Media of Cultural Memory: Narratives of the Japanese American ...

Media of Cultural Memory:

Narratives of the Japanese American Incarceration

in the US during World War II

Inaugural-Dissertation

zur

Erlangung der Doktorwürde

der Philologischen Fakultät

der Albert-Ludwigs-Universität

Freiburg i. Br.

vorgelegt von

Miriam Johanna Laufer

aus Meerbusch

SS 2021

Erstgutachterin: Prof. Dr. Laura Bieger

Zweitgutachterin: JunProf. Dr. Eva von Contzen

Vorsitzender des Promotionsausschusses

der Gemeinsamen Kommission

der Philologischen und der Philosophischen Fakultät:

Prof. Dr. Dr. h.c. Bernd Kortmann

Datum der mündlichen Prüfung: 21.09.2021

Table of Contents

Table of Figures .................................................................................................... i

Zusammenfassung .............................................................................................. iii

Abstract ............................................................................................................... vi

Acknowledgments ............................................................................................. viii

INTRODUCTION ............................................................................................... 1

CHAPTER I. THEORETICAL BACKGROUND: Cultural Memory,

Cultural Trauma and Narrative Identity ....................................................... 20

I.1 Remembering as a Group ................................................................................................ 22

I.2 Traumata Experienced by Groups ................................................................................... 30

I.3 Storytelling ...................................................................................................................... 36

CHAPTER II. GRAPHIC NOVELS: Kevin C. Pyle’s Take What You Can

Carry and Matt Faulkner’s Gaijin: American Prisoner of War ..................... 46

II.1 Memory and Trauma in Graphic Novels ....................................................................... 48

II.2 Kevin C. Pyle’s Take What You Can Carry .................................................................. 53

II.2.1 Connecting the Two Stories ................................................................................................. 55

II.2.2 Photographs ......................................................................................................................... 66

II.2.3 Conveying Emotions through Visuals ................................................................................. 78

II.3 Matt Faulkner’s Gaijin: American Prisoner of War ...................................................... 83

II.3.1 Terminology as an Educational Tool ................................................................................... 89

II.3.2 Photographs ......................................................................................................................... 95

II.3.3 Other Documentary Evidence ............................................................................................ 100

II.3.4 Visual Markers of the Conditions in Assembly Centers and Incarceration Camps ........... 103

CHAPTER III. PICTURE BOOKS: Eve Bunting’s So Far from the Sea and

Katie Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy .................................................................. 109

III.1 Memory and Trauma in Picture Books ....................................................................... 111

III.2 Eve Bunting’s So Far from the Sea ............................................................................ 116

III.2.1 Narrative Structure: Two Time Periods and Laura’s Perspective .................................... 120

III.2.2 Establishing Historical Facts ............................................................................................ 122

III.2.3 Memory Objects: Landscape, the Grandfather’s Grave and the Neckerchief .................. 128

III.3 Katie Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy .............................................................................. 142

III.3.1 Establishing Historical Facts and a Personal Connection to the Japanese American

Incarceration ................................................................................................................................ 145

III.3.2 Emotions and Thoughts Expressed in Illustrations .......................................................... 151

III.3.3 Resolving Trauma ............................................................................................................ 156

CHAPTER IV. Roger Shimomura’s PAINTINGS AND PRINTS ............ 161

IV.1 Trauma and Memory in Paintings and Prints ............................................................. 165

IV.2 Paintings and Prints .................................................................................................... 169

IV.2.1 An American Diary........................................................................................................... 171

IV.2.2 Memories of Childhood .................................................................................................... 180

IV.2.3 Minidoka on My Mind ...................................................................................................... 187

IV.2.4 Mixing Past, Present and Future: Solidarity with Minority Groups ................................. 198

CONCLUSION ................................................................................................ 212

BIBLIOGRAPHY ........................................................................................... 220

i

Table of Figures

Fig. 1 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. Cover page. ......................................................................... 58

Fig. 2 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 153. ...................................................................................... 64

Fig. 3 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 164/165. ............................................................................... 65

Fig. 4 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 1-3. ....................................................................................... 68

Fig. 5 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 4/5. ....................................................................................... 70

Fig. 6 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 24. ........................................................................................ 73






Fig. 12 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 130/131. ............................................................................. 82

Fig. 13 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 4/5. ......................................................... 125

Fig. 14 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 10/11. ..................................................... 128




Fig. 18 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 9/10. .............................................................................................. 148

Fig. 19 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 19/20. ............................................................................................ 150

Fig. 20 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 5/6. ................................................................................................ 152




Fig. 24 Shimomura, Roger. April 21, 1942. 1997. Painting. ........................................................................... 175

Fig. 25 Shimomura, Roger. August 17, 1942. 1997. Painting. ........................................................................ 177

Fig. 26 Shimomura, Roger. June 26, 1943. 1997. Painting. ........................................................................... 178

Fig. 27 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 1 and Page 1. 1999. Lithograph in handmade

book. .......................................................................................................................................................... 183


book. .......................................................................................................................................................... 185


book. .......................................................................................................................................................... 186

Fig. 30 Shimomura, Roger. American Infamy #2. 2006. Painting. ................................................................ 189

Fig. 31 Shimomura, Roger. American Guardian. 2008. Lithograph. ............................................................ 189

Fig. 32 Shimomura, Roger. Shadow of the Enemy. 2007. Painting................................................................ 194

Fig. 33 Shimomura, Roger. Enemy Alien #2. 2006. Painting. ........................................................................ 195

Fig. 34 Shimomura, Roger. American Alien #4. 2006. Painting. ................................................................... 196

Fig. 35 Shimomura, Roger. Justified Internment. 2003. Painting. ................................................................. 200

ii

Fig. 36 Shimomura, Roger. Keep on Talkin', Michelle Malkin. 2006. Painting. ........................................... 202

Fig. 37 Shimomura, Roger. Not Pearl Harbor. 2012. Painting. ..................................................................... 206

Fig. 38 Shimomura, Roger. American Citizens. 2015. Painting. .................................................................... 208

Fig. 39 Shimomura, Roger. Infamy Repeated #2. 2016. Painting................................................................... 210

Fig. 40 Shimomura, Roger. September 11. 2016. Painting. ............................................................................ 210

iii

Zusammenfassung

Medien der kulturellen Erinnerung: Die Internierung japanischstämmiger Amerikaner*innen

während des zweiten Weltkriegs in den USA

Im Februar 1942 unterschrieb Präsident Franklin D. Roosevelt Executive Order 9066, auf

dessen Grundlage ca. 120.000 japanischstämmige Amerikaner*innen umgesiedelt und

interniert wurden. 1 Sie verbrachten mehrere Jahre in zehn Internierungslagern der War

Relocation Authority unter prekären Lebensbedingungen. Während die Internierung mit

militärischer Notwendigkeit begründet wurde, liegen ihr Rassismus und Diskriminierung

zugrunde. Erst 1988 entschuldigte sich die US-Regierung für die Internierung und zahlte

ehemalig Internierten Entschädigungen.

Die vorliegende Arbeit rückt dieses oft vernachlässigte Thema in den Fokus und

untersucht, wie die Internierung heutzutage in unterschiedlichsten Medien der kulturellen

Erinnerung dargestellt wird. Die Internierung als Teil der kulturellen Erinnerung der

japanischstämmigen Bevölkerung der USA findet über die künstlerische Auseinandersetzung

immer öfter ihren Weg in die kulturelle Erinnerung der gesamten amerikanischen Gesellschaft.

Durch eine Analyse von graphic novels (Take What You Can Carry [Kevin C. Pyle, 2012] und

Gaijin: American Prisoner of War [Matt Faulkner, 2014]), Bilderbüchern (So Far from the Sea

[Eve Bunting, 1998] und Fish for Jimmy [Katie Yamasaki, 2013]) sowie von Gemälden und

Drucken des japanischstämmigen Amerikaners Roger Shimomura (1939-) wird gezeigt, wie

sich heutzutage mithilfe verschiedener Medien der kulturellen Erinnerung an die Geschichte

und das Trauma der Internierung japanischstämmiger Amerikaner*innen erinnert wird.

Graphic Novels, Bilderbücher, Gemälde und Drucke werden hier als eigenständige

Medien definiert, die Traumata und Erinnerungen auf einzigartige Weise darstellen. Um die

narrativen Strategien der Medien zu entschlüsseln, werden verschiedene Theorien kombiniert

und miteinander verknüpft. Das theoretische Gerüst bilden dabei die grundlegenden Arbeiten

zur Erinnerungskultur und zum kulturellen Gedächtnis von Jan und Aleida Assmann sowie

Astrid Erll, die Theorie der ‚prosthetic memory‘ von Alison Landsberg (2004) und die Theorie

der ‚postmemory‘ von Marianne Hirsch (1997). Es zeigt sich, dass es durch Medien der

1 In der englischsprachigen Literatur sprach man jahrelang von ‚Japanese American internment‘ [Internierung],

um die erzwungene Umsiedlung japanischstämmiger Amerikaner*innen zu beschreiben. Heutzutage jedoch wird

häufiger von ‚Japanese American incarceration‘ [Inhaftierung/Einsperrung] gesprochen, um zu betonen, dass ein

Großteil der Betroffenen amerikanische Staatsbürger*innen waren. Im Deutschen habe ich mich für das Wort

‚Internierung‘ entschieden, da es im deutschen Sprachgebrauch gängiger ist.

iv

kulturellen Erinnerung möglich ist, an die Vergangenheit zu erinnern, aber auch einen Bezug

zu Gegenwart und Zukunft herzustellen. Die Theorie kollektiver Traumata von Jeffrey C.

Alexander et al. zeigt auf, dass die Internierung ein Trauma ist, das nicht nur bei

japanischstämmigen Amerikaner*innen präsent ist, sondern auch Einfluss auf die US-

Gesellschaft an sich hat. Mithilfe der Theorie der narrativen Identität (Jerome Bruner, Douglas

Ezzy, Margaret R. Somers) wird dargestellt, wie die in den verschiedenen Medien der

kulturellen Erinnerung erzählte Geschichte der Internierung der Identitätsstabilisierung dient.

Durch eine Auswahl an Medien, die teils von japanischstämmigen Amerikaner*innen

und teils von Amerikaner*innen ohne japanische Herkunft produziert wurden, ergibt sich hier

ein breit gefächertes Spektrum an Blickwinkeln und eine Vielzahl narrativer Strategien. Allen

Medien ist gemein, dass sie sowohl Bild und Text als auch Fakt und Fiktion einsetzen, dies

jedoch in unterschiedlicher Weise. Die Analyse zeigt, wie die Produzierenden Fakten der

Internierung mit persönlichen Ereignissen aus ihrem Leben mischen, auf welche Art und Weise

sie Symbole der Internierung (z. B. Stacheldrahtzaun oder Wachtürme) visuell darstellen und

wie sie Text dazu nutzen, die Internierung zu erklären oder den Rezipient*innen den

Zusammenhang zwischen Vergangenheit und Gegenwart zu verdeutlichen.

Eine Analyse von Ausschnitten der graphic novels und der Bilderbücher sowie von

einzelnen Gemälden und Drucken ergibt, dass die Medien therapeutische Funktion sowohl für

die Produzierenden als auch die Rezipient*innen haben; durch ihre Fragmentierung in Bild und

Text (in unterschiedlichem Ausmaß) ermöglichen sie es Menschen Traumata zu reflektieren

und zu verarbeiten. Das eindeutigste Beispiel sind hier die Gemälde und Drucke Shimomuras:

Er verbrachte einen Teil seiner Kindheit in einem Internierungslager und platziert sich selbst in

einem Teil seiner Werke. So reflektiert er seine eigenen Erfahrungen und ermöglicht es den

Rezipient*innen Einblick in sein persönliches Trauma zu bekommen.

Zudem haben die Medien eine eindeutig didaktische Funktion, die aber nicht nur in der

Vermittlung rein historischer Fakten liegt, sondern vielmehr durch die Vermischung von Fakt

und Fiktion die Rezipient*innen dazu anhält, ihre eigene Position in der Gesellschaft zu

reflektieren. Vor allem in Faulkners graphic novel und den Bilderbüchern wird die Beziehung

zwischen den gezeigten fiktionalen Charakteren in Text und Bild thematisiert, so dass sich die

Rezipient*innen in die Situation japanischstämmiger Amerikaner*innen hineinversetzen

können. Auf diese Weise wird an deren Solidarität und Empathie appelliert und es wird ein

Zusammengehörigkeitsgefühl nicht nur mit japanischstämmigen Amerikaner*innen, sondern

auch mit anderen Minderheiten kreiert.

v

Es handelt sich hier also nicht um reine Erinnerungsobjekte, die an die Vergangenheit

erinnern und helfen diese zu verarbeiten, sondern um Objekte, mit deren Hilfe vor einer

Wiederholung der Geschichte gewarnt wird. Somit werden Vergangenheit, Gegenwart und

Zukunft verbunden.

vi

Abstract

Media of Cultural Memory: Narratives of the Japanese American Incarceration

in the US during World War II

In February 1942, President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066, which created

the legal means for the forced removal and incarceration of ca. 120,000 Japanese Americans.

They spent many years in ten incarceration camps of the War Relocation Authority. While the

incarceration was justified by military necessity, it is clearly based on racism and discrimination.

It was only in 1988 that the US government apologized for the incarceration and paid

reparations to former incarcerees.

This study focuses on this not well-known topic and deals with the question of how the

incarceration is represented in different media of cultural memory nowadays. The incarceration

is part of the cultural memory not only of Japanese Americans but has also found its way into

the cultural memory of US society as a whole. Through the analysis of graphic novels (Take

What You Can Carry [Kevin C. Pyle, 2012] and Gaijin: American Prisoner of War [Matt

Faulkner, 2014]), picture books (So Far from the Sea [Eve Bunting, 1998] and Fish for Jimmy

[Katie Yamasaki, 2013]) as well as paintings and prints by the Japanese American artist Roger

Shimomura (1939-), this study shows how the Japanese American incarceration and its trauma

is remembered.

Graphic novels, picture books, paintings and prints are here defined as distinct media of

cultural memory through which traumata and memories can be represented in a unique way. To

decipher the narrative strategies of the media, different theories are combined. Jan and Aleida

Assmann’s theory of cultural memory, Astrid Erll’s ideas about media of cultural memory as

well as the theory of prosthetic memory by Alison Landsberg (2004) and the theory of

postmemory by Marianne Hirsch (1997) build the theoretical framework. Media of cultural

memory enable people to remember the past, but also refer to present and future. With the help

of the theory of cultural traumata by Jeffrey C. Alexander et al. the incarceration is shown to

be a trauma that not only influences Japanese Americans but also US society in general. In

addition, the theory of narrative identity (Jerome Bruner, Douglas Ezzy, Margaret R. Somers)

is used to show how the story of the incarceration stabilizes identities.

Since this study looks at media of cultural memory produced by both Japanese

Americans and non-Japanese Americans, it offers a variety of points of view and a number of

vii

narrative strategies. All discussed works use text and visuals as well as fact and fiction, but to

a different degree. The analysis establishes how the producers mix facts of the incarceration

with personal events in their lives, in which way symbols of the incarceration (e.g. barbed wire

fence or guard towers) are depicted visually and how text is used to explain the incarceration

experience and to show the recipients the connection between past and present.

The analysis of excerpts of graphic novels and picture books as well as paintings and

prints shows that these media of cultural memory have a therapeutic function for both producers

and recipients. Through the fragmentation in image and text these media allow producers and

recipients to reflect on and work through traumata. Roger Shimomura’s paintings and prints

stand out in particular: he spent a part of his childhood in an incarceration camp and places

himself in some of his artworks. In this way, he reflects on his own experiences and allows the

recipients to gain an insight into his personal trauma.

Furthermore, these media have a didactic function. They do, however, not only give the

recipients the opportunity to learn about the incarceration from historical fact but combine fact

and fiction. By doing so, the media ask the recipients to reflect on their own position in society.

Especially Faulkner’s graphic novel and the picture books show the relationship between the

depicted characters in text and image, so that recipients can imagine themselves in the situation

of Japanese Americans during World War II. Thus, recipients are encouraged to empathize and

show solidarity with the Japanese American community; a feeling of belonging, not only with

Japanese Americans but also with minority groups in US society overall, is created.

These media of cultural memory are therefore not simple objects with which the

Japanese American incarceration is remembered by; instead, these are objects that warn people

about the risks of repeating history. Past, present and future are shown to be intertwined.

viii

Acknowledgments

I gratefully acknowledge the funding I received for this dissertation project. Through a

scholarship provided by the German-American Fulbright Commission, I was able to spend six

months as a Visiting Research Fellow at Brown University in Providence, IL, USA. The

“Landesgraduiertenförderung” supported me with a stipend for the time spent at the University

of Freiburg. I am thankful to both for enabling me to complete my dissertation.

I would like to thank my supervisors, Prof. Dr. Laura Bieger and JunProf. Dr. Eva von

Contzen, for their support and encouragement. Without Prof. Dr. Laura Bieger’s feedback on

an endless amount of drafts, this dissertation would not be what it is today. Thank you for all

the advice and guidance provided. JunProf. Dr. Eva von Contzen helped me to finish this project

throughout the last years. Thank you for your always encouraging words.

Furthermore, I would like to extend special thanks to Prof. Dr. Naoko Shibusawa at

Brown University. Without her help, I would not have been able to do research in the US and

gain a different understanding of my topic.

Getting through my dissertation required more than academic and financial support, and

I have many, many people to thank for their encouragement and constant moral support. Thank

you to Susanne Ritter and Ester Gnandt for being there, for reading my drafts, for the valuable

feedback and for an uncountable number of memes shared. Thank you to Marta Barbieri for the

constant encouragement through social media and for listening to my struggles. Thank you to

Sarah Fontaine and Kathrin Jehle for many walks (especially this and last year) and coffee

places visited. Thank you also to all the people I met in the US, for fruitful discussions and

making me feel welcome. Thank you to all my friends, near and far, for cheering me on.

A special thank you to my parents who (proof)read my dissertation and all its drafts.

Thank you to my parents and my brother for the constant support and help whenever it was

needed.

1

INTRODUCTION

The story of the Japanese American incarceration in the US during World War II is one that is

not well-known, neither in the US, in Japan nor in the world. In contrast, knowledge of other

stories of incarceration in the US is more widespread, also because (mass) incarceration is a

reoccurring topic in US history of which many examples come to mind. Often these stories of

incarceration include stories of forced relocation and racism, two topics also prevalent in the

story of the Japanese American incarceration. Slavery from the 18th to the 19th century or the

Indian Removal Act of 1830 (leading to a system of Native American reservations existent until

today) are just two examples in which racism led to the suffering of a group of people. Both

cases have even led to mass genocide of a certain group of people being discriminated against

by the state.

Incarceration is not just a topic of the far past – the Japanese American incarceration,

which I will talk about here, just happened approximately 75 years ago during a time in which

the US felt threatened. This feeling of being threatened is also one reoccurring topic when it

comes to (mass) incarceration in the US. This threat is often believed to come from the outside

or from minority groups. The US having the highest prison population in the world with

minority groups being overrepresented (see e.g. Simon; Subramanian/Riley/Mai; Walmsley)

can be seen as yet another manifestation of reacting to a perceived threat.2 In Guantanamo Bay

Detention Camp, individuals from Afghanistan, Iraq and other countries are kept in

questionable living conditions and are not protected by the Geneva Convention. These

individuals’ incarceration is justified by the US’ ‘War on Terror’ following the terrorist attacks

on September 11th, 2001.

When thinking about these cases of forced relocation or incarceration, the question of

whether human rights were considered comes to mind. Human rights also play an important

role at the US border, for US immigration policy and naturalization laws, something which

again intersects with the story of the Japanese American incarceration. People are stopped at

the border, for example immigrants seeking asylum in the US. They are often placed in

Immigration Detention Centers. In recent years, more and more attention has been drawn to

how these facilities are not only overcrowded, but that sanitary and other living conditions are

more than questionable. Families are often separated leading to children having to face

2 One reason for this development since the 1970s can be seen in the so-called ‘War on Drugs’ (in which again

racism plays a role) and the privatization of prisons.

2

incarceration on their own. Immigration is often also halted by the afore-mentioned feeling of

threat. Justified by questions of security, with the so-called ‘Muslim Ban’ in 2017/18, the US

government banned whole populations of six countries with a majority of people being Muslim

from entering the US, even just to visit. Already in the 1880s, the US government banned entry

of people with a specific ancestry – the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 denied all Chinese

people entry into the US.

Incarceration creates “populations of rightless subjects” (Paik 2) – people who are on

the fringes of society, who lose their rights as human beings, are locked up in prison for dubious

reasons at least in some cases, and are, more often than not, forgotten about. These incidents of

forced relocation, imprisonment and denying people access to a country have several aspects in

common: discrimination, racism and a feeling of being threatened. During World War II, the

Japanese American community was surely also a ‘population of rightless subjects’: around

120,000 Japanese Americans were incarcerated behind barbed wire and faced questionable

living conditions for a number of years – because they ‘looked like the enemy’3 and because a

Japanese fleet had attacked Pearl Harbor. But their being discriminated against as well as their

being singled out started much earlier and is based on racist attitudes towards immigrants in

many parts of US society. The story of the Japanese American incarceration is one of many true

stories of incarceration in the US; while not well-known, it has not been forgotten, but has been

remembered and commemorated. It is this story and the way it is told that I am interested in

and that this study deals with.

Not only individuals, but also groups of people remember and commemorate events of

the past that have had an immense influence on their present. By looking at objects, such as

statues, groups of people are able to remember a past long gone, one that individual members

of a group may not necessarily have experienced themselves. This way of remembering has

been called ‘cultural memory’ (see Aleida Assmann; Jan Assmann) and seemingly stands in

opposition to one’s individual memory.4 In this dissertation, I will focus on the cultural memory

of the Japanese American incarceration, the way in which its trauma is narrated, what role

visuality plays in this process and what functions the cultural memory has nowadays for both

the Japanese American community and US society, at large.

3 A phrase that for example has been used as a title for Mary Matsuda Gruenewald’s Looking like the Enemy: My

Story of Imprisonment in Japanese American Internment Camps. 4 Of course, individual and cultural memory can also mix, as no clear line can be drawn between the two (see J.

Assmann, “Communicative” 113; J. Assmann, “Globalization” 122).

3

While a plethora of academic works, particularly from the field of Asian American

studies, focus on the Japanese American incarceration as such in historical works, on the

memory of the Japanese American incarceration by looking at novels, poetry or artworks

produced during the Second World War, on archaeological findings of former incarceration

camps or on the psychological effects of the Japanese American incarceration,5 the focus has

neither been on the connection between visuals and storytelling nor on the way in which the

story of the incarceration has been told by non-Japanese Americans. By analyzing both aspects,

I add a new perspective to the study of the cultural memory of the Japanese American

incarceration.

The story of the Japanese American incarceration has found its place in the cultural

memory of the Japanese American community and, in parts, of the US, as a whole. Furthermore,

it has developed into a cultural trauma, a trauma not only experienced by those who lived

through the incarceration themselves, but one that has been transferred to following generations

and, as I will demonstrate, has even had an effect on people outside of the community.

Memories of the Japanese American incarceration have been transferred to not only generations

of Japanese Americans, but also to non-Japanese Americans which shows in the fact that

besides Japanese Americans, non-Japanese Americans tell its story. By putting the story of the

Japanese American incarceration as told after the Redress Movement (which ended in 1988)6

into the focus of this study, I illustrate what influence this particular story of incarceration has

had and still has in the Japanese American community and on a bigger scale for US society. It

is told and reflected on by numerous people of various backgrounds bringing their own

perspective to it, but all pointing out its importance in US history. The story of the Japanese

American incarceration has developed into a story that warns people about the risks of repeating

history, especially in times when the US feels threatened. This story furthermore raises

5 Many scholars of Asian American Studies whose research deals with the Japanese American incarceration focus

on early works that were produced by Japanese Americans during or shortly after their incarceration, e.g. artworks

by Henry Sugimoto, Stanley Hayami’s diary, Miné Okubo’s Citizen 13660 or John Okada’s novel No-No Boy (see

e.g. Cheung; Gesensway/Rosenman; D. Kim; K. Kim; Kuramitsu; Oppenheim; Robinson/Creef). Academic

attention has also been paid to more recent works such as Farewell to Manzanar (1973) or Snow Falling on Cedars

(novel published in 1995; film in 1999) as they have gained some popularity over time (see e.g. Gessner; Rooney).

Elena Tajima Creef’s Imaging Japanese America: The Visual Construction of Citizenship, Nation, and the Body

and Ingrid Gessner’s From Sites of Memory to Cybersights: (Re)Framing Japanese American Experiences are two

recent works that include aspects of visuality. 6 During the 1960s and 1970s, young Japanese Americans, mainly of the third generation, challenged the

government’s claims that the Japanese American incarceration had been justified. In 1980, President Carter

appointed the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians (CWRIC), which published its

findings in 1982. The commission acknowledged that the Japanese American incarceration was unjust and

recommended the government to issue an apology and pay reparations to survivors of the incarceration.

Furthermore, the commission urged the government to educate US society about the injustices of the Japanese

American incarceration. These steps were taken in 1988 with the establishment of the Civil Liberties Act of 1988.

4

awareness about the incarceration and connects past, present and future. It is, on the one hand,

used to stabilize the identity of Japanese Americans as a group of people, while on the other

hand, it evokes a feeling of belonging in its recipients, no matter their ethnicity or cultural

background. I propose that empathy is generated: the experiences of the Japanese American

community are directly or indirectly connected with other minority groups’ experiences in the

US in the past and nowadays. By showing that other minority groups could just as easily be the

victim of incarceration as the Japanese Americans were during World War II, past, present and

a potential future are brought closer together. This leads to a feeling of belonging and solidarity

amongst recipients: they are all affected in some way and, because of this feeling, want to

prevent similar events from happening again.

I approach this particular story of incarceration from two points of view, one being

rooted in cultural memory studies, the other in Asian American studies. With my dissertation,

I will apply theories surrounding questions of cultural memory, cultural trauma and narrative

identity to the Japanese American incarceration. I analyze various primary sources, namely

graphic novels, picture books, paintings and prints produced after the Redress Movement that

tell the story of the Japanese American incarceration. Following Astrid Erll, I consider these

primary sources “memory-shaping media” (Erll, “Mediality” 395): they are “media of cultural

memory” (Erll, “Introduction” 13; see also Erll, “Mediality” 396).7 As Jan and Aleida Assmann

have pointed out, groups need objects to remember events by (see above): Erll and Rigney add

that “memories are shared with the help of symbolic artefacts that mediate between individuals

and, in the process, create communality across both space and time” (1).8 Thus, these primary

sources are more than simple objects.

Any artefact, object or “symbolic system” (Erll, “Mediality” 389) can become a

‘medium of cultural memory,’ according to Erll: “everything is a medium of memory which is

understood as ‘transmitting something’ from or about the past. In this way, everyday objects

and even elements of the natural world can become media of [cultural] memory” (Erll, Memory

in Culture 125). What is decisive here is that these objects or artefacts refer to the past,

“interplay with earlier and later representations” (Erll, “Mediality” 390) and are part of a

7 Erll’s book Kollektives Gedächtnis und Erinnerungskulturen: Eine Einführung (2005) was translated into English

in 2011 by Sara B. Young. In the translation, named Memory in Culture, the translator uses the term ‘media of

memory.’ Since Erll uses ‘media of cultural memory’ in English texts, I will use this term (see Erll, “Introduction”;

Erll, “Mediality”). 8 As examples they mention “spoken language, letters, books, photos, films” (Erll/Rigney 1); Erll mentions “books,

paintings or the Internet” (Memory in Culture 116). In Gessner’s definition media of cultural memory include

“literary texts, visual and electronic documents [and] landscapes of memory [as well as] museums and

commemorative rituals” (51).

5

context through which they influence the remembrance of the past (see Erll, “Mediality” 390).

Media of cultural memory “come to life in the social world” (Erll, Memory in Culture 126; see

also Erll, “Introduction” 4); they are not mere material objects but require producers and/or

recipients to give them the function of presenting the past (see Erll, Memory in Culture 125).

Thus, they must be recognized as media of cultural memory and shape our way of thinking

about past and present (see Erll, “Mediality” 397; Erll, Memory in Culture 125): their main

function lies in representing the past; further functions will become clear in the following.

As “mode[s] of artistic expression or communication” (“Medium”), media of cultural

memory facilitate access to the story of the Japanese American incarceration: they communicate

an event of the past to the present, which in itself influences the construction and perception of

these media. As has been well established, media are not neutral – they constitute versions of

the past, norms and values and concepts of identity (see Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 5; Erll, Memory

in Culture 114 and 116; Erll/Rigney 3); they therefore do not simply store information, but

“create worlds of collective memory” (my translation, Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 6) which always

entail a trace of the medium itself. Furthermore, they trigger cultural memory processes (see

Erll, Memory in Culture 128). I will focus on the characteristics of different kinds of media and

compare two works each of graphic novels and picture books. In addition, I take a look at

paintings and prints by Roger Shimomura which are so rich and diverse that many of his works

will be compared to one another.9

Here, I take Astrid Erll’s statement that “[c]ultural memory is based on communication

through media” (“Mediality” 389; see also “Literatur” 251) as a starting point. I want to stress

one specific characteristic of the media: their visuality. In my definition, graphic novels, picture

books, paintings and prints are ‘primarily visual’ media, stressing that they are visual, but surely

not purely visual.10 What is special about these media of cultural memory is that their visuality

is used to give access to and overcome the story of the Japanese American incarceration. I want

to accentuate the ability of images to help people cope with traumata and look at what role

visuality plays in the remembrance and storytelling of certain events. However, in these

9 I will go into detail about why I chose these media later in this introduction. 10 By calling them ‘visual media,’ I seemingly oppose W.J.T. Mitchell’s argument that “all media are […] ‘mixed-

media’” (“Visual Media” 257; see also Picture Theory 5; see Grishakova/Ryan, Intermediality and Storytelling for

a discussion of the term ‘intermediality’). Nevertheless, I take this argument into consideration by adding

‘primarily’ to the term: these media are certainly not purely visual (and I agree that this is hardly possible), but it

is their visuality that I focus on and that I want to point out.

