This book is gorgeous.
It is the story of a young Chinese-American growing up near Seattle in the aftermath of Pearl Harbor. The perspective shifts in time between the boy as an older man and his memories from when he was younger. As an adolescent, he falls in love with a Japanese-American girl and watches as his family and hers become torn by the internment of the Japanese here in America. As an adult, he struggles with his memories of the past and his relationship with his father echoed in the relationship he now shares with his own son.
It is a beautiful tale of the conflicts between father and son, of duty, loyalty, sacrifice and dishonor mirrored in the relationship between citizen and state writ large. It’s subtle and mesmerizing, heartwarming and evocative. It delicately and precisely navigates the thin line of identity Asian-Americans tread between their Asian history and culture and their new home.
It gently reminds us what we have done here to our own citizens, evidence of which still exists around the U.S. My husband rode past Manzanar, California a few weeks ago and found the remains of one of the internment camps, and a monument to those who had been torn from their homes and families to await the long end of the war.
Racism in the name of patriotism.
