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Kapoho: Memoir of a Modern Pompeii
In Memoir of a Modern Pompeii , Frances H. Kakugawa shares the stories of her life in the town of Kapoho on the Island of Hawaii—a town that no longer exists. From the wartime drama of "The Enemy Wore My Face"—recalling her instant transformation to distrusted "Jap" after the bombing of Pearl Harbor—to the sweet poignancy of "A One-Chopstick Marriage"—the story of her parents' relationship—Kakugawa weaves a tapestry of memories drawn from life in a Hawaiian plantation village now buried beneath a blanket of lava. "Kakugawa's amazing recall of details helps remind us of the beautiful innocence and naivete of youth and the realities of growing up poor in Hawaii—all too cognizant of the ethnic, linguistic and cultural barriers she would have to overcome to realize her literary dreams," says Guy Aoki, Founding President, Media Action Network for Asian Americans. Author Charles Pellegrino calls it "a rare poetic history that will make you think, laugh and cry."
- GenresNonfictionMemoir
126 pages, Paperback
First published December 7, 2011
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
December 22, 2014
Brilliantly written. Kakugawa's narratives playfully dance with her poetry. Each chapter gives a story of her life in the small village of Kapoho, Hawaii. She is able to bring in the reader to the town, and meet her family and friends. The village of Kapoho was destroyed in 1960 by the eruption of Kīlauea. Honestly, I thought more of the book would focus on the impact of the eruption on the village due to the title of the book. Appropriately, this was only the topic of the last chapter. This is a beautiful memoir about the simplicity (and intricacies) of life and our relationship with the earth and each other. A very quick read at just over 100 pages, and every page is worth the read.
September 9, 2016
The divide between the Hawaiian islands and the state of Arizona is vast, geographically and meteorlogically. Out here in the Sonoran desert our oceans are comprised of dirt and cacti. Lots of both. The islands are surrounded by water and comprised of plenty of volcanic debris. The Hawaiian islands have, perhaps, more stories to tell us than the desert . . . but we need to listen here on the mainland.
Nature has fits of her own out here in the desert--sometimes they come in light but irritating; others can seem vehement and dangerous. We call them "dust storms" or "haboobs." Fact is, it is loose earth blown aloft due to a number of meteorological factors, It has the potential for danger, especially when it crosses highways and towers over entire metropolitan areas. But it is dust and fine dirt. Nature's sandpaper. No more, no less.
Desert rats to make a big deal about them, piercing our words and descriptions of those moments with excited hyperbole, loaded with an almost pathetic sense of drama. It is, outside of an angry thunderstorm, all we really know about inclimate weather and geology.
We have zero practical experience with volcanoes.
Monsoon storms can cause damage, certainly . . . but they don't take out entire communities.
Within the pages you are about to read are not just stories but extensions of the power of our Mother Earth. The ancient Greeks called her "Gaia"; the Iroquois call her "Etenoha"; the Lakota, "Ina Maka." One of her children is Pele, She-Who-Shapes-The-Sacred-Earth -- more commonly known on the mainland as the goddess of volcanoes.
Ms. Kakugawa poignantly reminds us that Nature isn't always destructive, that within her embrace are the gifts of family and the nourishing stream of life. Her family was forever changed by the eruption that decimated the village of her birth. But that same calamity led her to a fine, resonant understanding of the profound currents--and often winds--which gave her life richness.
Kakugawa does not simply recount an event, she gently threads her words through the fabric of those lives directly affected by it. Read closely and you will bear witness to the elegant acquisition of an almost completely ignored culture. Pompeii left us objects captured in time, relics archived beneath feet of volcanic ash, but much of what we know about their culture we have had to learn through deduction and stringent scholarship. Perhaps posterity will favor these stories, and future scholars will pull the human essence from Kapoho's fiery demise.
Nature has fits of her own out here in the desert--sometimes they come in light but irritating; others can seem vehement and dangerous. We call them "dust storms" or "haboobs." Fact is, it is loose earth blown aloft due to a number of meteorological factors, It has the potential for danger, especially when it crosses highways and towers over entire metropolitan areas. But it is dust and fine dirt. Nature's sandpaper. No more, no less.
