I wish Monica Sone had written more books, as I would happily read more about her life and experiences. Her memoir, Nisei Daughter, published in 1953 is easily going to make it onto my favorite books of the year list. It is one of the best memoirs I have ever read. If I could, I would press a copy into your hands right now and suggest you read it too. If you are a fan of memoirs, curious about Asian-American culture, life in Seattle and the Pacific Northwest around the period of WWII or just like good writing and storytelling, I can warmly recommend it. It is still in print and I imagine very likely will be in many library collections as it is really a classic of the era and Japanese-American culture as well as the immigrant experience.
Nisei is the Japanese word for a first generation Japanese-American. Sone's parents emigrated from Japan in the early 1900s. Her father worked as a cook for a while on a ship that traveled between Washington and Alaska. Her mother came to the U.S. when she was only 17 and notes that she was still a girl, too young to have had a mature Japanese culture/outlook impressed on her (yet still very firmly Issei--which is the term for those born in Japan but immigrants to America). She was still a young woman filled with energy and curiosity. Sone's father had started studying in Japan and wanted to become a lawyer, so was more of an intellectual, though ultimately he become a hotel proprietor in Seattle before the war where the Sone family was raised (monica had three siblings).
The memoir follows Monica (born Kazuko Itoi) from her early girlhood through the end of WWII and her years at a Midwestern college. There is a happy sense of nostalgia yet the memories are also peppered with the reality of life for an immigrant from Japan at a time in U.S. history where Asian immigrants were very decidedly not welcome (does that sound familiar still?). In the 1920s there was a law which prohibited Japanese from emigrating to the U.S., so almost a whole generation was barred from entry. In the introduction to my edition it was noted that there was a gap between Japanese of Monica's parents and that of Monica herself. So she very much felt an outsider to both cultures. She was not fully Japanese, nor was she fully accepted as an American either. As a matter of fact she didn't even understand the concept of being Japanese and any different than anyone else until her parents made her go to a Japanese school where she could learn the Japanese language at the age of 7 or so.
She shares many happy and often humorous memories, but there are many that while 'funny' are not funny at all. Prejudice against Japanese was rampant (all Asians I am sure, but more so Japanese during the war years) to the point that they were not allowed to rent rooms or apartments or were not welcome in jobs. Of course it only was made worse by the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor. All Japanese on the West Coast (I'm not sure ho far inland this stretched), even those born in the U.S. were required to move to internment camps. Sone and her family were moved to the Minidoka Camp in Idaho, where the camp was essentially run in almost every aspect by the Japanese internees. Before the end of the war some, and this included Monica and her siblings, were able to leave the camp and move east if they could claim either a job or a spot in a college or university.
I was gushing about the book to an acquaintance and fellow reader and she asked to read the book, so I have passed it on to her, but all my notes went with the book. I have a library copy, but it was hard to remember which passages that struck me and I had wanted to share, but I have a few excerpts that might grab your interest. I tend to be attracted to food mentions as that is always a fun way to experience an unknown culture.
"From a corner near the kitchen window, a peculiar, pungent odor emanated from a five-gallon crock which mother kept filled with cucumbers, nappa (Chinese cabbage), daikon (large Japanese radishes), immersed in a pickling mixture of nuka, consisting of rice polishings, salt, rice and raisins. The fermented products were sublimely refreshing, delicious, raw vegetables, a perfect side dish to a rice and tea mixture at the end of a meal."
"Among the usual pots and pans stood a dark red stone mixing bowl inside of which were cut rows and rows of minute grooves as n a record disc. The bowl was used to grind poppy seeds and miso (soybeans) into a soft paste for soups and for flavoring Japanese dishes. I spent many hours bent over this bowl, grinding the beans into a smooth, fine paste with a heavy wooden club. For all the work that went into making miso shiru, soybean soup, I thought it tasted like sawdust boiled in sea brine. Mother told nothing could be more nutritious, but I could never take more than a few shuddering sips of it."
Sone's mother cooked both Asian and Western dishes, however, so she had steaks and potatoes, ham and eggs and even apple and pumpkin pies.
When you think of the U.S. you tend to think of it being a place of opportunities, but it was really difficult for Asian immigrants. Monica was hoping to get into a vocational school and then find a job, but this was not an easy thing to do at the time. As most businesses were not likely to hire a young Japanese woman, in order to even get a spot in a school they had to show proof that they had a job to go to when they finished their studies. It was a catch-22, as the only places hiring Japanese workers were those run by Japanese and the community could only offer so many positions.
"I did (understand the school's policy), and I was gateful to Miss Thompson for her straightforward approach. She left no trail of embarrassed excuses, nothing but clean-cut wounds. I knew that the Nisei girls competed fiercely among themselves for white-collar jobs in the Mitsui and Mitsubishi branch firms downtown, local newspaper establishments, Japanese banks, shipping offices and small export and import firms. Opportunities were limited. If a girl did not go to business school, the only other occupation open to her was as a domestic in a home. More fortunate girls went on to college, and so postponed their job hunting for four years."
I'm not sure if I can find another memoir like this, but I would love to read more and will be on the lookout. Surely there must be other books about this era and the world of Asian immigrants in the Northwest. A perfect read for my summer reading project, which has been off to a very good start.