6

different media I will also take a look at the way in which text is employed and what role it has

in the specific media.

I combine the theories of cultural memory (Aleida Assmann, Jan Assmann, Astrid Erll),

cultural trauma (Jeffrey C. Alexander et al.) and narrative identity (Jerome Bruner, Douglas

Ezzy, Margaret Somers) to establish how narratives operate in these specific media. I apply

these theories to shed light on how media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese American

incarceration function, how they act as reminders and help to work through a trauma. I

contribute to and expand research on cultural memory and cultural trauma, specifically refining

Alison Landsberg’s theory of prosthetic memory, Michael Rothberg’s theory of

multidirectional memory and incorporating Marianne Hirsch’s idea of a postmemory. I will

answer, amongst others, the following questions: What narrative strategies do these media of

cultural memory use? What function do they have? What role do visual elements play in

narratives about the Japanese American incarceration produced after the Redress Movement?

In which way are fact and fiction employed in these narratives? How do these media evoke

feelings of empathy and belonging?

With my clear focus on what role visuality plays in memory processes and in working

through a trauma, I add to the study of cultural memory, which has until now mainly focused

on the study of literature as a medium of cultural memory (see e.g. Erll, “Literatur”; Neumann,

Erinnerung; Neumann, “Literatur”; Neumann/Nünning 4). I concur with Marita Sturken, who

argues that “memory is […] also produced by and through images” (Tangled 11). However, it

is precisely this that is lacking from the scholarship around cultural memory: a focus on

primarily visual media11 of cultural memory’s capability of telling stories, to narrate a specific

event of the past.

I oppose Marie-Laure Ryan, who argues that “[t]he storytelling potential of a medium

is directly proportional to the importance and versatility of its language component”

(“Narration”). First of all, visuals such as panels in a graphic novel, illustrations in a picture

11 Two exceptions in regard to the Japanese American incarceration are Elena Tajima Creef’s Imaging Japanese

American: The Visual Construction of Citizenship, Nation, and the Body (2004) and Ingrid Gessner’s From Sites

of Memory to Cybersights: (Re)Framing Japanese American Experiences (2005). Creef focuses on how mainly

visual media depict Japanese Americans as “enemy aliens, model minorities, and an idealized notion of white

American citizenship” (7) throughout time; Gessner focuses on representations of the Japanese American

incarceration in museums and their virtual counterparts such as online exhibitions or virtual archives. While both

add interesting aspects to the study of the Japanese American incarceration in visual representations, I am more

interested in the way in which primarily visual media of cultural memory narrate the story of the incarceration and

in what functions and effects they have. Furthermore, I want to stress the trauma of the incarceration and its effects

on people who did not experience the incarceration themselves.

7

book or paintings and prints make the invisible visible – in this case the Japanese American

incarceration. The primary sources analyzed in the following are not only able to tell the story

of the Japanese American incarceration, but through the usage of visual elements enable

recipients to gain access to the memory and the trauma of the incarceration. While there may

not be a clear narrative structure as defined by literary scholars, I will show that primarily visual

media translate stories with the help of narrative strategies, be they points of view, usage of

colors or symbols, to name just a few. In particular, symbols play an important role when

considering their role in media of cultural memory: I will show that reoccurring symbols and

visual markers of the Japanese American incarceration trigger memories of former incarcerees

and enable recipients to realize the conditions of life in an incarceration camp.12

Secondly, visuals can help in the process of overcoming a (cultural) trauma, both for the

recipients and the producers of these media of cultural memory. I here follow Astrid Böger,

who states that graphic narratives “fulfill a […] therapeutic function” (“Silence” 605; see also

“Literatur” 558) when they depict a traumatic event of the past. While I also include graphic

novels in my analysis, I take her thoughts about the graphic form even further and suggest that

this “curative” (Böger, “Silence” 605) function is a part of how visuality helps to overcome or

at least deal with a trauma. The primary sources do not simply depict but offer ways to cope

with the trauma by bringing to the front that which is unspeakable and cannot be communicated

with language. Thus, these media of cultural memory do not only have a therapeutic function

for their producers, but also for the recipients. They are faced with a trauma other people suffer

from which enables them to work through their own personal or cultural traumata.

Furthermore, I will focus on the aspect of how these narratives told in media of cultural

memory encourage the recipients to empathize with Japanese Americans and other minority

groups; this aspect has been neglected in trauma studies. The primary sources that I will analyze

in the following have a clear educational function that is not only aimed at spreading knowledge

but engages the recipients and asks them to feel with members of the Japanese American

community shown on paper or canvas. These people depicted symbolize the Japanese American

community as such – recipients learn about what they faced during the Second World War and

can use this knowledge when looking at experiences of other minority groups, as well. By

12 Media such as graphic novels, picture books, paintings and prints are also created for aesthetic reasons:

producers use a specific style and recipients may approach their works because they like this style or design.

Undeniably, aesthetics also play a role in media of cultural memory – however, when analyzing these media, I

mainly do not focus on aesthetics, but rather on their functions as media of cultural memory. My focus is on what

functions media of cultural memory have for the producers and the recipients when it comes to the process of

remembering and working through the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration.

8

combining the concept of belonging with the theory of narrative identity, I will demonstrate

that narratives that thematize cultural traumata do not only stabilize identities of specific groups,

but also create a more common union by making people feel that they belong together. In this

way, they are more likely to work for a future in which similar events are prevented from

happening again.

Many scholars focusing on the Japanese American incarceration in their research refrain

from looking at media of cultural memory produced outside of the Japanese American

community. I aim to change this and focus mainly on media of cultural memory produced by

non-Japanese Americans since their works can shed significant light on the way in which the

cultural memory of the Japanese American incarceration is a part of US cultural memory in

general. I am interested in the way in which these works depict and represent the incarceration

and which narrative strategies they use. As a means of comparison and because their importance

is undeniable, I also include works produced by Japanese Americans to see if and how the

various producers’ ethnicity and prior experiences have an influence on the way the

incarceration is depicted.

The overall focus is on post-redress works, media of cultural memory that have been

produced after 1988, giving an insight into the way in which the Redress Movement has

influenced the production of works dealing with the Japanese American incarceration. Contrary

to what was assumed by many, the Redress Movement did not at all mark an ending point of

the memorialization of the Japanese American incarceration. It will become clear that many

media of cultural memory dealing with the Japanese American incarceration have not only been

produced after the paying of reparations, but also use specific narrative strategies as they have

been produced by those who did not experience the Japanese American incarceration

themselves. My analysis of these media of cultural memory shows the immense influence of

the incarceration on the Japanese American community as such and on American society, in

general. This focus on recently produced works enables access to the transgenerational cultural

trauma of the Japanese American incarceration, the way it is worked through by later

generations of the Japanese American community and looked at by non-Japanese Americans.

On the whole, I reflect on American society and racism, particularly in times in which

the US as such felt and feels threatened – be it the attack on Pearl Harbor, 9/11 or other events

in which so-called American values were or are seemingly under attack. Nevertheless, I also

want to stress that racism and discrimination of Japanese Americans was already existent prior

9

to the Second World War which becomes apparent when looking at historical events. Despite

having been told in a number of historical narratives and academic works, I will here now add

my own perspective. While I am aware of my own interpretation here – my telling of the story

of the Japanese American incarceration – I point out the events that are important for this

dissertation.13

Whereas the US government at the time argued that the decision to incarcerate Japanese

American had to be made in a short amount of time because of ‘military necessity,’14 looking

at the time prior to World War II shows that racism towards Japanese Americans already started

shortly after the first Japanese immigrants arrived in the US and played an immense role in the

decision to incarcerate Japanese Americans. Japanese immigration to the United States began

in the 1890s: many Japanese immigrated to Hawaii or the West Coast of the United States to

find work. There they formed the first generation of immigrants, referred to by the Japanese

term ‘Issei.’15 Because many Issei were successful farmers, they were seen as competition by

the American population, particularly in California. 16 Soon, the Issei had to face racist

sentiments that were also expressed in discriminatory laws: in 1908, Japan and the United States

agreed to decrease the number of Japanese immigrants allowed to enter the US in the so-called

‘Gentlemen’s Agreement,’ Japanese immigrants were denied to gain American citizenship and

13 Many scholars have dedicated their research to historical aspects of the Japanese American incarceration during

the Second World War. Because of their extensive works that look at the incarceration from various perspectives,

I will here only summarize the main points that are needed for a general understanding of the historical events.

Where necessary, I will go into detail about specific points when discussing them in the course of this dissertation.

Most of the historical background described here is derived from the works of well-known scholars of the Japanese

American incarceration coming from different fields and backgrounds such as history, law, American Studies or

Asian American Studies, for example Roger Daniels, Lane Ryo Hirabayashi, Karen Inouye, Tetsuden Kashima,

Lisa Lowe, Eric Muller or Greg Robinson. Brian Niiya’s Encyclopedia of Japanese American History: An A-to-Z

Reference from 1868 to the Present, Wendy Ng’s Japanese American Internment during World War II: A History

and Reference Guide and Gary Y. Okihiro’s Encyclopedia of Japanese American Internment deliver starting points

for research about the Japanese American incarceration and can particularly be used when researching key aspects.

I provide information about where to look for a detailed analysis of specific aspects in the footnotes. Furthermore,

in the course of this dissertation, I make use of a number of original documents, photographs and interviews with

former incarcerees that can be found in “Densho: The Japanese American Legacy Project” and other (online)

archives, which give researchers access to a plethora of viewpoints. 14 Many scholars speak up against this argument, for example Greg Robinson in his By Order of the President:

FDR and the Internment of Japanese Americans, Tetsuden Kashima in Judgment without Trial: Japanese

American Imprisonment during World War II or Eric Muller in American Inquisition: The Hunt for Japanese

American Disloyalty in World War II (see also e.g. Niiya, “Military Necessity”; Okihiro, “Military Necessity”). 15 The Japanese affix -sei is used to count generations of Japanese Americans: together with the Japanese words

for one, two, three, etc. the Japanese language words for first generation, second generation, third generation, etc.

can be built (Issei, Nisei, Sansei, etc.). Japanese who immigrated to the US after World War II are known as ‘Shin-

Issei’ (in Japanese, ‘shin’ means ‘new’). 16 Many Chinese immigrants had had to face racism as well – anti-Asian sentiments were widespread at the time

(see e.g. Hatamiya 8; Ngai 37).

At around the same time, the term ‘yellow peril,’ a racist idea that stated that Asian immigrants were a threat to

the Western world, gained in power (see e.g. Niiya, “Yellow”; Okihiro, “Yellow”).

10

they were only allowed to take up certain jobs. In 1924, the US Immigration Act halted Japanese

immigration altogether. Considering that there was only a small number of Japanese immigrants

in the US,17 this ban on immigration can only be explained by racist ways of thinking and a fear

of competition. After the introduction of the 1913 and 1920 California Alien Land Laws, the

Issei could not own property. Furthermore, Asian immigrants could not become naturalized

citizens.

The United States declared war on Japan after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in December

1941, which had a decisively negative influence on the situation of Japanese Americans living

on the West Coast of the US. Many Issei, mainly male, were arrested shortly after the attack on

Pearl Harbor because officials assumed that they were loyal to Japan. These arrests were

administered according to the so-called ‘ABC-list’ that had been provided by the US Justice

Department to single out important people in the Japanese American community prior to the

war. This fact alone shows racist tendencies towards Japanese immigrants and the Japanese

American community. Based on their status and influence in the Japanese American community

as well as their contact with Japan, the FBI and other governmental institutions classified the

Issei and used this list to justify the immediate arrest of approximately 2,000 Issei “under the

guise of national security” (Womack 4; see also Greg Robinson, Order 75). They were taken

to detention camps administered by the Justice Department and their families were not even

informed about their whereabouts. They were sent there for an undetermined time that

sometimes lasted as long as the Second World War. Furthermore, shortly after the attack on

Pearl Harbor, the Treasury Department froze all bank accounts of Japanese immigrants;

Japanese Americans’ homes were searched and cameras, radios, guns and other objects18

confiscated; additionally, all Japanese Americans were considered ‘enemy aliens’ by the

military. They also had to face racist attacks and anti-Japanese propaganda that did not

distinguish between Japanese nationals and Americans of Japanese ancestry.

Even though the sons and daughters of the Issei, the so-called Nisei19 (mostly born

between 1910 and 1940), were US citizens since they had been born on US soil, they were

subjected to the same suspicions as the Issei. On February 19, 1942, President Roosevelt issued

17 According to a census in 1940, 126,948 Japanese Americans, a third of which were of the first generation, lived

on the US mainland with the majority in California (see Daniels, Concentration 1; Muller, American 9). At the

time, the US had a population of 131,669,275 (see “About the 1940 Census”). 18 Japanese American families also destroyed many of their possessions that could potentially make them seem

suspicious: Japanese swords, family letters and photographs, etc. (see Greg Robinson, Tragedy 62). 19 Amongst them were also the Kibei, Japanese Americans who were born on American soil, but were educated in

Japan (around 11,000 in 1941 [see Muller, American 13]).

11

Executive Order 9066.20 It created the legal means to remove the Japanese American population

from the West Coast,21 even though the Japanese American community was not named. The

Nisei made up roughly two-thirds of those that were to be incarcerated, meaning that a majority

of incarcerated Japanese Americans were US citizens singled out for their being of a specific

ancestry. As many historical sources agree, the real reason for the incarceration of Japanese

Americans can be found in racist sentiments that I just described (see e.g. Daniels,

Concentration 31/32; Harth, “Introduction” 3; Ng 27; Okihiro, “Introduction” xi). After

military exclusion zones were established and an initial ‘voluntary’ resettlement program failed,

Japanese Americans living on the West Coast were asked to leave their houses within weeks,22

sometimes even days, and bring only a few possessions, meaning that they had to sell or give

away most of what they owned and what they defined their lives with.

At first, the Japanese Americans were taken to so-called assembly centers, in most cases

former racetracks that offered little privacy and overall questionable living conditions.23 After

a few weeks, they were taken to incarceration camps, referred to as ‘relocation centers’ at the

time. Whereas the first step of the incarceration was executed by the US military, the WRA

took control in March 1942. It was a civilian organization established in March 1942, which

was responsible for the construction and organization of these more permanent incarceration

camps. The ten WRA incarceration camps housed a total of 119,803 Japanese Americans (see

20 This order was strongly supported by Lieutenant General John L. DeWitt, head of the Western Defense

Command, who had already in December 1941 proposed the “removal of all ‘alien subjects’ […] to the interior of

the United States” (Maki/Kitano/Berthold 28). He became one of the key figures for the Japanese American

incarceration and was responsible for the implementation of Executive Order 9066 on the West Coast. 21 Because most Japanese Americans lived on the West Coast and in Hawaii, Japanese Americans living further

East were not considered a threat and were not forced to relocate.

Japanese Americans living in Hawaii were mostly not sent to incarceration camps: as Paul Spickard argues, they

“were too important to the Hawaiian economy” (Japanese 109; see also Greg Robinson, Order 157) since they

made up “37.3 percent […] of the islands’ population” (Ng 23). Additionally, Hawaii was not directly under the

command of General DeWitt. General Delos Emmon, commanding general in Hawaii, realized that the

incarceration of Hawaiian Japanese Americans “would cripple many industries needed for the war effort” (Murray

8). Nevertheless, martial law was declared soon after the attack on Pearl Harbor and remained in effect until

October 1944 (see Kashima 69; Okihiro, “Martial Law” 108/109) giving the military all governmental power. 22 There was some resistance to the order with the most prominent example being Fred Korematsu, who opposed

the Exclusion Order and challenged it in court in 1944 together with Min Yasui and Gordon Hirabayashi (who had

also resisted the US government). The US Supreme Court upheld the constitutionality of the Executive Order. In

1983, Korematsu challenged the decision again in a coram nubis case – his conviction was vacated. Fred

Korematsu has become a symbol for resistance during the incarceration. Since 2011, ‘Fred Korematsu Day’ is

celebrated in California. For more information, see e.g. Harth; Ng’s chapter “Legal Challenges to the Evacuation

and Internment” in her Japanese American Internment during World War II: A History and Reference Guide;

Okihiro, “Korematsu.” 23 For details, see e.g. Okihiro, “Assembly Centers” 219-228; Greg Robinson, Order 129.

The National JACL Power of Words II Committee recommends the usage of the term ‘temporary detention

centers’ for these facilities (11).

12

Daniels, Concentration 104) 24 and were situated in California, Arizona, Utah, Wyoming,

Colorado and Arkansas in remote areas far away from any cities; the largest was Tule Lake in

California in which up to 18,789 incarcerees lived. The incarceration camps were built on

federal property (Manzanar, California; Granada, Colorado; Topaz, Utah), former Native

American Reservations (Gila River, Arizona; Poston, Arizona), on federal reclamation projects

(Tule Lake, California; Minidoka, Idaho; Heart Mountain, Wyoming) and on land owned by

the Farm Security Administration (Jerome, Arkansas; Rohwer, Arkansas). All of the

incarceration camps were surrounded by barbed wire and guarded from watchtowers; the

incarcerees lived in barracks that had been hastily built. At the incarceration camps, the living

conditions25 were only slightly better than they had been in the assembly centers: incarcerees

were given food and housing; they received medical care and education, but privacy was limited

to just a few square meters for every family. Furthermore, incarcerees could earn some money

by working in the immediate vicinity of the incarceration camps, but generally received less

money than the non-Japanese staff working there. Being incarcerated behind barbed wire

changed the way in which the generations of Japanese Americans dealt with one another: family

structures broke down as food was provided in communal mess halls and many Issei women26

had less housework to do, Issei men lost their status as leaders in the community and many of

the young Nisei started to revolt against their parents and to participate in gang activity.

In the beginning, incarcerees were only allowed to leave the incarceration camps short-

term to work for local farmers or to collect materials for landscaping. This changed with the so-

called ‘Loyalty Questionnaire’ of 1943, which was part of the ‘Application for Leave

Clearance.’ With this, the US government wanted to determine if and how loyal the Japanese

Americans were. After being checked by the FBI, some Japanese Americans were allowed to

leave the incarceration camps long-term to work or to study but were not allowed to return to

the West Coast.

24 The total number varies when looking at different sources – all estimates are between 110,000 and 120,000.

Additionally, around 7,000 Japanese Americans were placed in “internment camps run by the Department of

Justice and the U.S. Army” (Burton et al., Confinement 379; see also Okihiro’s Encyclopedia for a list and

description of all these camps). 2,264 Japanese Latin Americans were deported from Peru and other countries and

incarcerated by the United States as well (see e.g. Ng 51-53; Niiya/Quemuel). 25 For a detailed description of the conditions in the incarceration camps, see e.g. Okihiro, “War Relocation

Authority Camps” 251-283 and entries in Brian Niiya’s Encyclopedia of Japanese American History: An A-to-Z

Reference from 1868 to the Present. 26 For an analysis of the meaning of the mess hall during the incarceration, see Heidi Kathleen Kim’s article

“Incarceration, Cafeteria Style: The Politics of the Mess Hall in the Japanese American Incarceration.”

For a detailed description of how life changed for Japanese American women, see John Howard’s “Gendered

Spaces” in his Concentration Camps on the Home Front: Japanese Americans in the House of Jim Crow.

13

The Loyalty Questionnaire was also important for the military.27 After answering all

questions in the correct manner, young Nisei could volunteer for the US military in a segregated

unit and leave the incarceration camps. They became members of the 442nd Regimental Combat

Team and the 100th Infantry Battalion together with Hawaiian Japanese Americans, two of the

most decorated units of the US.28 The Nisei, who had just left incarceration camps where they

were placed because of their ancestry, fought for the country that had put them behind barbed

wire. With this, they tried to prove their loyalty to the US and show that they were Americans

and not – as many assumed from their looks – Japanese, stressing the immense pressure that

US society put on minority groups. Even though they had been incarcerated for no reason but

their ancestry, the Nisei still tried to fit into US society and present themselves as Americans

fighting for their country.

Tule Lake, as the incarceration camp with the highest number of Japanese Americans

who gave the ‘wrong’ answers or who refused to answer the Loyalty Questionnaire, became a

segregated incarceration camp for those Japanese Americans deemed ‘disloyal’; ‘disloyal’

Japanese Americans and their families from other incarceration camps were moved there.

Because they stood up for their constitutional rights, these people were separated from those

that the US government considered loyal. Conditions at Tule Lake were even harsher than in

the other incarceration camps, martial law was declared and remained in effect until 1944

meaning that the Japanese Americans were watched much more closely.

In December 1944, the Exclusion Order was lifted, but it was only in 1946 that all the

incarceration camps were closed down. In the beginning of 1945, around 80,000 Japanese

Americans were still in the incarceration camps; with the WRA’s resettlement program they

were encouraged to move to areas with only a small population of Japanese Americans showing

that the government tried to discourage the development of Japanese American communities.

All in all, “about 50,000 Japanese Americans [moved to] areas away from the West Coast [and]

[r]oughly 57,000 returned to the West Coast” (Okihiro, “Resettlement” 162). All incarcerees

received so-called relocation allowance of $25 for individuals and $50 for families. All

possessions, homes and businesses lost are “estimated to be worth […] 4 to 5 billion dollars”

27 Particularly decisive in the Loyalty Questionnaire were questions 27 and 28 which essentially asked the Japanese

Americans whether they were willing to fight in the US Army and whether they swore allegiance to the US – these

questions led to conflicts amongst the Japanese Americans (for details, see e.g. Greg Robinson, Order 181). 28 For details, see e.g. Niiya, “442nd”; Ng 62-67; Okihiro, “442nd”. Because of their knowledge of Japanese, some

of the Kibei worked for the Military Intelligence Service (MIS) and helped translate documents for the US Army

(see e.g. Muller, American 14). Japanese American women also volunteered for serving the US military in the

Women’s Army Corps.

14

(Burton et al., Confinement 1). No matter where the Japanese Americans moved, they had to

struggle to find housing and work; they faced open racism and distrust in the years after the

Second World War. But it was not only the economic losses that influenced the Japanese

American community. Many Issei and Nisei tried to forget what they had experienced and, for

a long time, did not share their history with their children; many tried to return to a ‘normal’

life. For a few years the Japanese American incarceration was barely talked about. In 1952, an

Immigration Act was passed, which ended Asian exclusion formally and gave, amongst others,

Japanese the right to become US citizens. This act has been highly debated and has been

considered a part of US policy during the Cold War.

In the 1960s and 1970s social movements started. Because of their similar demands for

racial equality and social justice, Asian Americans worked together with other minority groups.

As part of the Asian American Movement in the 1970s, many Sansei (third-generation Japanese

Americans) started to become interested in what their parents and grandparents had gone

through during World War II. They began to organize annual pilgrimages to the incarceration

camps and demanded that the government acknowledge the incarceration as a mistake.

Consequently, in 1980, the Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment of Civilians

(CWRIC) was appointed and published its findings in a report called ‘Personal Justice Denied’

in 1982. This report was based on over 750 publicly held and televised hearings in which many

Japanese Americans spoke about the incarceration for the first time. Following this report, the

Civil Liberties Act of 198829 was established and approved by US Congress. It stated that the

Japanese American incarceration was based on “race prejudice, war hysteria, and a failure of

political leadership” (Okihiro, “Civil” 18; see also Greg Robinson, Order 251); former

incarcerees received 20,000$ and a formal apology from President Bush two years after.

In her book Rightlessness: Testimony and Redress in U.S. Prison Camps since World

War II, A. Naomi Paik argues that “[r]edress enabled the United States to situate internment as

an unfortunate mistake, as the exception that proves the rule that [US Americans] are, in fact,

loyal to our deepest values” (21), a reading that I agree with. Redress forced the US government

to, on the one hand, admit guilt, but, on the other hand, it provided the means to show that US

policy was overall anti-racist and that US values were worth fighting for. As I have shown in

the beginning of this introduction, the Japanese American incarceration is not an isolated

29 Its official name is ‘HR 442’ honoring former members of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team.

15

occurrence: it is one of many stories of racism, discrimination, forced relocation and

incarceration in US history.

While the payment of reparations can be seen as an ending point to the experiences of

Japanese Americans during World War II, the incarceration is still widely remembered and

commemorated by the Japanese American community and in parts by US society. Roughly 75

years after World War II, eyewitnesses will sooner or later be gone, a fact that is often stressed

by those who fight for the memory of World War II as such and the Japanese American

incarceration in particular to be kept alive. Some of the sites of former incarceration camps have

been turned into National Historic Sites, numerous museums give people access to the history

of the Japanese American incarceration through photographs, replicas of barracks, furniture and

other objects taken from the incarceration camps; pilgrimages to former incarceration camps

are organized on a yearly basis; the 75th anniversary of President Roosevelt’s signing Executive

Order 9066 has been used as a warning concerning current US governmental actions; academic

papers and fictional texts have been published about the incarceration and have partly become

‘bestsellers.’ Surprisingly for some, the time after the Redress Movement has seen the

production and establishment of a large number of reminders of the Japanese American

incarceration. Despite these forms of memorialization, many members of the American society

are still not aware of what happened in the US – something which the Japanese American

community and activists aim to change.

As will become clear in the course of this dissertation, the Japanese American

community seeks to point out the importance of the Japanese American incarceration in US

history by connecting Japanese American experiences with other minority groups’ experiences

in the US in the past and nowadays. A result of their endeavors to making this topic more known

is the terminology that is still in a process of change: people have been encouraged to use

‘Japanese American incarceration’ instead of ‘Japanese American internment’ in the last years.

I agree that it is the term ‘incarceration’ which correctly conveys the actions of the US

government as well as the conditions in the camps, even though many historical sources still

use the weaker term ‘internment.’

The question of a hyphen in between ‘Japanese’ and ‘American’ is of importance here.

Sylvia Junko Yanagisako points out that a hyphen hints at a division between the two (see v;

see also Gessner xv) – I therefore follow her advice to use the un-hyphenated version ‘Japanese

American’ to clarify that I am talking about Americans of Japanese ancestry. The focus in this

16

dissertation clearly is on the experiences of Americans – be they born in the US or long-term

residents of the US who were denied US citizenship simply because they were of Japanese

ancestry. In agreement with Mae M. Ngai I use “Japanese American […] as shorthand for all

Japanese […] in America” (xx), indicating their belonging to different generations or their being

Japanese or US citizens only when necessary. Occasionally, I may use the Japanese term

‘Nikkei’ that describes any person of Japanese ancestry living outside of Japan and that is also

commonly employed by the Japanese American community.

While the term ‘internment’ is often used, there are problems with it. ‘Internment’ is

internationally used to describe the imprisonment of an enemy during war times, a prisoner of

war. Thus, by definition, the term can only be used in connection with non-citizens (see Howard

15; National JACL 10; Greg Robinson, Tragedy vii).30 Since the majority of the Japanese

Americans in the incarceration camps were Nisei and thereby US citizens, this term cannot be

used when talking about their experiences. Consequently, I have decided to follow the National

JACL Power of Words II Committee recommendations from 2013 where applicable: the

committee argues for using the terms “forced removal” (9), “incarceration” (10) and

“incarceration camp” (11; see also Maki/Kitano/Berthold 4/5; “Terminology”). The term

‘incarceration’ captures “the prison-like conditions faced by Japanese Americans” (National

JACL 10) more than any other term does.

Further terms for the Japanese American incarceration can also be found in a number of

works about the experiences of Japanese Americans and are just as worthy of a short discussion,

particularly the terms ‘concentration camp’ and ‘relocation center.’ The latter, often debated

amongst scholars, was one of the terms used by the US government, which has been considered

part of their “euphemistic language to control public perceptions of the forced removal of

Japanese American citizens from their West Coast homes” (National JACL 7; see also Ng xiv).

Despite this fact some historians still use this term as it is arguably “most common in the

historical records and may reflect the contemporary subjective context” (Burton et al.,

Confinement 18). However, it “implies a moral neutrality” (Spickard, Japanese 118) that I

disagree with. Other euphemistic terms such as ‘evacuation’ “sounded like [the Japanese

Americans] were being rescued from some kind of disaster” (National JACL 7; see also Howard

30 In case of the camps run by the Department of Justice, one could argue for referring to them as ‘internment

camps’ since only Japanese Americans of the first generation (holding a Japanese passport) were held there.

17

14; Okihiro, “Evacuation”; Spickard, Japanese 118), something which I definitely do not wish

to imply.

Roger Daniels strongly argues for the usage of the term ‘concentration camp,’ since

politicians at the time referred to concentration camps. He believes that only this term really

brings across what these facilities were (see “Words,” Part 5). Furthermore, Paul Spickard

points out that “the term is technically correct and goes back to the concentration camps run by

Britain in South Africa during the Boer War” (Japanese 118). Nevertheless, today’s

connotation of the term recalls images of Nazi death camps during the Second World War,

especially for German citizens.31 In this context, it should be noted that there is a definitive

difference between these two kinds of camps, as one of the most well-known scholars of the

Japanese American experiences during World War II, Greg Robinson, also points out (see

Order 261). While the conditions in Japanese American incarceration camps in the US were

certainly harsh, they cannot be compared to those many people faced in Europe. I therefore

refrain from using the term concentration camp when describing the experiences of Japanese

Americans.

