by Monica Hesse
Other must-read memoirs of individual Japanese families in internment include: Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston; Silver Like Dust by Kimi Cunningham Grant; and Looking Like the Enemy by Mary Matsuda Gruenewald.
It would be horribly negligent to not mention, also, two books in particular about Crystal City. The Train to Crystal City is Jan Jarboe Russell’s comprehensive nonfiction account of Crystal City’s lifespan, and of the political machinations that made its existence possible. On several occasions in the National Archives, archivists mentioned, “Oh, another researcher was looking for this document a few years ago; let me think…” and they were invariably talking about Jarboe Russell’s work. Schools Behind Barbed Wire by Karen L. Riley is specifically about the camp’s three schools—federal, German, and Japanese—and provided insights into the unique experiences of teenagers in the camp.
There is nothing more important than hearing about history directly from the people who lived it. William McWhorter at the Texas Historical Commission provided oral history interviews and transcripts of several former Crystal City prisoners. In addition, the oral histories available at the nonprofit website Telling Their Stories, and at Densho, an organization dedicated specifically to preserving history related to the Japanese internment, are priceless resources.
A few particularly moving accounts from Densho: Kay Uno Kaneko, a Crystal City internee, who talked about being proud of her brother for enlisting in the US Army, but worrying about what would happen to him if her family was repatriated to Japan. Ernest Uno, Kay’s brother, who talked about what it was like to come to visit his family in Crystal City after fighting for the 442nd Regiment, interacting with the family he hadn’t seen in months in the administrative “visitors’ cottage,” under guard. Irene Najima, who talked about watching her father, under the strain of confinement, become a person she struggled to recognize, accusing her mother of having affairs.
The German American Internee Coalition has its own moving repository of family histories: Rose Marie Neupert wrote about the appalling living conditions on Ellis Island, where her family was held before being transferred to Crystal City. John Schmitz wrote about the FBI knocking on his family’s door because neighbors had heard his father listening to German music on the record player.
Every one of the above accounts and resources is more important than anything fictitious I could ever write.
None of the specific personal stories in them ended up directly in The War Outside, which is a work of fiction. Haruko’s and Margot’s stories were completely made-up. But they became very real to me.
By the end of Haruko and Margot’s journey, they are seeing the same act in two very different ways. Did Margot do an unforgivable thing, as Haruko thinks she did? Or is the terrible thing justified, as Margot believes it is, because she feels that the only way to ensure the safety of Haruko’s family is to end their lives as they know it?
I kept asking myself that during my months of writing and thinking and research. I am still asking myself that now.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am deeply grateful to the editorial and publicity team at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers, in particular Lisa Yoskowitz, who constantly amazes me with her curiosity, tenacity, and gentleness, and Jessica Shoffel, for whom the word unflappable was surely invented. These women, along with my husband, Robert Cox, and my agent, Ginger Clark, are the people I would choose to have with me in any foxhole, any emergency, or any celebration.
Librarians have been my longtime heroes; with this book I add archivists to that list, especially the ones in Texas and at DC’s National Archives, who helped unearth the primary sources without which The War Outside would have been impossible.
I also offer a special debt of gratitude to a few of the book’s early readers: Kimi, who shared her Nisei family member’s American nicknames, and who explained the nuances of Japanese terms of endearment; Joseph, who shared thoughts on Haruko’s relationship with her father; Saho, who offered perspectives on displays of affection in Japanese families and who, along with another reader, Maiko, parsed the difference between the concepts of shitsuke and oyakoko.
My deepest thanks go to curator and historian Brian Niiya, whose notes on an early draft’s accuracy were as thoughtful as they were thorough: Did I have proper sourcing on what the Crystal City latrines looked like? Should I place a fictional article in the Denver-local Rocky Shimpo newsletter, or would the larger national Rafu Shimpo be a more likely place for the article to have appeared? If I diverted from historical timeline or historical fact, did I have a good enough reason for it, beyond making my authorial life easier?
Brian’s mother was incarcerated in Crystal City in her youth. His notes were a constant reminder that in historical fiction, you owe accuracy and truth to future readers, but you owe it to past survivors even more.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ROBERT COX
Monica Hesse is a columnist at the Washington Post and the author of Girl in the Blue Coat, as well as the nonfiction crime novel American Fire. She lives in Maryland with her husband and a brainiac dog.
Monica invites you to follow her on Twitter: @MonicaHesse
