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66754's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
inspiring
mysterious
reflective
slow-paced
5.0
tumblehawk's review against another edition
4.0
This heartbreaking and beautiful book asked so much of me! That’s not a complaint. Do you know what I mean? When a book demands your attention, demands to be read with such great care that you start to wonder if you’ve given some of your other books short shrift? Shimoda is a celebrated poet and though this memoir—about his paternal grandfather Midori—is presented as a memoir with the text arranged into sentences and paragraphs like prose, it is in a sense a book length poem. There are parts that read more plainly as he undergoes the exploration of facts but then the text will swerve into deeply poetic, associative thinking—I would have to put it down for a while, having stumbled into some dreamlike liminal state. The book is about so much more than Shimoda’s grandfather alone; it’s about the experience of being descended from immigrants in this country; it’s about the violence this country does to immigrants (Midori was jailed in an internment camp during WWII); and it’s about the violence this country does beyond its borders (the chapters on Hiroshima and Nagasaki will stay with me forever); and it’s about what it’s like reaching across borders in search of ancestry…both physical borders but also the borders of memory, of dream/reality, the borders between people. I am a fast reader but I had to take this one slowly and surely and I recommend you do the same. Beautiful book. I almost read it at the beginning of my residency but had a feeling it might psych me out on my own memoir edits and I’m glad I listened to that intuition—Shimoda is working on another level. Thanks to another wonderful poet, @dianagoldfish, for suggesting I read this.
hiiiiiinat's review against another edition
reflective
sad
slow-paced
3.25
Blend of poetry and prose, an interesting exploration of family lineage and grief. While I like to support small presses and indie poets, sometimes I felt I lacked a reason to care, and my attention span waned. Would recommend to those interested in the intimate lives of complete strangers.
noskills's review
adventurous
challenging
dark
emotional
funny
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
5.0
Grave is nominally poet Shimoda's reflection on his grandfather, but it also includes larger exploration of immigration, race, mass tragedy, and grief. Shimoda expertly weaves together observations, conversations, ruminations as he travels across the United States and Japan, tracing the lives of his grandfather and other family members. Grief is ever in the air, but Grave is a beautiful meditation on the Shimoda's relationship with his jiichan.
autumn_alwaysreadingseason's review
4.0
Most of the coverage surrounding this book paints it as being Brandon Shimoda's rendering of his grandfather's life, but I don't think that's accurate. His grandfather, Midori, is often at the center of his questions and he does journey to places looking for answers, but there are pieces that are much broader than the scope of one man's life.
Shimoda includes Japanese myths/stories (the ghostly telling of Okiku, for example), references to other people (the first Japanese to be photographed in the U.S.), mentions of other texts.
Zooming out, Shimoda places his family in context to other events. His grandfather grew up in Hiroshima. The atomic bombs are featured, circling around Midori's life. There are gruesome details, narratives like Sadako and the thousand cranes and other childhood remembrances of the horrific bombing, and the irony that someone Midori knew was flying in the sky as part of the U.S. Army, watching as the Enola Gay dropped the bomb.
Shimoda's family history is entwined with tragedy. Armed with little information but Midori's FBI file, he tracks down his grandfather's photographs and takes a trip to the place where he was incarcerated during WWII.
Yes, this book is a portrait of Brandon Shimoda's grandfather, but it's also an unflinching portrayal of the resilience of his family as well as a glimpse into the Japanese American experience and trauma faced in the 20th century that causes residual pain.
Shimoda includes Japanese myths/stories (the ghostly telling of Okiku, for example), references to other people (the first Japanese to be photographed in the U.S.), mentions of other texts.
Zooming out, Shimoda places his family in context to other events. His grandfather grew up in Hiroshima. The atomic bombs are featured, circling around Midori's life. There are gruesome details, narratives like Sadako and the thousand cranes and other childhood remembrances of the horrific bombing, and the irony that someone Midori knew was flying in the sky as part of the U.S. Army, watching as the Enola Gay dropped the bomb.
Shimoda's family history is entwined with tragedy. Armed with little information but Midori's FBI file, he tracks down his grandfather's photographs and takes a trip to the place where he was incarcerated during WWII.
Yes, this book is a portrait of Brandon Shimoda's grandfather, but it's also an unflinching portrayal of the resilience of his family as well as a glimpse into the Japanese American experience and trauma faced in the 20th century that causes residual pain.
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