For me, using the term ‘incarceration’ is the right approach when referring to the history

of Japanese American forced removal and imprisonment during World War II. This term has

become more and more popular in the Japanese American community and amongst historians

realizing that the long-standing phrase of ‘the Japanese American internment’ may not describe

the Japanese American experiences during World War II appropriately (see Greg Robinson,

Order 261) and should be replaced by the term ‘Japanese American incarceration.’32

This dissertation is divided into four main chapters. Chapter I focuses on the theoretical

background and gives an insight into theories of cultural memory, cultural trauma and narrative

identity. The following three chapters of this dissertation deal with graphic novels (Chapter II),

picture books (Chapter III), paintings and prints (Chapter IV) as media of cultural memory. In

each chapter, I will first formulate a main argument about these media of cultural memory and

take a close look at how graphic novels, picture books as well as paintings and prints

respectively convey memories and traumata. I will then analyze panels taken from the graphic

novels, illustrations from the picture books as well as paintings and prints. The dissertation ends

31 Nazi death camps were technically speaking not concentration camps, as pointed out in Densho

(“Terminology”). 32 When quoting from additional sources, I will keep the authors’ own choice of words, not wishing to diminish

their reasoning for other terminology.

18

with a conclusion, which gives an overview of what has been discussed and which compares

the results of the chapters; additionally, an outlook onto possible future research in the realm of

this topic is provided.

These different kinds of primary sources give an insight into the way in which cultural

memory makes use of different channels of communication. While a picture book has a

seemingly clear audience, i.e. children, the audience of graphic novels, paintings and prints is

more diverse. In all cases the media are not only made for members of the Japanese American

community but aim to inform people who are unaware of what happened in the US during the

Second World War, as will be shown. The Japanese American incarceration has often been

used as a point of comparison for non-Japanese Americans contrasting it with their own lives

and experiences or other histories of incarceration. Furthermore, the mere fact that the

incarceration is not only remembered in the Japanese American community, but has a

widespread authorship and audience, shows that the Japanese American incarceration is an

event that has become part of US cultural memory. In addition, I will focus on the way in which

the producers of the various media of cultural memory were affected by the incarceration. I will

also consider the question of whether their families had been incarcerated as I am interested in

the effect this might have had on their choice of works, on the one hand, and how they present

the incarceration to an audience, on the other hand.

In Chapter II, I will take a look at the two graphic novels Take What You Can Carry

(Kevin C. Pyle, 2012) and Gaijin: American Prisoner of War (Matt Faulkner, 2014). The focus

is placed on the graphic novel, a relatively new medium that incorporates both visuals and text.

These two graphic novels are recent productions about the Japanese American incarceration

written by non-Japanese Americans who show readers what happened during World War II

through an outside perspective. Matt Faulkner and Kevin C. Pyle were not personally affected

by the incarceration. This fact makes them interesting examples of producers of cultural

memory outside of the Japanese American community. They mix fact and fiction, thus creating

works that can be read by both adults and children interested in the Japanese American

incarceration in general.

Secondly, the picture books So Far from the Sea (Eve Bunting, 1998) and Fish for

Jimmy (Katie Yamasaki, 2013) are discussed in Chapter III. Picture books have a clearly

defined audience, children, and are usually produced to teach this audience. Interestingly, these

two works also mix fact and fiction and may also be read by adults. The time period in which

19

the two picture books were produced shows that the incarceration has played an important role

both shortly after the Redress Movement and nowadays. The fourth-generation Japanese

American Katie Yamasaki, author and illustrator of Fish for Jimmy, builds her story on family

history and connects different stories to create a forceful message. In contrast, Eve Bunting is

not of Japanese ancestry, but feels connected to the experiences of immigrants.

Finally, in Chapter IV, I will focus on Roger Shimomura’s paintings and prints. These

are mainly visual media, but in the case of Shimomura’s, also titles and explanations he gives

are important. Having spent some time incarcerated during the Second World War as a child,

Shimomura produces several prints and paintings dealing with his and the Japanese American

community’s experiences. He had to face questions about his ancestry many times during his

life and has often been identified as a Japanese even though he himself feels like and wants to

be accepted as an American; his identity has been influenced by what happened during the

Second World War and by what non-Japanese Americans think about him. His prints and

paintings were produced for a wide audience with a minority being produced specifically for

children.

I want to pay specific attention to works that were produced by non-Japanese Americans.

While their works are not based on actual memories or on a cultural trauma as that experienced

by many Japanese Americans, with the analysis of their works I enable access to an important

part of US cultural memory. With their works, non-Japanese Americans often connect past and

present; furthermore, they warn of a potential future and turn the story of the Japanese American

incarceration into US cultural memory.

The overall analysis aims to give an insight into how all of these various objects, as

media of cultural memory, focus on the Japanese American incarceration, what the producers

want to achieve with their media and how they narrate the Japanese American incarceration. In

addition, in the analysis, the focus is not only on the media of cultural memory as such, but I

will also take a closer look at different paratexts surrounding these works in order to put them

into context. Paratexts are defined as titles, forewords, afterwords etc. that surround a text (see

Genette). While Gérard Genette developed his ideas about paratexts for printed books, I agree

with many other scholars that this concept can also apply to other media (see Birke/Christ;

Skare). I therefore widen Genette’s definition and make use of paratexts such as interviews

given by the producers and look at the way in which they use these interviews to present

themselves and their works. Social media activity dealing with the producers’ work may also

20

be considered a part of paratexts in the same way that academic texts have given meaning to

the media discussed here. Furthermore, the aspect of remediation, the way in which these media

use previously produced media and symbols of the incarceration and incorporate them in their

storytelling, finds mention. In particular, I will take a look at how producers make use of

original photographs of the incarceration experience. They adapt these in their style, but use

them to show that their stories are based on real-life experiences, documented at the time of the

incarceration.

With this study, I want to show that media of cultural memory enable access to the past

and can warn about the risks of history repeating itself. They do so not only by providing facts

of a historical event, but also by making use of a number of narrative strategies. I aim to show

that it is specifically the way in which fact and fiction as well as text and image are employed

through which a connection between past, present and future becomes clear.

CHAPTER I. THEORETICAL BACKGROUND: Cultural Memory,

Cultural Trauma and Narrative Identity

In this chapter, I explore and find links between the theories of cultural memory, cultural trauma

and narrative identity. In order to underline these links, I will give an insight into these three

theories and show how my work aligns with or is different from them. I will focus on three

main aspects: on how groups of people remember events of the past, on how traumata are not

only individual, but can also be collective, and on how events of the past are narrated. The

combination of these aspects brings me to my argument about the Japanese American

incarceration: media of cultural memory give access to the story of the Japanese American

incarceration. Producers of these works, on the one hand, can work through their (personal or

cultural) trauma of the incarceration and stabilize their own identity. They do so by putting

together their story (in text and image) that have been fragmented by a traumatic experience,

be it personal or cultural. On the other hand, these media of cultural memory give recipients

access to a story they may not be aware of – through these stories, they are able to empathize

with the Japanese American community, understand the struggles of minority groups in US

society and thereby feel more closely connected to them. This brings not only past, present and

future closer together, but also enables a feeling of belonging amongst those accessing these

stories.

21

In the first section (I.1), I focus on cultural memory, postmemory, prosthetic memory,

multidirectional memory and, most importantly, media of cultural memory. Jan Assmann and

Aleida Assmann’s theory of cultural memory, developed in the 1980s, delivers the basis of my

analysis. It is here combined with a more recent perspective that is based on Astrid Erll’s

research incorporating media. I will also make use of aspects of the following theories:

Marianne Hirsch’s postmemory, Alison Landsberg’s prosthetic memory and Michael

Rothberg’s multidirectional memory. These scholars add important points such as the idea that

media of cultural memory enable recipients to feel with groups of people they have no direct

connection to. In contrast to these scholars, I refrain from coining a new term. While I will take

a look at the three terms and acknowledge their value for the development of theories about

memories, I am certain that the basic idea of cultural memory is what is at play in works

narrating the Japanese American incarceration. It is media of cultural memory through which

people get access to memories that are important for a group of people; these media remind

them of an event of the past that has an influence on their perception of the world, its past,

present and future.

In the second section (I.2), I focus on individual and cultural traumata and the way in

which these are present in communities. Traumata not only affect individuals, but also have an

impact on groups of people, as has been shown by Jeffrey C. Alexander, Ron Eyerman,

Bernhard Giesen, Neil J. Smelser and Piotr Sztompka. Their research is of interest here as it

can be used to explain how the Japanese American community was affected by the incarceration

as a whole and how it has influenced the Japanese American identity. Cultural traumata need

to be represented in order to be coped with and presented to the public.

Storytelling is a key aspect in the last section (I.3) – through media of cultural memory

that narrate a specific traumatic experience, people are able to come to terms with their past but

are also enabled to access the past others experienced. I will pay specific attention to how

primarily visual media can express that which cannot be communicated via language. The

theory of narrative identity (Jerome Bruner, Margaret Somers and others), describing in what

way individuals use storytelling in order to deal with their past, will here be applied to groups

of people: through different media of cultural memory, groups of people narrate their past to a

wide audience and stabilize their identity. I add another aspect to what narratives are capable

of: they can encourage feelings of solidarity and belonging. Therefore, media of cultural

memory have a two-fold function: they help the affected community to overcome the trauma

and stabilize the group’s identity while at the same time they enable others to access a specific

22

story of the past, and to feel with those who suffered. Consequently, a feeling of belonging

amongst a much larger group of people can be achieved. In this way past, present and a potential

future are brought closer together.

In each section, I will take a look at what role these theories play in media of cultural

memory narrating the Japanese American incarceration experience. In this chapter, this will

happen on a mainly theoretical level, while in the analysis that follows in Chapters II through

IV, I will apply and combine the theories and focus on the individual medium’s function and

characteristics.

I.1 Remembering as a Group

The question of whether and how groups of people remember is one that has been highly

debated for a long time in various disciplines such as psychology, sociology, history and

philosophy, to name just a few examples. The discipline of memory studies, which, amongst

others, deals with this question, has become increasingly important throughout the last decades.

Starting with Maurice Halbwachs’s theory from the 1920s, I will shortly go through a number

of theories of memory. I do so not to give a historical overview or summary of all theories of

memory, but to stress those aspects that are important for looking at media of cultural memory

narrating the Japanese American incarceration.

What is important about Halbwachs’s theory in the context of the Japanese American

incarceration is that he was one of the first to even consider a collective memory – something

which is by now common knowledge but was nothing short of revolutionary at the time. He

argued that every kind of memory is influenced by every person’s relation to social groups, so-

called “social milieus” (The Collective Memory 68; see also Erll, Memory in Culture 14-16),

which can be as small as families or as big as whole nations. From this he derived that the

representation of the past in people’s minds is always affected by the present: by feelings,

surroundings and other people; a certainly important aspect for the study of memories until

today. While Halbwachs’s theory implies that collective memories cease to exist once all

members of a group are no longer there, Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann in the 1980s argued

that memories continue to exist longer and are immortalized in objects – objects can trigger

memories of the past. This is what they coined ‘cultural memory,’ one of the keywords that I

want to draw attention to.

23

Aleida Assmann and Jan Assmann consider “living communication crystallized in the

forms of objectivized culture” (J. Assmann, “Collective” 128) as part of a memory, in this case

the memory of a certain culture. The term ‘objectivized culture’ refers to anything that can

literally be touched and that also incorporates a memory of some sort: “texts, images, […]

landmarks and other ‘lieux de mémoire’”33 (J. Assmann, “Globalization” 122). Memory, in this

case, is externalized and turned into an object, for example a statue – these objects are symbols

of the memory since “things do not ‘have’ a memory of their own” (J. Assmann,

“Communicative” 111). In addition, museums, archives or libraries, which are often used to

teach people about certain events of the past, contribute to cultural memory (see J. Assmann,

“Communicative” 111).34 All these objects refer back to an exact date in the past and are

prepared and presented in some way; nowadays by book authors, film makers etc. who create

objects that enable different ways of remembering so that an event of the past stays in people’s

minds.35

Cultural memory can be “transmitted from one generation to another” (J. Assmann,

“Communicative” 111) and therefore memories are much longer existent than Halbwachs had

claimed. This is also because cultural memory creates a feeling of group unity and group

identity – recipients receive “formative and normative impulses from it” (J. Assmann,

“Collective” 128). 36 With the help of these impulses, a group of people may change its

perception of the world and adjust its group consciousness, which already hints at the influence

the past has on the present.

In my definition, the Japanese American incarceration has certainly become part of the

cultural memory of both the Japanese American community and the US, in general. The story

of the Japanese American incarceration is not only told and kept alive orally and within the

community (Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann call this communicative memory37), but also

33 Jan Assmann takes this term from Pierre Nora, who looked at “sites of memory” (Erll, “Introduction” 10 and

Hebel x, e.g.) in the 1980s (see e.g. Erll, Memory in Culture 23-27 for detailed information). 34 Similarly, rituals “are part of cultural memory because they are the form through which cultural meaning is both

handed down and brought to present life” (J. Assmann, Early Civilization 6). 35 For Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann these are specialists who are “separated from everyday life and duties”

(J. Assmann, Early Civilization 39). “These include shamans, bards, and griots, as well as priests, teachers, artists,

clerks, scholars, mandarins, rabbis, mullahs” (J. Assmann, “Communicative” 114); as an Egyptologist, Jan

Assmann here refers to many examples from ancient times. 36 I will go into detail about the aspect of ‘identity’ later in this chapter. 37 Communicative memory encompasses, for Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann, everything that Halbwachs

considered collective memory (see J. Assmann, “Communicative” 111): communicative memory refers to

everyday communications between people who are part of one group and is limited in time. Jan Assmann explains

that communicative memory only goes back eighty to one hundred years, “which equals three or four generations”

(“Collective” 127; see also “Globalization” 122). Thus, communicative memory only goes back to a time frame

24

externally. It has found its way into museums, has been commemorated and has been

acknowledged, amongst others, in novels or academic works. Overall, the theory of cultural

memory developed by Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann is the basis of my research: it can be

used to point out features of media of cultural memory that I will take a closer look at. My

primary sources refer back to a concrete time period, they have been prepared by some sort of

experts and trigger memories of the incarceration.

I oppose Jan Assmann and Aleida Assmann’s assumption that communicative and

cultural memory can so easily be differentiated. Whereas the Japanese American incarceration

ended roughly 75 years ago, and eyewitnesses can still give accounts of what happened, the

story of the incarceration has already been memorialized in institutions such as museums.

Furthermore, media of cultural memory such as graphic novels “broaden the temporal and

spatial range of remembrance” (Erll, “Mediality” 389) of the Japanese American incarceration.

In these media communicative and cultural memory may also mix, for example when an

interview with a former incarceree is incorporated into a documentary film. What is at stake

here is that the Japanese American incarceration is remembered not only on a small scale in the

realm of families or the Japanese American community but on a larger scale finding its way

into US cultural memory.

I base my research on Astrid Erll’s ideas about media of cultural memory, since she is

one of the most influential theorists in the field. Nowadays, media of cultural memory such as

graphic novels, films or picture books play a decisive role in reminding people of an event of

the past maybe more so than museums or memorials do. This is because museums and

memorials are tied to a specific location while media of cultural memory such as the ones

analyzed here can in principal be accessed by anyone and at any time, a fact which gives a

higher number of people access to memories.38 Through these media, collective memory can

come to be – cultural memory is constructed by and with media (see Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 4;

Möckel-Rieke 8/9).

Erll bases her ideas about media of cultural memory on Siegfried J. Schmidt’s concept

of media (see Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 12; Erll, Memory in Culture 121; Schmidt 197/198). First

of all, these media have a material dimension: they are communication tools that externalize

that at least one living member of a group can remember; therefore, “communicative memory comprises memories

related to the recent past” (J. Assmann, Early Civilization 36). 38 What should not be forgotten is the “economic interest in remembering” (159), as pointed out by David

Wertheim. “Newspapers, books, and tickets for museums, films and theatres have to be sold” (Wertheim 159).

25

information relevant for the memory, thus offer ways of storing and circulating memories (see

Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 14; Erll, Memory in Culture 122). These communication tools are not

neutral – if the technology changes, the contents may change as well39 and, generally speaking,

the medium “will leave its trace on the memory it creates” (Erll, “Mediality” 389; see also

Bieger, “Spatial” 19; Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 15; Erll, Memory in Culture 116; Mittell 156;

Neumann, “Inszenierungen” 196). Without a doubt, graphic novels, picture books, paintings

and prints are communication tools and could also be argued either to be used to inform or to

entertain people (see Ryan, “Fact” 75). Each medium uses a specific way of communicating

with the recipients and various narrative strategies that will be dealt with in this study.

Secondly, media of cultural memory have different functions in a social context: they

can help to legitimize or call into question a version of the past, they can create morals and

values in a society and thereby establish a feeling of unity or connect events in the past to what

is happening in the present (see Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 15; Neumann, “Inszenierungen” 197;

Neumann/Nünning 7 and 12). However, “the memory-making role must be attributed to [media

of cultural memory] by specific people, at a specific time and place” (emphasis in original, Erll,

Memory in Culture 124). This can be done both by producers and recipients, “by individuals,

social groups, and societies” (Erll, Memory in Culture 124).

On the one hand, producers may intend their production to be recognized as a medium

of cultural memory which requires the recipient to understand this intention, as well: “[n]ovels

and films must be read and viewed by a community as media of cultural memory” (emphasis

in original, Erll, “Mediality” 395; see also Erll, Memory in Culture 124/125). Depending on

their own experiences and their own history, producers choose a medium that they feel

represents their access to a specific story most appropriately.

On the other hand, recipients can construct a medium of cultural memory simply in that

they understand it to be such, even if producers did not have that intention (see Erll, Memory in

Culture 125). Recipients or the users of media always have a certain perspective and approach

to specific media. Their point of view is impacted by their surroundings and times they live in

(see Erll, “Kompaktbegriff” 19) as well as their own “emotions and moral values” (Schmidt

199). They are also influenced by previous experiences with certain media, which shape the

way they will encounter them. Individuals thus use their personal and collective backgrounds

39 This may remind one of Marshall McLuhan’s idea of “the medium is the message” (7), which he first described

in the 1960s. He describes every medium as an “extension of ourselves” (7). Interestingly, Erll states that “[m]edia

of memory […] can be understood as ‘extensions’ of our organic memories” (Memory in Culture 115).

26

and their knowledge about what certain media are used for; they therefore help to construct

meaning in this process (see Neumann, “Inszenierungen” 196; Schmidt 199). If, for example,

people were to watch a documentary film they would (a) generally assume that this kind of

medium reports something that is based on some true fact; if that documentary film then (b)

states that it depicts an event of the past, people are even more likely to believe in what it states

and construct meaning accordingly.

In the following chapters, I will pay specific attention to the material dimension and the

functions of media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese American incarceration. I want

to complicate theories of cultural memory by looking at the effects of the Japanese American

incarceration on people who did not experience it directly (be they members of at least the

second/third generation of Japanese Americans or people outside of the community).40 Their

approaches to narrating the Japanese American incarceration are just as powerful as narratives

produced by those who experienced the incarceration first-hand or even more powerful as they

also reflect on the time after the incarceration. Thereby, these narratives show that memories of

certain events can have an influence across many more generations and on a much larger scale

than is often assumed.

Marianne Hirsch’s concept of postmemory from 1999, which I consider a form of

transgenerational transfer of memories, is a useful term for the memory of Japanese Americans

who were born after World War II. She uses

the term postmemory to describe the relationship of children of survivors of cultural or collective trauma41

to the experiences of their parents, experiences that they “remember” only as the stories and images with

which they grew up, but that are so powerful, so monumental, as to constitute memories in their own right.

(emphasis in original, Hirsch, “Projected Memory” 8)

Hirsch describes how the second generation of survivors of the Holocaust still suffers

from the experiences their parents had: “Postmemory characterizes the experience of those who

grow up dominated by narratives that preceded their birth” (“Projected Memory” 8). Following

Kaja Silverman’s idea of a ‘heteropathic memory’ that she defines as “feeling and suffering

with the other” (Hirsch, “Projected Memory” 9; see also Hirsch, Generation 86), Hirsch argues

that members of a collectivity feel closely connected to former generations because they feel

that “it could have been me, it was me” (“Projected Memory” 9) and “inscribe [traumatic

experiences] into [their] own life story” (“Projected Memory” 9; see also Hirsch, Generation

40 An exception is Roger Shimomura, who was a small child during the incarceration (see Chapter IV). 41 I will go into detail about traumata in the following section – suffice to say here is that traumata are not only

experienced by individuals, but also have major effects on entire groups of people.

27

5). Nonetheless, these individuals are aware of the fact that they themselves did not suffer from

the trauma themselves: “it was not me” (Hirsch, “Projected Memory” 9). They are therefore

both close and distant to the traumatic event experienced by their parents.

Similarly to Erll, Hirsch considers media an important part in memory processes: she

stresses that “postmemory is mediated not by recall but by imaginative investment, projection,

and creation” (“Interview”). A postmemory requires the recipients to invest time and

imagination. Hirsch argues that postmemory is established especially through photographs:

“camera images, particularly still photographs, are precisely the medium connecting first and

second-generation remembrance, memory and post-memory” (“Projected Memory” 10; see her

Family Frames: Photography, Narrative and Postmemory for an analysis of photographs).42

Photographs allow individuals to take a look at the past from the present; they invite individuals

to construct narratives with the help of the information given by the photograph (see “Projected

Memory” 17; Hirsch/Spitzer). While she is focused solely on photographs, I will make use of

aspects of her theory and look at different media of cultural memory – these may make use of

photographs but are not limited in scope and form.

Memories of the incarceration are still existent after ‘original’ memories cease to exist:

up until today, generations of Japanese Americans still suffer from and carry these memories

with them for their lives. While this hints at the Japanese American incarceration being a

postmemory, I will show that it is even more than that. I will take a look at media of cultural

memory produced by Sansei and Yonsei (fourth-generation Japanese Americans) and even

people who are not part of the Japanese American community. Opposing Hirsch’s focus on the

children of those who went through a traumatic event, I am certain that in the case of the

Japanese American incarceration, the incarceration had such an influence that it is not only part

of the cultural memory of Japanese Americans, but even of non-Japanese Americans. The

trauma therefore has not only been transferred to Japanese Americans, but certainly also has

had an influence on non-Japanese Americans who came across it via storytelling or in

conversation.

Another key element in my argument about the remembrance of the Japanese American

incarceration is that media of cultural memory about the Japanese American incarceration

create empathy in the recipients. This ties in with what Alison Landsberg argues about

‘prosthetic memory’: it “generate[s] empathy” (“Prosthetic Memory” 148), which she defines

42 In Memory in Culture, Erll also looks at photography as a medium of cultural memory (see 134/135).

28

as “feeling for, while feeling different from, the object” (American Remembrance 149).

Prosthetic memories allow a person who did not experience a specific historical event to not

only understand this historical event, but to “take […] on a more personal, deeply felt memory

of a past event through which he or she did not live” (Landsberg, American Remembrance 2).

With the help of prosthetic memory, through representation in media, people feel connected to

a group of people with whom they would usually not feel a connection with (see Landsberg,

American Remembrance 22).

Michael Rothberg’s theory of multidirectional memory hints at the same phenomenon.43

He argues that memories of past events have the “potential to create new forms of solidarity

and new visions of justice” (5) because memories are not the possession of specific groups of

people anymore, but instead are accessible and attainable for everyone. Therefore,

multidirectional memories allow people to see connections between different groups of people

they could not see before – which, I will show, is true for the remembrance of the Japanese

American incarceration. It is not only remembered by the Japanese American community but

has found its way into US cultural memory. There, it does not necessarily compete with, but

stands side by side with other important memories in US society, particularly memories of

minority groups whose members were also discriminated against or had to face racism at one

point in time.

The encounter with prosthetic memory has several consequences. On the one hand,

Landsberg claims that prosthetic memory “has the ability to shape [a] person’s subjectivity and

politics” (American Remembrance 2). Therefore, prosthetic memories have an effect on the

individual who is faced with it. In contrast to Hirsch though, Landsberg does not argue that

these individuals experience a trauma. The trauma might have become “imaginable, thinkable,

and speakable” (Landsberg, American Remembrance 139) but recipients do not suffer from this

trauma. They, rather, take this memory as a starting point to take political action and understand

their role in the world. Landsberg stresses that people still “remember their position in the

contemporary moment” (American Remembrance 9) – they feel with the group of people, but

do not feel as if they were a part of it. For Landsberg, this is a highly positive effect and one

which cannot only evoke empathy, but also “enable[s] ethical thinking” (American

Remembrance 149; see also Erll, “Traumatic Pasts” 3). She argues that this is not based only

43 He proposes the idea of a multidirectional memory “[i]nstead of memory competition” (Rothberg 11) in order

to show that synergies between memories can be found and memories of historical events do not have to oppose

one another in the public discourse.

29

on emotions but rather leads to “a feeling of cognitive, intellectual connection” (Landsberg,

American Remembrance 149) which evokes a feeling of “collective social responsibility”

(American Remembrance 155). As I will show later in this chapter, I draw a connection between

empathy and belonging and want to stress the importance of emotions in this process. Media of

cultural memory certainly enable recipients to feel with those who suffered from the trauma. I

will show this in my analyses in the following chapters.

Landsberg argues that prosthetic memory is different from ‘traditional’ cultural memory

that “reinforce[d] a particular group’s identity” (American Remembrance 11; see also

“Prosthetic Memory” 149). Instead, prosthetic memory allows anyone to feel with a particular

group. Since memories are much more easily available via new forms of technology, memory

is nowadays “subject to ongoing negotiation, cross-referencing, and borrowing” (Rothberg 3),

which converts memories into tools to unify rather than to divide. According to Landsberg, it

is only present-day media that allow memories of specific groups to be spread on a much bigger

scale and to be received by anyone, “regardless of skin color, ethnic background, or biology”

(Landsberg, American Remembrance 2; see also “Prosthetic Memory” 148). In this way, a much

more public memory comes to be – one in which memories of several groups are recognized

and represented (see Landsberg, “Prosthetic Memory” 149; Rothberg 310) to the world and one

that is shared.44 By sharing these memories on a bigger or global scale, alliances between all

kinds of different people are made possible (see Landsberg, “Prosthetic Memory” 156). This

might also have an influence on politics: as many more people feel they belong together and

share a common goal, they are able to start taking political action earlier than before (see

Landsberg, American Remembrance 11).

The difference between Hirsch’s and Landsberg’s theory is that Landsberg states that

memories can be transferred to a much more global audience and not only to following

generations as argued by Hirsch. I certainly concur with Landsberg on this point and argue that

the memory of the Japanese American incarceration has not only been transferred through

generations of Japanese Americans, but also to members of US society outside of the Japanese

American community. In addition to members of the Japanese American community having

produced and accessed media of cultural memory, non-Japanese Americans have both produced

media of cultural memory and been affected by the story of the Japanese American

incarceration. From my point of view, Landsberg’s and Rothberg’s theories lack the aspect of

44 John Bodnar has defined public memory as “a body of beliefs and ideas about the past that help a public or

society understand both its past and its present, and, by implication, its future” (76).

30

traumata, which I will elaborate on in the next section. The before-mentioned theories need to

be connected with a theory of cultural trauma in order to show how the Japanese American

incarceration is remembered nowadays. The memory of the Japanese American incarceration

is not simply one of many memories of the past, but one that has caused a “tear in the social

fabric” (Eyerman, Cultural 2; see also Eyerman, Memory 23) of the Japanese American

community and even in US society as a whole.

I.2 Traumata Experienced by Groups

By adding the concept of cultural traumata, I want to complicate concepts of cultural memory

and combine the two with one another. The Japanese American incarceration has caused

traumata in the Japanese American community – both an individual trauma amongst the

incarcerees as well as a cultural trauma that is reflected in the community and outside until

today. In order to clarify my argument, I will here take a look at both theories of individual as

well as cultural trauma.

In everyday language, traumata are believed to be caused by an event that shocks the

individual and are experienced as something negative, e.g. the death of a relative or having to

flee one’s country. Susan Brison defines a traumatic event as “one in which a person feels

utterly helpless in the face of a force that is perceived to be life-threatening” (40), either caused

by natural events such as earthquakes or something that is “intentionally inflicted” (Brison 40)

by another person. It is especially the second kind that “severs the […] connection between the

self and the rest of humanity” (Brison 40; see also Kaplan, “Contact” 46). While I agree with

her definition of traumata causing helplessness, in my definition not every traumatic event is

necessarily life-threatening in the sense of a fear of death. It might be life-threatening in the

sense of being a danger to one’s lifestyle or perception of life – therefore a traumatic event has

life-changing consequences because “social life has lost its predictability” (A. Neal 4). This can

certainly be argued for the Japanese American incarceration: after Executive Order 9066 was

issued, Japanese Americans faced many changes that had not been imaginable before. They

were uprooted, placed in an unfamiliar environment with questionable living conditions and

faced many struggles during and after the incarceration.

Traumatic events can cause individual traumata that have often been discussed in

psychoanalysis. Already Sigmund Freud argued that traumata are repressed by individuals

because they cannot be talked about and remain uncommunicable (see e.g. Caruth, Unclaimed;

31

Chapter 1 of Kaplan, Trauma Culture). Basing her theory on the ideas of Sigmund Freud, Cathy

Caruth45 developed a theory that suggests that “the response to the [traumatic] event occurs in

the often delayed, uncontrolled repetitive appearance of hallucinations and other intrusive

phenomena” (Unclaimed 11). According to this theory, the trauma has such an effect on the

individual that he/she cannot put it into words or into a story (see Bal viii). Hence, from Caruth’s

perspective, the fact of having survived a traumatic event is so shocking to the individual that

he/she suffers from it for a long time (see e.g. Unclaimed 4, 11 and 58; see also Eyerman,

“Slavery” 62). According to psychoanalysts, the trauma can only be resolved if it is “made

‘narratable’” and thereby can “enter memory” (Bal x; see also Brison 46; Eyerman, Memory

102; Sturken, “Narratives” 235).

