Requiem

by Frances Itani

Bin Okuma, a celebrated visual artist, has recently and quite suddenly lost his wife, Lena. He and his son, Greg, are left to deal with the shock. But Greg has returned to his studies on the East Coast, and Bin finds himself alone and pulled into memories he has avoided for much of his life. In 1942, after Pearl Harbor, his Japanese Canadian family was displaced from the West Coast. Now, he sets out to drive across the country: to complete the last works needed for an upcoming exhibition; to revisit the places that have shaped him; to find his biological father, who has been lost to him. It has been years since his father made a fateful decision that almost destroyed the family. Now, Bin must ask himself whether he really wants to find him. With the persuasive voice of his wife in his head, and the echo of their great love in his heart, he embarks on an unforgettable journey that encompasses art and music, love and hope.

A story of great loss, a story of redemption, a story of abiding love, Requiem is a beautifully written and evocative novel about a family torn apart by the past and a man’s present search for solace.

Genres: Historical Fiction, Fiction, Book Club, Canada, Japan, Historical, Contemporary

336 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 2011

About the author

Frances Susan Itani is a Canadian fiction writer, poet and essayist.

Itani was born in Belleville, Ontario and grew up in Quebec. She studied nursing in Montreal and North Carolina, a profession which she taught and practised for eight years. However, after enrolling in a writing class taught by W. O. Mitchell, she decided to change careers.

Itani has published ten books, ranging from fiction and poetry to a children's book. Her 2003 novel Deafening, published in 16 countries, won the Commonwealth Writers Prize (Canada and Caribbean Region) and the Drummer General’s Award for Fiction and was a finalist for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award. Her short story collection, Poached Egg on Toast, won the Ottawa Book Award and the CAA Jubilee Award for Best Collection of Stories. She was recently awarded the Order of Canada. Frances Itani lives in Ottawa.

Reviews

[Candice · Rating 5 out of 5]

I remember feeling angry when I learned of the internment of Japanese American citizens during World War II. In all my high school and college history classes in the 1960s there was never any mention of this shameful part of American history. And until I heard about Requiem I didn't realize that the Canadians had likewise sent their Japanese Canadian citizens to camps. In doing some follow-up reading, I learned that Ms. Itani's husband lived in one of those camps as a child. She also did extensive research, so even though this is a work of fiction, the historical background is accurate - and sad. At this particular camp, there was no running water or electricity and internees had to build their own shacks to live in. Then when the war was over they had to sign a document that would either repatriate them to Japan (Canadian citizens!) or send them to the eastern part of the country so that they would no longer be on the west coast.

The protagonist of the story, Bin Okuma spent several years of his childhood in the camp and the book skips back and forth between his description of those years and 1997 when he takes a cross country road trip with his dog, Basil. Bin has become an artist with a love of music, Beethoven in particular. I was so intrigued by all the references to Beethoven's works that I found a playlist here http://www.harpercollins.ca/author/au... and I intend to listen to these works as I remember the beautifully written tribute to a sad time in North America's history.

[Janice · Rating 5 out of 5]

For the first time in a long time, I felt somewhat bereft to be nearing the end of a book, so reluctant was I to leave behind the characters, and the beautiful writing of this novel. I have read several books about the interment of Japanese Americans during WWII, but until now I was unaware that Japanese Canadians were dealt this same kind of forced move into camps where they were retained for the duration of the war. This story is told in the voice of Bin Okuma, and moves fluidly between the years of the war, in the camp when he was a young child, and his life since. In 1997, soon after the death of his much beloved wife, Bin begins a journey across Canada, searching for reconciliation for some of the losses of his life, while delving into memories from both the distant and recent past.

[Jeanette · Rating 3 out of 5]

Because I loved "Deafening," I was a bit disappointed in "Requiem." The first half of the book didn't come to life for me, because it seemed that Frances Itani was telling the reader about the Japanese internment in Canada rather than showing the reader what happened. However, about half way through the book, Bin Okuma, a successful artist, and his wife, Lena, came alive for me as Bin goes on a trip back to BC where he and his family were interred during WWII. Since Lena had recently died, the reader learns about her through Bin's memories of their life together. The reader also learns the story of Bin's life and how he was raised by a highly educated man who his father had given him to while they were living in the internment camp. As Bin and his dog make their way west. Bin confronts some of his past life including his relationship with his biological father.

The second half of "Requiem" lived up to my expectations, because the characters were well developed and the story came to life.

