The Buddha in the Attic by Julie Otsuka Stars 5/5
Review:
The Buddha in the Attic is Lyrical and empathetic.
Instead of a single, named protagonist, author writes in the first personal plural through a series of thematic chapters.
They are lured that future husband is a wealthy businessman but only after reaching the US they come to know that the photos are 20 years old and these guys are mostly working as a slave in a farm.
They go through many struggles, they are naive, they are blamed.
But after decades when their kids grow the families become less Japanese and more American, only to have it shattered in a passage, simply called 'Traitors' as the World War II begins and men captured and the family never see them again.
“You will see women are weak, but mothers are strong.”
“We forgot about Buddha. We forgot about God. We developed a coldness inside us that still has not thawed. I fear my soul has died. We stopped writing home to our mothers. We lost weight and grew thin. We stopped bleeding. We stopped dreaming. We stopped wanting.”
Instead of a single, named protagonist, author writes in the first personal plural through a series of thematic chapters.
Plot:
The voice of many. Tale of Japanese mail-ordered brides sent to America by ship and later when their life is kind of stable the World war 2 begins and life takes turns again.They are lured that future husband is a wealthy businessman but only after reaching the US they come to know that the photos are 20 years old and these guys are mostly working as a slave in a farm.
They go through many struggles, they are naive, they are blamed.
But after decades when their kids grow the families become less Japanese and more American, only to have it shattered in a passage, simply called 'Traitors' as the World War II begins and men captured and the family never see them again.
Quotes from the book:
“Not once did we ever have the money to buy them a single toy”“You will see women are weak, but mothers are strong.”
“We forgot about Buddha. We forgot about God. We developed a coldness inside us that still has not thawed. I fear my soul has died. We stopped writing home to our mothers. We lost weight and grew thin. We stopped bleeding. We stopped dreaming. We stopped wanting.”