If though the traumatic event46 influences the individual’s life decisively, verbalization

may not be possible at all and the trauma remains in the person’s subconscious; for this reason

Ernst van Alphen argues that “it is contradictory to speak of traumatic experience or memory”

(26; see also Sielke 386). A person’s subconscious rejects and represses the memory of

something truly awful, so that – in the person’s (conscious) mind – this experience and the

memory of it are not existent. Birgit Neumann calls what remains in the conscious mind

“foreign matter” (my translation, Neumann, “Literatur” 154); she argues that, because this

manifestation cannot be integrated into a person’s identity formation, this process always leads

to an identity crisis (see Neumann, “Literatur” 154).

Many former incarcerees remained silent “for nearly forty years” (Takezawa, Silence 3;

see also Hatamiya 25), which, as pointed out by Emily Roxworthy, “circulates widely as a

telltale symptom of trauma” (1). Many Issei and Nisei suffered from individual traumata caused

by their incarceration, which included being uprooted from their environments, losing their

homes, spending years behind barbed wire and having to find a new place to live after the war;

these effects of the incarceration have been analyzed by Donna K. Nagata, Jacqueline H. J. Kim

and Kaidi Wu, for example. Certainly, the silence of the formerly incarcerated Issei and Nisei

can be seen as a symptom of an individual trauma, but one should also keep in mind that, with

this silence, parents and grandparents tried to protect their offspring from the incarceration

45 For detailed information on this psychoanalytic version, see Cathy Caruth’s Trauma: Explorations in Memory,

in which several authors present their findings, as well as her Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, and

History. 46 Van Alphen mentions the example of the Holocaust and argues that it “was not ‘experienceable’ and […] not

narratable or otherwise representable” (30) because language only allows one to “ascribe to [oneself] the role of

either subject or object in relation to the events” (30). By doing so, one would have to “distance […] oneself from

the action” (30) which in this case, so he argues, simply is not possible.

32

experience (see e.g. Nagata; Nagata/Cheng; Nagata/Kim/Wu; Roxworthy) or from their

personal trauma. Furthermore, many studies point out that it was the individual trauma

combined with Japanese cultural influences that led to Japanese Americans developing into

what has been called a ‘model minority’ (see e.g. Nagata/Kim/Nguyen 363; Ng 102), an aspect

that I will talk about in detail later in this study.

My main interest lies in how the Japanese American incarceration was and is

experienced by the Japanese American community as a group of people, how it has found its

way into US cultural memory and how it is narrated by Japanese Americans and non-Japanese

Americans. For groups of people, the problem of putting into words what has happened

remains: in order to work through traumata, groups of people need narratives. Furthermore, I

want to draw attention to the aspect of how media of cultural memory, especially those narrating

traumatic events, encourage recipients to empathize with the Japanese American community

and other minority groups in the US; this is an aspect that has been neglected in the study of

cultural traumata.

The theory of cultural trauma47 was developed in the beginning of the 21st century by

Jeffrey C. Alexander, Ron Eyerman, Bernhard Giesen, Neil J. Smelser and Piotr Sztompka.

They argue that

[c]ultural trauma occurs when members of a collectivity feel they have been subjected to a horrendous

event that leaves indelible marks upon their group consciousness, marking their memories forever and

changing their future identity in fundamental and irrevocable ways. (Alexander, “Theory” 1)

When it comes to cultural traumata, Alexander stresses – in contrast to Caruth – that “events

are not inherently traumatic” (“Theory” 8; see also Smelser, “Psychological” 35). According to

Alexander, events may cause traumata (e.g. the Holocaust), but traumata may also be caused

by “imagined events” (“Theory” 8), i.e. events that never happened. A cultural trauma is

therefore caused by something that is perceived and accepted as disrupting “the established

foundations of collective identity” (Eyerman, Memory 103; see also Eyerman, “Transmission”

688; Sciortino/Eyerman 7). Arthur Neal, on the other hand, argues that a cultural trauma always

47 Ron Eyerman argues that there is no real difference between national and cultural trauma (see Cultural 3). I

would say that the term ‘national trauma’ is rather limiting while the term ‘cultural trauma’ leaves more room to

also talk about smaller numbers of people, such as the Japanese American community. Furthermore, I agree with

Benedict Anderson, who argues that nations are ‘imagined communities’ (see his book Imagined Communities:

Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism; see also Hall, “Question” 613), which make people feel like

they are part of some bigger group.

Donna K. Nagata, Jacqueline H. J. Kim and Kaidi Wu argue that “[c]ultural trauma can be seen as a more specific

manifestation of historical trauma” (38) with the first defined as “impact[ing] group consciousness and identity”

(38).

33

stands in relation and is a reaction to an actual event “that falls outside the range of ordinary

human experiences” (9). To become a cultural trauma, the event “must undergo a process of

social signification” (Demertzis 145; see also Eyerman, Memory 5; Sciortino/Eyerman 7).

I define the Japanese American incarceration as a traumatic event that has not only had

effects on the individual, but also on the Japanese American community as such and then later

on US society at large. According to the theory of cultural trauma, individual members of the

affected group need not have experienced the event themselves (see Eyerman, Cultural 12;

Eyerman, Memory 23; Halas 315), but can still suffer from the consequences, which is similar

to what Hirsch describes in her theory about postmemory (see above).48 E. Ann Kaplan here

talks about “transgenerational trauma” and states that following generations are “haunted by

tragedies” (Trauma Culture 106; see also Crownshaw 68), something which I would argue is

certainly true for the Japanese American community. The memory of the Japanese American

incarceration is still relevant in the Japanese American community until today and has become

a cultural trauma:

a memory accepted and publicly given credence by a relevant membership group and evoking an event

or situation which is a) laden with negative affect, b) represented as indelible, and c) regarded as

threatening a society’s existence or violating one or more of its fundamental cultural presuppositions.

(Smelser, “Psychological” 44)

In order to cope with the cultural trauma, bring it to light and work through it,49 it needs to be

represented in some form (see Hedges 6). With the help of these representations, which I have

called media of cultural memory above, the cultural trauma enters the realm of cultural

memory.50 On the one hand, the trauma is overcome by putting into words or images that which

seems unspeakable, through which the group’s identity is stabilized; this process is similar to

how an individual’s identity is stabilized when he/she is able to narrate a traumatic event. On

the other hand, the trauma is presented to the public via media of cultural memory which play

an “important role in the transmission of cultural trauma images and narratives” (Meek 30).

Through the representation in images and narratives that can be accessed by the public,

a (more) “moral community” (A. Neal 20/21; see also Alexander, “Culture” 156), in which

48 William Hirst, Travis G. Cyr and Clinton Merck point out that even people who were not eyewitnesses to an

event can “still serve as witnesses because they have memories of living though the event” (592), for example

when seeing it on TV (which was the case for many in the US during 9/11). Even these memories can be transferred

through generations as Hirst, Cyr and Merck suggest (see 607). 49 Following Ron Eyerman, I use the term ‘work through’ to indicate the attempt to “repair […] the torn social

fabric and return to some semblance of normalcy in order to carry on” (Eyerman, Memory 11). 50 Paul Antze and Michael Lambek even argue that “memory worth talking about – worth remembering – is

memory of trauma” (xii).

34

solidarity with other groups of people plays an important role, is established (see Alexander,

“Theory” 1). In my opinion, this aspect of cultural trauma has not been paid enough attention

to but ties in directly with what Michael Rothberg and Alison Landsberg argue about prosthetic

memory and multidirectional memory. I want to stress that, with the help of stories as told in

media of cultural memory, not only a specific group or cultural identity51 is strengthened, but

“societies expand the circle of the ‘we’ and create the possibility for repairing societies to

prevent the trauma from happening again” (Alexander, “Culture” 156; see also Alexander,

“Theory” 1; Alexander/Butler Breese xiii).52 Media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese

American incarceration express the need for a society in which solidarity with minority groups

is stressed. Often the message is that, if minority groups were subjected to less discrimination

and racism, the Japanese American incarceration had not come to be and future traumatic events

could be avoided; this will come to show in my later analysis.

Another keyword in this context is empathy, which has also found mention in the section

above dealing with different theories of memory. I will show that particularly representations

of cultural traumata, in media of cultural memory, evoke empathy in recipients of these media.

Stories of traumatic events are so strong that they cause the recipients to feel with those who

suffered and think about their own situation. Ann E. Kaplan for example states that the trauma

of 9/11 has mostly been communicated via TV, newspapers and the radio – it was, as Eyerman

argues, a “media event” (“Transmission” 683).53 While Kaplan in this case looks at an event

that was broadcasted live and more or less immediately led to a trauma in US society, I agree

with her arguing for the existence of “mediatized trauma” (Kaplan, Trauma Culture 2) or

“vicarious trauma” (Kaplan, Trauma Culture 90). These kinds of traumata can also come to be

much later; she argues that “spectators do not feel the protagonist’s trauma [but] feel the pain

evoked by empathy” (Kaplan, Trauma Culture 90; see also Meuter 39). They feel and suffer

with those people going through the cultural trauma by being faced with their story on screen

or in any other medium.

51 The term ‘cultural identity’ has been coined by Stuart Hall in the 1990s (see Hall, “Diaspora”; “Introduction”;

“Who Needs Identity?”; “Question”).

In his book Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity, Ron Eyerman analyzes the

development of representations dealing with “the [collective] memory of slavery” (Cultural 2) and thereby looks

at how the (cultural) identity of African Americans was formed. 52 Nevertheless, Eyerman rightly point out that this means that other people are excluded (Eyerman, Memory 26). 53 For an analysis of 9/11 as cultural trauma, see also Creef; LaCapra; A. Neal; Maira; Smelser, “Epilogue.”

Daniel Levy points out that traumatic events are “not only mediated but become mediatized” (580) as they are

represented and interpreted in the public sphere.

35

It is this feeling of empathy that makes people feel the need to avoid the repetition of

history – even though they are not affected directly themselves, people feel so strongly with

those going or having gone through the event that they want to prevent these events from

happening again. People then share “the suffering of others” (Alexander, “Theory” 1) and by

doing so imagine themselves in the position of these others. This, once again, requires solidarity

with groups of people in danger of being subjected to such events. By telling the story of cultural

trauma through media of cultural memory, empathy and solidarity can come to be which are

used as a means of preventing further traumata. Telling and repeating the story of a traumatic

event may even lead to a change in political action as the traumatic event is reflected on from

various points of view.

The Japanese American incarceration has also been discussed as not only the cause of

individual traumata of former incarcerees but also as cultural trauma.54 Scholars such as Donna

K. Nagata have looked at the impacts the incarceration had not only on those who experienced

it themselves, but also on further generations (see e.g. Nagata; Nagata/Cheng; Nagata/Kim/

Nguyen; Nagata/Kim/Wu; Roxworthy). Most of these studies focus on the Nisei and Sansei,

their relationship and what role the parents’ and grandparents’ silence about the incarceration

played for the Sansei and their understanding of what their parents and grandparents

experienced. According to Donna K. Nagata, Jackie H. J. Kim and Teresa U. Nguyen the Sansei

“could bring attention to the incarceration trauma” (364) through their involvement in the Civil

Rights Movement and their fight towards Redress. It was certainly the Sansei who started the

process of working through this trauma by telling the story of the incarceration, which led to

them taking part in political action.

While I agree that the Sansei played an important role in the process of coping with the

Japanese American incarceration, I want to stress that especially in the last years it was not only

Japanese Americans who spread knowledge about their incarceration during World War II.

After they had gained access to the story of the Japanese American incarceration, many non-

Japanese Americans have also started to produce media of cultural memory. These media show

the injustice of the Japanese American incarceration and by doing so, encourage solidarity with

Japanese Americans and other minority groups in the US. They thereby warn of a repetition of

history. Non-Japanese Americans produce these media because they are also indirectly affected

by the cultural trauma of the Japanese American incarceration – they may not directly suffer

from a trauma, but by having accessed media that tell them about this trauma, feel with this

54 Some scholars also focus on the attack on Pearl Harbor as a national trauma (see e.g. A. Neal).

36

group of people. On the one hand, therefore, Japanese Americans certainly suffer from the

cultural trauma of the incarceration. On the other hand, non-Japanese Americans may also be

affected by it, when they have access to media of cultural memory. This then might lead to them

also producing further media of cultural memory that describe and depict the incarceration; they

themselves become producers.

What is lacking in scholarship about the Japanese American incarceration as cultural

trauma is a focus on what role storytelling in different media of cultural memory plays, how

narrative strategies help to cope producers with the cultural trauma of the Japanese American

incarceration and how stories about the Japanese American incarceration affect others. In the

next section, I will therefore talk about how cultural traumata are and can be narrated in various

media of cultural memory. I will examine the role of storytelling for commemorating and

working through specific events in a group of people in order to take a look at how this works

when focusing on the Japanese American incarceration.

I.3 Storytelling

One concept that I have been referring to repeatedly, but have not yet defined in detail, is that

of narration or storytelling. In order to understand how the story of the Japanese American

incarceration is told in media of cultural memory, an insight into how narratives work and what

function they have is required.

Usually, in everyday language, the term ‘narrative’55 is used to describe stories and

mostly stories that were written down, for example in novels, tales, etc. According to Jerome

Bruner, “[n]arrative accounts must have at least two characteristics. They should center upon

people and their intentional states: their desires, beliefs, and so on; and they should focus on

how these intentional states led to certain kinds of activities” (“Self” 28; see also Ryan,

“Introduction” 8/9). Since narratives are not only found in novels or tales, but in various media56

as well as in our thoughts, narrativity “cannot be associated with specific textual devices” (8),

55 In this dissertation I will use the terms ‘story’ and ‘narrative’ interchangeably.

Some scholars criticize the flexibility of the definition of narrative. William H. Jr. Sewell, for example, argues that

the term ‘narrative’ is used “to signify many different things: a universal category of human cultures, conventions

of storytelling, epistemological and ontological assumptions, accounts of life experiences, ideological structures

intended to motivate the rank and file of social movements” (486). 56 According to Vera Nünning and Ansgar Nünning, if narrativity is defined broadly, comics, films and other

cultural objects can also be said to tell stories (see 7 and 11; see also Wolf 23). In order to analyze these narratives

in all kinds of media of cultural memory, not only literary studies’ concept of ‘narratology’ should be used –

nowadays a number of disciplines add to the study of narratives (see Wolf 97).

37

as argued by Monika Fludernik and Marie-Laure Ryan. Instead, narratives are “a fundamental

way of organizing human experience and […] a tool for constructing models of reality”

(Neumann/Nünning 4; see also Bennett 75; Bieger, “Dwelling” 17; Nünning, “Worldmaking”

191). They therefore play an important role when looking at the Japanese American

incarceration and other events of the past that have been (repeatedly) told over time.

The theory of narrative identity, which has been called “rewarding […] because of its

interdisciplinary reach and connectivity” (Klepper 4), states that humans create their sense of

being, their identity, through storytelling: “it is through narrativity that we come to know,

understand, and make sense of the social world, and it is through narratives and narrativity that

we constitute our social identities” (Somers 606; see also Crites, “Storytime” 162).57 I want to

complicate this theory by arguing that narratives not only stabilize one’s identity, but can further

create a feeling of belonging for recipients who may not have the same heritage or experiences

as those creating these narratives. This is achieved when narratives make the recipients

empathize with this group of people, as I have shown in the previous section. Narratives, in my

definition, therefore have a two-fold function: on the one hand, they help those who tell the

story to cope with their life stories, to establish and stabilize their own identity and to eventually

work through a trauma, while on the other hand, they enable recipients to feel connected with

those who tell the story, to even establish a feeling of belonging.

Following Hanna Meretoja,58 I contend that experiences in people’s lives are always

situated in a context, always stand in relation to other events and are given meaning by human

beings (see Meretoja 96; see also Bieger, Belonging 9). There are no raw experiences, but

people “are always already entangled in stories” (Meretoja 96), both personal and cultural ones.

I agree with Margaret R. Somers who argues that “social life is itself storied and that narrative

is an ontological condition of social life” (emphasis in original, 613/614; see also Taylor,

57 A number of theories deal with the topic of identity from various points of view (see e.g. Handler; Taylor,

Sources and “Politics”). The terminology for individual and group identity is immense and can be derived from

many fields of study: in sociology, one talks about ‘collective identity’ (see Calhoun; Castells; Gitlin;

Jasper/McGarry; Kellner; Polletta/Jasper; Zaretsky); terms such as ‘national identity’ (see Gillis) have reached

popular newspapers; in Cultural Studies, one often refers to ‘cultural identity’ (see Hall) when talking about a

certain group’s identity; over the last decades the term ‘narrative identity’ has become popular.

Rogers Brubaker and Frederick Cooper, in contrast to most theorists mentioned here, argue against using the term

‘identity’ in many different ways. They suggest using the terms “identification” (14), “self-understanding” (17) or

“commonality” (19) instead of identity in specific contexts. 58 Theories of narrative identity can be divided into two seemingly opposing positions. Proponents of the

epistemological position (e.g. Daniel Dennett, Louis Mink, Hayden White) argue that stories are imposed on raw

experiences. Representatives of the ontological one (e.g. David Carr; Alasdair MacIntyre; Paul Ricoeur; Charles

Taylor), instead state that life itself is mediated (for details, see e.g. Brockmeier/Carbaugh 14; Kerby 41; Meretoja

89). Meretoja herself argues from a position of (narrative) hermeneutics which “rejects the idea of unmediated,

point-like experience” (96).

38

Sources 47). Experiences are given meaning through storytelling; thereby, experiences are

constantly (re)interpreted and reflected on. In this process, past, present and a potential future

are already connected with one another: “narratives […] weave together experiences” (Meretoja

98), making it impossible to talk about unmediated experiences. However, Meretoja stresses

the need to be “able to distinguish between narratives and that which they interpret or tell about

(experience, events) and to recognize that every narrative can be contested and narrated

otherwise” (104), an aspect that I consider especially important when it comes to narratives

about (or interpretations of) historical events. Generally speaking, stories may be used to cure

boredom (see Hernadi 199) or can be considered “an integral part of reasoning and thinking”

(Felski 87). Certainly, via storytelling, connections between certain events in one’s life are

detected, are interpreted to make sense and usually put into a seemingly logical order (see

Meretoja 89, 98 and 101; Neumann, “Literatur” 156; Neumann/Nünning 5; Somers 614).

Inferring from this, one could argue that without narratives, human lives “are incomplete”

(Bieger, Belonging 25) or had no meaning.

Without a doubt, stories that people use to construct their narrative identity are based on

memories of events in the past. Through a process of both selection and interpretation, people

construct a version of the past that they can live with and that they feel comfortable sharing

with both themselves and others in their lives, be it in conversation or in autobiographies and

other accounts (see, e.g. Bruner, “Life” 693; King 2). In these stories, fact and fiction may mix.

Particularly when it comes to storytelling in media of cultural memory, it is difficult to define

fact and fiction. As pointed out by Fludernik and Ryan, “factual narrative[s] [are understood]

as stories that convey true, reliable information” (emphasis in original, 1). 59 In contrast,

fictional accounts are usually understood as referring to something that has been made up. As

Genette already pointed out in 1990, narratologists often focus on storytelling in fictional

narratives and pay less attention to factual ones (see Genette, “Fictional” 755; see also

Fludernik/Falkenhayner/Steiner 7/8). Over the last thirty years this emphasis has shifted slightly.

In the introduction to Narrative Factuality: A Handbook (2020), Fludernik and Ryan point out

that fictional and factual narratives cannot always be easily differentiated; both may contain

aspects of the other (see 4).60 As pointed out previously, recipients approach media with

59 Monika Fludernik, Nicole Falkenhayner and Julia Steiner point out that factuality should not be equated with

authenticity, realism or mimesis (10). 60 In several works, attempts were made to find different characteristics of fictional and factual narratives. For

example, Genette in his “Fictional Narrative, Factual Narrative” and Fludernik in “Narratologische Probleme des

faktualen Erzählens” set up criteria for the differentiation between factual and fictional texts. In the introduction

to Narrative Factuality: A Handbook, some characteristics of factual narratives are also named. All these focus

39

expectations which include expectations towards the contents of a specific medium being

factual or fictional. Additionally, many hybrid narratives are now in existence, especially in the

mass media (see Fludernik/Falkenhayner/Steiner 11).

Narratives in media of cultural memory are an interesting case here. While producers

want to raise awareness about specific historical events, they do not do so by simply retelling

historical facts – “[h]istorical accuracy is not one of the concerns of such ‘memory-making’”

(Erll, “Mediality” 389) media, something that recipients of these media ought to be aware of.61

Instead, stories told in media of cultural memory are based on individual or cultural memories.

These memories are always interpretations, making the stories based on these memories also

interpretations of events and experiences. Media of cultural memory contain both factual and

fictional aspects. When it comes to a traumatic experience, I am certain that fictionality can be

used as a means to fill the gap in the narrative caused by a trauma; fictionality can tie together

different fragments in order to create one orderly and logical story.62 The balance between

fictionality and factuality changes according to the medium, to what the producer wants to

achieve with his/her telling of the story and to the recipients’ expectations towards the medium.

Generally speaking, when looking at these media, “numerous paratextual and textual indicators”

(Nünning, “Fictional” 43) play a role in identifying factual and fictional contents, but the

context also needs to be taken into account. When it comes to primarily visual media of cultural

memory, paratexts and the way in which text and image stand in relation to one another can

hint at what is fact and what is fiction. It is especially the latter that I will pay specific attention

to, since, as already pointed out, it is visuality and the combination of visuals and text that

enables accessing and working through a trauma such as the Japanese American incarceration.

Nevertheless, I also want to stress that this study is not aimed at identifying fact and fiction in

primarily on written texts. In contrast, in “Fact, Fiction and Media,” Ryan analyzes several media and looks at

their capability to address fact or fiction. 61 The question of what historical facts actually are arises here. Mary Fulbrook points out that “the professional

historian has a duty to try to engage in adequate research and balance the evidence rather than simply developing

and illustrating a one-sided interpretation” (90) when historians write about events of the past. Producers of media

of cultural memory, in contrast, do not necessarily have to follow these conventions. They tell stories from a more

personal and often emotional point of view. Of course this also depends on the medium that is used. 62 Both Laurie Vickroy and Anne Whitehead look at contemporary fiction and how it depicts traumata. Since both

analyze literary fictional accounts, they focus much more on narrative theory methods than I will do in my analysis

of primarily visual media. Nevertheless a few aspects ought to be mentioned here. Whitehead coins the term

‘trauma fiction’ and shows how depictions of traumata “arise […] out of […] postmodernism, postcolonialism and

a postwar legacy” (81). She argues that fictional novels often make use of the supernatural or work with fantastic

elements to “signal to the reader that there has been a rupture of the symbolic order” (84). According to her study,

intertextuality, repetition and a “fragmented narrative voice” (84) can be named as features of novels that thematize

traumatic experiences. They thereby “mimick [trauma’s] symptomology at a formal level” (161), an aspect that

also plays a role in the following analysis. In addition, Vickroy points out that fictional accounts of traumata can

“engage the reader’s empathy” (148), an aspect that should not be neglected.

40

the primary sources; while this topic comes up a few times, it is more the narrative strategies

overall that I focus on.

In narratives, events may be simplified (see L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Introduction”

xvi; Meretoja 92; Neumann, “Selves” 55/56; Neumann/Nünning 12). Amongst a number of

events in people’s lives, people select those they feel are important for their story and with

which they can create one story – they construct their sense of being in this process.63 As

Douglas Ezzy argues, “[n]arrative identity constructs a sense of self-sameness, continuity and

character in the plot of the story a person tells about him- or herself” (245; see also Fludernik,

“Identity” 262; King 2; Polkinghorne 18/19).64 Past and present are connected so that the person

remains the same over time which makes people feel secure in their sense of being and current

situations: people “create stories to make sense of their lives” (McAdams xx). Self-sameness

that is achieved in this way can be considered one’s personal identity that is repeatedly

stabilized when telling one’s own story.

If a memory is linked to a trauma, it is more difficult to achieve a stable identity.65 As

pointed out before, traumata can be said to stand in opposition to narrative – they can cause a

break in “the ongoing narrative, severing the connections among remembered past, lived

present, and anticipated future” (Brison 41; see also King 3) and thereby harm the identity of a

person. However, narratives are also a means with which to cope with traumata. By telling what

has happened to them, people are able to grasp the traumatic event’s meaning and make it part

of their life story (see Brooks 281/282). This “often benefit[s] both the body and the soul”

(McAdams 18; see also Bieger, “Dwelling” 20). I am certain that, as is true for individuals, also

cultural traumata can be overcome with the help of narratives: when stories of traumatic events

find their way into media of cultural memory, these events experienced by groups of people

can more easily be coped with and made sense of. The same holds true for the cultural trauma

of the Japanese American incarceration. As it has found its place in the cultural memory of the

63 This constructedness has also often been criticized: “Stories, critics charge, strive to simplify and shortchange a

world of infinite possibility; they ride roughshod over the complexity of phenomena; they impose schemata that

push characters down predetermined paths and block other options from view” (Felski 88). 64 Stephen Crites argues that “[o]ur sense of personal identity depends upon the continuity of experience through

time, a continuity bridging even the cleft between remembered past and projected future” (“Experience” 38; see

also Crites, “Storytime” 156; Ezzy 251; L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Introduction” xvii; Neumann/Nünning 6;

Ricoeur, “Identity” 74). Halbwachs also argued that the same is true for groups of people: “When it considers its

own past, the group feels strongly that it has remained the same and becomes conscious of its identity through

time” (The Collective Memory 85). Nevertheless, it should be noted that, as Stuart Hall has argued, cultural identity

is dynamic and changes occur over time (see e.g. “Diaspora”). 65 Of course, individual identities also change over time – but in storytelling, people often want to establish a

version of themselves that makes sense and therefore seems stable.

41

Japanese American community, the trauma has been talked about and eventually may be

resolved.

With the help of narratives, human beings plan ahead and think of the future, which

makes human beings “temporal beings” (L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Memory” 1; see also

Carr 125; Polkinghorne 119). Not only individuals are affected by this ability to think ahead:

“[b]oth as individuals and members of various groups, our present existence is powerfully

shaped by recollections of the past and anticipations of the future” (L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman,

“Memory” 1; see also Gillis 3). Narratives help individuals and groups of people to connect

past, present and future: they allow them to take a look at the past, make use of what they did

in that past and adjust their present and future actions accordingly (see Brooks 3; Carr 122;

Crites, “Storytime” 163/164; Erll, “Mediality” 392; L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Introduction”

xvii; Möckel-Rieke 7/8; Neumann, “Literatur” 156; Neumann, “Selves” 54; Phelan 205; Yuval-

Davis 202). Undoubtedly, these stories contain not only pure facts, but also mythical elements,

are put into a logical order and are therefore constructed to make sense for this group of people

(see Neumann/Nünning 12).

When it comes to media of cultural memory narrating the experiences of the Japanese

American incarceration not only producers of these media benefit from the telling of their story,

but also recipients. Recipients from the Japanese American community may be able to cope

with their personal traumata or the trauma that has been transferred to them from their parents

or grandparents. On top of that, non-Japanese American recipients can learn from the story of

the incarceration: they are able to empathize with what they are told (be it in written form,

visually or in conversation) and experience a feeling of belonging to US society overall. As

they feel with this minority group, they reflect on their own position and feel the need to prevent

similar events from happening. They do so for example by creating media of cultural memory

that put the Japanese American incarceration in focus.

People feel like they belong when they have found their “place in the world” (Bieger,

Belonging 25; see also Antonsich 644; Yuval-Davis 197), a basic human need, which is

different from ‘identifying with’ a group of people.66 As Floya Anthias argues, belonging is

different from identity in that belonging is found “outside the self” (7) while identity is

something inside oneself. I am certain that narratives both stabilize people’s identity and also

66 Laura Bieger calls narratives a “basic constituent of human being” (Belonging 7; see also 13). Belonging here

therefore is different from political belonging, national belonging and citizenship, since it is much more based on

a feeling of emotional attachment.

42

give people a place, at least an imaginary one, to which they feel they belong. Belonging is

achieved by and through narratives, both when people hear and when they produce them (see

Bieger, Belonging 7). Belonging is much more based on emotion than identity is (see Anthias

6; Yuval-Davis 197 and 202). With narratives, these emotions are expressed and placed in the

public sphere (when they are published in some form). By inciting emotions and creating

emotional attachments, stories not only appeal to individuals, but also to groups of people.67

In this way, stories “[socialize] people into accepted ways of acting, thinking, and

perceiving, […] foster[…] group cohesion, and […] perpetuat[e] communal traditions” (L.

Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Community” 235; see also Neumann/Nünning 12; Taylor, Sources

28). Through stories, members of a culture or a society learn what is considered correct or

incorrect, what people look up to and admire or what character traits are less popular mainly

because of their surrounding “emotional aura” (Bal viii). Anthony Paul Kerby even calls

narratives “a moralizing force” (59; see also Meuter 42/43; see also I.2) while Anthias argues

that “[b]elonging […] can be forged in relation to solidarity” (7/8; see also Jasper/McGarry 1/2),

two aspects that I certainly agree with and have pointed out before as characteristics of media

of cultural memory. Narratives can unite groups of people because they “facilitate the formation

of identities and empathic experience” (emphasis in original, Meuter 46).

