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Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin Putnam for allowing me to read this ARC!
Content Warning: death, murder, violence, racism, xenophobia, misogyny.
In 1944, the war is still raging on, and Meiko Briggs has been forced to live in one of the many interment camps popping up all over the US. Although her daughter, Aiko, is American-born, it makes no difference: they are Japanese, and therefore, automatically suspected of being spies, no matter how farfetched that sounds to anyone with common sense. They're just struggling to get through each day, desperately wanting to go home, when a strange outbreak begins at their camp -- Camp Minidoka, Idaho. This bizarre disease corrupts the minds of those it infects, making them violent and paranoid. Meanwhile, Fran Gurstworld, a journalist, is hoping that she might be getting her big break when she discovers something odd in the woods around Lake Ogallala. As she begins to think that perhaps everything is connected to the illness at the interment camps, she also quickly realizes just how dangerous it is to get involved in something the military might want hidden. Only Meiko, with her past on a mysterious island in Japan, holds the key to both unraveling this mystery and saving the lives of those afflicted.
It's not all that common to find an author who is able to seamlessly capture a dark period of American history and incorporate elements of the supernatural. I'd previously been interested in reading Katsu's The Hunger, a paranormal-slash-thriller take on the infamous expedition of the Donner Party, but somehow, I'd never gotten a chance to actually read it. I'll be making it a priority now, as I was so impressed not only with Katsu's simple, evocative writing, but also with her ability to bring to life a historical time period and her effortless way of making the mundane frightening.
At the heart of this tale is Meiko and her daughter and, subsequently, their Japanese culture and heritage. Katsu weaves in many tales of yokai -- Japanese demons, some malevolent, some mischievous -- and other Japanese folktales, with an emphasis on memory and familial history. I loved Meiko from her very first chapter: she's sensible and down-to-earth, but she also encourages her daughter's creativity and doesn't shy away from telling Aiko about Japan and the beautiful pieces that make it a whole in Meiko's memory. While Meiko is Issei, born in Japan and having immigrated to America, Aiko is Nisei, a first-generation American. She's also biracial, half-white, and Katsu beautifully shows us how this impacts Aiko and her interaction with others in her community, and on the other hand, how people perceive Meiko because she was born in Japan and is therefore just as othered as Aiko is, but for different reasons.
There are two other characters that get POV chapters: Fran, the spunky journalist, and Archie Mitchell, who knew Meiko and Aiko (as well as Meiko's husband, Jamie) before they were forced into the camp. I greatly enjoyed Fran's chapters, as her character takes no shit from anyone, particularly men, and is determined to make a name for herself. She's also Jewish, and I think this aspect of her life helps to bring about a connection between her and Meiko. Archie, on the other hand, mostly grated on my nerves, but I think his character arc serves a very specific purpose and does it well. By the end, I felt that all of the characters' journeys were fully-realized, and their arcs were satisfying.
The plot moves quickly, and I struggled to put this one down, eager to see where this wild journey would take us next. I did feel that the ending was a touch abrupt, and that we might've benefited from seeing a bit more of the aftermath, but in all honesty, that's really my only complaint. The rest of it is frightening, touching, unnerving and brilliantly put-together.
Katsu makes mention in her author's note of how we are seeing the same things happening over again, and how little it seems we sometimes learn from our histories and pasts. America, as we all know, has its own extremely dark issues, and the internment of Japanese people during WWII is one that is perhaps little discussed. It's particularly relevant at the moment, when we are seeing such a rise in hate crimes against Asian-Americans, "justified" and "explained" by the COVID pandemic. Once again, hatred seems to be at the forefront of White America. It doesn't matter how senseless it is: it's pervasive. We can only hope that, perhaps, newer generations will continue to make strides in their fight against injustice and discrimination. And that we might begin to learn from the mistakes of history.
Highly recommended!
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