To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Yuko-chan and the Daruma Doll follows the adventures of Yuko-chan, who saves her village from poverty by inventing handmade daruma dolls.

What I liked:

• THIS BOOK IS BILINGUAL!!! Granted, I haven’t read many books by Nikkeijin yet, but of the books I’ve read or added to my TBR, this is the first bilingual work I’ve come across. As a kid, all the Japan-related books and media I consumed were in either Japanese or English. Although some of these works were created by bilingual Nikkeijin or Nihonjin, for whatever reason they were never actually produced as bilingual. Needless to say, the bilingual aspect is my favorite thing about this book!*
• Sunny Seki is one talented guy. From what I can tell, he wrote and illustrated the entirety of Yuko-chan and the Daruma Doll himself. The illustrations aren’t as manga-esque as those in the Japanese children’s books I grew up with, but I definitely noticed some similarities. I especially enjoyed the calligraphic quality of Seki’s illustrations – for example, the image of daruma-san on the back cover contains visible brushstrokes. The Japanese version of the story also mirrors the language, tone, and flow of Japanese children’s books.

What I learned:

• I’m familiar with daruma-san as we know him in everyday life, but this is my first time reading any kind of origin story about him. I wonder if Yuko-chan’s story is Seki’s invention entirely, or if it is a retelling of an existing origin story. How many versions of daruma-san’s origin story exist in Japan? I’d love to visit Takasaki/Gunma-ken one day and see for myself.

Questions I had:

• Did Seki write both versions of the story himself? If so, did he have much difficulty deciding how each version should be written, knowing they would appear side-by-side on the page? Fellow bilingual Nikkei readers will note the two versions are not a “literal” translation of each other. Personally, I preferred the Japanese version – the characters feel more vivid and individualized than in the English version. (Also, was I the only Nikkei reader who thought the end of the story would be an excellent jumping-off point for a manga? The part of Yuko-chan’s story told in this book would probably also be a good manga, especially if it focused on daily village life and the experience of being a child adopted by a temple.)
• Whom did Seki envision as the audience for this book? What are the demographics of the people who have actually read this book? Do the two match up?
• Why is the cover not bilingual? My version of the book shows only the English title. Before purchasing the book, I read in the description that it was bilingual, but it is not immediately obvious just from looking at the cover. Did the publisher feel an English-only title was better for marketing? Did Seki himself have any input on the cover? How does he feel about it?
• How do other Nikkei readers approach this book? In my case, I read each page in both languages before moving on to the next, rather than reading the entire story through in one language and then returning for a second pass in the other. My focus was on comparing both versions of the text, but it did make for a rather disjointed reading of the story as a whole. I’d love to hear how bilingual Nikkeijin/Nihonjin read the text, compared to Nikkeijin or Nihonjin who can read only one version.
• Is Yuko-chan’s blindness part of some existing origin story about daruma-san, or something Seki added? As noted above, I don’t know how much, if any, of this story is Seki’s original idea versus a retelling. In Seki’s book, Yuko-chan’s blindness explains why daruma-san’s eyes aren’t painted in, which is something I’ve always wondered about. What would the people of Takasaki say if asked why daruma-san’s eyes aren’t painted in? Also, if we assume Yuko-chan’s blindness was part of an existing origin story, could Seki have found a way to execute his retelling without making her blindness the pivot point?
• In the context of US discussions about disability representation in literature, I imagine some of my fellow Nikkeijin might read Yuko-chan’s story as a, “accomplished THIS in spite of [insert disability]” narrative. How have disabled Nikkeijin/Nihonjin responded to this story, especially any who self-identify as blind or visually impaired?
• What inspired Seki to write this book? Does he self-identify as Nikkeijin or Nihonjin? I realize I’ve been assuming he is Nikkeijin because I first heard of him through Nikkei resources, but I may very well be wrong. If he is Nikkeijin, how do Nihonjin feel about his creation of this book? Do they even know it exists?** I especially wonder if any Takasaki residents know of this book. I imagine Seki visited Takasaki at least once while preparing to write the book – I wonder if he or they ever followed up once it was published?