Once more, I would like to return to the topic of traumata at this point. As previously

mentioned, (cultural) traumata are much more difficult to tell stories about because of their life-

changing effects on both individuals and groups of people. Nevertheless, stories of traumata are

also found in media of cultural memory, as Alexander has pointed out. According to Alexander,

representations of cultural traumata, which I will analyze as media of cultural memory,

generally deal with the following questions: where the pain of the trauma has its origin, who

was affected, how people were affected by the trauma, and who is responsible for the trauma

(see “Theory” 13-15; see also Sciortino/Eyerman 10). I will focus on these aspects (amongst

others) in my analysis in this study.

Alexander, Eyerman, Giesen, Smelser and Sztompka refer to those who decide in which

way a trauma is presented as the “carrier group” (Alexander, “Theory” 11; see also Eyerman,

Cultural 3; Eyerman, Memory 49). These carrier groups, therefore, have an immense influence

on the representation of cultural traumata: they have an interest in mind when presenting a

cultural trauma to the public. On the one hand, “trauma narratives can trigger significant repairs

67 See Nira Yuval-Davis’ and Marco Antonsich’s works for a more detailed analysis of emotional attachment. For

the role of emotions in representations of cultural trauma, see Alexander, “Culture” 158.

43

in the civil fabric, [but on the other hand] [t]hey can also instigate new rounds of social suffering”

(Alexander, “Culture”165). Furthermore, carrier groups also make a selection of what they

consider decisive (see Eyerman, Cultural 3) – it is a “negotiated recollection” (Eyerman,

Cultural 12; see also Alexander/Butler Breese xxvii). In this way, narratives can also be used

to express an opinion different from that of the majority of a society, especially when

remembering historic events – counterstories to the dominant narrative can come to be (see A.

Neal 213; Eyerman, Memory 27). These “may heighten social tensions, energize opposition, or

catalyze political and ideological change” (L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, “Community” 236),

which allows for a change in society or, as I suggest, for a feeling of belonging amongst both

producers and recipients. Not only the Japanese American community, but also non-Japanese

Americans can feel with, feel for, empathize with or belong to this group of people when they

encounter media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese American incarceration.

My final point to add here is that visuality plays an immense role in media of cultural

memory narrating the Japanese American incarceration. I will demonstrate that primarily visual

media have the capability to enable producers to cope with their own trauma while at the same

time they give recipients the chance to access this trauma from the outside. I am certain that

visuals – be they in graphic novels, picture books, prints or paintings and others – help those

who produce them to cope with their traumata and stabilize their (narrative) identity that had

been fragmented by their traumata. I concur with Böger who argues that graphic novels have

the capability to act as a “drawing cure” (“Silence” 605) for individuals. Graphic novels allow

authors to “access […] the events through narration” (Böger, “Silence” 607/608) and share their

pain with others. This is not only true for graphic novels but can also be seen in other primarily

visual media. These media give producers the chance to “visually express [..] and thereby

overcom[e]” (Böger, “Silence” 614) the individual or cultural trauma. Producers transform their

experiences into art as Böger argues David Small does in his graphic novel Stitches: A Memoir

(see Böger, “Literatur” 558; Hirsch, “Collateral” 1213). The trauma is “communicated

viscerally and emotionally” (Hirsch, “Collateral” 1211). By doing so, producers also give

recipients who suffered from similar traumata the possibility to literally take a look at similar

experiences, face them and eventually overcome their own traumata. Furthermore, by putting

traumata not only into words, but also in visuals, recipients of various backgrounds are enabled

to feel with the producers and understand their pain. I will take a look at different kinds of

media of cultural memory. On the one hand, I will focus on each medium’s function and

dimension, on the other hand I will look at passages from graphic novels and picture books as

44

well as prints and paintings in order to focus on these works’s visuality and capability to access

traumata.

Media of cultural memory are not limited to one way of visualizing: they also remediate

or translate other media into what is needed in order to cope with the trauma. Remediation has

been defined as “transference of one medium into another” (Wertheim 161; see also

Bolter/Grusin 45; Erll, “Mediality” 392; Erll, “Remembering”; Erll/Rigney 4; Velicu). This

“create[s] new meanings, new ways of identification” (Brunow 39). Remediation has an

additional function: through their repeated usage in various media, images and narratives “play

an active role in shaping our understanding of the past” (Erll/Rigney 3; see also

Neumann/Zierold 107). This “enable[s] them to become part of the ‘functional memory’”

(Brunow 15), which was described by Aleida Assmann and stands in contrast to ‘storage

memory,’ a more or less passive form of memory which can be found in an archive, for example

(see e.g. A. Assmann, “Anreicherung” 30/31; Cultural Memory and “Memory”). In this way

narratives and images stay in the active cultural memory (see Brunow 45; Erll, “Mediality”

394), through which people are influenced in their lives. By referencing other media, producers

also show their relation to other people who experienced the same traumatic event. Traumata

may also be visually expressed and narrated by ‘outsiders’ who did not experience the traumatic

event themselves. They can do so because they themselves have been affected by narratives

told in various media dealing with specific traumata. By accessing various media and creating

remediations of images and narratives, they can call for solidarity with a group of people in the

same way that those who were affected by a trauma can.

When it comes to media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese American

incarceration, remediation also plays an important role. My primary sources remediate

numerous kinds of media in different ways. For example, the graphic novels and picture books

include drawings of photographs; Shimomura’s artwork incorporates symbols of the Japanese

American incarceration. In this way, the cultural memory of the Japanese American

incarceration is brought to life in primarily visual media of cultural memory.

In the following chapters, I will analyze different media of cultural memory through

which the story of the Japanese American incarceration is told, namely graphic novels, picture

books, paintings and prints. In these analyses, I will pay attention to the aspects that were here

described on a theoretical level. I will provide a more detailed insight into narrative strategies

employed in primarily visual media of cultural memory narrating the Japanese American

incarceration.

45

As media of cultural memory, graphic novels, picture books, paintings and prints remind

recipients of a specific event in the past. Because these works are publicly available, they “serve

as cues for the discussion” (Erll, “Mediality” 396) about the incarceration. Producers of these

media of cultural memory tell a story that aims at informing the recipients about the past, raise

awareness and enable recipients to feel with those who experienced the Japanese American

incarceration. They therefore “provide those schemata and scripts which allow [people] to

create in [their] minds certain images of the past” (Erll, “Mediality” 397). However, this is not

their only function. By combining aspects of theories of cultural memory, cultural trauma and

narrative identity, I want to stress these media of cultural memory’s capability to tell the story

of a concrete traumatic experience, the Japanese American incarceration.

What is particularly interesting about the media of cultural memory analyzed in the

following is that they all are decisively different from another. Nevertheless all are means with

which the cultural trauma of the Japanese American incarceration is represented and worked

through. They are all primarily visual media and I am certain that it is their visuality that makes

them particularly interesting examples of the way in which the story of the Japanese American

is present nowadays. As shown in this chapter, visuality adds to the ability of media to help

cope traumata, especially for groups. These media of cultural memory literally show what

cannot be represented in language and give a large number of recipients the possibility to not

only gain knowledge about the incarceration, but to engage with the story told. It is their

visuality, the combination in which visuals and text are combined, fact and fiction are employed,

and the way in which the story of the incarceration is told throughout, which makes recipients

of these media of cultural memory empathize with the Japanese American community and other

minority groups in US society. A feeling of belonging can be generated in recipients. On top of

that the producers’ identity is stabilized with the help of these narratives. Their (narrative)

identity had been fragmented by experiencing the trauma of the Japanese American

incarceration directly or indirectly – by telling stories in narratives about the Japanese American

incarceration, they are able to (re-)assemble their identity, stabilize it and work through the

trauma in itself.

46

CHAPTER II. GRAPHIC NOVELS: Kevin C. Pyle’s Take What You Can

Carry and Matt Faulkner’s Gaijin: American Prisoner of War

In this chapter, I will take a closer look at how the two graphic novels Take What You Can

Carry by Kevin C. Pyle (2012) and Gaijin: American Prisoner of War by Matt Faulkner (2014)

tell the story of the Japanese American incarceration during the Second World War. I consider

it of importance to include the graphic novel in my dissertation as it is a rather new way of

telling stories, which engages the audience differently from more traditional media of cultural

memory. In contrast to e.g. statues at a historic site, graphic novels belong in the realm of

popular culture – they are in the main purchased by people who are interested in the story told

as well as the unique format. Recipients have to physically engage with a graphic novel. They

have to hold the graphic novel in their hand and flip the page in order to continue reading the

story. In addition, they have to focus on the way in which visuals and text refer to each other in

order to tell the story, an aspect that I will pay specific attention to. Despite a rising number of

graphic novels thematizing the Japanese American incarceration, the graphic novel has rarely

been looked at by scholars of the Japanese American incarceration, which gives my study a

unique perspective.68

The graphic novels Take What You Can Carry and Gaijin: American Prisoner of War,

written and illustrated by non-Japanese Americans, aim at generating compassion and empathy

in the readers by giving them access to the traumatic event of the Japanese American

incarceration. The two graphic novels therefore do not simply act as reminders or educate the

readers but make them feel with the characters and the Japanese American community, in

general. Furthermore, the stories told make readers realize or confirm the realities of being a

minority group in US society; because readers learn about the incarceration and empathize with

the Japanese American community, they can use this knowledge to become aware of other

minority groups and their realities.69 Through this, recipients reflect on the way in which past

68 One of the earliest examples of a depiction of the experiences of the Japanese in the US is The Four Immigrants

Manga: A Japanese Experience in San Francisco, originally published in 1931, describing the experiences of

author Henry Kiyama, his arrival in San Francisco from Japan and life in the US between 1904 and 1924. It was

clearly created for the community of Japanese immigrants at the time, as the author made use of a mixture of

English and Japanese, which neither Japanese nor Americans would have been able to understand at the time (see

García 164/165; Nabizadeh 30-32; Schodt 16).

Just recently, two graphic novels about the Japanese American incarceration were published. Japanese American

actor George Takei, who as a child was incarcerated, published They Called Us Enemy in 2019 together with Justin

Eisinger and Steven Scott; in 2020, Displacement by Kiku Hughes was published. 69 Apart from their graphic novels both authors use their works and standing in society to point out injustices. For

example, Faulkner uses his Twitter account to showcase parallels between the Japanese American incarceration

and current events (see e.g. Faulkner, “1942”; “Boss Trump”; “Making”). With the help of Twitter posts, he

encourages his audience to feel empathetic towards the Japanese American community, but even more so wants

47

and present are intertwined. This is also because Pyle and Faulkner use their graphic novels to

work through parts of their personal life or family history – past and present are brought closer

together.

Despite the fact that neither Faulkner nor Pyle are of Japanese ancestry and are not

directly suffering from the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration, the two authors

convey traumatic aspects of the incarceration. Both make use of visual markers of the

incarceration experience such as barbed wire, guard towers or soldiers, in order to show the

conditions of life in the assembly centers and incarceration camps. With these visual markers

and the inclusion of explanations of terminology, in Faulkner’s case, or the rendering of original

photographs of Manzanar incarceration camp, in Pyle’s case, they both introduce readers to or

remind readers of the realities of life in an incarceration camp. In particular for former

incarcerees this depiction may trigger memories through which they can work when reading

these graphic novels; for non-Japanese American readers these depictions have more of an

educational function that, however, is enhanced by the graphic novels’ emotionality.

Emotions are conveyed through the depiction of the families in the story. The readers

get to know the characters and see how their lives change after Executive Order 9066 is issued.

Emotions are reflected in their faces, often shown in close-ups. In both graphic novels the

family members’ despair and frustration about their respective situation is communicated with

visuals; Faulkner often also uses speech bubbles to let the characters express their emotions. In

Pyle’s graphic novel, the trauma becomes even more visible: the story set in the 1940s is drawn

in sepia. Almost no words are included which makes the story come across as particularly silent.

This impression of silence reflects the trauma that Japanese Americans experienced as many

Issei and Nisei did not talk about their experiences after the incarceration.

Fact and fiction are clearly mixed in both graphic novels. Even though Faulkner’s

account of the Japanese American incarceration is mainly based on research, the assembly

center in his graphic novel is a fictional one that symbolizes the conditions of life for all

Japanese Americans who were incarcerated. Pyle tells two stories in his graphic novel: one set

in the 1940s, one in the 1970s. By pointing out and constructing parallels between the two main

characters’ lives he establishes a constructed connection between the two time periods and

generally showcases what influence the past has on the future.

to prevent similar events from happening. A first version of this chapter included an analysis of his activities on

Twitter, which I have decided to exclude since he only has a small number of followers.

48

Overall, both authors show solidarity with the Japanese American community and ask

recipients of their graphic novels to gain an understanding of what the Japanese American

community went through. Additionally, they appeal to readers’ solidarity with other minority

groups and point out injustices in US society overall – they connect past, present and future. By

thematizing the traumatic event and showing that it has come to an ending, both graphic novels

can have a therapeutic function for the readers, particularly for Japanese Americans. For non-

Japanese Americans, the two graphic novels have more of an educational function that is based

on an emotional response. The story of the Japanese American incarceration is here told through

the medium of the graphic novel which allows for a unique representation of memory and

trauma.

II.1 Memory and Trauma in Graphic Novels

Graphic novels are unique media of cultural memory through which memories and traumata

are represented. A graphic novel denotes a specific form of comics, one with a different

audience than comic books (in most cases) and one of greater length in book form (see Chute,

“Comics” 453; Eisner, Graphic xv; García 49; Kelley 3; Meyer 271).70 I concur with Martin

Schüwer, who argues that comics are not a genre but a medium (11). Comics are different from

other forms of representation such as novels or films, even though they share a number of

similarities (see Chute, “Comics” 452; El Refaie 20; Pratt 113; Rippl/Etter 194; Schüwer 11).

Santiago García argues that what differentiates a ‘simple’ comic from a graphic novel is “the

turn toward the past” (124), meaning that graphic novels are more often than comic books based

on true events and deal with past events.71 Graphic novels are often associated with “social

narratives, autobiographical stories, memories, travelogues, and even tales about illness, not to

mention literary adaptations” (García xii).72 I define graphic novels as a specific form of this

70 I will use the term ‘comics’ (an uncountable noun) when referring to the medium and terms such as ‘comic

books’ etc. in order to indicate specific forms. In the latter case, the term ‘comics’ can also be used as shorthand

and becomes countable.

I focus on the perspective of US Americans in my research and therefore the comics medium in this context. In

other countries, these conventions are multifarious and carry a different weight in society (for the role comics and

manga play in Japan, see Moreno Acosta 234; Schodt 7).

For a history of the term ‘graphic novel,’ see Chute (“Comics” 453), García (132) and El Refaie (33). 71 An exception is the so-called documentary comic that e.g. Pascal Lefèvre and Chantal Catherine Michel discuss.

Documentary comics are mainly based on research and can be placed in the realm of journalistic endeavors (see

Lefèvre 51; Nabizadeh 139); authors attempt to represent the past as objectively as possible, comparable to how

traditional documentary films do. 72 In addition to the term ‘graphic novel,’ the term ‘graphic narrative’ has also been used increasingly. For both

terms, definitions are blurry, but what can be agreed on is that ‘graphic narratives’ is a much more general term

that does not carry the weight of the term ‘novel’; ‘graphic narrative’ is “much more inclusive […], it is capable

of encompassing different forms, formats, genres and storytelling traditions across cultures and from around the

49

medium and agree with Christina Meyer who argues that “graphic novels constitute forms of

storytelling” (273; see also El Refaie 20; Harvey 3). I propose that not only the comics medium

has “its own rules and its own virtues and limitations” (García 182) that sets it apart from other

media, but that the graphic novel has even more specific modes when it comes to capturing the

past.73 I consider graphic novels as media of cultural memory when they refer to a specific event

in the past and invite the readers to engage with this past and the potentially caused trauma.

Graphic novels enable a unique representation of the past, of memories and traumata,

since “[t]hey do not conceal or cloak trauma, but rather put its elements on view” (Chute,

Disaster 233). Decisive for the storytelling capability is the combination of text and image,

which makes the medium a “polysemiotic” (Nabizadeh 3) one or a form of storytelling that can

be called intermedial, as suggested by Böger (“Literatur” 544). Meaning-making is achieved

not by simply adding text to visuals or vice versa, but by combining them in such a way that

makes meaning only come to be when seen in this very combination (see Baetens 81; El Refaie

23; Groensteen 82/83; McCloud 92). Therefore, both visuals and text carry meaning and both

have “narrative quality” (Prorokova/Tal 10).74 Recipients of comics and graphic novels have to

focus both on the text and the visuals in order to fully grasp the story told. They also have to

pay attention to the way in which panels are organized and be aware, at least subconsciously,

that they have to be read in a certain order which interlinks with the aspect of sequentiality of

stories that I mentioned in Chapter I. Panels are divided by the gutter in between that enables

different panel transitions to take place; through these the duration of an action is implied, and

world” (Stein/Thon 5; see also Chute, “Comics” 453). Even though the term ‘graphic novel’ includes a reference

to the novel which raises certain expectations of it telling a fictional story (see Chute, “Comics” 453), “we refer

with this term not to comics that have the formal or narrative features of the literary novel, nor to a specific format”

(García 3). Instead, graphic novels are often associated with “telling true stories” (emphasis in original, García

75). Following Astrid Böger and other scholars, I will use the term ‘graphic novel’ (see Böger, “Literatur” 545).

In the realm of graphic storytelling, graphic memoirs ought to be mentioned, as well: they are based on personal

memories and tell stories much more subjectively; “private memories are shaped into a narrative for public

consumption” (El Refaie 8). The question of whether graphic memoirs are closer to fiction or to fact has been

highly debated (see Böger, “Silence” 604; Pedri 248; Ryan, “Fact” 89/90). 73 Even though graphic novels employ unique ways of storytelling, specific terminology to be used when analyzing

graphic novels is lacking. Often terminology from film studies is employed, e.g. the way in which perspective is

described (see Horstkotte 32; Mikkonen 103). This might be surprising as films and graphic novels are different

in how they tell stories: while in graphic novels sound is only presented visually, film is certainly an audiovisual

medium and also incorporates movement (see Harvey 176; Lefèvre 54). Furthermore, films deliver a continuous

stream of visuals while graphic novels are divided into segments which allows recipients to “peek at the ending,

or dwell on an image and fantasize” (Eisner, Graphic 71). Nevertheless, perspective is similarly employed by both

directors of films and authors of graphic novels. 74 This differentiates comics and graphic novel from illustrated picture books, for example. I will talk about the

latter in the next chapter – what is important to note here is that illustrations in picture books are different from

visuals in comics and graphic novels. Will Eisner defines visuals “as a series or sequence of images that replace a

descriptive passage told only in words” (Sequential Art 127/128) while he argues that an illustration “repeats the

text” (emphasis in original, Sequential Art 127/128), a differentiation that I agree with.

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the logical development of the story ensured (for details, see McCloud 70-72). Thierry

Groensteen adds that panels that are not directly placed next to each other can have a relation

that is established through a process of “braiding” (35), “forming complex strands of

correspondences” (El Refaie 127; see also Drucker 45) on both the level of contents as well as

the visuals themselves. Also the number, size and shapes of panels influences the way in which

the story is perceived by recipients (for details, see Eisner, Sequential Art 44-46; Groensteen

45 and 138; McCloud 101; Pratt 114/115).

The fragmented structure of graphic novels enables authors to tell stories about traumata

(see Friederich 210; Kupczynska 236/237). The combination of text and image as well as the

division into panels and segments can be argued to represent fragments similar to those present

in the mind after a trauma (see Friederich 210). Panels that are divided by the gutter in between

need to be connected by the recipient of a graphic novel in order to construct a coherent

structure; recipients need to “‘fill in the blanks’” (Nabizadeh 4; see also 185) – in the same way

that someone who experienced a traumatic event needs to connect fragments to construct a

coherent story for his or her life. Hirsch analyzes Art Spiegelman’s In the Shadow of No Towers,

a graphic novel about his experience of 9/11, and argues that fragments here play an important

role for the way in which the trauma is represented – fragments need to be connected and

“transcend the frame in the act of seeing” (“Collateral” 1213); there is more to the story than

what can be seen on the page. Furthermore, repetition plays an important role here – in the same

way that people who experienced a trauma often experience repetitive fragments of memories

(see Chapter I), comics can also include repetition. Elements or whole panels may be repeated

throughout (see Friederich 210; Nabizadeh 138).

While graphic novels as media of cultural memory can include factual descriptions or

visual representations of actual places, graphic novels do not claim to capture the past as it was

(if that is even possible in any medium). Instead, fact and fiction are often mixed. Authors may

base their graphic novels on memories or traumata transferred to them through generations, but

they may also tell stories about events in the past that neither they nor their families experienced

which often requires them to research the historical event. Therefore, graphic novels “call into

question the status of any ‘objective’ or ‘realistic’ account” (Disaster 198/199), as Hillary Chute

argues. Furthermore, graphic novels may appeal to the recipients’ solidarity with others who

experienced or are in danger of experiencing similar events as they enable the recipients to feel

with the characters displayed and engage the recipients’ emotions. Through the graphic novel

form, so far neglected historical events, such as events experienced by minority groups, can be

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represented and enter the realm of cultural memory. Graphic novels “provide an alternate form

of remembrance” (Nabizadeh 6) through which various people’s stories can enter the public

sphere and become “imaginable, thinkable, and speakable” (Landsberg, American

Remembrance 139). Golnar Nabizadeh argues that this is because comics “rely on exploratory,

experimental, and unorthodox modes of representation” (1; see also 163), some of which rely

on the combination of text and image, as described above.

I propose that the representation of traumata in graphic novels has a two-fold function.

First of all, I agree with Böger who states that graphic novels representing traumata have a

“therapeutic function” (“Silence” 605; see also Bartal 102) for the authors. By putting their

traumata on paper, authors of graphic novels can work through their personal or cultural trauma

and potentially heal. What plays an important role is that they can visually express what they

cannot communicate in any other way (see Böger, “Literatur” 559; Böger, “Silence” 606; Chute,

Disaster 265; Hirsch, “Collateral” 1215). Additionally, this is a creative process which enables

authors to access their trauma from various points of view and on a different level than when

they talk or write about it (see Nabizadeh 4). While Böger mainly focuses on graphic memoirs

dealing with childhood traumata (such as David Small’s Stitches or Alison Bechdel’s Fun

Home: A Family Tragicomic; see Böger, “Silence” and “Literatur”) in her research,75 I want to

extend her way of reading to other graphic novels in which family history and cultural traumata

are acknowledged. It is especially the combination of visuals and text that allows authors to

express their feelings and thoughts about a specific time in the past, specifically traumatic

events for them, their relatives or the community they are a part of. This community does not

have to be as small as a minority group, but can also be US society, as a whole.

In this way, “[c]omics […] intervenes against the trauma-driven discourse of the

unrepresentable and the ineffable” (Chute, Disaster 178). Through graphic novels, traumata can

be expressed – the unique combination of text and image allows for an “aesthetic expression

that do[es] face history and trauma” (Chute, Disaster 178). Other media of cultural memory

may also express traumata, as will be shown in this dissertation, but it is particularly the graphic

novel through which traumata come to the surface. In addition to the combination of text and

image, Chute argues that the “immediacy of the drawn line […] communicates urgency, and

suggests the intimacy […] that the act of bearing witness to trauma unfurls” (Disaster 262),

75 While Böger acknowledges the emergence of a number of graphic novels dealing with traumatic events in the

past (see “Silence” 615), this research needs to be expanded on.

Others have also analyzed graphic novels dealing with historical events such as 9/11, the Holocaust, or the Islamic

Revolution in Iran (see Hirsch, “Collateral”; Landsberg, American Remembrance; Nabizadeh; Sielke).

52

which ties in with my argument about the second function of graphic novels telling stories of

traumata.

Thus, secondly, the representation of trauma in graphic novels enables recipients to gain

access to that trauma, which allows them to feel with those who went through the trauma.

Through what Chute calls “visual witnessing” (Disaster 198), not only the perception of the

past is changed, but empathy and a feeling of belonging can be established. Böger argues that

recipients are “truly sympathetic” (“Silence” 605) to what is displayed – recipients of graphic

novels generally read these as they are interested in the format and in their contents. Since

graphic novels are in general considered part of popular culture, most recipients read them out

of personal interests.

Mass media such as graphic novels create what Landsberg calls “transferential spaces

[…] in which people are invited to enter into experiential relationships to events through which

they themselves did not live” (emphasis in original, American Remembrance 113). These spaces

are based on emotional responses much more than they are on what can be produced by “purely

cognitive means” (Landsberg, American Remembrance 113). On the one hand, these spaces

“instill in us ‘symptoms’ or prosthetic memories’” (Landsberg, American Remembrance 135)

– events become real to recipients who did not encounter these stories before. On the other hand,

“the medium creates a distance” (Bartal 105) between recipients and the actual event. This

enables a form of “cultural therapy” (Bartal 105) – the trauma can be accessed from what is

perceived as a safe space, from outside. Depending on the recipients’ connection to the event

presented in the graphic novel, recipients may be able to face their own (personal or cultural)

trauma or gain an understanding of other people’s traumata; generally, they are able to

empathize with those who suffered and whose experiences are depicted.

Here, visuality plays an immense role: recipients can literally see what the authors want

to disclose since traumata are “put […] on view” (Chute, Disaster 233). Recipients also have

to be creative when interpreting what they see and read, therefore have to invest into the reading

process (see Nabizadeh 4 and 163). An important aspect of visuality in graphic novels that

thematize past events is the remediation of other media such as photographs. Böger states that

this is not simply remediation, but an act of translation, through which photographs and other

media are transformed into art (see “Literatur” 558). Certainly, when photographs are redrawn

or film scenes are captured and redrawn in still visuals, their meaning changes. On the one hand,

the style of drawing influences the reading experience; on the other hand, meaning changes

according to the context in which these photographs and film scenes are placed in. I certainly

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agree with Landsberg who argues that “when one puts the story into a different medium, new

insights, new possibilities, emerge” (American Remembrance 116).

II.2 Kevin C. Pyle’s Take What You Can Carry

Kevin C. Pyle’s Take What You Can Carry, published in 2012, narrates the Japanese American

incarceration with the help of a particular structure: two stories, one set in the 1940s (drawn in

sepia), one in the 1970s (drawn mainly in blue), are connected to show the influences of the

past on future events. The story set in the 1940s is clearly meant to show what the incarceration

was like and thereby informs the readers of the living conditions; Pyle redraws several iconic

photographs of the incarceration and establishes that the story is based on historical facts and

set in the past.

This story is told (almost) without the usage of speech bubbles and text. This

wordlessness or even silence hints at the trauma the Japanese American community experienced.

Recipients do not only learn from the presentation of historical facts but learn from the emotions

shown in the faces of the characters. By focusing on one family’s struggles prior to and during

the incarceration, Pyle shows the circumstances of life as a Japanese American during the

Second World War. Particularly Japanese American Ken Himitsu’s emotions are brought to the

front – by showing what he feels without him having to use words to describe them, Pyle

enables the recipients to feel with the Japanese American community. This story invites the

readers to become familiar with the conditions of life in the incarceration camps while it directs

attention to how people in the incarceration camps felt and what their experiences were like.

The story set in the 1970s is used to establish a connection between two time periods:

by slowly revealing the relationship between the stories, Pyle shows the readers what influence

the past has on the present and future. By pointing out the connections between the 1940s and

1970s, he enables the readers to imagine connections between other time periods as well. Since

the connection here is built on compassion and empathy, the graphic novel invites readers to

feel with those depicted and engage in empathetic behavior in their own lives and communities.

Furthermore, they learn about how the past and future are tied together.

The two stories are told in alternating order. The story set in the 1970s is about a teenager

named Kyle, who has just moved to the suburbs of Chicago with his family. He meets a few

other boys and in order to fit in and gain status, he resorts to vandalism and starts stealing from

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a local convenience store. One day, he is caught by the store owner. To repay him, the store

owner makes Kyle work in his convenience store; Kyle and the Japanese American store owner

slowly get to know each other.

The story set in California in the early 1940s starts after the bombing of Pearl Harbor.

Japanese American Ken Himitsu and his family are first moved to Tanforan Assembly Center

and then to Manzanar incarceration camp. They all struggle with the conditions there; Ken

commits petty theft in order to help his family make the barracks they live in a bit more bearable.

As he retrieves carving tools that soldiers had taken from an older man, a soldier catches him.

The soldier refrains from taking further action and instead lets him take the tools and leave. By

telling the stories in alternating order and in different colors, Pyle slowly reveals that Ken

Himitsu is the shop owner of the convenience store Kyle stole from. The store owner tells Kyle

that he also resorted to petty theft in the incarceration camp. The story suggests that, because

the soldier in the incarceration camp had not punished him, he refrained from reporting Kyle’s

theft to the police; he instead opted to let Kyle help him out in the store. It is the act of

compassion, shown by the soldier and by Ken Himitsu, which connects the two stories and

shows the influences of one event in the past on the future.

The story set in the 1970s is loosely based on Pyle’s childhood; while creating a fictional

story surrounding Kyle and establishing a connection between the two stories, Pyle (born 1964)

also reflects on his own past. In an interview he explains that the setting of this story is based

on the area around the “house [he] lived in as an adolescent” (Pyle, “Invites”) when he lived

close to Chicago; thereby, this story is based on a location that Pyle is familiar with.

Additionally, the convenience store depicted in the graphic novel (see especially Pyle, Take

94/95) is similar to the one Pyle stole from (see Pyle, “Invites”); once again, Pyle stresses the

setting of Kyle’s story. By emphasizing that the story is set in a location he knows, Pyle points

out that the story about Kyle is set in his personal past; while most of the story is fictional, parts

of it are based on Pyle’s memories of growing up.

