“Point it down, Kei,” he says. “You won’t trip. You won’t cut your toes. Flash it up and it will catch the levels marked on the walls. The lava stream must have dropped to there, see? And the center of the smaller flow still ran hot while the ledges cooled.”
See how beautiful it is?
Take your time, Arnie told me. Admire your surroundings. It’s a natural wonder. Good that we can experience the world this way. Look for the crickets—did you know there’s a rare cricket that lives here? Watch out for the lavacicles, the big ones look like shark’s teeth. No, they didn’t chisel those rocks. They break that way naturally, on straight lines, like bricks. That white stuff on the walls? It smells metallic. Use all your senses, girl.
That’s the thing about life, Hana. That’s what Arnie tried to show me in the cave. There’s so much we are given that we can’t appreciate. But only because we don’t know where to look.
You are here, Hana.
I can feel you.
I can hear you laughing that day on the beach with Russell. Your hair braided like a crown. Stray tendrils around your face. A water nymph, my sister who doesn’t like the ocean, transforming in front of me. You are fearless, facing the world down, looking it in the eye and then embracing it. Your clothes are soaked, and you have no idea how beautiful you are.
This is the life our mother gave us. The paradise of the two girls.
Laugh for me when I find you in the cave. Arnie’s flashlight is brown, it’s almost out, but you are here. Wave to me. Your dress is pale yellow, a little smudged but no blood, no screaming. You are here, so happy to see me, then the battery finally gives up and the light goes out.
Dark in here, so dark we cannot see our hands before they touch our faces, but we have found each other. We can whisper—entwine our fingers together to keep ourselves safe in the dark. Let’s sit down. Careful—the ground is rough here. Feel for a smoother patch. Let’s sit down.
Remember how Mama used to dress us? White cotton momohiki and tabis on four feet? She would give us gloves, too, if we didn’t keep flinging them off and losing them in the flower beds. We were always losing things when we were little, weren’t we? Who cared, when we had trees to climb and streams to cool off in? Those were such innocent days, and we had each other.
Like now. We can wait together. It won’t be long. Remember how we used to run down the hill, crawling on our knees beneath the umbrella of heart-shaped leaves and sweet, crushed flowers under Mama’s huge hau tree? That was our favorite place to be.
It’s cool here. The sweat on my neck and face itches. Hold my hand. They will find us, see? Can’t you hear them already? Over there, where the dark is ebbing. It’s getting brighter. Listen to the people. You can almost make out what they’re saying.
There she is. Look, she’s coming to!
Oh God, Keiko, can you hear me? It’s Hana. I’m here with you. Open your eyes.
Am I coming, too? Are we both finally together?
I can see the lights now. Let’s go toward them. Whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand. We can open our eyes now, Hana.
Two girls, together. The light is here now, with the girls, and it’s been dark for too long.
Acknowledgments
This book was born of a rape. Although I was very much on the periphery, that terrible night has haunted me, and it is that haunting that helped this story stick for nearly two decades. Shadow Child has taken many different forms over that time: It was two books, then one; a historical novel, a quiet family drama, a failed thriller. I have changed the setting, immediately altered the attack itself, killed off characters, and then revived them. I wrote the first hundred pages in the year 2000, then I went to Japan to research the character of Lillie, which led me to write a memoir instead. So much time later means I have a lifetime of people to thank, including those who’ve helped me with false starts, dead ends, and abandoned narratives, and those who just smiled and stuck with me.
My first thanks go to the people I interviewed in Hawaii, including Dr. Billy Bergin, Patricia Bergin, Anderson Black, Ralph Black, Fumi Bonk, Robert “Steamy” Chow, Tim DeSilva, Walter Dudley, Leningrad Elarionoff, Doug Espejo, Esther Fujioka, Dr. Samuel Gingrich, Claudette Hagar, Izumi Hirano, Miyoko Kamikawa, Chizuko Kawamoto, Claudia Kobayashi, Arte McCullough, Fumiye Miho, Susumu Sugihara, Jean Yamanaka, Karen Yamasato, and others. Thanks to Hanae Tokita and Michael Nakade for early guidance in the Japanese language and customs. In California I am grateful to Dorothy Stroup and Kanji Kuramoto, and Friends of Hibakusha, an organization that compiled numerous oral histories with Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivors, including the indispensable testimonies of Judy Aya (Misono) Enseki, Kay Yoshioka, and Chieko Fravel. Also instrumental was the time I was able to spend with Violet Kazue de Cristoforo. And, of course, my great aunt who started it all, Mary Hamaji.