Follow-up:

• Yuko-chan’s story reminded me I have several nonfiction works about disability in Japan on my TBR. I’m not sure if any of them directly address being blind in Japan – I think they may focus on other disabilities – but I’ll keep Yuko-chan’s story in mind as I read them.
• I don’t think I’ve come across a single Nikkei-written nonfiction work about the intersections of disability and being Nikkeijin in the US or other parts of the diaspora. I’ll review my TBR to be sure, but if you’re a fellow Nikkeijin/Nihonjin reading this and you have any suggestions, let me know!

*I’m using “bilingual” here to refer to Nikkeijin/Nihonjin who are bilingual in Japanese and English. There are of course Nikkeijin/Nihonjin who are bilingual in other combinations of languages, as well as Nikkeijin/Nihonjin who know more than two languages.

**A Nikkei author – Naomi Hirahara, I think (?) – once stated Nihonjin are not necessarily interested in work produced by Nikkeijin, specifically Japanese Americans, in the context of being asked if her books were translated into Japanese. I reflect on this every time I come across work by Nikkei writers that seems to engage, directly or indirectly, with themes pertinent to Nihonjin and/or Japan itself…but that’s a topic for another post.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Drawing from Memory recounts, in picture book/graphic novel format, Say’s journey to becoming an artist, from his childhood fascination with drawing to his apprenticeship with the mangaka Noro Shinpei and eventual transition to the US.

What I liked:

• To date, I’ve read three other books by Say – Grandfather’s Journey, Kamishibai Man, and Tea with Milk. While I loved all three of these books and thought Say did a marvelous job writing and illustrating each one, I think Drawing from Memory best showcases the range of his skills as both an author and an artist. In what might appear to be a deceptively “simple” picture book, Say’s narrative interweaves the everyday experiences of Nihonjin during and after the war with his personal experiences as a student and apprentice. I say “interweave” rather than “uses as a backdrop” to refer to his depictions of wartime Japan because the essence of Say’s story is inextricable from its historical context. As in his other work, Say’s outstanding ability to convey nuance through his illustrations and spare writing style steals the show. さすが日本人!
• The number and variety of images (photographs, Say’s artwork in various styles ranging from sketches to paintings, etc.) enhances and balances the text. Drawing from Memory seems to have a higher word count than Say’s other picture books (not surprising, given the nature of the story being told), but the arrangement of text and image prevents the reader from being overwhelmed.
• Say tailors his art style according to content and meaning – for example, compare the illustrations depicting Say as a child and apprentice, to the panorama of the bay (Yokohama, I wonder?) on the page describing the US occupation of Japan, to the black-and-white drawing of the riot police. His watercolors are my favorite – the quiet aesthetics of everyday Japan, the liveliness and vitality of the people evoked by his color choices, the attention to details like shop signs – but I also loved seeing the many other styles he is capable of working in.
• Significant people in Say’s life – Noro-sensei, Tokida, Orito-san, his mother – are presented in brief but vivid snapshots. I especially love the intimate illustrations of Say working in Noro-sensei’s studio and drawing with Orito-san in the art room. These illustrations, juxtaposed with actual photographs of the people involved, infuse the work with a feeling of nostalgia. As the title itself indicates, this book is a collection of Say’s memories, pieced together from true events and imagination. At times, I felt a bit intrusive, as if I was leafing through Say’s family album, and I had to remind myself Say would not have included anything he wished to keep private. Looking back, I realize this feeling is yet another indicator of how successfully Say executed his, “drawing from memory.”
• Say expertly distills long passages of time into a few images and lines of text, highlighting key moments in his life without making the story feel disjointed. For example, the time he spent studying for the Aoyama entrance exam is captured in a single illustration of him lying belly-down on his futon, his schoolbooks spread out above the pillow. Numerous versions of this image can be found in contemporary Japanese media, alongside stories, both fictional and true, of the rigors of exam preparation. Between this image and the subsequent one showing the exam results board, exists the entirety of the effort Say invested in gaining admission to Aoyama. It’s interesting to compare Say’s framing of this portion of his life to the culture of consumption around school-themed manga and anime that exists in contemporary Japan (but that’s really a discussion for another post). Long story short, I really admire Say’s talent for economy!
• Kyushu gets a little screen (page?) time, however briefly. I always get excited when I encounter other Nikkeijin/Nihonjin with ties to Kyushu, even if they aren’t from the same area as my family. Represent!

