This well-written story sheds light on an important though seldom-mentioned aspect of World War 2 - the internment by the Australian Government of ‘enemy aliens’ in the interests of national security. Christine Piper’s book focuses on the internment of Japanese residents, many of whom were long-term ex-pats, with little or no connection to their origins in Japan.
The protagonist, Dr Ibaraki Tomokazu, has been working at the Japanese hospital in Broome, location of Australia's prosperous pearling industry which was dominated by a sizeable Japanese workforce. He is transported to an isolated detention facility called Loveday, in the Riverland area of South Australia. Here he is housed with other male Japanese prisoners from many parts of Australia and the British Empire. The internees have done nothing illegal, and are not prisoners of war. Rather, they have been forced into segregation because of their ethnic origins. Many are naturalised British subjects, who had been working in places like Borneo and New Caldedonia when war broke out. Others are Australian citizens born of Japanese parentage, English-speakers who have lived all their lives in this country. Along similar lines, the camp at Loveday houses many hundreds of detainees of German and Italian heritage. These groups are all perceived to be potential enemies of the state, who might spy for their country of origin.
Dr Ibaraki had enjoyed a successful career as a medical researcher in Tokyo and had married a beautiful wife, whom he cherished. His life sours when his research work at the Army Medical College comes to dominate his waking hours, drawing him into the war effort. His senior officers demand of him total loyalty, confidentiality and discretion. He takes these requirements very much to heart. Being somewhat reticent and emotionally reserved by nature, he has no difficulty in keeping his oath to his superiors. Over time his work and home lives diverge, yet, sworn to secrecy, he cannot offer an explanation to his wife and parents.
Eventually the grimness of his work triggers Ibaraki’s resignation, around the same time as his marriage fails. After a period of drifting, he takes the job at the hospital in Broome. He falls in love with the Australian landscape and he prospers in the local community. But he carries a heavy heart and his emotions are tamped right down, because of the dire secrets he has buried deep in his psyche. This emotional blockage informs many of his subsequent decisions, often to his own detriment.
Structurally, the story switches between pre-war Tokyo, pre-war Broome and wartime Loveday Camp. These are well-crafted transitions, and the reasons for Dr Ibaraki’s situation emerge in a gradual, meaningful way. Ibaraki narrates his story in the first person, past tense. Although the character is fictional, Piper has based him on extensive research that she did, so it feels like reading a memoir. There is a strong sense of authenticity in Ibaraki’s ‘voice’. The prose style is straightforward, but has a refined elegance about it which I think is typically Japanese.
Piper herself is half-Japanese. Some of the most memorable characters who interact with Dr Ibaraki are those interns of mixed heritage. They are the ‘fringe-dwellers’ of Loveday Camp. Hot-blooded Johnny Cheng carries great anger about his detention because he was born here ands sees himself as entirely Australian. Handsome Stanley Suzuki falls into a deep depression because of his situation, separated from his mother and sister left in Sydney. Some of the full-blood Japanese are less than honourable, and stir up trouble with the half-Japanese, which is a source of much grief for Ibaraki.
I greatly enjoyed this book, because it is well-written and an interesting read. More than that, because it is based on true events, I feel that my understanding of Australians during the war has been enhanced, as well as some interesting insights into Australian race relations. After Darkness won the Vogel Award for 2014, deservedly in my opinion. My only complaint is that I can’t see how the book title relates to anything. It is a bland and rather meaningless title, and for prospective readers the appeal of the book could have been enhanced by a snappier name.
4★s