[MargaretDH · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am giving this three stars, but I think I would rate it higher if I had picked it up at a different time.

In parallel narratives, our protagonist takes us through his present as a recent widower, driving from Ottawa to interior BC to see his estranged father, and his past as a child in a Japanese internment camp during the Second World War. I recently read Obasan, that follows a similar structure and subject matter, and Akin, where a widower also has conversations in his head with is recently departed wife. Unfortunately, I thought Obasan was a slightly more affecting depiction of the Japanese-Canadian experience during the war, and that Akin used the conversational device slightly more effectively. So it's hard for me to write an objective review.

With that out of the way, this was pretty good. Itani is a sensitive writer, and does a good job delineating the historical context of the shameful internment of Canadian citizens without whacking the reader over the head or distracting from the plot. She also effectively builds characterization in a group who suffer a collective trauma, but also are deeply reticent about talking openly about feelings - something that needs a light touch. Finally, it's clear Itani has visited all the places she talks about in her novel. There's a lot of Canadian scenery rendered quite lovingly here.

This was also a good one for book club. Lots of complicated relationships to discuss, but also some writing choices to examine as well. I would recommend picking up Obasan first, but this is still a good read.

[Arlena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Author: Frances Itani
Published By: Atlantic Monthly Press
Age Recommended: Adult
Reviewed By: Arlena Dean
Book Blog For: GMTA
Rating: 4
Review:


"Requiem" by Frances Itani was wonderful written novel that gives a revealing look into the Japanese internment of the Canadians in British Colombian following the bombing of Pearl Harbour, during World War Two in 1942. This author has weaved this story into past and present with a 'heart felt family story shedding light on a painful period of Canada's history when those of Japanese descent were interned.' I felt this was a fascinating story how this man's journey back to his past with his friend...his dog and memories of his wife...along with him in the front seat.

This novel is of Bin Okuma who was a Canadian painter of Japanese descent and was married to a Canadian girl...had one son...wife dies...now going on a journey to West Coast...to find that his 'first-father' is ageing...having not been close to his father... Bin now decides to see his father...and goes the story and the part that I say to find out father you must pick up "Requiem" and find out what memories will come back to him during has childhood...with his family...their previous life as fisherman until the boasts were confiscated and then there travel to the camp in British Columbia. In this novel you will see how the author brings to the writer three time frames: "the distant past, when Bin lived with his family in an internment camp, the recent past, with memories of his life with his wife and son in Canada, and the current day, the road journey across Canada with his dog, Basil."


This was a different read for me because I hadn't read about the experiences of the Japanese in Canada. Having done so, I found "Requeim" a very interesting read. I thought that the characters were very well developed with this novel showing much feeling, grief and even consolation and yes, I would recommend this novel as a good read.

[Bonnie Brody · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bin Okama has recently been widowed and he is grieving the loss of his beloved wife Lena. Bin is a Canadian citizen of Japanese ethnicity. He is also a visual artist preparing for an exhibition of his work. As he prepares, he is drawn back into memories of his life after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor. He remembers vividly, and with great pain and grief, his family's internment during WWII.

Uprooted from their home on Vancouver Island, Bin's family is transported to an internment camp of hastily constructed shacks where they remain for nearly five years. As Bin drives across country to deliver the works for his exhibition, his mind takes him back to his time in the internment camp. It was there that his father gave him to Okuma-san, separating Bin from his mother and siblings. Okuma-san was a gentle and loving man who taught Bin about music and culture, mentoring him as he developed into the artist he is today.

Despite Bin's love for Okuma-san, he has never forgiven his father for abandoning him. On his long drive, he hopes to find the strength to forgive his father. Ironically, it is the wisdom handed down from Okuma-san that gives Bin the ability to view his father in a more compassionate light.

This is a lovely novel of a terrible time in Canada's history. The United States also interned the Japanese during WWII and the shame and horror of these acts are rarely talked about. Itani explores themes of grief, loss, hope, and despair and how the gifts of music and art can help people overcome personal defeat and atrocity.

[to’ar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sobbing 😭

[Patty · Rating 4 out of 5]

”But all the while, hidden undercurrents had been making their own incursions with the tides, in and around and under the house. The house from which we had been forcibly removed, and that none of us, as it turned out, would ever see again.

Water is an important part of this novel. Bin Okuma starts his life by the Pacific Ocean, ends up living in an internment camp by a river and then his son becomes a marine biologist. I don’t think this statement gives much of the book away. I just kept seeing images of water as I read Itani’s words.