What I learned:

• This is the first book I’ve read focusing on how mangaka/artists trained in wartime and postwar Japan. I think it’s only the second book I’ve read about the behind-the-scenes work of mangaka, the first being バクマン.
• I’d never heard of Noro Shinpei before reading this book. It sounds like not much of his work might be extant today, but I might poke around to see what I can find. Maybe I’ll also ask my mom if she’s familiar with him, since she grew up in postwar Japan and read a lot of manga as a kid.
• I wasn’t expecting to learn that Say’s foundational training occurred under a mangaka, since he isn’t one now. Time to look for some Nikkeijin/Nihonjin-written work on how the history of manga intersects with the history of other art forms in Japan.
• As readers of Tea with Milk know, Say’s mother was raised in San Francisco for a time before her parents chose to move the family to Japan, and she found a job as a department store interpreter thanks to her bilingual skills. In Drawing from Memory, Say mentions several times that after his parents separated, his mother supported herself, Say, his sister, and his grandmother on her income. I wonder what sort of work she did – I imagine her bilingual ability would have been even more useful during wartime and the postwar period. I’ve never thought much about how Nikkeijin – especially women – made a living if they were in Japan during the war, but now I’m motivated to find out!

Questions I had:

• Where have Allen Say’s books been all my life?! No, serious question. Maybe it’s because I grew up with books and media created by Nihonjin, not Nikkeijin, but I find it incredible I haven’t come across Say before now. Fellow Nikkeijin, are you familiar with Say’s work? When and how were you introduced to it?
• I wonder why Say chose not to become a mangaka? I hope reading his other work will offer some clues!
• How much input did Say have on the layout of this book? The photographs, illustrations, and text seamlessly unite to form the narrative – not a single piece feels out of place. Considering Say probably provided most of the content, with the possible exception of a few of the images, I would assume he also had the final-ish say (pun unintentional) on how everything came together. Anyway, kudos to whomever was responsible! It’s a beautiful production.
• Now that I know Say trained under a mangaka – has he ever considered creating manga? I think his background and skill set perfectly position him to execute a “first” of sorts – a manga exploring the relationships between Nikkeijin and Nihonjin (I would also love to see more Nikkeijin and Nihonjin creating other types of work around this subject, especially if it involved a transnational collaboration a la Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda for Monstress).*

Follow-up:

• I just purchased Say’s The Ink-Keeper’s Apprentice, which I understand to be the novelization of the story told in Drawing from Memory. I believe the story also continues in picture book format, so I’ll be looking for those as well.
• Look for more fiction and nonfiction by Nikkeijin and/or Nihonjin on the history of manga, as well as the general history of Japanese art.

*Saw a recent call for an artist for a graphic novel about Japanese American incarceration, but I’m not sure if the creative team will end up being all Nikkeijin/Nihonjin. I hope so – I think Nikkeijin need to retain ownership over stories about the camps. I also saw an agent list “Japanese American internment” as an area of interest for manuscripts which – hmm. Unless the agent is specifically seeking #ownvoices work, it reads a little too much like, “here’s a trending topic, work by anyone (read: white people, outsiders) is welcome!” I’m 100% positive I don’t ever want to read anything written by a white person/non-Japanese person about JA/Nikkei incarceration.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Kamishibai Man follows Jiichan’s recollections of performing kamishibai as he retraces his old route from village to town.

What I liked:

• Say’s illustrations are, as always, delightful. I especially like the opening scene showing Jiichan and Baachan in their home, and the scenes where Jiichan is wheeling his bicycle through town. Say’s attention to detail in depicting the signage for different types of shops and eateries made me so nostalgic for Japan – and I also wonder if he has much interest in 書道 or other types of writing/lettering. The opening illustration reminds me of the homes depicted in the children’s books my mother read to me before I learned to read on my own. Even now, my immediate visual association with the idea of a Japanese home is an image like this one.* The illustration at the end of the book, depicting Jiichan and Baachan sitting at the dinner table, really reminds me of the scene in one of my favorite childhood books, かさじぞう, where they have what looks like a dinner of hot water and 沢庵 (たくあん). I tried to copy that meal once and discovered it wasn’t very filling. 懐かしい!
• I think we had a children’s book about kamishibai once, but I don’t know if my parents still have it. It wasn’t one we read a lot and I remember thinking it was rather boring because the pictures were black and white. Reading Kamishibai Man made me remember the existence of this book – time to see if my sister can find it.
• Say’s use of Jiichan read to me as the perfect balance of specific and general. In not naming Jiichan, Say allows him to stand in for the many kamishibai performers whose life stories have been erased or ignored by subsequent historical developments. The dignity with which Say depicts Jiichan – his love for kamishibai, his nostalgia for the Japan of his youth, his perseverance and eventual reconnection to his old listeners – is an homage to kamishibai and its practitioners. At the same time, choosing to refer to him as Jiichan feels like an intimate choice to me because of the situations in which we (Japanese speakers) use Jiichan. I love how Say’s language choices enhance the story’s treatment of changes in Japanese society, particularly with regard to the shift from small-scale, familial activities like kamishibai in villages to more impartial mass media like television in developing cities.
• Baachan’s homemade candies! I have to ask my mom about this – I think it’s something I’m too far removed from generationally and geographically, though I do remember my mom and maybe some of my aunts making a syrupy, stringy sugar candy on the stove. 水飴かな? I wonder if this is the candy on a stick that Jiichan gives out.