One event in Pyle’s past is reflected on in the story; Pyle stole from a convenience store

when growing up and worked for the “Asian-American storeowner [he] had shoplifted from”

(Pyle, “Interview”) in order to repay him. Similarly to Kyle in the story, Pyle’s father also let

Pyle “sit in a jail for a few hours” (Pyle, “Carry On”) to show him the consequences his actions

may have. Through these short autobiographical insights placed in the story about Kyle, Pyle

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incorporates part of his own life in the graphic novel.76 With the inclusion of actual events and

places, he ensures the readers that the story is not completely fictional: parts of his real-life

experiences are included.

Pyle does not have any personal connection to the Japanese American incarceration.

Instead, the story about Ken Himitsu is based on Pyle’s general interest in World War II and

the incarceration of Japanese Americans that developed when he had to read Farewell to

Manzanar (1973) by Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston in high school (see Pyle,

“Carry On”; Pyle, “Interview”; Pyle, “Invites”). His knowledge about the incarceration mainly

derives from research, which I will go into detail about in II.2.2.

The graphic novel ends with historical notes about the incarceration experience and a

short bibliography. It lists what Pyle has learned about the incarceration and therefore shows

how he engaged with the story. Furthermore, Pyle hopes to teach the readers even more so than

he does with the graphic novel and make the readers aware of the incarceration. Pyle is, as he

argues on his website, a “great believer in the educational potential of comics” (Pyle,

“Workshops”) which is not only reflected in this graphic novel, but in his works throughout.

As an author and illustrator, he often focuses on injustices of life in the US and on how migrants

are treated.77 Therefore as a white American man, he uses his position to point out injustices in

the US; he does so by addressing the Japanese American incarceration as one of many

problematic times in US history.

II.2.1 Connecting the Two Stories

The two stories in Take What You Can Carry are told in alternating order. Furthermore, events

in the stories are not told in chronological order. Nevertheless, the stories can be easily

distinguished because Pyle uses different colors – the 1940s are in sepia, while the 1970s are

mainly in blue. I propose that Pyle chose this narrative structure to show that past and present

76 The main character’s name being Kyle may also be seen as an indication of this story being close to the author’s

past and him identifying with Kyle; it is very similar to the author’s last name, Pyle. 77 He is known for his so-called docu-comic Lab U.S.A.: Illuminated Documents, published in 2001, “a non-fiction

comic investigation of clandestine racist and authoritarian science” (Pyle, “Author”). In 2018, he coauthored and

illustrated Migrant: Stories of Hope and Resilience, “an activist comic based on numerous interviews on both sides

of the Mexican border” (“Kevin C. Pyle”). Examples for these ‘graphic interviews’ can be found on The Nation

(see Pyle and Korgen, “Seeking Refuge” and “Waking from a Nightmare”, as examples).

On Twitter (on which he is not very active and only has 271 followers as of August 2020), he expresses his

dissatisfaction with the current US administration and his fight for migrants’ rights (e.g. Pyle, “Read”). This is

expressed through advertising his activist comics and his retweeting other people’s statements.

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do not simply follow one another but are instead connected in many different ways. By looking

at and comparing the stories, I will discover three main connections.

First of all, the most obvious connection is that of petty theft which both Kyle and Ken

Himitsu commit. Secondly, both experience compassion and empathy. In the incarceration

camp, Ken is spared punishment from the soldier who catches him stealing; because of his

experience, he does not file charges against Kyle. Thirdly, on the level of the visuals, carved

birds show up a number of times. Ken kept these carved birds as reminders of his incarceration

and his experiences at Manzanar; in the end, he hands one to Kyle. The carved bird takes on

new meaning for Kyle.

Through these connections, Pyle comments on the way in which memories work: they

are not straight-forward but jump back and forth in time and place. These three connections

give Pyle anker points from which he develops the stories surrounding both Kyle and Ken.

These connections only become clear in the end of the graphic novel, suggesting to the readers

that different time periods are connected and intermingled.

The story set in the 1970s is drawn in clear lines with a light blue color “with black and

white accents, highlighting the lines and details of the illustration” (Adamowicz Kless).

According to Pyle, the clear lines in this story “reflect a bit of the spare, clean feel of a modern

suburb and convenience store” (“Carry On”). Pyle here uses a rather traditional comics style

including the usage of speech bubbles, onomatopoeia and narration, mostly from Kyle’s point

of view. The blue color acts as “shorthand for describing the past” (Clough); in combination

with the style of drawing used, Pyle emphasizes a more current time than the other story.

Kyle’s story starts in a police station after he and his friend were caught shoplifting (see

Pyle, Take 7-11). The story then moves on to Kyle and his friend sitting in a prison cell as his

father wants to teach him a lesson (see Pyle, Take 26/27). This leads to Kyle asking himself,

“How did this even happen?” (Pyle, Take 27) and him remembering how he moved to the

suburb six months earlier, how he met his friends, how they started to misbehave and how he

and his friend were caught stealing in the convenience store. All of these events are shown to

the readers, they experience how Kyle came to be in the prison cell. The story continues with

him working at the store, getting to know the store owner and reflecting on what he had done.

Through this structure, the readers are enabled to take a look at Kyle’s life over a longer period

of time; the reason for his being in a police station becomes clear.

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The story about Ken is drawn in watercolors in sepia-color. It starts with him standing

inside an incarceration camp (see II.2.2) at a time not indicated. The story moves to “December

7, 1941[,] Berkeley, CA” (Pyle, Take 11) and is from then on told in chronological order: the

family moves from Berkeley first to Tanforan, then to Manzanar and in the end leaves the

incarceration camp. This story is only intercepted by memories that are clearly recognizable as

such because Pyle uses a wavy border for these panels and because what is inside the panels

had been shown before (see Pyle, Take 128). With this structure, Pyle stresses several events in

the incarceration camps and points out the way in which the living conditions change for the

family over time (see II.2.3).

The whole story here represents the shop owner Ken Himitsu’s memories of his own

incarceration. While the readers may guess earlier on that this is the case because the two stories

are told in alternating order, Pyle clarifies this only on page 154. Pyle states that he wanted to

surprise the reader in the end: “the alternating story line was the only way I could orchestrate

the plot details in order to reveal the shop owner’s motivation at the end” (Pyle, “Carry On”;

see also Pyle, “Interview”). The store owner reveals to Kyle that he has a secret that he wants

to share with him (see Pyle, Take 154). On the next page, this secret is revealed in the story set

in the 1940s. Ken is caught stealing tools (which soldiers had taken away from an older man at

Manzanar). The soldier asks him to keep his not being punished a secret (see Pyle, Take 159).

This story is told without the usage of speech bubbles and rarely uses any text,78 except

for a few caption boxes that clarify the time and location (Tanforan Assembly Center and

Manzanar incarceration camp). These caption boxes indicate an exact date in the past, ensuring

that the readers know that this story takes place in California in a time around the Second World

War. They may not be aware of descriptions such as “Internment camp, Manzanar, CA” (Pyle,

Take 62), but understand the location and its implications when looking at the story told.

Through the color and the wordlessness of this story, Pyle wants “to make that story feel like a

memory” (Pyle, “Carry On”; see also Pyle, “Interview”), “to push it more into that historical

feel” (Pyle, “Carry On”). Since sepia is often used in old photographs or those that are meant

to look old, the choice of colors definitely adds to the feeling of this story being farther in the

past than the story set in the 1970s. Rob Clough even argues that this style “mimic[s] both an

78 Two exceptions should be mentioned. On page 138, the words “Bang Bang” (Pyle, Take 138) are added to

indicate soldiers shooting in the air from a guard tower; speech bubbles are included once, but do not include text,

but drawings of fruit (see Pyle, Take 109). Compared to the story set in the 1970s, the story comes across as

decisively quiet.

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old photo album as well as certain kinds of Japanese paintings” (Clough). Further, it can be

argued to “emphasiz[e] the wasteland of the internment camps” (“Review”).

The choice of color and style is even reflected on the cover page

(fig. 1) which shows half of (young) Ken’s face on the left and the

other half of Kyle’s face on the right. Both are facing the reader

and seem thoughtful, enabling the reader to get a first impression

of them. The title of the graphic novel is placed in the middle; this

title gives meaning to both stories: it refers to Kyle taking what he

can carry when he steals from the store owner as well as to

Japanese Americans being able to only bring what they could

carry to the incarceration camps.79 On the title page, behind Kyle,

one can see the convenience store; behind Ken, mountains, a few

barracks and a guard tower are visible. Through this juxtaposition

of the two characters, Pyle clarifies that while the graphic novel is

divided into two stories, the stories are somehow connected. The

choice in color here already clarifies that the story represented on

the left takes place in a more distant past, while the one

represented on the right takes place in a more modern setting. Of

course, readers are not aware of these implications when looking at the title page for the first

time; their interest might be captivated by the overall design and the title running from top to

bottom.

Petty theft is established as the link that connects the stories of Ken and Kyle on a level

of contents. While the setting and reason for their stealing is completely different, Pyle

nevertheless achieves a connection between the two stories. In the story set in the 1940s, petty

theft is presented as something positive, “breaking rules is the right thing to do” (Antliff 104):

Ken only steals when he or somebody else needs something. Already at Tanforan, Ken commits

petty theft: he steals a box that is later used as a table in his and his family’s barracks (see Pyle,

Take 33). At Manzanar, he gets to know the conditions in the camp, which lead him and some

other boys to stealing fruit and giving them to people who do not have any. When Ken notices

that an old man runs out of material for his artworks, he decides to steal some wood from

construction sites at Manzanar (see Pyle, Take 117). When the old man’s tools are taken away,

79 The title of Lawson Fusao Inada’s anthology Only What We Could Carry: The Japanese American Internment

Experience makes reference to this fact, as well.

Fig. 1 Pyle, Kevin C. Take

What You Can Carry. Cover

page.

Selection from Take What You

Can Carry. Text and illustrations

copyright © 2012 by Kevin C.

Pyle. Reprinted by permission.

59

he wants to take them back to him. While attempting to retrieve them, he is caught by a soldier,

as previously mentioned.

In several interviews Pyle states that he was unsure about connecting the stories with

the topic of petty theft and did not “want to misrepresent anything” (Pyle, “Carry On”; see also

Pyle, “Invites”; Pyle, “MacKids”) in his telling of the story about the Japanese American

incarceration. Thus, he presented petty theft as something positive and admirable in this story;

Allan Antliff argues that this criminal act is used to “right […] injustices” (103). Pyle’s main

goal in using petty theft is, I suggest, to find a strong connection between the two stories through

which the severity of the incarceration experience is conveyed.

In the story set in the 1970s, in contrast, Kyle is stealing “to relieve boredom and impress

his new friends” (Pyle, “Interview”). Here, petty theft as well as vandalism are presented as

something negative. Kyle is shown to steal because he wants his friends to experience

something new and exciting. He does not need anything that he steals but wants to have a good

position in his friend group. Pyle exemplifies this when Kyle steals a pack of stickers for his

friend. After opening the package, his friend just sticks the sticker on a garbage can because he

“already got that one” (Pyle, Take 80). It is the store owner’s daughter who clarifies the problem

of his stealing – she confronts him with the fact that he does not simply steal from the store, but

from the family (see Pyle, Take 124). Kyle seems to not have realized this fact up until he faces

her. Towards the end of the story Kyle apologizes to the store owner. With this apology, Pyle

presents a change in Kyle: the graphic novel gives recipients the opportunity to learn about

morality and responsibility; petty theft in this story is not justified, but just a means to an end –

having fun and impressing friends.

Besides petty theft, the soldier’s reaction to catching Ken connects the two stories. It is

his reaction to Ken stealing the tools that influences Ken in his decision to not file charges

against Kyle and his friend 30 years later. Antliff argues that, when he faces Ken, the soldier

asks himself the following question: “who is the real thief – the ‘un-American’ child or the

State that has ‘othered’ him?” (102). It is the soldier’s compassion and understanding of Ken’s

situation that shows the readers that empathy towards others is something worth pursuing. Ken

chooses not to file charges against Kyle because he himself had been spared the consequences

of his theft at Manzanar. Because of his experiences, he has a certain understanding for Kyle’s

actions. He still feels Kyle ought to be punished for committing a crime but decides to show

him the consequences of his actions more directly. By letting him work in his store and then

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trusting him with the secret of having committed petty theft himself, he shows Kyle the meaning

of compassion and empathy.

Antliff argues that Ken and Kyle’s “lives converge at the intersection of anti-

authoritarianism and secrets revealed, in both instances mediated by mutual compassion” (102).

I agree with this reading: it is the secret of having committed petty theft and the compassion

that the soldier and the shop owner showed that drives the stories. Pyle states that “[o]ne could

read [the graphic novel] as a plea for a more community-centred, less punitive approach to

juvenile crime” (Pyle, “Invites”) which is an aspect that Pyle feels strongly about in his work

with teenagers and young adults (see Pyle, “Author”).

When considering the workings of memory, this connection shows the way in which the

past has an influence on future behavior and actions. As he argues, Pyle wants to show “how

one moment in time influences another” (“Invites”). With the connection between these stories

being based on compassion and empathy, he shows the readers that events and experiences in

the past can be learned from.

The connections that I pointed out here may “invit[e] a comparison of the experiences”

(“Invites”), as Pyle acknowledges himself. While a certain danger of that being the case cannot

be denied, it is more the workings of memory and the influence of the past on future actions

that is reflected on in this graphic novel. Ken’s memories of his own incarceration intercept the

story of Kyle; they thereby also intercept the reading experience. This is not a simple graphic

novel about petty theft in the 1970s or one about morality, but one through which the influences

of memories become clear.

One image that connects both stories is that of carved birds. Ken carved birds at

Manzanar and gives one of these carved birds to Kyle in the end. This carved bird clearly

reminds Ken of his incarceration and the old man he learned carving from at Manzanar. For

Kyle, the carved bird will, so the story suggests, become an important reminder of a day on

which he realized that the store owner had protected him from the consequences he would have

had to face if the store owner had filed charges. Therefore, a carved bird takes on different

meaning depending on the context. Since it was made at Manzanar and symbolizes Ken’s

personal memories, it will always carry meaning for him – the act of him giving it to Kyle

shows that he wants Kyle to be compassionate and empathize with others just as he had done

and just as the soldier had done. For the recipients this is one message to take away: they

61

understand the meaning and importance of compassion and empathy and may implement it in

their lives, as well.

For the Japanese American community, carved birds play an important role when

looking back at the incarceration experience. These birds were often created in craft classes

organized by camp administrators. These craft classes were aimed at ‘americanizing’ the

incarcerees and keeping them occupied (see Sturken, “Remembering” 701). Carved birds were

often made from scrap wood (see Dusselier, “Resistance” 173) showing that no material was

wasted in the incarceration camps. Because of the mainly desolate location of the incarceration,

every piece of wood and other material had to be brought there. The government mainly thought

about material needed for building the barracks making it necessary for Japanese Americans to

look for any left-over material which they could use (see e.g. Dusselier, “Resistance” 173 and

176). From scrap wood and other left-over material, they created practical objects like tables or

chairs or works of art, for example carved birds. Many of these objects have found a place in

museums up until today.80 On the one hand, these objects are used as physical proof: they were

created by former incarcerees and thereby tell the story of the incarceration and give an insight

into activities and living conditions at the incarceration camps. I agree with Sturken, who argues

that “[t]hese carved and painted birds are primary memory artifacts of the camps”

(“Remembering” 701; see also Robson 50). These birds are tangible objects – they can be seen

and touched; they provide access to the past. Furthermore, they can be seen as a symbol of the

wish to escape the incarceration camps.

On the other hand, these objects are often also used to depict the Japanese American

community as one that survived the incarceration in a dignified manner; the message that many

exhibitions in museums bring across is that Japanese American incarcerees accepted their fate

and tried to make the best of their situation. In the same way that gardening was a way in which

the incarcerees could make the barracks look more homely, craft making in particular is said to

have “contributed to identity formation and placemaking” (Dusselier, “Resistance” 172). This

depiction ties in with the model minority myth and the concept of ‘gaman,’ which translated

from Japanese means “patience; endurance; perseverance; tolerance; self-control; self-denial”

(“Gaman”).

80 Examples include “Then They Came for Me: Incarceration of Japanese Americans during WWII and the Demise

of Civil Liberties” (an exhibition from 2017 at Alphawood Gallery, Chicago, IL) and “Righting a Wrong: Japanese

Americans and World War II” (an exhibition at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History,

Washington, D.C.).

62

Throughout his graphic novel, Pyle makes use of the concept of ‘gaman’ and describes

it in the historical notes as a “Japanese word that means ‘enduring the seemingly unbearable

with patience and dignity’” (Pyle, Take 170; see also Hirasuna, “The Art”; Pyle, “Art”). This

definition is taken from Delphine Hirasuna’s book The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the

Japanese American Internment Camps, 1942-1946 (published in 2005). Hirasuna is a Sansei

whose parents were incarcerated. After finding a bird pin she became interested in researching

objects created in the incarceration camps which led to her writing the above-mentioned book

which was also turned into a traveling exhibition.81

Through concepts such as that of ‘gaman,’ also in the way Pyle uses it in his graphic

novel, the Japanese American community is often represented as a model minority, a group of

people that, while unjustly incarcerated, still managed to make the best of their situation and in

the end came out of the incarceration seemingly unharmed or even stronger than before (see

e.g. Wu 151). The model minority myth was created in the 1960s based on the way in which

the Japanese American community coped with the time after the incarceration and by using

stereotypical descriptions of what ‘Japanese values’ conveyed.82 With the so-called model

minority myth, Japanese Americans’ dealing with the incarceration and coping with life

afterwards is presented as based on inherent cultural values that had been passed down through

generations. This leads not only to downplaying the incarceration experience, but also leads to

a comparison of minorities in the US.83

81 For her book, she started collecting arts and crafts that had been made by incarcerated Japanese Americans and

which she then took photographs of. Objects from “functional items as furniture, walking sticks and geta (wooden

slippers) to purely ornamental pieces” (Niiya, “The Art”) are included. Her book was a great success so that she

was soon asked to exhibit these 120 objects in e.g. the Smithsonian American Art Museum in Washington, D.C. In

addition, exhibition venues in Japan such as the Hiroshima Prefectural Art Museum displayed the objects she had

collected (see Niiya, “The Art”). 82 After the incarceration camps had been closed down, US society’s view of Japanese Americans overall quickly

became more positive, but no less stereotypical. While Japanese Americans had been called ‘enemy aliens’

throughout the war, soon after they had – seemingly – been assimilated into US society and were admired for being

hard-working, not breaking the law and being successful (see e.g. Paik 52). As pointed out in the introduction,

many Japanese Americans did (and could) not return to the West Coast after the incarceration camps had been

closed. While the Japanese Americans struggled to find housing and employment, had lost most of their belongings

and their property and often faced a hostile environment at first (see e.g. Greg Robinson, Tragedy 257-259), they

often managed to quickly build small businesses (see e.g. Wu 159), which is often seen as an impressive feat.

Additionally, the fact that a number of incarcerated Nisei had ‘volunteered’ for the Army and because of the

success of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team as well as the 100th Battalion (see e.g. Greg Robinson, Tragedy

203 and 274; see Introduction), the perception of Japanese Americans in US society changed. Especially the

Japanese American Citizen League (JACL)’s “assimilationist approach” (Wu 151) during and after the

incarceration played a role here. For a summary about their activities during and after the incarceration, see

Kitayama, “Japanese” and JACL’s website (see “Japanese American Citizens League”). 83 See for example Scott Kurashige’s The Shifting Grounds of Race: Black and Japanese Americans in the Making

of Multiethnic Los Angeles for a comparison of African Americans’ and Japanese Americans’ struggles in Los

Angeles and how their status in society influenced other minorities.

63

In consistently praising Japanese Americans as the ‘outstanding exception’ among racial minority groups,

journalists and academicians reminded them of the social capital that accompanied such an image: their

desirability as students, workers, and neighbors translated into access to heretofore off-limits educational

opportunities, jobs, and housing. (Wu 173/174)

Furthermore, the emergence of the model minority myth showed that they had achieved

their new status in society because they had “cooperate[d] with rather than oppose[d] the state’s

handling of race relations” (Wu 161), which presents the incarceration as justified. While the

Redress Movement can be seen as a way in which Japanese Americans fought the model

minority myth (see Paik 52), this myth is present in US society until today. It is, for example,

often believed that Asian Americans (including Japanese Americans) receive good grades in

schools or that they do not cause any problems.84

The way in which Pyle describes the concept of gaman and the way in which he presents

Japanese Americans often exemplifies the model minority myth unfortunately. On his blog, for

example, he states that the Japanese Americans had an “industrious nature” (Pyle, “MacKids”)

and that the objects created during the incarceration are “infuse[d] […] with both an admirable

nobility and a stoic sadness” (Pyle, “MacKids”), a description that is more than stereotypical

and questionable. His account of the incarceration is dominated by an admiration that presents

the Japanese American community as an exceptional one, which is particularly surprising as

Pyle in his works generally pays attention to minority groups at large. The fact that he is a white

American man with no connections to the Japanese American community might come through

here. It is not his identity that is at stake here, but that of a minority group that he seems not

very familiar with. Despite him uncovering injustices in US societies, his graphic novel about

the Japanese American incarceration does confirm stereotypical depictions of the Japanese

American community, at least in some parts. Even the way in which carved birds are included

hints at this.

Fig. 2 shows a part of the story set in the 1970s. These three panels depict the beginning

of adult Ken’s telling Kyle about how he committed petty theft in Manzanar incarceration camp.

In the pages to follow, Pyle shows what Ken is telling Kyle by presenting the readers with

events that are clearly indicated as Ken’s memories of the incarceration camps.

84 On Twitter, hashtags such as #NotYourModelMinority or #ModelMinorityMutiny highlight the struggles of

Asian Americans nowadays. While this topic is surely worth taking a closer look at, the focus of this dissertation

is a different one and I will therefore not go into detail here.

64

Ken sneaks into a barrack in which the soldiers

keep things that they had taken from the

incarcerees, including tools that the old man

uses to carve. When Ken is caught by a soldier,

he shows him a carved bird to explain what he

needs the tools for. He starts crying, which

seems to make the soldier feel sorry for him.

The soldier lets him go with the tools. The

soldier seems to accept that Ken has nothing

bad in mind and only wants to help his friend

carve new birds. The carved bird here

symbolizes Ken’s innocence and his stealing

for a ‘good cause.’

The first panel in fig. 2 shows the

importance of the carved birds for Ken in the 1970s. He has several of these birds on a shelf

that can be seen in the background, hinting at their importance for his life. He chose to keep

these birds, even though they must also remind him of a time in his life that many people chose

to remove from their lives. Furthermore, he holds onto one of those birds while talking to Kyle,

shown in the second panel. This bird then acts as a visual reminder of the story he is about to

tell Kyle, but also has emotional value for him. With the help of these birds, he was able to

survive the incarceration. In this moment in the story, it becomes clear to the readers that Ken

chose to not file charges against Kyle because he himself had been allowed to leave by the

soldier even though he had, technically, committed a crime.

By giving Kyle one of these birds (shown in Pyle, Take 160), Ken – seemingly – makes

Kyle change his life and think about his actions. At this point, Pyle returns to the story set in

the 1970s. Kyle is picked up by his father whom he asks what he is working on and offers to

help (see Pyle, Take 161). This stands in stark contrast to the beginning of the story in which

Kyle was not motivated to help his father (see Clough; Pyle, Take 10); Pyle here then seems to

indicate that Kyle has changed his attitude towards his family and his life.

The importance of the carved birds is even more stressed in fig. 3. These two pages

stand in contrast to the rest of the graphic novel as they contain some surreal elements. Fig. 3

consists of several layers: on page 164, in the upper left of fig. 3, three small panels can be

found. In these, the process of carving and painting wooden birds can be seen. The bottom of

Fig. 2 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 153.

Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and

illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle.

Reprinted by permission.

65

page 165 features one panel in which incarcerees are walking towards a train; this seems to be

the moment when the incarcerees are leaving Manzanar. In front, one can see several pieces of

luggage; in the background, mountains can be seen. The main part of fig. 3 shows Ken sitting

at a table on which he has carved several birds after he brought the tools back to the old man

(see Pyle, Take 163). While the other panels on these two pages are clearly demarcated, this

layer of storytelling builds the background of the whole two pages. Some of the carved birds

are positioned on the table, while some have seemingly taken off and are flying towards an

open suitcase that somebody, potentially Ken, is holding in his hands.

Fig. 3 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 164/165.

Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted

by permission.

Ken is shown several times on these two pages and the readers have to understand that

his actions follow one another: first, he carves the birds, he then places them in his suitcase and

is then standing in line to board the train. Ken seems to deal with the situation of being placed

behind barbed wire by working on these carved birds. Since he places them in his suitcase, the

story suggests that these are the birds seen in the story in the 1970s one of which Kyle receives.

The birds’ importance is further hinted at through their position in the graphic novel; fig. 3 is

only followed by two more pages which show Ken and his family leaving Manzanar by train.

66

As Antliff argues: “Pyle ends his novel with a metaphor of freedom: carved birds take flight as

the internment camp is closed and people are released” (102/103).

Overall, the birds show up in the story as reminders on several levels. On the one hand,

they remind readers that the two stories are connected; on the other hand, these birds show that

Ken’s behavior in the 1970s was influenced by what he experienced in Manzanar. The bird

reminds him of the old man, the act of carving and most importantly of his committing petty

theft which he had told noone about. A special relation develops between Ken and Kyle when

Ken shares his secret with Kyle and when he hands Kyle a carved bird.

II.2.2 Photographs

With the help of redrawn photographs, Pyle confirms the historical factuality of his telling of

the story of the Japanese American incarceration. This stands in stark contrast to the previously

mentioned constructed connections between the two stories and the emotions expressed in his

visuals that I will talk about in II.2.3. The reason why the story of the incarceration is presented

through redrawn photographs is because of Pyle wishes to represent the story historically

accurate: “nearly all the depictions of daily life […] come directly from historical sources”

(Pyle, “MacKids”), most prominently photographs. This is based on the belief that these

photographs represent the past as it was, that they have a “claim to indexicality” (El Refaie 165).

Pyle does not want to misrepresent the experiences of Japanese Americans (see II.2.1) and

therefore trusts the works of well-known photographers and eyewitnesses to show what the

incarceration was like. Because of these photographs’ iconicity, he makes use of them to

represent the experiences of many Japanese Americans; he invites the readers to learn about the

incarceration and to imagine themselves in these images of desolate places.

Nevertheless, by redrawing, remediating, removing parts from or adding to the original

photographs and turning them into panels in his graphic novel, he adds his own interpretation

and gives these photographs “narrative contextualization” (Erll, Memory in Culture 135) in that

they become part of the story told. In doing so, the redrawn photographs loose “some of the

aura of authenticity” (El Refaie 165), but can “bridg[e] the metaphysical gap between actual

and fictional worlds” (Cook 137). Pyle places the photographs in a new context and uses them

to tell the fictional story about Ken Himitsu and his family in one incarceration camp. He places

the fictional characters of his story in redrawn photographs and thereby connects fact

(represented by the photographs) with fiction (the characters in his story).

67

Because he redraws the photographs (or in some cases one could say copies them),

photographs are not recognizable as such unless the readers know the original photographs. For

Japanese Americans reading this graphic novel, the conditions depicted through these

photographs and even the photographs themselves, should however be easy to recognize. In

contrast, readers unfamiliar with the Japanese American incarceration are presented with

specific conditions of life in these incarceration camps and can learn from Pyle’s redrawn

photographs.

Pyle acknowledges that he was inspired by artists’ and photographers’ works when

creating his graphic novel (see Pyle, Take dedication page), but does not name specific

photographs or works of art. He mentions, amongst others, Ansel Adams, Dorothea Lange and

Toyo Miyatake, whose works he clearly bases parts of his graphic novel on. In contrast to the

story set in the 1970s, Pyle does not always use his own visuals in the story set in the 1940s,

but instead relies on eyewitnesses’ accounts and the products of professional photographers and

artists. For example, in order to get confirmation about his research, he contacted a former

painting teacher of his, Roger Shimomura (see Pyle, “Carry On”; Pyle, “Roger”), who he knew

had experienced the incarceration himself.85 As he says himself, Pyle wanted to “be reassured

that [he] had treated the subject respectfully and accurately” (Pyle, “Carry On”; see also Pyle,

“Invites”). This statement reflects on him being unsure about the topic – this may be the case

because he did not experience the incarceration and feels insecure about representing a time

and place he has not lived in (see above). Pyle here seems to allude to having responsibility for

his work; he feels that, while his work is fictional, it ought to stick to a historical truth and

depict events in the incarceration camps as realistically as possible. He feels that he carries a

responsibility for what recipients will learn from his book. By acknowledging these influences

and dedicating his graphic novel to “the artists of the camps” (Pyle, Take dedication page), he

shows that his work has mostly been inspired by research and his wish to represent the

incarceration camps as historically accurate as possible.

Nevertheless, one could argue that he appropriates the property of eyewitnesses of the

incarceration and turns it into his own work. This should be particularly noticed when he, as a

white American, uses an iconic photograph created by Japanese American Toyo Miyatake at

Manzanar. Pyle changes photographs and places them in a context that he finds appropriate to

85 I will analyze Roger Shimomura’s paintings and prints in Chapter IV.

68

represent a time through which he himself did not live and to which he has no personal

connection.

Fig. 4 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 1-3.


by permission.

Fig. 4 shows the beginning of Ken’s story and the beginning of Take What You Can

Carry. The first page consists of three panels and is followed by two pages opposing one another,

consisting of four panels of the same size and shape. These panels stretch from one side of the

page to the other, allowing for a wide view. The mountains are here the first thing the readers

of the graphic novel get to see. Since the readers may not be aware of the topic of the graphic

novel or may not be aware of the incarceration of Japanese Americans during the Second World

War, the first page is an interesting choice of Pyle. In the first and largest panel of this first page,

only mountains and the sky can be seen. Like in a film, the next two panels ‘zoom out’ of the

first panel.86 The second panel shows a range of mountains in the background and a street

leading to some square shaped settlement; the third panel shows even more of the mountain

range and the street is here more clearly recognizable as power poles can be seen. Since the

readers do not know what the story deals with and what this location is, mainly the surrounding

area’s vastness and emptiness becomes clear.

