, an LA-based organization dedicated to supporting the JA/Nikkei community. Both the story and the multi-author team echo this collaborative, community-focused theme. I’d like to see more Nikkei publications in this vein, especially now when it often feels as if our community is fragmenting in certain respects. Kizuna itself is focused on JA/Nikkei residents of SoCal – as far as I know, no Bay Area JA/Nikkei organization has published a similar book, but I haven’t researched this as thoroughly as I should.
• The warm, bright colors in Zheng’s illustrations feel incredibly family-friendly. In fact, the book as a whole felt very comfortable to me, even though the mochitsuki represented here differed in some ways from the one my parents host every year. I like to think someone – Zheng, maybe? – thought about the best way to make the story relatable to a wide range of Nikkei readers while knowing it centers a tradition which can vary greatly from family to family.
• On a related note, the (more or less) grayscale illustrations depicting flashbacks to Grandpa’s time in camp were also very effective, particularly when juxtaposed with the full-color illustrations depicting present-day scenes. The visual contrast not only alerts the reader to a temporal change, but also evokes an emotional shift in the story. Even young Nikkei readers who may not know about the camps might ask about the change in color, which in turn could open important conversations about family history.
• Did any fellow Nikkei readers notice how this book is basically a young readers’ edition of Debbi Michiko Florence’s Jasmine Toguchi series? Come to think of it, I would love to read a curated blog series featuring Nikkei writers from various backgrounds discussing how they choose to represent Japanese/Nikkei traditions in their work and why. I think of Nina Li Coomes’s article series on Japanese words (in Catapult?) – I’d like to see blog posts written with Coomes’s level of detail and insight, but maybe on a site run by Japanese/Nikkei staff?
• Kimi has a multiracial family! I’m glad this element was included, especially for the sake of any young Nikkei readers with multiracial families.
• The mochi-related illustrations on the inside of the cover are adorable – and also a simple, appealing way to educate the reader without making them consult a glossary.
• Kimi’s bedroom is such a JA/Nikkei room! Even though my childhood bedroom didn’t look exactly like hers, I understand the context being referenced and I suspect many other JA/Nikkei readers will feel the same.

What I learned:

• Furikake…on mochi? Is this an LA thing? A SoCal thing? Who does this?! I’m fascinated, but not quite enough to try it myself. Moments like this really make me wonder to what extent JA/Nikkei cuisine differs by region. Hawaii, yes, but within the continental US – what kinds of variations exist in dishes we might consider traditionally Japanese? Has any Nikkei scholar written about how the regional roots of Issei (and their respective local cuisines) subsequently shaped variations in Nikkei cuisine?

Questions I had:

• Where is the kinako?! (And on top of this, why is there furikake??!!) I’m not criticizing, just befuddled.
• I ask this question every time it comes up in a book – why did the authors choose to italicize the Japanese words in the text? Does italicization make reading easier for young audiences? At the same time, this presupposes an English-centric education – the more sustainable solution would be to normalize multilingual education from grade one. The challenge here is probably to normalize the non-Anglicized pronunciation of non-English words – after all, look what happened to the pronunciation of “Tokyo,” a word which I’ve noticed is rarely, if ever, italicized in English these days, but also never pronounced correctly.

Follow-up:

• Now that I’m thinking about Nikkei organizations publishing books, it would be terrific to see a JA Buddhist temple produce a picture book about their annual mochitsuki. Also, I hope there are Nikkei picture book creators working on projects about Japanese schools, taiko groups, and Obon festivals affiliated with our temples.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Fred Korematsu Speaks Up, written by Stan Yogi and Laura Atkins, and illustrated by Yutaka Houlette, tells the story of Fred Korematsu’s fight to prove the wartime mass incarceration of Japanese Americans unconstitutional.