What I learned:

• Nikkei authors have written about kamishibai in fiction! So far, this is the only example I’ve seen, but I hope to find more.

Questions I had:

• Why did Say decide to write a book about kamishibai? I’ve made many assumptions and interpretations of his motives above, but these are all guesses. It would be nice to hear about the origins of the book in the author’s own words.

Follow-up:

• The scholar’s note at the end of the book (not by Say) presents kamishibai as a predecessor to manga. Since I’m currently on something of a manga-reading kick, I guess it’s time to read up on the histories of both to see where and how they intersect. I hope I can find some Nikkei/Japanese sources!

*On a side note, I see Say worked on an English version of 三年寝太郎 (さんねんねたろう), written by someone else, which is interesting. I wonder if translating/retelling Japanese stories doesn’t appeal to him, since his own work seems to deal with more personal and/or historical narratives. Personally, I think it would be wonderful to see a Nikkei/Japanese author produce a bilingual version of this story for Nikkei kids learning about their heritage and Japanese kids learning English. Maybe a Nikkei author could collaborate with a Japanese artist – super cool!

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Grandfather’s Journey is a picture book chronicling the life of writer/illustrator Allen Say’s* grandfather from his youth in Japan to raising a family in San Francisco, to his eventual return to Japan.

What I liked:

• Say’s beautiful watercolor illustrations draw on both Japanese and European artistic traditions and, I believe, will appeal equally to US-based and Japan-based audiences. The directness of his compositions, juxtaposed with his quiet colors, produces a cultural blend that to me reads as one example of the unique work created by Nikkeijin/Nihonjin who have spent significant time inside and outside Japan.
• Say presents traumatic moments – in both his personal life and in Japanese history – directly but in an understated way typical of how I feel Nihonjin/Nikkeijin often express themselves. I can only speak to my personal experience, but I definitely relate to the idea of presenting a difficult topic honestly while avoiding extraneous chatter as much as possible. To me, this is also different from our tendency to handle heavy topics via subtle allusions and nuanced comments. I don’t expect all Nikkeijin/Nihonjin to share these views, but hopefully something of what I said will strike a chord.
• The very first illustration in the book, the watercolor of a photograph of Say’s grandfather, grabbed my attention immediately because of its striking resemblance to the black-and-white photographs of my mother’s father and grandparents on display in my grandmother’s house in Japan. That house has since been demolished, according to my mother, to make way for road development, but seeing Say’s illustration instantly brought back memories of my many visits.

What I learned:

• I knew there were Issei who returned to Japan, but after reading Grandfather’s Journey I’d like to learn more about the ones who, like Say’s grandfather, returned because they wanted to, not because they were deported or because they found the US unwelcoming after the war.

Questions I had:

• I wonder if Say ever considered creating a bilingual version of this book? Or perhaps he proposed it but his agent/editor/publisher rejected it? I think Japanese text would add another layer of engagement to the story without taking away from the English text, by mirroring Say’s grandfather’s experience of living in two cultures.
• How does Say self-identify? Nikkeijin or Nihonjin? Issei? The question of generation seems especially interesting in his case, since his grandfather might be considered Issei, making his US-born mother Nisei, but then he himself was born in Japan and later moved to the US so…Issei again? Can Issei be descended from Nisei? I’d be interested in hearing from any fellow Nikkeijin with backgrounds similar to Say’s – how do you self-identify?
• Who does Say write and illustrate his books for? Does his work have a wide audience among Nihonjin? The complexities of Nikkeijin/Nihonjin relationships aside, Say’s background and artistic style seem like a combination that would appeal to Nihonjin.