86 In the end of the graphic novel, Pyle reverses this. At first, the readers can see Manzanar up close and then, as

the train carrying Ken and his family keeps on going, Manzanar gets smaller and smaller (see Pyle, Take 167).

The last panel of the whole graphic novel shows only the mountain range again. Thereby, Pyle implies beginning

and end of the story and shows that the incarceration came to an end.

69

On the next two pages (see fig. 4 on the right), the readers get to know Manzanar and

the main character, without knowing the name of the incarceration camp or why the person

depicted is behind barbed wire. In the course of time, it becomes clear that this person is Ken;

I will here refer to him by name even though readers are not aware of his name yet. The first

two panels are an extension of the first page, they also zoom into the scene. The first shows the

street in more detail; barracks on the right, a guard tower on the left and a fence surrounding

the area can be made out. In the second panel on this page, a closer look is possible. In these

two panels, the shape of a human being holding onto the fence can be detected.

In the next panels, Ken is shown in full body and in close-ups. He is holding onto what

is now recognizable as barbed wire with both of his hands. In the background, barracks, a guard

tower and a soldier can be made out. Pyle uses a close-up of Ken’s face with a focus on his eyes

to show emotions: he looks sad and thoughtful and looks up at the soldier. In the last panel on

this spread, Pyle switches the perspective. Ken can now be seen from above, from the viewpoint

of the soldier on the guard tower. The soldier’s hand holding onto the rail of the guard tower is

positioned in the front of this panel; his grip seems very strong.

Throughout these three pages and their different focus points of the same scene (see fig.

4), Pyle establishes a feeling of desperation and loneliness. The only persons in the three pages

are Ken and the soldier; Ken is surveilled by the soldier looking down at him. The mountains

in the background establish a sense of dread, which has also been reported by many former

Manzanar incarcerees and which Pyle must have learned about when researching the

incarceration. The mountains for Pyle “seem […] to resonate with some of the emotions the

internees must have felt” (“MacKids”; see also Pyle, “Interview”), as he argues, which ties in

with the way in which he introduces Ken to the readers.

The beginning of the graphic novel and especially the way Ken is placed in front of the

barbed wire fence is reminiscent of one of the incarceration’s most famous photographs: Toyo

Miyatake’s Three Boys Near Barbed Wire at Manzanar. Whereas this photograph is not

redrawn by Pyle in its totality, its influence on the beginning of the graphic novel cannot be

denied. Toyo Miyatake was an Issei who smuggled a camera lens into the incarceration camp

and built a camera. At first, he took photographs secretly because it was forbidden,87 but was at

some point allowed to take photographs. Miyatake’s work of “1500 exposures” (Gerald

Robinson 48) show the incarceration perspective from the inside, from the perspective of a

87 For details, see Melody Graulich’s article “‘Cameras and Photographs were not Permitted in the Camps’:

Photographic Documentation and Distortion in Japanese American Internment Narratives.”

70

Japanese American incarceree. Three Boys Near Barbed Wire at Manzanar depicts three boys

seemingly looking out from the incarceration camp into the desert. Two of the boys are holding

onto the barbed wire fence with their left hand. The barbed wire fence as a symbol of being

incarcerated is one that is globally recognized but symbolizes the Japanese American

incarceration experience in particular; in nearly all depictions of the Japanese American

incarceration, it plays an important role. It is a powerful symbol and one through which the

deprivation of freedom is communicated. On top of that, a barbed wire fence also indicates a

threat to injure people if they tried to escape.

In the background of Miyatake’s photograph and in Pyle’s panels one can see the

mountains surrounding Manzanar incarceration camp and a guard tower. By including the

mountains in his panels, Pyle clarifies the conditions of living in the incarceration camps,

especially at Manzanar, already in the beginning of the graphic novel. The first impression the

readers get is that of living in a desert behind barbed wire, surrounded by guard towers and

mountains. By rendering Miyatake’s photograph, Pyle makes use of one of the incarceration’s

most iconic photographs. On the one hand, he thereby shows that he is familiar with Japanese

Americans’ works through the incarceration; on the other hand, he changes Miyatake’s works

and makes it his own – he adds his own interpretation to it.



by permission.

71

Fig. 5 shows Pyle’s rendering of one of the photographs of Ansel Adams, an American

photographer (1902-1984) well-known for his landscape photography. Adams documented

Manzanar incarceration camp in 1943 and 1944 (see “Ansel Adams’s Photographs”; Gerald

Robinson 26). In contrast to Toyo Miyatake and Dorothea Lange, many of his photographs

feature the landscape surrounding Manzanar: “Adams insisted that this approach to

photography was even more urgent during such troubled times” (Phu 60). Adams himself

argued that he “believe[d] that the acrid splendor of the desert, ringed with towering mountains,

has strengthened the spirit of the people of Manzanar” (Born 9). As early as 1944, Adams

published a book called Born Free and Equal: The Story of Loyal Japanese-Americans, in

which he stressed the Japanese Americans’ “loyalty and ‘Americanness’” (Alinder 45) through

both his photographs and his descriptions added. Additionally, he downplayed the incarceration

experience by presenting it as an adventure, which can be exemplified when looking at the

description he adds to a photograph of Japanese Americans packing up their belongings:

“Departure on Relocation is the great adventure” (Adams, Born 42). With the help of this book,

he tried to convince the American public “of the qualities and values of American Japanese”

(Gerald Robinson 27), especially of the Nisei (see Alinder 49).

“[M]any of [Adams’] photos paint a heroic view of internees” (Blakemore), something

that also comes across in parts of Pyle’s graphic novel. Since he redraws one of Adams’ famous

photographs, Pyle indicates that he acknowledges Adams’ work and that he agrees with it. Both

Pyle’s graphic novel and Adams’ photographs bring across an “admiration for American

Japanese in overcoming an injustice and building a livable community, a process that [Adams]

believed accelerated their passage into full American citizenship” (Gerald Robinson 26/27; see

also Creef 32). In Pyle’s work, his admiration for the Japanese Americans becomes clear

through the way he employs the concept of ‘gaman,’ as discussed before.

Pyle redrew one photograph by Adams almost in total (see fig. 5). In Born Free and

Equal: The Story of Loyal Japanese-Americans, Adams describes his photograph as follows:

“It [Manzanar] lies on the bronze sage-covered plain, a city built of shacks and patience” (26).

Through this description as a city, he makes Manzanar sound like a place to which people go

voluntarily and seems to forget that the Japanese Americans were forced to go. Pyle’s spread

seems as if he zoomed into Adams’ photograph a little since part of the desert seen in Adams’

photograph is cut off in Pyle’s drawing. Both Adams’ photograph and Pyle’s spread over two

pages show Manzanar from a high vantage point with a clear vanishing point in the middle,

stressed by a street going through the incarceration camp. On the left, power poles line up and

72

connect to barracks. On the right, there are less buildings, but enclosed areas and trees. On the

street, a few people and vehicles can be detected.

In both, mountains feature prominently in the background. As is also the case in many

of Miyatake’s photographs, “[i]n Adams’ pictures taken at long range, the great Sierras often

hover over the camp and emphasize its isolation and suggest barriers even more formidable

than the barbed wire and machine gun towers around its perimeter” (Gerald Robinson 29). In

Pyle’s redrawn image, the mountains have an even more prominent position because it does not

include the empty space of the desert that makes up the foreground of Adams’ photograph.

Furthermore, through his style and the sepia colors, the mountains are made to look more

impressive.

Here, Pyle clearly copied one of Adams’ photographs. By giving the mountains a

prominent position in the beginning of the graphic novel, Pyle places Ken’s story in Manzanar

and clarifies the condition of life there for the readers. Since he only cuts off parts of Adams’

photograph and other than that redraws the photograph in great detail, this photograph is rarely

reinterpreted. Pyle uses it to convey the historical accuracy of his depiction of Manzanar; the

story is set in the past in a desolate location that is recognizable as Manzanar incarceration camp

if the readers are familiar with his photographs taken during World War II.

In Take What You Can Carry Pyle also redraws several of Dorothea Lange’s

photographs of the incarceration experience of Japanese Americans. Lange was an American

photographer (1895-1965) well-known for her 1930s documentary photographs when she

worked for the Farm Security Administration. When the Japanese Americans were removed

from their homes and placed in the incarceration camps, Lange was employed by the WRA to

“document all phases of internment, from assembly centers to the camps themselves” (Gerald

Robinson 41) and to “portray it as necessary and a humane act” (Matsumoto, “Documenting”

Part 7). In contrast to Miyatake and Adams, she worked for the government; while she tried to

express her feeling unease at the incarceration through her 691 photographs (see Gerald

Robinson 27/28 and 41), in the end it was the WRA that decided on which photographs were

published and in which way. With Lange’s photographs, the WRA wanted to convey “the

incarceration process as efficient and humane, and ‘internees’ themselves as orderly” (Alinder

25), to “encourage [the Japanese Americans’] employment after their release” (Alinder 29) and

make the WRA’s work seem transparent (see Alinder 41). In order to achieve this goal, the

WRA impounded and suppressed many of her photographs and “afterward quietly placed

[them] in the National Archives” (Matsumoto, “Documenting” Part 11). Many of these

73

photographs were only published in 2006 in Linda Gordon and Gary Okihiro’s Impounded:

Dorothea Lange and the Censored Images of Japanese American Internment.88



by permission.

Pyle chose to redraw in detail two of her most famous photographs of the incarceration

experience that can also be found in many exhibitions up until today.89 Fig. 6 shows his version

of Lange’s Grocery store front: "SOLD" and "I AM AN AMERICAN".

The full and detailed title of Lange’s work, taken in 1942 in Oakland, CA, is

Following evacuation orders, this store, at 13th and Franklin Streets, was closed. The owner, a University

of California graduate of Japanese descent, placed the I AM AN AMERICAN sign on the store front on

December 8, the day after Pearl Harbor. Evacuees of Japanese ancestry will be housed in War Relocation

Authority centers for the duration. (Lange, Grocery)

In this photograph, Lange documents the injustice of the incarceration. Through several signs

placed on the store front, the Japanese American store owner expresses his situation after

Executive Order 9066 was issued. He had to sell his ‘Grocery Wanto’ in which he sold “Fruit

and Vegetables” (Lange, Grocery); to express his feeling of having been treated unjustly, he

placed a large sign saying “I am an American” (Lange, Grocery) on the front, to be read by

anyone passing by. As Alinder argues, “the signs express a distressing trajectory from business

88 The photographs that were published during World War II were accompanied by captions (re)written by WRA

employees which shows that “the WRA tried to control graphic meaning through caption writing” (Alinder 24).

Nevertheless, “Lange’s photographs of Manzanar […] emphasize the make-shift conditions and echo the sense of

hardship and loss found in her Farm Security Administration photographs of the 1930s” (Matsumoto,

“Documenting” Part 4). 89 Most famously it was reproduced in the exhibition “A More Perfect Union: Japanese-Americans & the U.S.

Constitution” at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C., in 1987 (see also

“A More Perfect Union” [online exhibition]). It was here turned into “three-dimensional space” (Alinder 122),

allowing the visitor to get close to a “stage set of the Wanto store” (Alinder 122).

74

owner to suspect to deportee” (33). Also included in the photograph is a small American flag

on the left, right next to Japanese characters (meaning ‘East Bay Merchant Company’). By

including the American flag as an “iconic symbol” (Alinder 33) next to Japanese characters,

Lange raises questions of identity of Japanese Americans. The store owner clearly himself

identifies as a loyal American, but he is identified as an ‘enemy alien’ by the government,

simply by the way he looks.

Pyle’s rendering of Lange’s photograph stays very close to the original. Similarly to his

version of Adams’ Manzanar Relocation Center from Tower, he cuts off parts of the photograph

and thereby makes the reader of his graphic novel focus on what he thinks is important. Overall,

his version of Lange’s Grocery store front: “SOLD” and “I AM AN AMERICAN” includes

most of the recognizable features of her photograph: a grocery store on which the Japanese

American owner placed the sign “I am an American” (Lange, Grocery), a car in front of the

building, a lamp post and a street to its left. In this case, he cut off the upper part of Lange’s

photograph and does not include the sign that says “Sold” (Lange, Grocery) in his panel.

Furthermore, he does not include the American flag and the Japanese characters on the

building’s wall, thereby leaving out one of Lange’s comments on the Japanese American

storeowner’s identity.

Pyle adds two more signs on the store front to his version of the photograph. One of

these says “Relocation Sale” (fig. 6) and is placed right below the “I am an American” sign (fig.

6). The other much smaller sign declares that this store is “closed” (fig. 6). With these two

additional signs, Pyle wants to reinforce the message that this store was closed because of

Executive Order 9066 through which Japanese Americans on the West Coast had to leave their

businesses behind. By adding these signs, he conveys these historical facts that he wants to

stress. The size of the sign that says “Relocation Sale” (fig. 6) hints at this sign’s importance: it

takes up almost as much space as the sign placed above it. Seen in combination, these signs

indicate the injustice that Pyle wants to stress: an American citizen (or long-term resident) is

forced to relocate because the government tells him to. As all of the signs are here handwritten

by him (but copied in the style placed on the original storefront), Pyle here reinforces that this

is his interpretation of the photograph.

At this moment in the story, Ken and his family are sitting on a train that takes them to

Tanforan following the evacuation order (see Pyle, Take 20). They had to sell their belongings

(see Pyle, Take 22), are given a tag with their name on it (see Pyle, Take 23) and leave their

home behind. Fig. 6 is one of three panels on this page; all are of similar shape and size. The

75

first shows a part of the train that Ken and his family just entered; it is here shown from the

outside. Through bars placed on the windows of the wagon, the reader sees three Japanese

Americans. One is an older woman holding a tissue to her eyes; the second a younger boy

looking outside and the third a young woman who has her eyes closed. In the second and third

panel, Pyle switches the perspective: implied by bars in the field of vision, the readers are put

in the position of the Japanese Americans on the train. The second panel shows, behind these

bars, a street with two people on it; Pyle’s version of Lange’s photograph Grocery store front:

“SOLD” and “I AM AN AMERICAN” makes up the third panel on this page (see fig. 6). Also

in this panel, Pyle adds a bar in the field of vision of the reader as well as part of the window

frame on the left. By adding these details, Pyle reinforces the impression that the readers are

now in the position of the Japanese Americans on the train; the readers get to know their

perspective and have the possibility to imagine what it must have felt like having to leave their

home behind. While the first panel and the pages before show the Japanese Americans from

outside, these two panels give an insight view enabling the readers to experience the forced

removal more directly.

On page 128, Pyle’s version of Lange’s Grocery store front: “SOLD” and “I AM AN

AMERICAN” is repeated. It is here one of the memories Ken faces while walking through

Manzanar (see above). It is placed in wavy borders from the sides which imply that this is a

memory (see fig. 6). Interestingly, Pyle here leaves out the bars that he had placed in the field

of vision, allowing an unobstructed view of the image. The focus here then is even more on the

“I am an American” sign (Pyle, Take 128) and the emotional meaning this scene has for Ken.

Combined with other memories on this page as well as his taking a walk through Manzanar

indicate the emotional state he is in at this moment: he feels unjustly treated and is devastated

by what he, his family and many other Japanese Americans had and have to go through.

Fig. 7 shows another of Pyle’s rendering of one of Dorothea Lange’s photographs of the

incarceration, her Windstorm at Manzanar. As Grocery store front: “SOLD” and “I AM AN

AMERICAN,” this photograph is one that is often presented in exhibitions that deal with the

incarceration of Japanese Americans. While Pyle uses his own imagination in creating the story

of Ken, he presents the reader with many iconic and historical images of the incarceration.

Pyle’s version of the photograph (fig. 7) is clearly recognizable as being based on Lange’s

photograph, but is adjusted to fit what he wants readers to know about the incarceration. Both

show rows of barracks on the left and right as well as one barrack in the middle with an

American flag in the front. In the background the mountains surrounding Manzanar are visible.

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Pyle’s version is narrower than Lange’s photograph,

most probably in order to make it fit into the

dimensions of the pages in his graphic novel. In

Lange’s photograph, a storm can further be made out

which she refers to in the full title of this photograph:

“Manzanar Relocation Center, Manzanar, California.

Street scene of barrack homes at this War Relocation

Authority Center. The windstorm has subsided and

the dust has settled” (Lange, Windstorm). In her

photograph only five people can be seen in the back,

while Pyle places several people in the foreground

that in Lange’s photograph is empty. While Lange’s

photograph stresses the vastness and emptiness of the

desert and the weather conditions, Pyle’s focus is

much more on the people who live at Manzanar. He

stresses that the incarceration camps were not empty, but instead filled with people – people

who had to endure the conditions of life there. On the one hand, his rendering of the photograph

confirms historical facts – on the other hand, it includes interpretations through which his visual

has different meaning.

Pyle references more photographs of the discrimination Japanese Americans had had to

face. One example is fig. 8, taken around 1920 by an unknown photographer (see Unknown).

It shows a white woman standing in front of a house on which a sign declares “Japs keep moving

[–] This is a white man’s neighborhood” (Unknown). The woman is pointing at the sign

indicating her support for the statement on the sign. While this photograph was already taken

in the early 1920s, it is often used to indicate discrimination and racism Japanese immigrants

faced even before World War II.90 Pyle includes a version of the photograph in his graphic

novel (see fig. 8). When Ken and his family are placed on the train to go to Tanforan, Ken

becomes aware of a sign saying, “Japs keep moving” (fig. 8).

90 For example, this photograph featured prominently in “Righting a Wrong: Japanese Americans and World War

II” (an exhibition at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History, Washington, D.C.; February 2017 –

January 2019). It was also part of the exhibition “A More Perfect Union: Japanese-Americans & the U.S.

Constitution” at the National Museum of American History in Washington, D.C. in 1987 that has also been turned

into an online exhibition (see “A More Perfect Union”). This online exhibition acts as a reference tool for anyone

who is interested in the incarceration by providing a “Collection Search” and “Resources” (“A More Perfect

Union”) with further information and as a reminder of both the exhibition itself and the Japanese American

incarceration experience.

Fig. 7 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can

Carry. 138.

Selection from Take What You Can Carry.

Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by

Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted by permission.

77

Here, the sign is placed on an apartment building and

not a small house as in the original photograph.

Nevertheless, the original photograph can be

recognized in Pyle’s version as there is a person

pointing at the sign in the same manner as in the

original photograph. In Pyle’s panel, the sign only

makes up a small portion of the image – in the

foreground the readers can see Ken from behind; the

readers are looking over his shoulder.

A pamphlet that Ken is holding onto states

“Freedom on the Road” (fig. 8) ironically contradicting

the statement on the sign. On the way to the assembly

centers and incarceration camps, the Japanese

Americans could not enjoy their freedom. They were

forcibly removed by the government and discriminated

against by the population both before and during the incarceration, as Pyle reminds the readers

of with this panel (and the ones surrounding it, see above).

Overall, Pyle’s remediation of the incarceration’s most famous photographs allows him

to clarify the conditions of the incarceration experience and give access to one of the main

character’s feelings about it. Through his rendering of the photographs, Pyle interprets the

photographs to his needs and makes them fit into his story and the message he wants to bring

across. Furthermore, the position of the panels with Pyle’s versions of the photographs is

decisive for the development of the story. By presenting the readers with his versions of these

photographs, he shows his reliance on research about the incarceration. He thereby also

confirms these photographs’ status – they are recognizable as decisive images when it comes

to representing the incarceration experience. By placing them in his graphic novel, he allows

these photographs to “solidify cultural memory” (Erll, “Mediality” 394) of the incarceration of

Japanese Americans during World War II. Additionally, the redrawn photographs, especially

when they include characters, “assist […] in our ‘identification’ or ‘empathy’ or ‘sympathy’

with […] the agents and actions depicted within the fiction” (Cook 137). Emotions are clearly

conveyed in the characters’ faces, which invites recipients to empathize with them and the

Japanese American community, as I will show next.


Carry. 23.

Selection from Take What You Can Carry.

Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by

Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted by permission.

78

II.2.3 Conveying Emotions through Visuals

The changing conditions of life for the Himitsu family and the way the family deals with these

are conveyed by depicting their emotions. While visual markers of the incarceration experience

such as barbed wire fence, guard towers and soldiers are included and demonstrate the

conditions, it is often the emotions reflected in the characters’ faces and body language that

clarify what they have to go through. It is particularly the emotions shown by the main character

Ken that enable recipients to empathize with the Japanese American community and understand

what the Japanese American incarceration was like. It is the depiction of a fictional family that

represents the traumatic experience of Japanese Americans; the trauma becomes visible and

approachable.

While also in Kyle’s story emotions play a role, they become more intense in this story

because of its wordlessness. The visuals gain more power when words are left out and stay in

the readers’ minds more directly. As Pyle argues, the story being wordless “gives the reader the

opportunity to bring their own emotions and empathy to [the story] rather than having [him]

orchestrate it” (“Carry On”; see also Pyle, “Interview”). Recipients are enabled to identify the

emotions in the characters’ faces, identify with these emotions and imagine themselves in the

position of the Himitsu family. These emotions are not talked about and do not need to be

explained, but are self-explanatory when drawn.

One example of the depiction of emotions is shown in fig. 9.91 Ken’s mother is depicted

as being angry and sad when she has to sell the family’s belongings after Executive Order 9066

was issued (see Pyle, Take 22). Her anger is expressed in that she is shown to destroy a sewing

machine, she is visibly angry and cannot control her emotions. In the last panel shown here, her

sadness comes across. She is holding her hands to her face, kneels on the floor and has to be

comforted by Ken. In these panels, Pyle makes use of motion lines that indicate that she is

shaking both when angry and sad.

91 Other examples in which emotions play an immense role include the depiction of how the family destroys their

possessions that could be suspicious and how the FBI takes away Ken’s father (Pyle, Take 13/14).

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With this example the graphic novel

thematizes the way in which Japanese

Americans were treated after the attack on

Pearl Harbor: because of Executive Order

9066 and their almost immediate removal to

an assembly center, the family has to sell

their possessions. Pyle here shows people

taking advantage of their situation: the

couple depicted here only wants to give her

a small amount of money for the sewing

machine. Instead of taking it, the mother

becomes angry and destroys the sewing

machine. Historical sources confirm that

many Japanese Americans sold their

possessions for much less than what they

were worth (see Maki/Kitano/Berthold 31).

By focusing on the depiction of emotions,

Pyle here not only comments on the injustice, but on the way in which this injustice hurt the

Japanese American community.

In fig. 10 conditions at Tanforan Assembly Center are exemplified. On the one hand,

these conditions become clear when looking at the environment the family now stays in:

barracks with rarely any furniture in a seemingly dusty desert area (see Pyle, Take 30-32). More

importantly, it is emotions shown in Ken’s and his little sister’s faces that here reflect how much

their situation has changed. The first two panels in fig. 10 show Ken walking around Tanforan

Assembly Center – his shoulders are bent forward, he is holding his hands in his pockets and

looks at the ground. Only when he sees some people unpacking boxes does he look up. Pyle

here shows him in a close-up: Ken looks serious and thoughtful. In the next panel, he is shown

to steal one of the boxes – it is the first time for him to steal something and therefore a decisive

moment in his life, as reflected in the close-up.



illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle.

Reprinted by permission.

80

When he returns to the barracks, the

family makes use of the box as an

improvised table. It is this small piece

of furniture and its arrangement with

table cloth and flowers that seems to

bring the family joy: Ken’s mother,

his sister and Ken are shown to smile.

By including this scene, Pyle shows

the changes in the Himitsu family’s

life: while they lived in a fully

equipped apartment prior to

Executive Order 9066, they now are

happy about a stolen box and their

ability to change the atmosphere in

the barracks. With these panels Pyle

asks the readers to identify these

changes, understand their importance

and eventually to empathize with the

family.

Fig. 11 conveys the shock

Japanese Americans felt when

entering Manzanar. In these panels, it

is not the Himitsu family that is in

focus, but a group of Japanese

Americans standing in front of the train that had just brought them from Tanforan to Manzanar.

All of the characters depicted here look devastated or angry. The focus here is on a woman

standing in the middle: her emotions become particularly clear – she frowns and her eyebrows

face downward.



illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted by

permission.

81

In the last panel in fig. 11 the readers are placed in

the characters’ position. Manzanar is shown:

barracks in rows, a soldier standing in front, the

mountains in the background and the location of

being in a desert are depicted. Additionally, this is

one of the few panels on top of which Pyle places

a caption box that indicates the location. By

changing the perspective from looking at the group

of people to looking out of their eyes, the realities

of life in an incarceration camp become clear. The

readers can imagine arriving at Manzanar

themselves and being faced with what they see.

Emotions become especially clear when

looking at the main character, Ken Himitsu. In the

following example, his emotions are conveyed

most prominently. He is desperate about the situation he was forced into and falls apart.

Fig. 12 shows two pages on which Ken’s emotions clearly come across: he is frustrated

and starts crying. The pages before show him taking a walk through Manzanar and

remembering the injustice he and his family has to endure. During his walk, Ken seems to

realize the situation he is in: he looks up to the guard towers and holds onto the barbed wire

fence surrounding Manzanar (see Pyle, Take 126/127 and 129). On page 130 (see fig. 12 on the

left) Pyle uses six panels in the same size and shape.

Pyle shows him becoming angry and crying, thereby captures a range of emotions in a

small amount of panels. Carving is shown here to help him express his emotions which

intersects with the previously mentioned bird carving (see II.2.1). Ken learns carving from the

old man which for him becomes a way through which he deals with his emotions.

In the panels on the left Ken’s hands working on a piece of wood can be seen; in the

first panel his hands do not seem to move, while in the second and third (from above),

movement is indicated through motion lines. On the right in the first two panels, the focus is on

Ken’s face: his facial expression, especially the position of his eyebrows as well as his frowning

mouth, show that he gets more and more frustrated; all these panels are connected which allows

the readers access to Ken’s growing frustration. In the last panel on this page, Ken’s creation


Carry. 62.

Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text

and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C.

Pyle. Reprinted by permission.

82

can be seen: he carved a guard tower into the piece of wood. As he is constantly surrounded by

these guard towers at Manzanar, he is reflecting on his current living conditions by carving.



by permission.

On page 131, fig. 12 on the right, his emotions take over. In a panel that covers two

thirds of this page, Pyle here depicts Ken’s frustration through multiple motion lines and drawn

tears. One of his fists bangs on the table, while he destroys his carving with the other. On the

lower left of this panel, the old man is shown – he seems surprised by Ken’s breakdown, but

quickly helps him to calm down. In the two panels on the bottom of fig. 12, the old man is

holding onto Ken’s hand and shoulder respectively. Especially in the last panel the old man’s

ability to help Ken becomes clear: they both are shown sitting on small stools looking towards

the mountains.

By including these emotional scenes in his graphic novel, Pyle aims to show that life in

the incarceration camps was not an easy one. Of course, life behind barbed wire and being

surrounded by guard towers was not something the Japanese American community was used

to. Artworks are here shown to help people, reflecting on Pyle’s belief in the Japanese

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Americans’ ability to cope with life in the incarceration camps with dignity; a problematic

depiction that nevertheless enables recipients to feel with what the Japanese American

community experienced.

Through the depiction of the conditions at Manzanar through factual drawings and

emotionally charged ones, Pyle gives the readers access to a time they have (most likely) not

lived through. Through the focus on visuals in the story set in the 1940s, Pyle allows the readers

to use their own imagination and place themselves in Ken’s situation. I have shown that visuals

gain more power and stay in the readers’ minds more directly when words are left out, as is the

case in Ken’s story. Additionally, this wordlessness hints at the silence amongst Japanese

Americans following the incarceration and the trauma caused by it. Pyle places the trauma in

front of his readers enabling them to take a close look and almost experience it themselves; he

thereby gives them access to a transferential space (see II.1) through which they can experience

the traumatic event. Furthermore, he manages to “restore the subjectivity of members of ethnic

groups that were never recognized as subjects” (Sielke 388). Pyle shows how one family deals

with a traumatic event and therefore enables the readers to feel with this family and in extension

with the Japanese American community; he turns them into subjects.

II.3 Matt Faulkner’s Gaijin: American Prisoner of War

The graphic novel Gaijin: American Prisoner of War by Matt Faulkner, published in 2014, tells

the story of the Japanese American incarceration by focusing on one family’s experiences in an

assembly center.92 The focus on one particular family, on their struggles and conflicts, makes

the recipients empathize with the Japanese American community and other minority groups.

This one family represents numerous Japanese American families during the incarceration and

can, by extension, even symbolize other families’ problems in US society. Many of their

struggles (e.g. adjusting to new environments quickly) are features of many people’s struggles,

particularly for migrants and members of minority groups.

92 Faulkner is both known as an author and illustrator. He made illustrations for The New York Times, The Wall

Street Journal and others. In addition to teaching illustration at the Art Academy University in San Francisco, he

gives presentations on how children’s books are made and reads his works to his mostly young audience in schools,

etc. (see Faulkner, “About”). He wrote and illustrated several children’s books. For this graphic novel, he both

wrote the story and created the visuals.

In 2014/2015 he won the Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature in the Category ‘Children’s’ for his Gaijin:

American Prisoner of War. This award’s goal is “to honor and recognize individual work about Asian/Pacific

Americans and their heritage” (“Literature Awards”). This award thereby reflects on the importance of works that

remind readers of the past of a specific group of people in US society.