Her words and images are so powerful. This power is essential to this story because the telling is hard. Bin Okuma and his family are victims of the Canadian internment camps for the Japanese Canadians during World War II. Just as we did in the United States, Canada only felt safe after moving the Japanese Canadians away from their homes. This was a terrible crime, but one that many do not know anything about. I only know about the Canadian internment because of the book Obasan by Joy Kogawa. That story is seared into my brain and now so is Requiem.

I think Itari’s use of an artist to tell this tale of suffering is a perfect choice. Because of his eye for nature and his way of seeing the world, Bin Okuma is an ideal narrator. His life both in and out of the internment camp comes to life through his art.

Although this was a hard read, I recommend it to anyone who would like to connect with historical events. These characters made have been invented by Itari, but she managed to give them amazing lives.

[Phoebe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Bin Okama is a moderately successful Japanese Canadian painter in his late fifties; grieving still over the sudden death of his wife some months earlier, he feels unable to move on with things. He hasn't cleaned out her possessions and he is haunted by a past that he has not yet truly resolved. He makes a trans-Canadian journey by car, with his hound dog Basil, to see the father who gave him up long ago, and to have some closure. As Bin is on his physical pilgrimage, he takes us into his past, to the day when his family was uprooted and sent to a holding camp and kept there for five years. The indignities and fear, the hardships and angry behavior, the deep pain of loss and rootlessness, were not lost on Bin, young as he was. But one specific event would change Bin's life forever, and it is this which haunts him and makes him the man he is. 22,000 Japanese Canadians were removed from their lives and interned over the course of the war, (contrast to the 120,000 American Japanese removed) and their experience was no less negative than that of the Americans. Itani includes details of vivid and appalling racism, within the camp and afterwards as Bin must adjust to life among white Canadians again. This is a lovely, moving, careful novel. A work of art.

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

A readable book. Covering the life, through flashbacks, of a young Japanese-Canadian boy interred with his family in a Canadian detention camp during WWII. The author has things to say, but takes a lot of effort to get them across. The subject matter is interesting. A story of a split family, A boy lost in where he belongs. Repressed anger, anger not so repressed, and then carrying on in the face of anger and not letting it consume one. The main charector is not necessarily deaf to the world but like Beethoven, it is how one carries oneself in the face of what the world brings. A story of self redemption. Of going home. Of loss. Somewhere between the first half and the second the book gets better. First father keens. He keens at night for his son.

I absolutely must listen to Beethoven more.

[Terry M · Rating 5 out of 5]

This wonderful novel by Frances Itani had a big impact on me. Moved, enlightened, angered and up-lifted. So expertly written in a tone that conveys sensitivity and wisdom, the story flows calmly and carefully through the lives of a family of Japanese-Canadians during WW11 and beyond. What the characters experience is heartbreaking. What I learned about the internment of this group of Canadians is heartbreaking. I did know of this point of history but not really anything about it. While fighting for 'freedom' elsewhere, the U.S. and Canada took basic rights and freedom from some of their own. Well .. I could have read about this in a history book and learned the facts, but I read about it in a well-researched novel and 'felt' those facts. The value of a good novel.

[☕Laura · Rating 3 out of 5]

I am a huge fan of this author and have loved many of her other works, but found this one a bit too slow moving. I enjoyed the parts of the book which were set back in the internment camp and wish that less of the book had been devoted to the later years.

[Kathryn · Rating 4 out of 5]

Authentic and sensitively written about Canada's shameful treatment of their Canadian citizens of Japanese origin. Hope really did rise from hopelessness. Seeing the people's ingenuity to survive those horrific times was inspiring.

[Leslie · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5
A worthy Book Club selection that sparked much discussion.
My first read by this author and I will read another of hers soon.

[Deborah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Requiem was Informative about the Japanese internment camps by telling this an intriguing story. I feel there was more truth included than what may appear on the surface. I also believe that while the experience of the Japanese was unjust and heartbreaking there is something here for everyone as we all have a past that has formed who we are even through unjust and unpleasant experiences. This would make a great reading club book as there would be lots of topics for discussion.

[Maura · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautifully written story about grief and trauma. Learned more about the daily lives of people in internment camps during the war, wasn’t fully aware of how brutal this part of Canadian history was. Was taken in by Bins sad yet hopeful way through things (his relationship with his dog is also very sweet).

