The Buddha in the Attic

 

"One by one all the old words we had taught them began to disappear from their heads. They forgot the names of the flowers in Japanese. They forgot the name of the water goddess, Mizu Gami, who protected our rivers and streams and insisted that we keep our wells clean. But whenever we heard them talking out loud in their sleep the words that came out of their mouths came out—we were sure of it—in Japanese." 

"Our daughters took big long steps, in the American manner, and moved with undignified haste.Our sons grew enormous. They insisted on eating bacon and eggs every morning for breakfast instead of bean-paste soup.They refused to use chopsticks. They drank gallons of milk. They spoke perfect English just like on the radio and whenever they caught us bowing before the kitchen god in the kitchen and clapping our hands they rolled their eyes and said, “Mama, please.” "

-- above is an excerpt from the book The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka, a work of historical fiction on 'Picture Brides' who sailed from Japan (in early 20th century) to join their husbands in San Francisco, men they had seen only in photos until then, in hope of a better future or out of obligation to their parents. They were told their husbands are bankers but they were peasants. These women were crushed down to their bones doing odd jobs alongside their husbands all day long. They gave birth under horrific conditions, some of their children died and some survived. 

They told their children - "Study hard. Be patient. Whatever you do, don’t end up like me." And still, when their children  turned different, they felt they had become 'indifferent' too.

The chaos that's bundled with 'hyphenated heritage', the emotional experience of being 'an outsider' makes The Buddha in the Attic a layered read. This extra dimension reminded me of Asako Serizawa's depiction of life of a Japanese woman in America until the miscegenation law was repealed in 1948 in her book Inheritors and Cynthia Kadohata's portrayal of a modest Japanese family in 1950s America in her book Kira Kira. It is this dimension that makes me want to pick Kimi Cunningham Grant's book Silver Like Dust. 

There is no doubt that The Buddha in the Attic sheds light on a relatively lesser known dark chapter of history and it does so remarkably well, in a clearly structured fashion with thematic chapters. The book begins a chapter dedicated to the journey of these picture brides by boat. Chapters that detail their first impression as they land in America, the truths that unravel when they meet their husbands, consummation of their marriages, the menial jobs they do all day long while silently bearing the brunt of racism, ordeals related to child birth and health care, the culture shock that tears them apart as their children grow up etc follow on.  

The author's thorough research (we infer from the acknowledgements) lends a precision to the text and earns readers' trust. The writing is lucid and evocative too. Yet, the book fails to garner a perfect score on two accounts. 

Repetition is a common literary device used to assert or drive home a point. At Night all Blood is Black by David Diop and The Twilight Zone by Nona Fernandes are historical fiction works that come to my mind instantly as instances where this is employed and works pretty well. However, in this book, though repetition enhances the reader's emotional connect with the plight of the women initially, it lends a clear drag thereafter; pronouncedly in the last three chapters where the Japanese are branded as traitors, incarcerated, evicted from their homes and interned at camps following the Japanese attack of Pearl Harbour. Instead of letting this tragedy sink in us readers, the drag left a sense of urgency in me to complete the book.

Also, though the writer's usage of 'we', a first person plural in narration to amplify the collective experiences of the picture brides felt intelligent, in the absence of a distinct set of characters to connect with, my journey through the read felt directionless at places. 

Despite the above shortcomings, The Buddha in the Attic, a slim and highly important read, will stay with me for long for the way it dazzled in parts.