A Place to Belong wasn't Cynthia Kadohata's first novel about the internment camps for Japanese Americans in World War II. Weedflower, published thirteen years earlier, takes us into an internment camp as seen from the perspective of a girl named Sumiko; A Place to Belong begins after twelve-year-old Hanako Tachibana and her family are released from four years of involuntary internment. Hanako and her five-year-old brother Akira were born and raised in the United States, but their lives were upended after Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Mama and Papa had worked hard to provide a comfortable life for their children, with Papa starting a successful restaurant, but everything changed when President Franklin Roosevelt ordered that all people in the U.S. of Japanese descent be rounded up and confined. More than a hundred thousand were held against their will for years; Hanako watched the stress prematurely age her parents as they went from having financial security to being destitute. Now it is 1946; World War II is over and Roosevelt has passed away, but the government still distrusts Japanese Americans. Hanako's parents are among many to voluntarily renounce their U.S. citizenship and accept deportation to Japan, but after losing the war, Japan is bankrupt and full of uncertainty. Does the Land of the Rising Sun have anything to offer the Tachibana family?
Emigrating across the ocean is weeks of torment for Hanako, who experiences perpetual seasickness in a ship crammed with passengers. The voyage seems eternal, but eventually Hanako and her family end up in Japan on a train headed into the nation's rural interior. She knows the U.S. dropped an atomic bomb on Hiroshima, but Hanako isn't prepared for the devastation she witnesses from the train. How did one bomb destroy so much? Many of the Japanese Americans pressured to waive their citizenship have nowhere to go, but Papa's mother and father are tenement farmers in a village untouched by the atomic bomb; he knows they will gladly house his family. Hanako and Akira have never met their jiichan and baachan, but from first sight, the little old man and woman exude unfailing love for their grandchildren. Jiichan and Baachan have a worn-out house and they lack food, but everything is happily shared with their son's family. Decades of harsh farm labor has not treated Jiichan and Baachan well, but they are overjoyed to add members to their household.
Every area of the Tachibanas' new life is difficult. Already small for his age, Akira needs better nutrition than his grandparents can afford, and even after Papa gets a job, it isn't enough to feed a pair of growing children. Hanako's braided hair and purple coat—all that remains of her family's affluence prior to Pearl Harbor—make her a target of resentment at school. Hanako's final years in the U.S. were awful, but here she sees kids who endured agony beyond her capacity to imagine. A boy named Kiyoshi wanders the streets with his little sister Mimi in search of food; always on the brink of starvation, the search encompasses every moment of his life, and he regards Hanako bitterly for her family's "privilege," meager as it is. Kiyoshi's family died from atomic radiation after the Hiroshima bomb; he watched his mother, horrifically disfigured from the attack, lay down and die, her broken body simply switching itself off. Kiyoshi suffered severe burns all over, but Hanako nonetheless feels drawn to him. Should she give him rice when he begs, even if it means Akira won't eat tonight? Can Japan ever be a proper home for Hanako and Akira? Hanako's family struggles as days, weeks, and months pass, but she dreads the solution her parents are contemplating. What will she do if she and Akira are forced to say goodbye to Mama and Papa and leave Japan?
"Maybe sometimes you just had to go out into the world and trust what would happen. You had to trust that there were good people in the world."
—A Place to Belong, P. 388
When Mama and Papa first settled in America, the country treated them well. They were free to work diligently and prosper, which Papa did as a restauranteur. He could have accumulated wealth for the rest of his career and then handed the restaurant over to Hanako or Akira if they wanted it. President Roosevelt derailed the Tachibanas' American success story by recategorizing the family not based on their record of contribution to U.S. society, but according to the color of their skin and shape of their eyes. The president ignored their rights as Americans, and Hanako's family and more than 100,000 other Japanese Americans suffered as a result. The way Hanako frames it is fitting: "(W)rong or right, the problem with governments is that they were very big and you were very small." From its founding, the U.S. government was not supposed to be able to override Constitutional protections; the inappropriate expansion of government is what led to the atrocity of the internment camps. President Roosevelt should have been powerless to suspend fundamental rights of Japanese Americans. Most of them survived the ordeal, but they were harrowing years. Someday their freedoms would be restored, but those days seemed impossibly far away to kids like Hanako. Hope is hard to keep hold of when all you see ahead is darkness.
Cynthia Kadohata's first juvenile novel, Kira-Kira, won the 2005 Newbery Medal and is one of the finest stories I've read. It moved me by turns to hysterical laughter and uncontrollable sobbing, and is a quintessential example of what a Newbery book should be. The author's Outside Beauty is also deeply affecting, as is Half a World Away, a departure from the Japanese American culture Cynthia Kadohata usually writes. She's released numerous other novels, but The Thing About Luck perhaps most resembles A Place to Belong. Both are unadorned, thoughtful narratives about Japanese American families finding their way in a complex world. A Place to Belong features worthy themes, though the story is low-energy and overlong; I'll rate it two and a half stars, and I could have rounded that up or down. It's not my favorite from Cynthia Kadohata, but the read did me good, and I know others would say the same.