[Lisal Kayati Roberts · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully rendered. Rich in detail, but, oh so, subtle. Deep, complex emotions ride the spaces between every word like the rivers that prevail in this story. I learned so much about the horror of Japanese internment after Pearl Harbor and unexpectedly about Beethoven. I could not stop reading but did not want it to end…

[Carolyn · Rating 5 out of 5]

Wonderfully sad and entirely encouraging!
“I move towards him. Both of his arms pulling me in. A son, after all. Again. A father, a son.”

[Rosalie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This Canadian story of racism, persecution, resilience, family, art and music is a must-read, beautifully conceived and written. Frances Itani has done it again.

[Avra · Rating 5 out of 5]

I adored Deafening when it came out so I was happy when i found Requiem. Once again Frances Itani weaves a beautifully descriptive tale with characters that drew me in and kept me reading.

[Sara · Rating 5 out of 5]

In the novel "Requiem," Frances Itani chronicles the internment of a young Canadian-Japanese boy named Bin, and his family; living in a fishing community, his family and their friends are considered threats to the security of the country. Their boats and fishing licenses are taken away, their property looted and sold, they themselves shipped on trains to camps where they are forced to pay for their own imprisonment, building shanties, hauling water, and trying to coax gardens out of the bare ground. Bin, a budding artist, captures life in the camp on scraps of cardboard, while his oldest brother helps to build shelters and his sister tries to keep up with her lessons by teaching some of the other children. In between chapters describing the destitute conditions of his childhood, an adult Bin writes of the events that led him to revisiting his past -- the sudden death of his Caucasian wife, Lena, and an impending reconciliation with his estranged father.

As an Asian growing up in California, I knew and read many books about the Japanese internment in America, and even visited Manzanar once, but I did not realize that this terrible act also happened in Canada. Events are presented in piercingly poignant detail -- the destruction of the dolls which the Japanese families treasured so dearly, burnt by their owners when they realized the imminent forced relocation; the looting of homes even as the families were being herded away onto boats, looters making off with sewing machines, furniture, artwork, wedding gifts -- the existence of which was to be denied by the authorities when the Japanese are finally released and hope to recover their belongings, their property, and pick up the threads of their lives. The prejudice that the Japanese encounter after the war -- being given the option to be shipped off to Japan, or relocate somewhere away from the west coast -- as well as what Bin encounters at the school from students and teachers alike: all these are rooted in real stories of citizens uprooted and dehumanized by their fellows and their government.

This is an extremely well-written, emotionally moving, and powerful novel.

[Bonnie · Rating 5 out of 5]

Requiem by Frances Itani is truly a wonderful book. She is an extraordinary researcher and scholar who has managed to weave historical fact and fiction into a work of art. The story told is about one Japanese-Canadian family caught up in the chaos that was World War 11 during the 1040s. After the attack on pearl Harbor, the Canadian government rounded up the Japanese families living in British Columbia's west coast. Families were allowed to take what possessions they could carry and their homes were looted and taken possession of before their eyes as they were loaded onto a transport boat and taken to internment camps. Bin, the narrator, vividly remembers neighbors raiding his home and carrying off the furniture and furnishings. After the family arrived at the camp, they saw only open field surrounded by mountains and had to erect their own dwellings. Bin's father had disassembled their stove and carried it with him; he was the only one to do so, and the family at least had something to cook on and keep warm. Bin was the youngest of the family with an older brother and sister. Much description is given of the primativeness of the site and how hard everyone had to work to provide shelter for themselves. They stayed for five years and managed to become self-sufficient by growing vegetables that they sold for money. In an incredibly poignant scene, Bin's father gives him to a man who has no children. Bin has to live with his "second-father" while seeing his own family every day. His second father is a learned man who plays the piano and loves classical misic. He has many books, and Bin learns to read and paint. The action shifts between present and past flawlessly, and we learn that in the present, Bin is a renowned painter. He marries and has a son of his own, but his wife dies at age 49 and Bin finds himself heading back to the camp to relive old memories and find his first father. Incredibly moving and informative.