I have enormous gratitude to the U.S.-Japan Commission, the National Endowment for the Arts, and the Japanese Agency for Cultural Affairs for the life-changing gift of time in Hiroshima that I received through the U.S.-Japan Creative Artist Fellowship. Although I had thanked them in the acknowledgments of my memoir, I could not have written this book without the support, time, and generosity of many people and organizations in Japan. These include the tireless Keiko Ogura, my mentor and inspiration; and Megumi Shimo, who still reads my work and fixes my Japanese after all these years; as well as Isao Aratani, Christopher Blasdel, Dr. Kohei Daikoku, Kazuko Enami, Shoichi Fuji, Pierce Fukuhara, Dr. Hiroe Hamano, Mamoru Hamasaki, Nobue Hashimoto, Shizuo Inoue, Katsuko Kaimatchi, Mr. Kanaoka, Professor Kan Katayanagi, Yachiyo Kato, Dr. Fumiko Kaya, Chioko Kono, Tadashi and Sumako Matsuyanagi, Kenji Mito, Keiko Miyamoto, Hiromu Morishita, Keiko Murakami, Akira Nakano, Dr. and Mrs. Takeko Nakayama, Dixie Setoyama, Kosuke Shishido, Professor Rinjiro Sodei, Suzie Sunamoto, Rev. Ryoga Suwa, Chieko Tabata, Masumi Takabayashi, Yasuhiko Taketa, Pe Hak Te, Hiko and Nancy Tokita, Hajime Tsukamoto, Marie Tsuruda, Yasuko Uemoto, Nobuko Ueno, Mitsuko Yamamoto, Michiko Yamane, Tokio Yamane, Michiko Yamaoka, Tatsuko Yasui, Mika Yoshida, and others who chose to remain anonymous. I was given great support by the Hiroshima Interpreters for Peace, the Hiroshima YMCA, the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum, the Chugoku Shimbun, the International House of Japan, the U.S. Embassy & Consulates in Japan, the World Friendship Center, and the Radiation Effects Research Foundation. It is deeply appreciated.
I will forever be grateful to Hedgebrook for giving me a place to gather the pieces of this story into my arms. Truly, you have become my writing home. To Amy Wheeler and Vito Zingarelli for making sure I remained part of the family. To Evie Wilson-Lingbloom, who found me documents I didn’t know existed, and Sherri L. Smith, who became my Friend of the Book during my first residency. Hedgebrook also gave me my incredible Borg and Erratics, whose support and friendship have been everything, as well as my PowderKeg writing group, who graciously read a much earlier version of this book. The Asian American Writers’ Workshop continues to be a part of me. I am grateful to everyone in the Goddard MFA Creative Writing program who has heard me read from this book over the past fifteen years and encouraged me not to cut the scenes I was threatening to cut. Special Goddard thanks to Kathryn Cullen-DuPont, John McManus, Victoria Nelson, Rachel Pollack and her Shining Tribe, and to Jane Wohl.
My publishing family began with Susan Bergholz, a dear friend and still a great supporter of this novel. Thank you also to Ellen Levine. I am beyond thrilled to be in the hands of Samantha Shea, who fell in love with this book on Christmas Eve, and the extraordinary Millicent Bennett, who leaves no word untouched and no wild and wonderful idea unexplored. The team at Grand Central Publishing has been a dream, and I am deeply grateful for their instant belief in this novel, and for their passion, vision, and expertise: Ben Sevier, Karen Kostolnyik, Brian McLendon, Andy Dodds, Andrew Duncan, Karen Torres, Ali Cutrone, Siri Silleck, Anne Twomey, Meriam Metoui, Erica Scavelli, and everyone whose brilliance and dedication has brought a better book into the world.
Abidin
g, heart-stopping gratitude to Ruth Ozeki, Victoria Redel, Dani Shapiro, and Hannah Tinti for your support and generosity, and for your kind words.