Follow-up:

• Read Say’s other books – at least, the ones I can acquire. It looks like some may be out of print or difficult to purchase, but I hope I can get most of them!
• See if I can find bilingual books authored by Nikkeijin. So many of us are bilingual that I hope at least one of us found the experience worth representing in a book.

*Say is a Romanization of 清井, his real family name. I looked this up because I only recently realized he is Japanese and I couldn’t figure out what name was meant to be represented by “Say.” I wonder who decided on this Romanization – as my fellow Japanese-speaking Nikkeijin/Nihonjin know, the spelling isn’t phonetically intuitive.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Cherry Blossoms in Twilight recounts the life of Yaeko Sugama Weldon, first as a child growing up in wartime Japan, and then as a wife and mother in the United States.

What I liked:

• The mini illustrations accompanying the chapters, hand-drawn by Yaeko-san,* are lovely. They enhance the book’s intimate, familial feeling without distracting from the narrative. Also, I’m always fascinated by writers who illustrate their own work, since I think the act of doing so is quite different from having someone else illustrate your work.
• The writing is accessible but not juvenile. Naturally, not everything is shared with the reader, but it felt to me that the things left unsaid were selected for personal reasons rather than to sugarcoat the story. I would have enjoyed reading this as a kid and I definitely enjoyed it as an adult. Readers who appreciate the writing style (though perhaps not the problematic subject matter) in the Little House series will find a similar voice in Cherry Blossoms in Twilight.
• The extensive descriptions of everyday life in wartime Japan are essential reading for those of us (including me) whose classroom education about Japanese involvement in World War II focused almost exclusively on atomic bombs and camps. Yaeko-san’s story also complements narratives such as those presented in Miyazaki’s 風立ちぬ and Takahata’s 火垂るの墓. (I would actually love to see Miyazaki tackle a film addressing the relationships between Nihonjin and Nikkeijin, but I kind of doubt he would ever do this.)
• In what to me feels like true Japanese/Nikkei spirit, Yaeko-san presents her many experiences, her accomplishments and struggles, without moralizing or attempting to coerce the reader into feeling a certain way about her. This particular way in which Nihonjin/Nikkeijin express ourselves to the world is something I have always loved and admired.

What I learned:

• I knew there were Japanese women who married US servicemen (of all races) and immigrated to the US, but I think this is the first book I’ve read that centers on these experiences. I’m not sure if these women self-identified as Shin-Issei, but I’m interested in how they might have interacted with Nikkeijin who had already been living in the US for a generation or two.

Questions I had:

• Did Yaeko-san ever consider creating a bilingual version of her memoir? It might just be my own bilingual Nikkei perspective, but I’m always interested to see how bilingual Japanese/Nikkeijin express themselves differently in English versus Japanese.**
• How have other Japanese/Nikkei readers responded to Cherry Blossoms in Twilight?

Follow-up:

• Read more Japanese/Nikkei memoirs!
• Read more Japanese/Nikkei authors writing on wartime Japan in both fiction and nonfiction. (There are a ton on my TBR, I just need to get to them!)
• See if I can find a comparative work on the experiences of Shin-Issei who came to the US at different times after the war. This would ideally be an anthology of writings by Shin-Issei themselves, as opposed to a topical piece by one person, but so far I haven’t come across such a work.

*I have never met Yaeko-san, but the impression I have of her after reading the book is very similar to how I feel around some of my older female relatives and family friends, whom my mother (and, learning from her, my sister and I) often refer to as [first name]-san, so I hope it’s all right if I call her Yaeko-san here.

**Or Japanese versus another language, especially for Nikkeijin who are not based in the US. The articles on Discover Nikkei about the evolution of the Japanese language among Brazilian Nikkeijin are particularly interesting in this regard.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

Kira-Kira is a coming-of-age novel chronicling the adventures of Katie Takeshima as she adjusts to a new home in Georgia and confronts her beloved older sister’s terminal illness.