[Anne · Rating 5 out of 5]

There have been a few recent novels about the US and Canadian wartime internment of the Japanese population (I’m thinking of When the Emperor Was Divine , Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet...) and this beautiful book by Frances Itani is an excellent further telling of the story of this shameful period in North American history. The modern day story sees Bin Okuma, a middle-aged Japanese-Canadian artist in Ottawa, deciding to undertake a road trip – accompanied by his dog – to visit the camp in British Columbia where he was interned as a child. He has recently lost his wife at a relatively young age and, as he travels, we share his memories of their lives together. The telling of a story in three time frames – the present day journey (when he must also decide whether to also visit his aging father who, for the most shocking of reasons, he hasn’t seen since the war), his married life, and his vividly told experiences connected with the internment – is extremely deftly done. The “blurb” for this book really doesn’t sell it well – it was an unexpected page turner, albeit a little gloomy in tone, tremendously lifted by the way it’s infused with the images that feed Bin’s art and the love of music he learned from his second father. The description of his life in the camp is mesmerising and filled with images that stick in the memory - the picture of his second father, Okuma-san, “playing” Beethoven sonatas on a plank of wood painted with piano keys, will long stay with me. This is a very accomplished novel, structurally complex but Itani is a magnificent story teller who writes in a wonderful unhurried lyrical style. A really wonderful read, with passages and accounts that moved me to tears on more than one occasion.

My thanks to netgalley for the advance e-copy.

[Jerry Levy · Rating 5 out of 5]

Itani is such a wonderful stylist. Requiem is the story of Bin Okuma, a middle-aged Japanese-Canadian artist who is in the midst of a road trip to (perhaps) reconcile with his father who gave him away to another man while they were living in an internment camp in BC. Bin has a lot on his mind, his wife Lena having recently passed away at a fairly young age. And of course Bin is still angry with his father.

Actually, that other man is Okuma-san, and he inspired Bin to continue with his art. He also tried to instill in him that there was no need to be angry, that rage will eventually consume you. I would suggest that it was Okuma-san's wisdom that eventually allowed Bin to reconcile with his biological father.

There are some exquisite parts, like when Okuma-san plays classical music on a plank of wood in the internment camp, and many years later when Bin's wife, Lena, plays music on with her fingers on his back, getting Bin to name the pieces.

It seemed to me that Okuma-san got it right, that he found meaning within the camp and that allowed him to survive with his senses intact. It kind of reminded me of Victor Frankel's Man's Search for Meaning, where some concentration camp Jews survived simply because they found a similar kind of meaning within the camps.

The reconciliation of Bin with his now-old father, someone he hasn't seen in a very, very long time, seemed a bit rushed, a little too neat, but who cares? It didn't spoil anything for me.

The novel also illustrated how people can lose everything, can have their possessions stolen, and still stay alive, oftentimes with dignity...in the most abysmal and dire circumstances.

[Joyce · Rating 2 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book of Atani's much more than Deafening and the reason is that in this one
she takes us into the mind of the main character instead of just telling what he does and what
happens around him. It's the story of a Japanese family yanked from Vancouver Island at the end of the war and moved into the interiour of B.C.. for political reasons. Although we hate this part of our history, I could see the same thing happening again to a faction of society we don't entirely trust. I do like the way she was able to hang all the history of this story onto a common frame of
a young man going back to re-visit what was once his home and where he learned to hate his father for abandoning him. The young man(an artist) loses his wife and it's her last wish that he would go back and make amends with his father in order to release the resentment that blocks him from being a freer person. This is what she wanted for him. I didn't enjoy the focus on the dog throughout the book but that's just me.. hate dog and dentist stories.

[Hermien · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautifully told story of a Japanese Canadian man coming to terms with the sudden death of his wife and his traumatic childhood when in 1942 all Japanese Canadians were put in camps. I also particularly liked his travelling companion, Basil the Basset Hound.

[Evelyn Pecht · Rating 2 out of 5]

A bit too slow moving and found myself skipping and skimming.

[Pamela · Rating 4 out of 5]