Then there are the people who have read countless drafts, brainstormed, taught me things I would never use about painting, who listened patiently or simply loved me through it all. They are my cherished family: Kathryn Bischak, Kathleen Boeger, Carole DeSanti, Linda Duggins, Eloise Flood, Kepa Freitas, Kenny Fries, Jannifer Jones, Elena Georgiou, K. J. Grow, Beth Kephart, Kate Moses, Tina Nguyen, Bino Realuyo, Kai Rizzuto, Amy Scholder, Alix Kates Shulman, Majo Tinoco, Kalei Tooman, Elizabeth Woodhouse, and Ming Yuen-Schat. I am so grateful for each one of you.
This book is dedicated to my parents. My first teachers, unfailing supporters; my guiding lights.
A Note on Place and History
Though the characters and incidents in this novel are entirely a product of my imagination, it is set against the background of very specific historical events, and I have done extensive research to ensure that these are as accurate as possible. History is integral to Lillie’s story in particular. Actual events have made her who she is, just as they have forever changed the lives of real people, and it is my hope that this novel can help to show how consequential they were, and still are, today.
The same is not true of the story of Hawaii. There is a town that inspired the one I created here, where I did extensive interviews and research to catch the nuances of a certain life and time. Unlike Lillie’s story, however, the story of the twins is in no way representative of that particular town or of its people. Hawaii is a rich and diverse place, and it requires many voices to bring it to life. Much like the conflicting accounts of the tsunami I heard during my interviews, the beauty of Hawaii is that no two stories will be the same. I encourage you to explore the many local authors who are writing from their indigenous, multicultural, and diverse experiences. And if you are curious about what really happened during the tsunamis that have affected Hawaii over the years, I recommend Tsunami! by Walter C. Dudley and Min Lee (University of Hawaii Press, 1998) and a trip to the Pacific Tsunami Museum in Hilo, which offers extensive oral histories, archives, scholarship, and science.
After two decades of writing and rewriting, I have undoubtedly made mistakes and forgotten details. For the facts, I want to acknowledge some of the sources I leaned on most heavily: And Justice for All: An Oral History of the Japanese American Detention Camps, John Tateishi (Random House, 1984); Dear Miye: Letters Home from Japan, 1939–1946, Mary Tomita (Stanford University Press, 1995); Hibakusha: Survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, ed. Gaynor Sekimori (Kosei Publishing, 1986); Hiroshima Diary: The Journal of a Japanese Physician, August 6–September 30, 1945, Michihiko Hachiya (University of North Carolina Press, 1995); Our House Divided: Seven Japanese American Families in World War II, Tomi Kaizawa Knaefler (University of Hawaii Press, 1991); Personal Justice Denied: Report of the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians (University of Washington Press, 1997); Prisoners Without Trial: Japanese Americans in World War II, Roger Daniels (Hill & Wang, 1993); Unforgettable Fire: Pictures Drawn by Atomic Bomb Survivors, ed. Japan Broadcasting Corp (NHK) (Pantheon, 1977); Were We the Enemy?: American Survivors of Hiroshima, Rinjiro Sodei (Westview Press, 1998); Years of Infamy: The Untold Story of America’s Concentration Camps, Michi Nishiyura Weglyn (Morrow, 1976). For their collections and archives, I am also grateful to the Japanese American National Museum; the UCLA Asian American Studies Center and their publication the Amerasia Journal; and the Bancroft Library at the University of California, Berkeley.
Reading Group Guide
Discussion Questions
How do you think Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “strange and beautiful flower” speaks to Hana and Kei?
Talk about the title of the novel. Does its meaning change for you, as a reader, over the course of the book?
Lillie’s story is set against historical events. How does her very personal journey influence your understanding of those events? Does it influence how you see the significant events in your own world and your relationship to them? And, if so, how exactly?
How does Lillie’s relationship with her parents affect her own role as a parent? Are there any echoes that stand out for you in the book?
Do you consider Hana an unreliable narrator? Why or why not?
Darkness plays a literal and metaphorical role in the novel. Discuss how it has impacted the characters, their life choices, and their relationships to one another.