Things I liked:

• The Takeshima family moves from Iowa to Georgia and the majority of the story takes place in Georgia. This might just be a deficiency in my reading list, but this is the first book about Nikkeijin set in the South that I’ve read. Even in spaces supposedly dedicated to sharing stories about the greater US-based Nikkei experience, I don’t hear from many Nikkeijin living in the South, compared to, say, Nikkeijin based in California.
• Kadohata normalizes Nikkei practices by presenting them as taken-for-granted. For example, the Takeshima kids eat rice balls at their picnic and while waiting for their mom at the factory. It’s not depicted as odd or special – it simply is. While Nikkeijin are far from monolithic, I love seeing a fellow Nikkeijin take for granted what I myself also consider “the norm.” (For family road trips, my mom makes furikake musubi in plastic sushi containers saved from the store – because mottainai!)
• Katie’s simultaneous awareness and ignorance of social issues, from noticing how some white women won’t acknowledge her mother, to not understanding why Uncle Katsuhisa can’t get a job as a land surveyor, feels painfully familiar. I suppose it’s odd to list something painful as something I liked, but it really means a lot to know I wasn’t the only Nikkei kid navigating a weird balance of, “I think that’s bad” and “I don’t understand this but it doesn’t seem quite right.” In hindsight, as my fellow Nikkeijin can probably attest to, most of those things we didn’t understand as kids turned out to be bad, too.
• The portrayal of Katie’s parents feels very aligned with Nikkei/Japanese parenting values. For example, Katie’s mother’s tendency to harp on “little” things is very reminiscent of how my own mother and other Japanese mothers I’ve met often behave. I can imagine non-Japanese readers not understanding this or thinking Katie’s mother is too nitpicky, but it makes perfect sense to me in the context of Nikkei/Japanese values. The same goes for Katie’s dad – fellow Nikkeijin, did you notice anything familiar about his work ethic and perseverance, not to mention the quiet way he interacts with his family? This aspect of the book is definitely one of the “insider” qualities that I look for and love to find in the work of Nikkei authors. Not something an outsider could achieve!

Things I learned:

• There were and are Japanese Americans living in the South! (Ok, technically I knew this before reading Kira-Kira, but not too much before…probably only since college?) Considering that I have relatives in Colorado and Nebraska, this probably shouldn’t have come as such a surprise – if Nikkeijin live in the Midwest, why not the South? – but it did. Books like this inspire me to seek out information about Nikkei communities beyond my Bay Area/California bubble. I also wonder to what extent regional privilege shapes dominant Nikkei narratives. Same goes for bilingual/multilingual privilege and proximity to Japan via generation. Fellow Nikkeijin, you know what I’m talking about, even though it seems few of us ever actually talk about these things. 言い過ぎかもしれないけど何にも言わないとどうにもならないからちょっとだけでも聞いて下さい。
• Chicken sexing is a not-insignificant part of both Japanese and Nikkei history. I saw an article about chicken sexers on Discover Nikkei while I was reading Kira-Kira, but that’s the only other place I’ve seen it referenced so far. In Kira-Kira, it’s noted that some Nikkeijin went to Japan to learn chicken sexing before returning to the US to work. Seems like an interesting lens through which to examine Nikkeijin/Nihonjin interactions. Time to read up!

Questions I had:

• According to Kadohata’s website, she grew up in Georgia and Arkansas, so, as with Weedflower*, I can see how personal history might have shaped the writing of Kira-Kira. At the same time, I’d like to know what other factors, if any, contributed to Kadohata’s decisions regarding the character arcs and setting of Kira-Kira. For example, why does Lynn die and why specifically from leukemia? I’m not aware of any historical ties between the Nikkei community and leukemia, other than people with relatives who may have contracted it after Hiroshima or Nagasaki.
• Is Katie really referring to Uncle Katsuhisa as “Uncle Katsuhisa” in real life, or something more like “Katsuhisa-ojichan?” or “Ojichan?” Considering Sumiko uses “Jiichan” in Weedflower, I would assume the former, but I’m curious. Fellow Nikkeijin can probably relate to the weirdness (or funniness, in my opinion) of using different honorifics depending on whether the relative in question is Nikkeijin or Nihonjin. Also, I wonder how many of us break down honorifics along linguistic lines? Sumiko is described as not speaking Japanese, but still uses the word Jiichan. My non-Japanese-speaking relatives don’t use Japanese honorifics, so I’m curious to know how other Nikkei families determine this.
• At first I wasn’t sure what to make of the portrayal of Uncle Katsuhisa’s family. It seems like they get a lot of screen (page?) time even though their respective storylines don’t progress much. But when I compare them to, say, the island folks in ばらかもん, it makes more sense. Their presence enhances the atmosphere – or what I think of as the Nikkei-ness – of the story. In fact, I think Kira-Kira could be adapted into an excellent manga, especially with a mixed Nikkeijin/Nihonjin creative team. The deliberate pacing and nuanced moments would translate beautifully into images. I know US novels are sometimes adapted into graphic novels – I wonder if any Nikkei authors, including Kadohata, have ever considered pursuing manga adaptations of their work?