What I liked:

• I think this is an important book for all JAs to read, not just those of us whose families were incarcerated. In particular, the sections discussing how the JA community reacted to Korematsu’s actions during and after camp encourage us to consider how we, as a community, support and/or condemn our members. Additionally, as changes in technology enable 日系人 and 日本人 to interact in more and different ways, we begin to think of what it means to have a global Japanese community, and how such a community influences how we define Japanese-ness.
• The authors were, at certain points (though not all, as I discuss below), very direct in identifying white people as the ones discriminating against JAs. Most of the textbooks I used in school followed the white-as-default style and hardly ever identified white people as white, so this is an encouraging step in the direction of decolonizing education.
• Although I would expect no less when Yogi is a former ACLU employee, I appreciate the note on terminology regarding JA incarceration, on page 52.

What I learned:

• Korematsu was in Topaz?! I think I knew this, but I wasn’t consciously thinking of it until I saw it in the text. I wonder if my grandfather knew Korematsu, or at least knew of his efforts.
• Did Korematsu ever think back to the teacher who (re)named him “Fred” and feel any kind of anger or distress at the whiteness of this action? I know some JAs deliberately changed or shortened their Japanese names to adapt them to the English language, but there is a difference between an individual deciding to change their name on their own versus having a name from another culture imposed on them by someone else. I also think of US government boarding schools for indigenous/American Indian children, and how the imposition of English-language names was one way in which these children were forcibly assimilated into whiteness. Here, too, we might consider how some of the camps were built on reservation land, and how all of the camps were/are on indigenous lands. What do these shared but divergent histories mean in terms of current and future interactions between JA/Nikkei and indigenous communities?

Questions I had:

• The use of “American” seems to be inconsistent in the text, or at least, it was not clear to me how the authors intended to define the term. For example, on page 3, JAs are defined as, “American[s] of Japanese ancestry.” In this case, “American” seems to be tied to nationality and/or place of birth, rather than being used synonymously with white, and “Japanese American” seems to be broadly defined as any US citizen (though citizenship is not actually cited, so perhaps “US resident” is more accurate here) with Japanese ancestry, whether mono-racial/-ethnic or mixed race. What assumptions is the reader expected to make about the definition of “American” and why did the authors opt for this open-ended wording?
• By contrast, on page 4, the description of the racist, anti-Chinese cartoon first describes, “a White man attacking a Chinese immigrant,” but then references, “the anger many Americans felt toward Chinese people.” In this passage, is the reader expected to equate “Americans” with white people? If not, do the authors expect the reader to know enough about the history of people(s) of color in the US to identify the sociopolitical and economic tensions amongst them? Given my personal experiences in the US public education system, I doubt the latter, but I suppose education could have progressed drastically in the last twenty years.
• On page 10, there is a similar example in the passage, “Americans were angry that Japanese people were moving to the United States.” Were non-white people living in the US at that time angry about Japanese immigration – and in a political position to do anything about it? Although these are relatively minor issues of terminology in the larger scheme of things, I find this ambiguity troubling if the overall goal of the book is to encourage young readers to question and eventually reevaluate their understanding of what it means to be “American.”
• The blurb on Daniel Inouye* caused me to return, once again, to the question of how JA history is documented – who do we honor, and why? More specifically, when I read about figures like Korematsu, I think about what a JA history written specifically for our community would look like, free of any pressures exerted by the white gaze. What does it mean for us, as JA/Nikkei, as Japanese people, to respect and feel gratitude toward our prominent figures (感謝する, している), while simultaneously acknowledging what we owe to indigenous peoples and other peoples of color for the harm (being) inflicted upon them by these same figures? If we as JA/Nikkei claim ourselves as “American” as white people, how do we reconcile this claim with our complicity as non-indigenous occupants of indigenous lands?

Follow-up:

• I’ve been meaning to read Lorraine Bannai’s book on Korematsu for several years – time to get moving!

*I recommend reading the essay about Inouye in Asian Settler Colonialism as a starting point for contemplating his place in JA history.