A Review of Kelly Loy Gilbert’s Picture us in The Light (Disney Hyperion, 2018)

[xiomara]

A Review of Kelly Loy Gilbert’s Picture us in The Light (Disney Hyperion, 2018).
By Stephen Hong Sohn

I have been a big fan of Kelly Loy Gilbert since reading Conviction, which was definitely one of the YA reads that had more weight and heft to it. Gilbert continues the tradition of writing socially conscious YA with her next publication, Picture us in The Light (Disney Hyperion, 2018). We’ll let B&N take it from here to give us context:

“Danny Cheng has always known his parents have secrets. But when he discovers a taped-up box in his father's closet filled with old letters and a file on a powerful Silicon Valley family, he realizes there's much more to his family's past than he ever imagined. Danny has been an artist for as long as he can remember and it seems his path is set, with a scholarship to RISD and his family's blessing to pursue the career he's always dreamed of. Still, contemplating a future without his best friend, Harry Wong, by his side makes Danny feel a panic he can barely put into words. Harry and Danny's lives are deeply intertwined and as they approach the one-year anniversary of a tragedy that shook their friend group to its core, Danny can't stop asking himself if Harry is truly in love with his girlfriend, Regina Chan. When Danny digs deeper into his parents' past, he uncovers a secret that disturbs the foundations of his family history and the carefully constructed facade his parents have maintained begins to crumble. With everything he loves in danger of being stripped away, Danny must face the ghosts of the past in order to build a future that belongs to him.”

So, let’s preface my review of the book first with a spoiler alert, because this novel is, in some sense, a coming to conscious realization. A pause here to remind you: do not read forward unless you want critical details of the plot to be revealed. Much like Benjamin Alire Saenz’s Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, this novel chooses to make the protagonist one who (at least) partially withholds his own sense of affection for his best friend. It becomes apparent (with subtle cues offered by Gilbert) that Danny harbors romantic feelings for Harry, even if he won’t admit it, either in his internal monologue or direct speech. Eventually, and patiently, Gilbert leads us to see how Danny faces this fact. It would have been amazing to have read a book like this one in high school, and I truly hope that it gets adopted at that level, as it will provide young queers of color the opportunity to see themselves reflected (in all of their complicated ways) in the fictional world. The other major plotting issue involves the secret of Danny’s parents, who, as we discover, may be on the lam. Danny had always assumed that his sister was dead, but, in fact, she ends up getting accidentally routed into an adoption agency. She eventually ends up in the United States. Though Danny’s parents track her down, their biological daughter has made a new life with a new family, all of whom are not necessarily keen on any sort of reunion. In any case, this intricate backstory continually causes interruptions to Danny’s aspirations of becoming an artist, and this novel is as much about familial dynamics as it is a coming-of-age for Danny in relation to his sexuality. The ending is especially understated but fully appropriate for this thoughtful and mature outing by Gilbert.

Buy the Book Here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Xiomara Forbez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don't hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Xiomara Forbez, PhD Candidate in Critical Dance Studies, at xforb001@ucr.edu

A Review of Rahna Reiko Rizzuto’s Shadow Child (Grand Central Publishing, 2018).

[xiomara]

A Review of Rahna Reiko Rizzuto’s Shadow Child (Grand Central Publishing, 2018).
by Stephen Hong Sohn



I remember e-mailing Rahna Reiko Rizzuto after having read her wonderful memoir, Hiroshima in the Morning (reviewed on AALF), because I was wondering what else she had cooking. Rizzuto had replied in part by stating that she was still working on a novel, which was actually why she originally had traveled to Japan to conduct research. Well, that novel she’d been working on is now here: Shadow Child (Grand Central Publishing, 2018). B&N provides us with this sense of the book’s content:

“Twin sisters Hana and Kei grew up in a tiny Hawaiian town in the 1950s and 1960s, so close they shared the same nickname. Raised in dreamlike isolation by their loving but unstable mother, they were fatherless, mixed-race, and utterly inseparable, devoted to one another. But when their cherished threesome with Mama is broken, and then further shattered by a violent, nearly fatal betrayal that neither young woman can forgive, it seems their bond may be severed forever--until, six years later, Kei arrives on Hana's lonely Manhattan doorstep with a secret that will change everything. Told in interwoven narratives that glide seamlessly between the gritty streets of New York, the lush and dangerous landscape of Hawaii, and the horrors of the Japanese internment camps and the bombing of Hiroshima, Shadow Child is set against an epic sweep of history. Volcanos, tsunamis, abandonment, racism, and war form the urgent, unforgettable backdrop of this intimate, evocative, and deeply moving story of motherhood, sisterhood, and second chances.”

This description does give us a strong sense of the stakes, but without too much specificity. The novel actually opens with a crime: Hana arrives at her apartment realizing her place has been vandalized. She discovers her twin sister Kei is in her bathroom passed out and unconscious. This event moves the novel forward, as readers try to figure out why the two sisters are so estranged, why Hana has left for New York City and has basically disavowed her family. Rizzuto is patient in allowing the novel to unfold, and we discover that Hana and Kei’s mother (Lillie) has a number of secrets, including the fact that she was interned, then later deported to Japan with her then-kibei husband Donald and their son Toshie. But it is not the best time, not surprisingly to go to Japan: Lillie is soon drafted to translate for the Japanese military, while Donald goes into hiding to avoid being conscripted and takes Toshie with him. Though fortunately Lillie is out of Hiroshima when it is bombed, one of her best friends (named Hanako) is not so lucky. Lillie also is unable to locate her husband or her son. During the occupation period, Lillie realizes that her best chance to get back to the United States is to take the identity of someone else, so she uses this method to get to Hawai‘i to make a fresh start.  Though her new life allows her a critical reset, complications arise as Hana and Kei grow up. Kei ends up surviving a traumatic event: a tidal wave that sweeps through the area. This moment is the starting point of a fissure between the twins: Hana’s much more introverted and artistic, while Kei is more outgoing and immediately latches onto the cool crowd. The novel moves inexorably toward the cataclysmic rupture point that causes the two to separate so drastically from each other. In the diegetic present, Hana is coming to the realization that Kei’s unconscious state may be more serious and indeed Kei slips into a coma. During this period, Hana discovers that her mother had another child and likely another life entirely. She also comes to grips with the possibility that she did not fully understand what had occurred to her in her teens, when she felt disavowed by both her mother and her sister. What the novel is moving toward is a possible rapprochement between the sisters, though I have to admit I was a little bit confused about the events that involving both Kei and Hana at the conclusion. Indeed, Rizzuto uses a mixture of narrative perspectives, including third, second, and first person that is both bewildering, but necessarily appropriate to the logic of the story. Hana’s not entirely reliable, nor is Kei, who in her unconscious state, must come to terms with her responsibility toward her sister. And finally, the third person narrative, perhaps the least complicated of the viewpoints, moves through a different historical register that leaves a number of plotting events largely unclosed. Nevertheless, Rizzuto’s word finds its strongest ground in the unshakeable obsession that the sisters have with each other, which moves the reader toward that possible reconciliation.

Buy the Book Here!

Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Xiomara Forbez

If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don't hesitate to contact us via email!
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com
Xiomara Forbez, PhD Candidate in Critical Dance Studies at xforb001@ucr.edu