Read this for an independent reading project for English, with my final being a book review, so I might as well use that here (though I'm not sure how appropriate that is, but I'll share it anyway)
Karen Yamashita’s Through the Arc of the Rain Forest: A Soap Opera Celebrating Hybridity and Warning Destruction
As fecund and rich as the Amazonian fauna and flora described between its pages, Karen Yamashita’s novel Through the Arc of the Rain Forest and its odd tale beautifully weaves together hybrid spaces, idosyncratic characters, the pressing issue of environmental destruction, and surreal magic. Yamashita’s 1990 debut is a memorable ouevre, of both timeless themes and contemporary discussions.
We follow various plotlines, but are mainly guided by the narration of Japanese Kazumasa’s ball, which orbits around him just a few inches away from his head. Pragmatic, efficient J.B. Tweep pulled GGG Enterprises into international financial success with his three arms as he took them abroad into the Brazilian heartland, to the geographical and cultural wonder of the Matacão to take advantage of its mystical power and scientific potential. Initially uncovered by Mané Pena—the man who also discovered the remedying effects of feathers by tickling one’s earlobe—it is later found out that this “plastic mantle,” Matacão, was a consolidation of nonbiodegradable material (Yamashita 89). It soon became the object of economic exploits as GGG harnessed the lucrative feather market and the capabilities of Matacão plastic. We also met Batista and Tania Aparecida Djapan, based in São Paulo, who gave birth to a booming international business of carrier pigeons. The economy’s increased focus on birds and their feathery products push the plastic, feather, and pigeon markets together, all centered around Matacão. Through it all, we see piety and steadfast faith spring up amongst the people as pilgrimages are forged under the symbol of Chico Paco, whose altruism and piety also bring him to Matacão. These complicated ties set the scene for our journey through the Amazon.
Most notably, Yamashita’s novel truly is beautiful in its density and richness. In the Author’s Note, Yamashita calls Through the Arc a kind of “Brazilian soap opera,” one that “occupies the imagination and national psyche of the Brazilian people on prime-time TV nightly and for periods of two or four months, depending on its popularity and success” (Yamashita). The satire and dramatics of the novel make it ridiculous at times, but that is what lends this story a vitality and legend-like quality that allows it to create a legacy. When readers can remember the theatrical way that a capitalist corporation—with the greed and ambition of individualistic actors, like J.B. Tweep, acting as catalysts—almost wiped out all of the Amazon’s biodiversity, how can that image not stick in the popular imagination? How can that warning not echo through generations? Through the Arc, in its theatricality and dramatic flair, forges a loud and bold voice with which to deliver Yamashita’s burning warning.
Perhaps revolutionarily, Yamashita also complicates narratives about the Asian diaspora, introducing conversations about Asian diaspora in Latin America through characters like Kazumasa and his cousin Hiroshi. A new perspective is brought in as we witness this hybrid Japanese-Latin American space, and the potential for international gaps to be bridged through the existence of Kazumasa's narrative. We learn about cultural dissonances and miscommunication, which are presented awkwardly, as in, “Lourdes imitated Kazumasa, tiptoeing around in bobby sock because she had once worked for a Japanese family who never wore shoes in the house. She thought Kazumasa must appreciate this detail about her work, but Kazumasa thought that maids in bobby socks came with apartments in Brazil” (Yamashita 32). But also universal symbols, as “Lourdes rubbed her thumb and forefinger together in front of Kazumasa’s face, assuming this mime to be an international sign for money. ‘Rich!’ she repeated. / ‘Rich,’ Kazumasa both nodded and shook his head” (Yamashita 32). These moments of compassion and common understanding flooded me with hope in our hybrid spaces and ability to connect and empathize despite cultural barrier.
Hybridity and the exploration of mutation also happens in the settings Yamashita conjures up, pushing us to reexamine the coexisting spaces of humans and nature. Consider the rainforest parking lot, where Yamashita presents us with the image of a magical harmony between artificiality and nature, “There was also discovered a new species of mouse, with prehensile tails, that burrowed in the exhaust pipes of all the vehicles [...] It was an ecological experiment unparalleled in the known world of nature” (Yamashita 88-89). Of course, mice in the real world have not developed special tails to adjust to parking lot living, but the mutation of nature is very much a possibility. Through clever hypotheticals in the book’s world, the author asks us to engage with the active ways nature changes and evolves in the presence of human activity.
Nevertheless, I must acquiesce to the skeptics and see things from their side. But I’ll say that I less so see weaknesses, and more so see ways that Through the Arc may lose its appeal to the broader audience. Because of its dramatic and maximalist nature, Through the Arc can understandably be a bit dense to digest. Often times, too many details regarding, for instance, the specific percentages of people’s initial reactions to the Matacão are not entirely necessary—“3 percent believed [it] was the work of the CIA [...] 13 percent believed [it] was a miracle from God,” and so on and so forth (84). For me, this detail is rather hilarious. Not only that, I would push back and say this sort of painstaking detail actually contributes to a hyperrealism that only helps reveal the very real possibility for the story’s environmental and interpersonal disasters to come true.
So it appears that in an attempt to point out weaknesses, I have failed and can only say I really have no criticisms to deliver. Despite its somewhat dated publication, Through the Arc of the Rain Forest deals with hybridity on all fronts, revealing both the beauty of fortuitous human connection and dangers on the frontier between man and nature, dishing out timeless messages about both love and climate change. We are transported “through the arc of the rain forest,” from a world dominated by the human, but imperialist, footprint on nature, and to its inevitable return back to its “lost perfection” (Yamashita 185). In many ways, following along Yamashita’s story arc, my faith has been restored in the natural way of things, and maybe…just maybe, the beauty of fate.
Because this review was for classroom purposes, it was a bit more structured than I would have liked; in reflection, I also felt like it was good practice to exercise my ability to more concisely share my opinion and condense in a fashion perhaps appropriate for publication or professional review-writing (I do not, at all, lay claim to the ability to professional write book reviews, just that this is a bit of a step closer than word-vomiting as I usually do). Anyway, I thought it a change of pace to warm me up for this summer's reading.