And so it ENDS as brilliantly as it began, as gorgeously as it is written throughout. A reminder of the atrocities we perpetrated during the war against Japanese Canadians. We must remember. Heart, and surprise, and pain and ending.
"—The file reveals that no crosscut saw was inventoried.
—The file reveals that no sewing machine was located.
—The file reveals no mention of a grandfather clock.
—When the area was visited by officials sent to appraise the property, no property could be identified at the location described.
—As you did not reply to our letter, it was understood that you agreed to the $8 value of the skiff, which was sold.
—The fishing vessel previously owned by you was sold through the Japanese Fishing Vessels Disposal Committee, the vessel having been requisitioned by Naval Service.
—Supervision costs of $41.50 have been charged to you. An additional $68.90 has also been withheld to cover possible repairs, and has been deducted from the sale price.
And the ultimate, repetitive replies to persistent requests after the war, also highlighted by Lena: The items found on the property were declared to be of no value.
I cram the papers back into the folder. Basil is joyously splashing, running from water to riverbank, from riverbank to water. I step down to the edge and raise my arms and hear Lena's voice.
You're drowing your history, Bin. Think about it. This is your own history.
And I reply: 'But maybe this is the way I can, finally, for all time, get rid of the ghosts.'
I pause for a moment, and then I let the folder fly. Papers scatter on the waves, and bob and swirl as they rush downriver. The same direction as the body of the small boy who drowned and disappeared during the last year of the war.
Back up on the bank now, I sprawl out on the rock shelf where Mother once sat in the sun. I take out the wooden box given to me by my own beloved son. I take out a charcoal pencil and the pad that has the thickest paper and I begin to draw. It is like naming, I think. And Lena's voice says, Yes, but which name? You, for instance, have had so many.
I look around at the mountains and at the turbulent river rushing past on its long journey to the coast. I inhale the air, cool and clear. I think of the people I love and have loved, living and dead, and I think of the camp that once existed here but is nothing but shadows now, and I decide: REQUIEM. That will be the name of my exhibition. I'll phone Nathan and Otto later this afternoon, and I'll let them know so that they can get things moving at their end.
I focus on my drawing now. And listen to the soft, scratchy, satisfying sound of charcoal against paper. I look up, and then down again. This is what I have always known. This is what river is.
There is a familiar sound behind me, the crunch of footsteps on the trail. At first, I don't look back, and then, as the noise becomes louder, I stand and face the path. Basil, alert, is at my side. First Father is wearing old fishing clothes and rubber boots; Uncle Kenji, his brother, is right behind him. They lumber down the path like two bears who have had no guidance in subtlety. Uncle Kenji's face is unreadable. First Father speaks my name.
'Bin,' he says, and he moves towards me.
Do I take a step back? First Father's voice an echo, through time.
'We're staying across the river,' he says. 'We're on our way home, and there's only one hotel in town. Keiko called to say you might be here today or tomorrow, so we drove this far and watched for a car at the camp. We booked a room at the hotel for you, just one night. We'll leave for Kamloops in the morning. Is that your hound?'
His hand grips my shoulder. I feel the warmth of his fingers pressing down.
'We caught fish,' says Uncle Kenji, determined to fill the spaces. 'We were out on the boat. At sea again. You'll have to come with us next time. And bring your boy. We haven't met your boy.'
First Father is still a large man. Stooped, but not frail. Never frail. He doesn't bother to wipe the tears that are streaming down his face.
I move towards him. Both of his arms pulling me in. A son, after all. Again. A father, a son."

Here is a parent who exhibits acceptance, love, compassion, belief, mystery, imagination, wide world view.
"I was also thinking of Okuma-san telling me once that there were many different ways to draw. That it was all right to change the shapes I made on the page, that it was all right to alter them from what they started to out to be. What I drew did not have to be the object that happened to be in front of me. It did not have to have the same edges or shape. I could look at the object as a starting point and use my imagination in any way I wished."

Ahhhhhhhhh. So beautiful: the writing, the description, the character, the depth.
"When the teacher asked the class to make two lists, one of things they could do and one of things they couldn't, Greg printed in his book:
THINGS I CAN DO: think, sing, giggle, subtract, swim, love the sea
THINGS I CAN'T DO: fly, juggle, drive, hate the sea
At dinner one evening, he crossed his hands over his chest and declared that in place of his heart were whales and dolphins. That was where he was holding his love."

Gorgeously described. I remember the aurora borealis at the Goddess camp. So beautiful, amazing. We danced in its light. We worshipped its beauty.
"That evening after our picnic supper, we sat below the dunes around the fire and we were rewarded with a moving-picture show of the aurora borealis against a dark wall of sky: vivid, miraculous, an infinity away. Great vertical sheets of light. The breeze had dropped completely; the sea was calm, its bulge ominous as ever. Foam slid in over sand that had been pounded flat. The red blink-blink of a buoy flashed and bobbed far out. We listened to the slow wash of waves and watched in awe as the sky's colours rushed past on their way to somewhere else. Shades of deep green to lighter shades and back again swept over the huge stage of the night. There were greens I have never seen before and have never seen since."