Desert rats to make a big deal about them, piercing our words and descriptions of those moments with excited hyperbole, loaded with an almost pathetic sense of drama. It is, outside of an angry thunderstorm, all we really know about inclimate weather and geology.
We have zero practical experience with volcanoes.
Monsoon storms can cause damage, certainly . . . but they don't take out entire communities.
Within the pages you are about to read are not just stories but extensions of the power of our Mother Earth. The ancient Greeks called her "Gaia"; the Iroquois call her "Etenoha"; the Lakota, "Ina Maka." One of her children is Pele, She-Who-Shapes-The-Sacred-Earth -- more commonly known on the mainland as the goddess of volcanoes.
Ms. Kakugawa poignantly reminds us that Nature isn't always destructive, that within her embrace are the gifts of family and the nourishing stream of life. Her family was forever changed by the eruption that decimated the village of her birth. But that same calamity led her to a fine, resonant understanding of the profound currents--and often winds--which gave her life richness.
Kakugawa does not simply recount an event, she gently threads her words through the fabric of those lives directly affected by it. Read closely and you will bear witness to the elegant acquisition of an almost completely ignored culture. Pompeii left us objects captured in time, relics archived beneath feet of volcanic ash, but much of what we know about their culture we have had to learn through deduction and stringent scholarship. Perhaps posterity will favor these stories, and future scholars will pull the human essence from Kapoho's fiery demise.
May 2, 2016
Hawaii fascinates me. While I enjoy the artificial perfection of the beach resorts as much as the next tourist, it's glimpses of the real Hawaii, old Hawaii, that keep me coming back. Hiking at Volcanoes National Park on the Big Island, spending a few days in the Hana area on Maui, visiting upcountry on the slopes of Haleakala, are experiences that let an outsider like me understand the state's culture a little. In KAPOHO: MEMOIR OF A MODERN POMPEII, Kakugawa reveals a whole other side of "real" Hawaii, in a community of quiet, hardworking, tight-knit Japanese-Americans who endured the ignominy of WWII (but unlike their California cousins, were not rounded up and imprisoned in camps) and then carried on as modernity crept up on them as surely as the lava flow from Kilauea which ultimately buried their town.
Kakugawa's writing and sensibilities are poetic in spirit. Her recollections are detailed, alive, melancholy, and loving. Rooted in a unique time and place and culture, the stories in this collection are deeply evocative. They are, in a word, beautiful.
Kakugawa's writing and sensibilities are poetic in spirit. Her recollections are detailed, alive, melancholy, and loving. Rooted in a unique time and place and culture, the stories in this collection are deeply evocative. They are, in a word, beautiful.
February 16, 2013
A VERY GENTLE READ.
“The following day, “ha-see-pee-tall” and “vo-lo-cay-no” came rolling off my tongue, uncontrollable lava, heated with frustration.”--page 62
Frances H. Kakugawa's nostalgic memoir, 'KAPOHO: Memoir of a Modern Pompeii' is a collection of very warmly told reminiscences of growing up, Japanese, in very rural Hawaii, in the 1940s.
Recommendation: Especially for all with any affinity for the time, the place, and/or the culture. For those like me, then, that would be a trifecta.
“I was raised in my parents’ one-chopstick marriage, where loud silence and subtlety ruled.”--page 213
An iTunes digital book edition, 277 pages.
“The following day, “ha-see-pee-tall” and “vo-lo-cay-no” came rolling off my tongue, uncontrollable lava, heated with frustration.”--page 62
Frances H. Kakugawa's nostalgic memoir, 'KAPOHO: Memoir of a Modern Pompeii' is a collection of very warmly told reminiscences of growing up, Japanese, in very rural Hawaii, in the 1940s.
Recommendation: Especially for all with any affinity for the time, the place, and/or the culture. For those like me, then, that would be a trifecta.
“I was raised in my parents’ one-chopstick marriage, where loud silence and subtlety ruled.”--page 213
An iTunes digital book edition, 277 pages.
July 25, 2012
A delightful and well-told collection of stories about growing up sansei in rural Hawaii in the '40s. Kakugawa leads you quietly into knowing her family, with their Japanese emigrant quiet humor and unspoken rules. The book is a quick and flavorful read; it held my attention tight, such that I moved through it in two sittings.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews