Wednesday, February 7, 2018

Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

Pachinko parlor in Nara, Japan

The sign of a good book is feeling bereft at the end. After finishing Pachinko by Min Jin Lee (2017), I spent days picking up new books and putting them down. I kept thinking about Lee's captivating characters and missing them as much as real people. This brilliant historical novel shows the plight of Koreans under colonial rule and as immigrants in Japan. By focusing on one peasant woman, Sunja, and her family from 1910 to 1989, history segways to near contemporary times and comes to life.

Under Japanese rule from 1910 to 1945, Koreans endured poverty, hunger, and rape. Some immigrated to Japan to live in slums. Even after World War II freed Korea, the Koreans who remained in Japan were treated as a legal underclass. Desperate immigrants opened pachinko parlors; the game is similar to pinball but with movable pins and gambling. Some Korean Japanese became involved with the yakuza (the Japanese mafia) and other nefarious vocations, leading to more social stigma even toward those working in lawful industries. The most intriguing character in Pachinko was a morally ambiguous yakuza boss.

Although I studied Japan at college, I learned a lot from Min Jin Lee. The Korean American author spent 30 years writing and researching Pachinko. It has a marvelous sense of place and period without info dumping. Her engaging story shows how racism takes an emotional toll on its targets. I won't demean her characters by calling them victims because they work hard to assimilate and take pride in their accomplishments. All the characters were well developed and their stories were inspiring.

I loved Lee's vivid descriptions of landscapes and characters:
"As they approached the forest located on the opposite side of the island, the enormous pines, maples, and firs seemed to greet them, decked in golds and reds as if they were wearing their holiday clothes." 
"Her expression was one of a small child who had been disappointed by her birthday present."
Pachinko parlor in Okinawa (from my sabbatical in Japan)

I would strongly recommend Pachinko to everyone. The historical sections from 1910 to the early 1960s were perfectly crafted, but the more contemporary part read a bit like a prolonged epilogue with a message. Still, it was important to have the narrative stretch to more current times. My husband, who is a professor of Japanese politics, had a similar reaction, and my mother loved it too. We are still casting around for new books that will be as satisfying as Pachinko so I'm hoping to find one from the reviews linked to this post.

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@Barrie Summy

Wednesday, January 24, 2018

A Winter Walk at Wolfe's Neck Park

It was a glorious day for a winter walk with temperatures just above freezing. We drove to Wolfe's Neck Park in Freeport, one of our favorite places in Maine. The longest loop takes only an hour so my son decided to walk the ten miles home on his own.

Together we hiked the compacted trail with only microspikes, leaving our snowshoes in the car. 

Yesterday's ice storm left the trees glistening like cut glass. Streams gurgled with melting snow.

Evergreens dripped like rain. 

An ocean of ice reflected the bright sunlight, so deceptively warm.

Casco Bay was still mostly frozen, fractured by thaw and tides.

As the sun slipped behind a cloud, the blues intensified.

We climbed down the slick steps to the shore.

Where the ocean stretched to the horizon and beyond.

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

Far From the Tree by Robin Benway

Happy New Year! It's the Year of the Dog in Japan. Mine likes to join me on my cross country skis (photo by my son). With sub zero temperatures and another blizzard (9-12 inches with 45 mph gusts) due tomorrow, this is good reading weather.

While warming up by the fire, I enjoyed Far From the Tree by Robin Benway, which won the National Book Award in 2017. This well-crafted young adult novel shows the racial and gender based inequities of fostering and adoption in the USA, but it still manages to be a feel-good book full of hope.

After giving up her baby for adoption, sixteen-year-old Grace decides to look for her own birth mother and discovers that she has two half siblings. Wealthy Maya was also adopted as a baby into a loving but troubled family. Their half Mexican brother, Joaquin, had a harder time than his white sisters and bounced around foster homes for years. Together they redefine and expand the meaning of family. I loved the close bonds that formed among the siblings.

This simile was my favorite: "...the ability to sit quietly side by side, content in the knowledge that no matter what happened to your parents, or your girlfriend, that your siblings will be there, like a bookend that keeps you upright when you feel like toppling over." By comparison, the family tree metaphor of the title was less original and a bit overworked.

Of the three perspectives, Joaquin's was the most compelling. I probably would have prefered a book centered on him, but I often have that issue with multiple point-of-view books. I would still recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys heartwarming family stories with diverse characters. You should also check out my list of Best Contemporary YA of 2017. Thanks, Barrie, for recommending this novel to me and for hosting the book review club.

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@Barrie Summy

My resolution for 2017 was to write the first draft of the young adult novel I researched in Japan. The manuscript is going to two crit partners later this week, and there will be many more drafts and beta/sensitivity readers (including my Japanese American niece) before I give the manuscript to my agent, which is my writing resolution for 2018. Also, I'd like to learn more Japanese, and I will remain politically active since Maine is a swing state. What are your resolutions?