Family stories. Not just stories from people's experiences (like my father's), but other stories. I was one kind of storyteller and he was another. Here is another one. I love this section.
"When Lena and Greg used to tell stories in the car, sometimes they started with a chant:
In a dark dark wood, there was a dark dark house
And in the dark dark house, there was a dark dark room
And in the dark dark room, there was a dark dark space
And in the dark dark space, there was ... "
They took turns filling the dark space. I didn't need to. I had enough dark spaces of my own to fill. Or so Lena reminded me, when I disappeared into gloom.
'Where do you learn these things?' I said to Lena.
'Childhood. I made up the endings. We both do, don't we, Greg?'
Stare stare like a bear
Wearing Grampa's underwear
Greg was giggling in the back seat.
'What about your childhood?' Lena said. 'Tell us the stories you learned.'"

I like this idea of traveling and the conversations that develop. One of many of Itani's insights.
"Every time we started out on a trip, the moment we pulled away from the curb in front of the house, she stretched her arms wide and kicked off her shoes. Until it was her turn in the driver's seat—we switched every three or four hours. Our conversation changed, too; it became more contemplative, the two of us staring straight ahead. As I am now, with thoughts and memories tumbling unbidden, scrambling over one another to grab my attention. ..."

I don't hear the voices, or at least I thought I didn't. But the deep memories are there, sneaking up, surprising me, reminding me. Push it away.
"I turn the corner at the end of the street, relieved that Miss Carrie's house and my own can no longer be seen in the rear-view. Leave it behind. Leave it all behind. Lena's voice in my head. I've read that soon after a loved one dies, the person's voice will no longer be remembered. But this hasn't happened to me, not at all. Not even after five months has passed."

More gets revealed (throughout the novel, but starting here) in small pieces, in beautiful prose, in heartfelt paragraphs, sentences, words.
"I look down at my work table, knowing I've left the most important part of my packing to the end. Every journey begins the same way. With reluctance, holding part of the self in abeyance, a distancing until I'm ready. I'm caught by this feeling, no matter what the destination. It's a suspension of the want, the real work, the getting serious, the facing up. But facing up also means admitting the dark places that are only too ready to seep from the shadows. It occurs to me that I'm not unlike Basil, turning circles inside the front door as soon as he imagines a hand reaching for a jacket."

And then the first chapter continues the new beginning, the now time.
"1997
The call from my sister, Kay, comes in the evening. Second call in a week.
'He isn't dying, Bin. I want to make that clear. He sits in his chair, facing the door, as if he expects someone to walk through. He asks for you ever time I visit. I've driven to B.C. twice in the past six weeks—it's a long drive from here. But he won't budge from his place.'
'First Father?' I can't resist, through I'm not proud of saying it like that."

Thus it BEGINS (and continues). Wow.
"Speak of a man and his shadow will turn up.
Black outside. A solid blur of black. A wall of mountain behind. A man moving about out there would instinctively raise his hands to push his way through the dark.
Inside, lumps and shadows cast by the kerosene lamp. Twigs of frost to be snapped off in the morning, suspended from the seams where wall and ceiling meet. The drone of First Father's voice from his chair in a corner of the shack.
I had heart the fates many times before, but he insisted that I pay attention when he picked up the palm-sized book with the red cover. He read back to front, top to bottom, staring with my older brother."

[Barbara Bryant · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have read just one other book by Itani, Remembering the Bones, which I liked very much, but which I could not call a happy book in any sense. But it was a book about strength, and I admired the main character. I don't care about happy books, but Requiem somehow just flattened me.

Maybe it was because I read it during the time of Covid-19 and when I was also awaiting a hip replacement. Maybe it was because that hip was keeping me out of work in my library and I hated that. And maybe because it was about things never spoken, cruelties never explained and massive, horrible racism towards a group I had been unaware of.

It wasn't just in the United States that the internment of Japanese happened after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. It was also in Canada, specifically in the westernmost areas closest to the water, where the Japanese might make an attempt to spy on or attack Canadians.

The fact that these people were Canadian citizens did not count. It also did not count that they had no warning of their displacement and no opportunity to gather anything other than what they could carry. As they were transported away from their fishing village on Vancouver Island, this particular group had to watch as neighbors looted their homes right in front of them.

The family followed most closely in the book was a mother, father, two sons and a daughter. The youngest, a son, is the narrator, and it is clear as he recounts his later, married life with his own son, and his early life in the camp where they were relocated, has a deep sadness and anger that seems as though it will never be dislodged.

Part of trying to understand this book is the difficulty of understanding Japanese culture, with its deeply-held beliefs and traditions, its sense of duty and responsibility and what is sometimes an inability to express emotions. I know that, for me, reading this has made me so angry I wanted to throw the book at someone. I wanted the people to change, especially the adults, but they wouldn't.

The early chapters of this novel were a bit hard to wade through, passing back and forth in the life of Bin, our narrator. His wife seems an impossibly charming and lovely woman who married this gloomy artist and tried to charm him into accepting his past and moving on. Even their dog is impossibly charming, and is of course a breed I had never heard off. Still, the dog did relieve a lot of the grief.

Descriptions of the relocation camp in the frigid mountains of British Columbia, on the Fraser River, are really fascinating and horrible. The residents are made to pay for everything they need, and are forbidden to cross the river to the town on the other side where they might get provisions. The RCMP patrols the bridge to ensure that no one attempts to get across.

For the children, it is of course a wrenching experience: they are cold and hungry, the makeshift cabins are tiny and offer no comfort, they have to work to help the adults gather wood for heat and cooking and, later, must help harvest the gardens they have started, carry water and attend a makeshift school, sometimes with Caucasian teachers.

For the adults, their futures have been taken, their money is gone, their grief is immense, so immense that in some cases it has created an anger and rigidity that becomes what their children remember.

When we meet Bin, he has never been back to British Columbia, he has not seen his father in many years, and he rarely sees his siblings. His wife has recently died, his son is at school, and his next door neighbor (charming) and the charming dog are his only companions.

I am not making fun; it IS dreary to read about Bin sometimes, though he is a likable character. It takes a long time, though, to wiggle out the important parts of his story, besides the obvious. There is a secret that is eventually revealed, in which one is able to both rue and enjoy the plot. It's a terrible secret, heartbreaking, but also one that leads to some happiness.

The title also puzzled me--there is a lot about Beethoven in this novel, NOT the best parts of the book, there is death, but that did not give me the answer. In the end, it is nothing very big except that it is what the whole novel is about.

I hope to read more Itani, but not for a while. This is a fascinating book, but I did feel that the balance was off, somehow. The dog should have had a bigger part.

[Dianeparente62gmail.com · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the story of a sensitive soul, Bin Okuma, buffeted by life’s tragedies, yet emerging as a compelling artistic voice. We first meet Bin the day he and his family of five are being evicted from their island home off the west coast of Canada because they are Japanese-Canadians and Japan has just bombed Pearl Harbor.

Bin, a young boy, watches from the departing boat as neighbors ransack and eventually claim the family home. The evicted citizens (they never receive financial reparation for all they lost) are transferred inland to a tent city ill prepared to give shelter or even minimum comfort. They are  then moved further inland to a stretch of land near a river where the inhabitants are forced to build the shacks they will live in until the war ends.

In the camp Bin’s father gives him away to a single, older Japanese man, Okuma-san, a wrenching blow to the child but a move which over time proves vastly beneficial to the young boy taken under the wing of a musician who encourages his artistic talent.

The story flashes back and forth, not in a jarring manner, between the internment camp experiences and Bin’s life as an adult mourning the premature loss of his beloved wife. Although he has a major exhibit of his paintings pending, he loads himself and his comic canine companion Basil into the car and journeys west to revisit the now destroyed internment camp and to reconnect for the first time in over 50 years with “First Father,” the paternal father who gave him away.

The trip becomes a requiem for his wife and the experiences he endured as a youth. Along the way we see the importance of rivers in his life and come to understand his deep love of music, a gift of Okuma-san. As he travels, his memories are gradually revealed and we see clearly how this sensitive soul became a talented artist.

The book is extremely well written, gripping from beginning to end, with stark details about the trauma of being ripped from one’s environment and hastily replanted and the later discrimination encountered after they arre released from the camp in 1945. There is beauty in the cooperative community that forms in the camp, in the descriptions of the rugged nature of their surroundings, and in the warmth of the relationship between Bin’s brother, sister and mother even after they are separated into different households. The sacrifices of Okuma-san give Bin a fine education and travel to Europe and the depth of his relationship with his wife Lena clearly show the role of love in allaying life’s hurts.

This is the kind of book you want to share with as many as possible as it is a deeply moving, enlightening literary experience.