Follow-up:

• See if I can find any more books by Nikkeijin, especially fiction and/or memoirs, set in the South.
• Try to find some Nikkei sources on the history of chicken sexing in Japanese and Nikkei communities.
• Try to shock someone by casually dropping the term, “chicken sexing” into a conversation.

*Some of Kadohata’s family members were sent to the Poston camp during World War II, according to her website.

To learn more about Book Spotlight, read this first.

WEEDFLOWER is a middle-grade novel following the experiences of Sumiko and her family as they are forcibly relocated from California to a camp in Poston, Arizona, during World War II.*

Things I liked:

• Kadohata’s spare, clear prose not only evokes many of the values/ways of thinking I associate with my own Nikkei experience, but its very delivery feels aligned with how I was taught to present myself (at least, via my Nikkei relatives) and how I’ve seen fellow Nikkeijin presenting themselves. I doubt an outsider could replicate this effect convincingly.
• Sumiko’s budding friendship with Frank, a Mojave boy, complicates historical portrayals of the camps by reminding the reader that, as unjust as relocation was and is, Japanese Americans were and are participants in settler colonialism.
• Sumiko’s observations of her environment (people, places, activities, etc.) indicate hers is only one variation of a narrative that played out in myriad ways for Japanese Americans across the US during this time. In other words, even though the entire story takes place from her POV, Nikkei wartime experiences are not flattened/distorted into a single narrative.
• In dialogue with the previous point, the varying personalities and actions of Sumiko’s family and the other camp residents emphasize that Nikkeijin are not a monolithic group. Brothers Ichiro and Bull have very different personal interests, Jiichan and Sumiko speak different first languages, Mr. Moto pours his energy into building a camp garden while his son gambles away their savings. These variations illuminate the everyday cultural navigations required of Nikkeijin in communicating not only with outsiders but with each other (this really hit home for me – fellow Nikkei readers, what did you think?). At the same time, Kadohata conveys these realities to the reader without erasing the simultaneous existence of communal values, as evoked by gaman or shikata ga nai.
• Kadohata gives us a snapshot of Sumiko’s family at a moment when it is both multigenerational and multilingual. In today’s Japanese American communities, generation and language have the power to both divide and unite. Just ask the Yonsei descendant of a camp survivor and the Nisei child of Shin-Issei parents the same set of questions about their respective Nikkei experiences and compare their answers. As a descendant of a camp survivor AND a Shin-Issei, generation and language are important cornerstones of my Nikkei experience. Even though Sumiko is not bilingual, many of her interactions with her family members feel deeply relatable to my own.

Things I learned:

• Japanese American flower farms are new to me. Some of my relatives on my dad’s side had/have farms, but I believe they are all vegetable or fruit farmers.
• This is the first full book about camp experiences that I recall reading. I think we read Farewell to Manzanar in school at one point, but I don’t remember anything except finding it boring. I’ll have to revisit it soon.

Questions I had:

• Does Bull survive the war?
• How have Native readers responded to the Mojave representation in this book?
• Why was it important to the story that Sumiko be an orphan?
• If Cynthia Kadohata ever reads this post, I’d love to know if my reflections align with her vision for the book, or if I overanalyzed/misunderstood anything.

Follow-up:

• Need to do some nonfiction reading on Japanese American flower farms
• Need to read up on camp experiences in more detail, in both fiction and nonfiction – especially curious about any mixed-race JAs who were put in camps
• Need to read up on works exploring relationships between Nikkeijin and settler colonialism

*I really hate summarizing books, so this is as much as I’m providing. If it piqued your interest, read the book, or check out some of Cynthia Kadohata’s other books!