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4.24 AVERAGE
4.24 AVERAGE
emotional
Often times, memoirs are purely about a time in the author's life. But Brina's packs so much more into its' pages. Some of the chapters discuss the history of Okinawa and are told in a collective voice. They provide context for her mother's experiences and her own life and also provide the necessary distinction of Okinawa as its' own entity, rather than a territory of Japan.
I love memoirs about the complicated relationship between a mother and daughter. I don't think I've ever read one where the author is so connected to her father. Brina goes on a journey, reflecting on how she perceives the relationship between her parents and their personalities separately. Her father becomes a flawed man and she begins to accept her mother and understand that she didn't treat her well. It's a very real, messy portrayal of how our opinions of those around us can change.
I love memoirs about the complicated relationship between a mother and daughter. I don't think I've ever read one where the author is so connected to her father. Brina goes on a journey, reflecting on how she perceives the relationship between her parents and their personalities separately. Her father becomes a flawed man and she begins to accept her mother and understand that she didn't treat her well. It's a very real, messy portrayal of how our opinions of those around us can change.
A very good memoir that examined the complicated nuances of family, relationships, and heritage with an unflinching gaze. The author's parents were no one-dimensional characters in her story and each time I thought I understood their essence or relationship or motives, she revealed another side of them or told another anecdote that made me re-evaluate my perception of them. I learned a great deal about Okinawa as well, a history of which I hadn't realized I was lacking before. I enjoyed the read and would recommend it.
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
This book was gorgeous and heartbreaking. It was hard to read the sections about Brina as a teenager; I was terrible to my mom during that time too (albeit for different reasons). The tenderness and love that Brina develops for her mom, Japan and Okinawa was truly lovely to read.
I liked this for the format she chose to tell the story, for the story, for her being so brutally and unapologetically honest, and for showing her growth as a human.
Also, I need to process what I've read. There should be a hotline to discuss this book after reading.
I would also like to add that I found this because Capital District Libraries put on facebook: "Tell us the last three books and we'll pick the next one for you." And I did. And whoever found this I would now like to befriend.
Also, I need to process what I've read. There should be a hotline to discuss this book after reading.
I would also like to add that I found this because Capital District Libraries put on facebook: "Tell us the last three books and we'll pick the next one for you." And I did. And whoever found this I would now like to befriend.
emotional
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
It feels disrespectful to rate it so I will abstain. I say this because I would not rate it highly (probably) but it is very impactful.
"Loving your parents" propaganda
"Loving your parents" propaganda
emotional
inspiring
sad
medium-paced
Speak, Okinawa is Elizabeth Miki Brina's love letter to her heritage, to accepting who she is, to her mother, to her childhood, to herself. Brina’s mother was swept from her homeland of Okinawa, an island off the coast of Japan that she had never left, by a white American serviceman. Speaking no English, she settles with her new husband in America, following him as demanded by his work. Brina felt more connected as a child to her white father, who offered the chance of fitting in.
Vignettes move between the present day, Brina's childhood and coming of age, and wartorn Okinawa. Okinawa was ravaged during World War II, then left underneath US control before being returned to Japan. Brina traces back the roots of generational trauma; when writing about Okinawa, Brina speaks as a collective – the damage inflicted upon my mother, to my grandmother, was inflicted on me. It’s baked into our DNA, baked into who we are.
Brina gives her readers a gift in her painfully honest recognition of how she saw her mother throughout her early life. Growing up comes with its own set of demons to battle, especially when you’re mixed race growing up in a town that is overwhelmingly white. Yearning to fit in with her white classmates, Brina is isolated from her mother because of her stark “otherness”. There’s promise of hope in early childhood visits to Okinawa, a time before Brina lost the Japanese that she knew, widening the rift between her and her mother. Years and years would pass before Brina’s mother was able to return to her homeland – a place where she fit in without question, could seamlessly slip into conversations.
As an adult, Brina is startlingly aware of how she harmed her mother and the connection that could have been, the connection that never was. Brina doesn’t sugarcoat her childhood perspective, embarrassed that her mother couldn’t just be like everybody else and not yet able to recognize that the life that had brought her there wouldn’t allow it. “Eventually I realized that it is my responsibility to understand her, not her responsibility to make herself understood. But it took too long.”
This book broke me apart in a rare way. Not to get too sentimental, but it’s really a beautiful thing when words on a page can reach you so viscerally. Brina’s insightfulness and growth and way with words have resulted in a book that, to me, is a masterpiece.
Vignettes move between the present day, Brina's childhood and coming of age, and wartorn Okinawa. Okinawa was ravaged during World War II, then left underneath US control before being returned to Japan. Brina traces back the roots of generational trauma; when writing about Okinawa, Brina speaks as a collective – the damage inflicted upon my mother, to my grandmother, was inflicted on me. It’s baked into our DNA, baked into who we are.
Brina gives her readers a gift in her painfully honest recognition of how she saw her mother throughout her early life. Growing up comes with its own set of demons to battle, especially when you’re mixed race growing up in a town that is overwhelmingly white. Yearning to fit in with her white classmates, Brina is isolated from her mother because of her stark “otherness”. There’s promise of hope in early childhood visits to Okinawa, a time before Brina lost the Japanese that she knew, widening the rift between her and her mother. Years and years would pass before Brina’s mother was able to return to her homeland – a place where she fit in without question, could seamlessly slip into conversations.
As an adult, Brina is startlingly aware of how she harmed her mother and the connection that could have been, the connection that never was. Brina doesn’t sugarcoat her childhood perspective, embarrassed that her mother couldn’t just be like everybody else and not yet able to recognize that the life that had brought her there wouldn’t allow it. “Eventually I realized that it is my responsibility to understand her, not her responsibility to make herself understood. But it took too long.”
This book broke me apart in a rare way. Not to get too sentimental, but it’s really a beautiful thing when words on a page can reach you so viscerally. Brina’s insightfulness and growth and way with words have resulted in a book that, to me, is a masterpiece.