In the camps, Lillie objects to being “repatriated” to Japan: “Whatever world Donald had thought she belonged to when she married him, he was wrong. She was American. The preacher’s daughter. California was her home.” How do her feelings about her identity change?
Hana is labeled the “good” twin while Kei is “bad.” Do you see this shift over the course of the novel? Why or why not? Is being the “good” daughter a blessing?
The novel is written from many different perspectives: first person for Hana, third person for Lillie, and first, second, and first-person plural (“we”) for Kei. Why do you think the author made this choice? What effect do these shifts have on you, the reader?
Names, and their meaning, play a large role in the book. Discuss what it means to give someone a name—is it simply a word, a label, or does it have a larger impact?
Q and A with Rahna Reiko Rizzuto
What drew you to this story?
In my first two books, I found myself exploring how memories shape us, and also the role of secrets and silences, and how we can inherit trauma, even when that trauma is unspoken. These themes are very central to Shadow Child as well. I was interested in telling the story of Hiroshima. I was interested in exploring sisterhood, and thinking about how we create our own identities against the pull of others and against a world that wants to tell us who we are. I was also haunted by a terrible moment of violence that happened to a friend of mine, and the way that moments like that can reverberate and mark even those on the periphery.
You were born and raised in Hawaii. How does that inform the book?
When I was growing up, Hawaii was a world apart from “the mainland” as we called it. We didn’t have TV reception until I was fifteen; and, when we did, they aired shows two weeks late (the time it took to ship the tapes to the islands). There was a certain rhythm to life there, a certain connection to the land and ocean, and a connection, too, to community. It was also a multicultural place, rooted in generosity and the concept of ‘ohana. Hawaii infuses you; you can recognize someone else from Hawaii anywhere else in the world. And, in that way, I think Hawaii has made me who I am and is in every book I write.
Did the novel take unexpected turns as you were writing it, or did you know from the beginning where you were headed?
This novel twisted and turned and stood on its head for almost two decades. I knew how it began, who the twins were, and the outline of their story and Lillie’s. But it was two books when I started. The twins’ story was half done, and I went to Hiroshima to research Lillie’s story. As I said in my acknowledgements, the shape and tone of the story kept changing, even the genre (on advice of an editor, I tried my hand briefly at making this a thriller). As for the characters, I would say they didn’t change so much as reveal themselves, and express themselves in ways that I didn’t expect but were true to who they were. So every time I discovered something new about them, it was like, “Aha! There you are!”
What was your research process like?
All of my books have been very exhaustively researched. I use historical documents—facts, if you will—but I also interview people, who have wildly different recollections and experiences, sometimes of the same event. I am interested in little details about life: favorite clothes, particular smells, funny anecdotes. I am also interested in what is forgotten. For example, in researching the actual tsunami that inspired the one in my book, I found people who remembered the scientists on the bridge, and others who swore there were no scienti
sts there. I found a written documentation of the scientists, so I put them in my novel. But facts and truth can be very different things, and that comes out starkly, especially when you are dealing with traumatic memories as I often am.
Lillie’s story is inspired, in part, by stories from your own family. How did the decision to treat this subject in fiction, rather than reportage, change your understanding of or relationship to that history?
My family members lived through the Japanese-American incarceration, fought in the war, worked for the American Occupation, and witnessed the devastation of the Hiroshima bomb. But those stories were largely lost to silence. In my writing, I am trying to fill those silences, and understand the experiences that shaped us—that shaped me, even though they were unspoken. Fiction allowed me to feel the effects and consequences of history, rather than just compiling and understanding the missing facts.
What are you working on next?
I have a draft of a young-adult fantasy novel, which is currently marinating in a drawer, and a couple of story ideas in the “suspenseful literary fiction” genre. I’m going to let them battle it out and see which one wants to come next.
About the Author
Rahna Reiko Rizzuto is the author of the memoir Hiroshima in the Morning, which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, among other honors. Her debut novel, Why She Left Us, won an American Book Award. She is also a recipient of the U.S.-Japan Creative Artist Fellowship. Reiko was the first woman to graduate from Columbia College with a bachelor’s degree in Astrophysics. She was raised in Hawaii and lives in Brooklyn.
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