84

Additionally, this graphic novel encourages recipients to learn about the incarceration

both through the text and the visuals. Terminology is explained through the characters and

through what they say (via text); photography and other documentary evidence are shown in

the visuals. Particularly the conditions in the assembly center (and subsequently in the

incarceration camps) are placed in the panels and can be looked at by the recipients. These

panels ask the recipients to imagine what life in these was like, based on what can be considered

historical facts. By showing the characters who have to live in these conditions, Faulkner also

gives recipients access to the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration; they get to see

those aspects of life that haunt generations of Japanese Americans up until today. For Japanese

Americans of any generation, this graphic novel may act as a helpful tool to work through the

trauma of the incarceration; they face the incarceration ‘on paper’ and gain access to parts of

their own (or their community’s) past. Faulkner invites readers of any background to face the

trauma of Japanese Americans and most importantly makes them feel with the characters

depicted and in extension with the Japanese American community as such.

Nevertheless, Faulkner mixes these aspects that stay close to facts with fictional

elements. Most importantly, the assembly center is a fictional one. Additionally, the story of

the fictional family is only very loosely based on Faulkner’s own family’s history. Faulkner’s

graphic novel can be defined as a medium of cultural memory, which makes use of visuals and

text in order to show what the Japanese American incarceration was like. For people unaware

of the Japanese American incarceration (in the main non-Japanese Americans) it is a tool that

gives the recipients the opportunity to learn about it – not only by being faced with factual

descriptions, but by being able to feel with these people which is (in part) made possible by

adding fictional elements. These elements fill gaps in order to tell a continuous story – one that

is understandable and has a clear beginning and ending.

Gaijin: American Prisoner of War tells the story of a white American woman named

Adeline Miyamoto, married to a Japanese who is in Japan at the time, and her 13-year-old son

Koji; how they both go to an assembly center and spend their time there. Adeline Miyamoto

volunteers to join her son Koji in the assembly center and then in the incarceration camp. The

story focuses on Koji, “an Irish Japanese American boy” (Faulkner, “Fantastic Rumpus”) and

how he deals with his being discriminated against by both white Americans outside of and

Japanese Americans within the assembly center as he is partly of Japanese and partly of Irish

ancestry. He struggles with his identity, his being a teenager during the war, and acts out by

stealing and disrespecting his mother and others in the assembly center. After the conflicts are

85

resolved, Koji and his mother and the other incarcerees at the assembly center are taken to an

incarceration camp; the main story ends here. In the end of the story, Koji meets his father in

Japan in 1947.

This story is based on the author’s family history that Faulkner explains on the last pages

of his graphic novel and stresses in a number of interviews (see Faulkner, “Ep. 50”; Faulkner,

“Fantastic Rumpus”; Faulkner, Gaijin 140/141; Faulkner, “The Craig Fahle Show”). Since

these explanations lack detail, I will here only summarize the most important points. This lack

of information also indicates that recipients of his graphic novel have to believe his telling of

how he came across this part of his family’s history to be true. Faulkner’s great-aunt Adeline,

an Irish American woman, married a Japanese man in the early 1900s. Together they lived in

Japan for a while, but Adeline felt discriminated against; furthermore, the 1923 earthquake in

Tokyo led her to the decision to return to the US with her then 12-year-old daughter Mary. First,

they stayed in Boston and later moved to Los Angeles where Mary grew up and had children

of her own. When the Second World War broke out and Executive Order 9066 was issued,

Mary, together with her own children, was forced to go to Manzanar as she and her children

were of Japanese ancestry. Even though Adeline was married to a Japanese, who was in Japan

at the time, she was not notified to be incarcerated.93 Nevertheless, she decided to join Mary

and her children in Manzanar. In June 1942, the whole family (including Adeline) was

incarcerated at Manzanar, where they stayed for more than a year. When they found a sponsor

in autumn 1943, they moved to Chicago and later back to California. Adeline never saw her

Japanese husband again.

Even though his great-aunt experienced the Japanese American incarceration firsthand,

this experience has not become a transgenerational trauma for Faulkner’s family. Despite the

93 There were a few cases of non-Japanese Americans in the incarceration camps for different reasons; according

to Paul Spickard there “were at least fourteen hundred intermarried Japanese Americans, a few of their non-

Japanese spouses, and at least seven hundred people of mixed racial ancestry” (“Injustice” 6). While non-Japanese

(Americans) were technically given a choice to not go to or leave the incarceration camps, their Japanese American

wives/husbands and mixed-race children had to go and stay there. Spickard points out that it was mostly non-

Japanese (American) wives who went with their Japanese American husbands, while non-Japanese (American)

husbands mostly did not join their wives in the incarceration camps (see “Injustice” 12 and 15). There were also a

few cases of Japanese American women who were not incarcerated. This was only possible because they were

married to non-Japanese (American) men and had mixed-race children. Jennifer Ho looks at the exceptional rule

of the “Mixed-Marriage Program during World War II” (23) in her book Racial Ambiguity in Asian American

Culture and argues that the US government, through this program, tried to achieve assimilation of their mixed-

race children into US (white) society (see 22 and 34). “[W]hite women married to Japanese men [such as Adeline

Miyamoto in the graphic novel] were seen as race traitors – their white cultural influence [was] nullified by their

husbands’ Japanese ethnicity” (Ho 33). Race and gender both played a decisive role in US politics at the time, as

these programs and exceptions exemplify. It can be assumed that Adeline volunteered for incarceration in this

case; her Japanese husband was in Japan at the time, so she could have chosen not to go to Manzanar, but Mary

and her daughters were forced to go.

86

story not reflecting neither a personal nor a cultural trauma for Faulkner, it nevertheless shows

the workings of a trauma as this story gives access to a trauma that others experienced. Faulkner

only discovered this part of family history when he read “a bunch of books about children who’d

survived the Holocaust” (Faulkner, “5 Questions”; see also Faulkner, “Fantastic Rumpus”;

Faulkner, “Meet”; Faulkner, “The Craig Fahle Show”) when he was ten years old. His mother

told him about his great-aunt’s incarceration, which at first he could not believe since he had

only heard about concentration camps in Europe during the Second World War (see Faulkner,

“Ep. 50”; Faulkner, “Fantastic Rumpus”; Faulkner, “5 Questions”; Faulkner, “Meet”). His

mother had kept an envelope with a return address indicating his great-aunt’s incarceration (see

Faulkner, “5 Questions”; Faulkner, Gaijin 141). This envelope became the starting point for

further inquiries later in his life and led to his writing the story told in Gaijin: American Prisoner

of War. Faulkner considered this envelope a piece of evidence through which he came to believe

what his mother had told him. It is therefore used to remember the events by and connects a

white American family with what happened to the Japanese American community during the

Second World War.

By extension, the explanation at the end of the graphic novel connects the recipients

with the Japanese American incarceration and Faulkner’s personal position towards it. Through

these highly personal explanations, the recipients get to know that Faulkner is affected by the

incarceration in some distant way – while he was neither incarcerated himself nor his immediate

family suffered from the consequences, he does have a connection to the story told. This fact

alone makes the story more believable to recipients: the story is not purely fictional but based

on historical facts and his family’s history as described on these two pages of the graphic novel.

9/11 influenced Faulkner’s decision to start writing Gaijin: American Prisoner of War,

as well, as he states in a number of interviews, which can be accessed online. Because Muslim

Americans were discriminated against after 9/11, he feared that incarceration camps might be

built for Muslim Americans and wanted to acknowledge that this had happened to Japanese

Americans (see Faulkner, “APALA”; Faulkner, “Ep. 50”; Faulkner, “5 Questions”; Faulkner,

“The Craig Fahle Show”). While the incarceration of Japanese Americans is an event of the

past, Faulkner quickly connected it to current events and feared that incarceration of minority

groups is still possible in the US.

In an online talk Faulkner stresses that he wrote Gaijin: American Prisoner of War “in

honor of [his] great-aunt Adeline in addition to also making American children understand this

particular [sic!] sad part of our history” (Faulkner, “Meet”; see also Faulkner, “Fantastic

87

Rumpus”). In this statement, he acknowledges two aspects. First of all, he shows that he

believes that this part of his family history should be paid respect to. Had he not shown interest

in the Second World War as a child, this piece of their family history might have been forgotten.

His need to stress his family history becomes even more clear when looking at the first page of

the graphic novel. Here, Faulkner writes that he dedicated this story to “[his] great-aunt Adeline,

cousin Mary, and all the Japanese American children who were interned during World War II”

(Gaijin 1). He thereby stresses already in the beginning that he has a relation to those who were

in the incarceration camps and wants their story to be known. This could be seen as a

justification – he as a white Irish American can also write about the Japanese American

incarceration because relatives of his also suffered. While he does not seem to suffer from an

actual trauma (neither personal nor cultural), he feels affected by the story and feels the need to

research and tell the story of what happened to his relatives during World War II. However, it

is also important to acknowledge that one could argue that he, as a white Irish American man,

adopts a minority group’s trauma that he may never be fully able to understand – he did not

suffer during the incarceration and his position in US society is different from that of minority

groups. He uses the Japanese American incarceration to encourage recipients to become aware

of conditions (particularly for those discriminated against) in US society.

Secondly, Faulkner indicates his focus on children. For Faulkner the greatest injustice

of the incarceration lies in the fact that children were also incarcerated. Even though his great-

aunt had had a girl, Faulkner decided to make the main character a boy. In an interview with

Rebecca Thiele, he says that “I figured it be smarter for me to tell a story that was based on my

own experience […] so I decided it would be a mother and a boy” (Faulkner, “Fantastic

Rumpus”; see also Faulkner, “Ep. 50”). In a way, he places himself in the story; he exchanges

his great-aunt’s daughter with a boy because he can identify with this boy much more than he

does with his great-aunt’s daughter. On the one hand, he expresses the need for children to get

the opportunity to learn about the Japanese American incarceration – they should learn about

the past in order to reflect on their present and prevent similar events from happening in the

future. On the other hand, he dedicated his graphic novel not only to his relatives, but to

Japanese American children overall. Hereby he points out that the children that experienced the

incarceration deserve to be acknowledged. Further, he stresses that no children should even

suffer and emphasizes this point even more so in a short online talk about his graphic novel and

its backstory:

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The Japanese American children which we, as a nation, imprisoned in Manzanar and over twenty-five

other remote prison camps from 1942 till 1945 were all our children. Similarly, the Syrian child that

drowned and whose body was photographed on that beach was our child, too. (Faulkner, “5 Questions”)

Here, he clearly connects the Japanese American incarceration with current events. He turns to

the present to bring across his message and stresses that the nation, or even the world, as a

collective of human beings, should face responsibility for children – no matter their race,

ethnicity or country of birth.

In a number of interviews and on his blog, Faulkner states that he needed to do research

for this graphic novel (see Faulkner, “Ep. 50”; Faulkner, “5 Questions”; Faulkner, “Monday”).

He stresses that “it’s imperative that the work be informed by as much research and reference

as possible” (Faulkner, “Monday”) when it comes to works based on historical events.

Interestingly, he accesses the history of the Japanese American incarceration from a seemingly

objective point of view; even though his family was in some way affected by the incarceration,

he gains most of his knowledge about it by traditionally researching a historic topic.

Despite accessing historical sources, he seems to confuse the terms ‘assembly center’

and ‘internment camp’ in a number of interviews.94 The last page of the graphic novel is a list

of references including a few works about the Japanese American incarceration and websites

which the readers can easily access. Here he stresses the need for education, which is, so I claim,

one of the most important goals of this graphic novel. For additional research, he also “put up

a lot of imagery around [him] in [his] studio” (Faulkner, “Ep. 50”) which enabled him to delve

into the story in an attempt to understand what the Japanese Americans in the incarceration

camps went through. This exemplifies his need to experience what happened – while not

firsthand, he at least wanted to imagine what it was like.

To take an actual look at the places where the incarceration had taken place, he visited

“both the Tanforan95 and Manzanar internment camps” (Faulkner, “5 Questions”; see also

Faulkner, “Ep. 50”). By visiting the actual places, the incarceration became even more real to

him than before. The places therefore act as proof similarly to the envelope with his great-aunt’s

94 The story in his graphic novel takes place in a fictional assembly center called “Alameda Downs Assembly

Center” (Faulkner, Gaijin 45/46). Faulkner refers to it as “the Alameda Downs internment camp” (Faulkner,

“Meet”) in an audio-description of his graphic novel. He argues here that Alameda Downs was “based on the

Tanforan internment camp” (Faulkner, “Meet”); Faulkner seems to confuse assembly centers such as Tanforan

and the actual incarceration camps such as Manzanar. Towards the end of the story, incarerees at Alameda Downs

are taken to “Camp Agua Dulce” (Faulkner, Gaijin 133), a fictional incarceration camp based on Manzanar, as he

states in his blog (see Faulkner, “Friday”). The conditions at Alameda Downs seem to resemble that of Tanforan

since it also seems to be a former racetrack (see Faulkner, Gaijin 45). 95 He actually here refers to the Tanforan Assembly Center, a former racetrack in San Bruno, California, which

was occupied from April to October, 1942 (see Burton et al., Confinement 373/374).

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address. Faulkner explains how he felt when he visited Manzanar: “I marveled at the fortitude

of those who had been interned there” (Faulkner, Gaijin 141). Since this statement is included

in the last pages of his graphic novel, he not only expresses his opinion about the incarceration

here, but also influences the recipients’ reading experience. While the recipients can certainly

still form their own opinion about the story told in the graphic novel, Faulkner clearly indicates

his admiration for Japanese American incarcerees.

Faulkner reflects on the incarceration experience of his relatives in a big picture and

looks at it from his position as a white male American and not from a Japanese American point

of view. By doing so, he also reflects on his own identity as a white male American of Irish

descent and on what he considers an important part of his life, namely paying attention to how

minority groups in general and especially children are treated in US society. He uses interviews

to share his feelings about the incarceration and current political events. Furthermore, he put

the graphic novel in the context of his family history – by stressing this family history

throughout, one can assume that he believes this connection to be important.

II.3.1 Terminology as an Educational Tool

Faulkner created this graphic novel in order to bring attention to the Japanese American

incarceration experience and to inform US society (and potentially the world) about it. By

explaining different terms used by Japanese Americans and by the US government at the time,

it informs recipients about what the incarceration camps were like, who had been incarcerated

and about the struggles and conflicts within the assembly centers and incarceration camps (with

a focus on the struggles of young people). Consequently, Faulkner teaches readers of his graphic

novel about what terms to use and thereby gives them a chance to employ knowledge derived

from the graphic novel in their lives. He thereby connects the past with present and future.96

Faulkner explains terminology that may not be known by non-Japanese/non-Japanese

Americans; often explanations are delivered by the characters or the reader has to figure out the

terms’ meaning from the context. Characters explain terminology to other characters and

therefore, in extension, to the recipients. In this way, recipients learn terminology indirectly

through the characters. Faulkner thus refrains from putting himself in a higher position than his

readers; the readers naturally learn from the dialogues that they see in the speech bubbles and

96 In addition to the graphic novel, Disney and Hyperion Books published a discussion guide that can be used by

educators when teaching World War II history and Faulkner’s work. It can be accessed online (see Walker).

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‘hear’ in their thoughts, since these speech bubbles symbolize spoken words. Through these

explanations in speech bubbles, recipients in most parts do not have to look up terminology or

obtain information outside of the graphic novel in order to understand the story told.

Already the first word in the title of the graphic novel is written in so-called romaji –

Japanese words written in our alphabet. Romaji replicate the listening experience in written

language; they indicate a foreign word that most recipients will not be able to understand. While

romaji make use of the Western writing system, they are only a way in which the Japanese word

is made ‘readable’ for the recipients. While the recipients may at first glance believe that they

ought to understand this word, in fact they cannot and require the context to understand the

meaning of these words. The word ‘Gaijin’ is not widely known in an English-speaking context.

Since it is not a common term, one may assume that recipients may be discouraged when

coming across it. However, this term may also awaken interest; because people are unfamiliar

with it, they may be encouraged to take a closer look at what this graphic novel is about. In

combination with the second part of the title ‘American Prisoner of War,’ the term hints at a

story about incarceration in the US. Nevertheless, its meaning does not become clear on the

title page and also throughout the whole graphic novel is only hinted at, while being used a

number of times.

The Japanese term ‘Gaijin’ consists of two Chinese characters, so-called ‘kanji.’ The

first translates as ‘outside,’ the second as ‘person’ so that the combination of them translates as

‘outsider.’ In Japan, ‘Gaijin’ is often used to refer to a ‘non-Japanese’ person, a “foreigner (esp.

one of European ancestry)” (“Gaijin”). As he states in an interview, Faulkner uses it to describe

“what people think of it now as outsider, to be an outsider in America” (Faulkner, “Fantastic

Rumpus”), specifically to refer to “the hero of the book […]. Being half Japanese and half Irish

American, he is ostracized by both cultures in the story” (Faulkner, “Thursday”). This

explanation though only becomes clear when looking at information that is found outside of the

graphic novel, as for example in interviews or on his blog. In the graphic novel, the term’s

meaning is only hinted at.

Other boys in the assembly center call Koji a “gaijin” (e.g. Faulkner, Gaijin 43, 55, 61,

88, 92, 100, 122, 125), which here clearly is used to indicate his status as an outsider – his

mother is white, and he therefore does not really belong to the other Japanese Americans in the

assembly center in their opinion. Koji is not aware of the meaning of the term; he turns to Mr.

Asai, a friend of the Miyamoto family, who is also at Alameda Downs with them, for an

explanation: “[Koji]: ‘How ‘bout ‘gaijin’? Is that a bad word too?’ – [Mr. Asai]: ‘Yes, that is a

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very unkind name to call a person’” (Faulkner, Gaijin 60). From this explanation, recipients

only learn that it is a ‘bad word,’ one that should not be used. This term therefore is not

sufficiently explained in the graphic novel; recipients need to look it up in order to really capture

its meaning. While for members of the Japanese American community it is a term that is easily

understood, for non-Japanese Americans this term poses difficulties. Nevertheless, Faulkner

might have chosen it deliberately: by using this word, he points out that the Japanese American

community uses some terms that non-Japanese Americans may not be able to understand. Non-

Japanese Americans stand outside of the community and have to find a way to look inside; it is

this graphic novel that gives them a glimpse of the experiences of Japanese Americans despite

having been written by a non-Japanese American.

Mr. Asai, an older man in the story, delivers many explanations of Japanese words and

phrases to Koji (and in extension to the readers). Koji seems to trust him, which makes him

trustworthy for the reader, as well. In one situation, Mr. Asai explains the Japanese phrase

“shikata ga nai” (Faulkner, Gaijin 73) to Koji and the readers: “It means ‘It cannot be helped’”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 73). Mr. Asai uses it to express his acceptance of the fact that, while Koji and

he are on short leave from the assembly center, they get checked by some policemen who

believe they are spies. In the Japanese American community, this phrase is often used when

talking about the incarceration experience and how they survived it.

Overall, Mr. Asai is often used as a voice of reason and of kindness in this graphic novel.

This is not only brought across by the way he speaks, but also by his behavior that is shown in

the panels. He is always willing to help Koji (see Faulkner, Gaijin 57; 60; 122/123) even though

at times Koji does not treat him nicely (see e.g. Faulkner, Gaijin 99-101); thus his depiction

leaves the reader thinking of him as a nice man. When asked about the character in an interview,

Faulkner describes Mr. Asai as a “great mentor” (“Ep. 50”), who has an important role in the

graphic novel. As he explains, Faulkner used an image of a movie-character for this character:

“the character who was the lead samurai in the ‘Seven Samurai’” (“Ep. 50”); a quiet and

trustworthy person who distinguishes between wrong and right. Of course, recipients of the

graphic novel alone are not aware of these thoughts that Faulkner put behind the character.

Nevertheless, Mr. Asai comes across as an important person. He explains to Koji and the readers

that the word ‘Jap’97 should be avoided when referring to somebody coming from Japan: “I’d

97 In the discussion guide, this word also finds mention: “The book contains historically accurate racial epithets,

such as ‘Jap,’ that we recognize as offensive today” (Walker). Rachael Walker encourages educators to thematize

the word’s meaning in their lessons.

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prefer it if you’d not use that word. It is offensive to me” (Faulkner, Gaijin 60). When Koji (and

the reader in extension to him) wonders what word to use instead, he explains: “You could call

your father Issei or ‘first generation.’ You are Nisei or ‘second generation’” (emphasis in

original, Faulkner, Gaijin 60). With this explanation delivered by Mr. Asai, Faulkner gives an

insight into the terminology used by Japanese Americans – he uses knowledge that he gained

through research to teach the recipients himself. Furthermore, these statements delivered by Mr.

Asai clearly aim at reducing racism and the use of derogatory terms. By explaining that ‘Jap’

should not be used and giving alternatives, Faulkner gives the recipients the opportunity to learn

what they can do in the future. This medium of cultural memory therefore does not only refer

back to the past, but also projects into the future as it gives recipients a choice of words when

referring to Japanese Americans.

Before being sent to Alameda Downs Assembly Center and after the attack on Pearl

Harbor, Koji himself is insulted by Americans who call him a ‘Jap.’ Therefore, the recipients

are already familiar with the term prior to Mr. Asai’s explanation of it (and may have heard of

it before, as well). Faulkner dedicates several panels to the discrimination Koji is facing: on the

way to school, Koji walks past a newspaper stand with newspapers titled “Japs attack Pearl”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 16) and hears people talking about fearing the Japanese and consequently

everyone of Japanese ancestry being a potential spy (see Faulkner, Gaijin 16). Furthermore,

Koji faces verbal attacks – he is described as a “Jap boy [,] a Jap spy” (Faulkner, Gaijin 17) and

a “Jappo” (Faulkner, Gaijin 19). He has to defend himself against a group of boys attacking

him not only verbally, but also physically. By showing these cases of racist behavior, Faulkner

emphasizes the power of words and what effect one event can have on one person. Even though

Koji is ‘only’ half Japanese, Faulkner depicts him as being discriminated against in the same

way as if both his parents were of Japanese ancestry. His Japanese heritage, reflected in his

looks, gives others the chance to identify an ‘enemy,’ somebody to blame for and consequently

discriminate against. They do not take into consideration Koji’s other features of simply being

a child, living in San Francisco and being an American – in their perception, it is his Japanese

ancestry that automatically makes him suspicious. The attack on Pearl Harbor certainly changed

Koji’s (and further Japanese Americans’) status in society; while discrimination and racism

were also present before, the discrimination of Japanese Americans certainly culminated with

Pearl Harbor and their incarceration (see Introduction). In these situations, Koji does not really

know why the term ‘Jap’ is derogatory, he clearly feels that this word is used as an insult.

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On page 19, Faulkner adds another sequence of clear racism to show the effects of the

attack on Pearl Harbor on the Japanese American community. A sequence of four panels of

different shapes and sizes shows how Koji is treated. The first wide panel gives an overview of

the situation: a conductor does not allow Koji to enter a cable car, something that has clearly

never happened to him before. Other passengers can be seen on the cable car, but all of them

seem to ignore the situation indicating that they accept the discrimination happening right in

front of their eyes or, potentially, fear the conductor. No one defends Koji. Faulkner here gives

an indication of how many Japanese Americans were treated at the time – they faced

discrimination and not many people fought for their rights. In this panel, both text in the speech

bubbles and visuals capture the event. The text in the speech bubbles conveys the conductor’s

attitude towards Koji and Japanese Americans in general; this becomes even more clear when

looking at his gestures – with his hand, he stops Koji from entering.

In the second panel, the conductor stands in the cable car with Koji outside trying to

defend himself. The conductor metaphorically and literally is in a higher position, he leans

down to Koji and additionally points at him with his finger and says, “No Japs in my car”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 19). He insults Koji which he continues to do so in the third and fourth panel.

The third panel changes the perspective completely: the readers only see the conductor – this is

what Scott McCloud calls a “subject-to-subject” (71) transition. This middle panel on the

bottom of page 19 indicates the seriousness of the situation. The panel in itself is the smallest

of these four and takes up only a small space on the page, but nevertheless has an immense

power because of the way the conductor is shown. He is depicted in a close-up and in great

detail. He has his eyes wide open, his nostrils are flared, and his mouth seems relatively big in

comparison to the rest of his face. In the fourth panel, the conductor is shown from the back, he

is standing in the cable car waving at Koji. The conductor says “Sayonara, slanty eyes”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 19), adding further derogatory terms that make the discrimination even more

clear.

In these four panels, Faulkner lets the recipients experience discrimination directly.

While it is here Koji who is discriminated against by the conductor, the narrative is so direct

that the recipients themselves can feel affected. They can empathize with Koji, a 13-year-old

boy who is shown to be confused and angry about the changes in his life. While at first, he tries

to stand up for himself, he looks defeated in the end. In contrast to Koji, the conductor comes

across as highly unsympathetic and racist; Faulkner here uses this character as a symbol of the

discrimination Japanese Americans faced at the time.

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In addition to these words, Faulkner adds Japanese words in Gaijin: American Prisoner

of War, which he leaves without an explanation. Koji’s father appears in Koji’s (day)dreams a

few times (Faulkner, Gaijin 10-15 and 40-41) and speaks partly in Japanese, partly in English

with his son. In these situations, the father’s Japanese is written in romaji; two examples are the

words “konichiwa” [= hello] (Faulkner, Gaijin 14) and “Ohayō gozaimasu” [= Good morning]

(Faulkner, Gaijin 41), with which in Koji’s dream his father greets his son. Faulkner does not

deliver any explanation or translation of these words; it is assumed that the reader can guess

their meaning from the context. Faulkner may have placed them here to show that Koji’s father

is Japanese and to clarify to the readers that Koji is of Japanese ancestry. For Koji understanding

what his father says is of importance. He complains that he does not understand what his father

is saying: “Ohio – what?! Pop, you know I don’t speak Japanese!” (Faulkner, Gaijin 40).

Faulkner stresses Koji being an American by changing the spelling of the words: from the

romaji used in the speech bubble, he here uses ‘Ohio,’ a word that sounds similar to the Japanese

word and is familiar to Koji. Even though Koji is half-Japanese, it seems that he never learned

to speak his father’s mother tongue. Here, Faulkner hints at the problems many Japanese

Americans experienced when it came to speaking Japanese or English. While many Issei only

spoke little English (see e.g. Muller, American 12), their children who grew up in the US mostly

communicated in English. This led to conflicts within generations of families that culminated

with the Loyalty Questionnaire (see Introduction).

Occasionally, some of the Japanese boys in the assembly center use Japanese words (e.g.

Faulkner, Gaijin 43); in contrast to Koji, they seem to have learned Japanese while growing up.

Since Koji’s mother is not of Japanese ancestry, he probably grew up very differently from the

other boys in the assembly center. His identity struggles are clearly made visible in Faulkner’s

work also through these instances of the language barrier.

Additionally, Faulkner explains euphemistic terminology that was used by the US

government at the time in his graphic novel. It is explained by government officials or Koji’s

mother, Adeline. She explains terminology when Koji asks her about the contents of the letter

he received from the government: “They’re sending me to a ‘relocation’ camp ‘cause I’m an

‘enemy alien’! What does that mean?” (Faulkner, Gaijin 25). Adeline says, “It’s just a fancy

way to say prison camp” (emphasis in original, Faulkner, Gaijin 25), expressing her disapproval

of the terminology. When he first reads the letter notifying him of his incarceration, Koji

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assumes that a camp “could be fun” (Faulkner, Gaijin 25).98 He does not understand the term

used by the government, something that could also happen to the recipients. By clarifying the

term and specifying its euphemistic meaning through Adeline, Faulkner includes an explanation

that is important for both Koji and the recipients.

In contrast, the terminology is defended by a US government official: “First, don’t call

them ‘prison’ camps. The government prefers the term ‘assembly center’” (Faulkner, Gaijin

31). The US government official, who is here explaining the terms, stands in clear opposition

to the two main characters, Adeline and Koji. The way he speaks with Koji and his mother is

condescending; additionally, this character does not show any emotions – even a close-up

delivered by Faulkner shows him straight-faced and not bothered by what is happening to Koji

and his mother. Faulkner here depicts a government official who follows his government’s

orders and does not question the consequences. In contrast to the before-mentioned conductor

of the cable car and of course Koji and his mother, he does not seem emotionally invested. With

these two instances of the usage of ‘prison camp,’ Faulkner hints at the way in which the US

government used euphemistic terms to justify the incarceration (see Introduction), something

which he uses to point out injustices and teach the readers by letting the characters speak.

Through these explanations of terminology in various ways and the way in which

Faulkner shows cases of racism and discrimination, Gaijin: American Prisoner of War enables

the readers to learn about and from the incarceration and makes Americans aware of their fellow

citizens’ experiences during the Second World War. It is here in the main text that is used to

indicate injustices. Text in speech bubbles indicates the way in which Koji is spoken to by

others and is also used to present terminology from various perspectives. In the following, it is

more the combination of visuals and text that I will take a look at.

II.3.2 Photographs

Faulkner uses photographs in two ways in this graphic novel. First of all, he uses an original

photograph of parts of his distant family, including his great-aunt Adeline, to showcase his

connection to the Japanese American incarceration. He is able to use this photograph as proof

98 This euphemism has also led to many misunderstandings for future generations – since many Issei and Nisei did

not talk about their experiences or only talked about ‘camp life’ after they had left the incarceration camps, many

of their children and grandchildren did not understand that they had been incarcerated as enemy aliens. Many Nisei

parents only talked about camps and never mentioned any incarceration so that many of their children thought of

camps in terms of summer camps (see e.g. Yamada 48).

96

because photographs have been argued to be “a way of imprisoning reality” (Sontag 127).99

Secondly, he uses fictional photographs in the story to give his characters depth and make the

recipients feel with the depicted family. As Roy T. Cook argues, drawings of photographs

“constitute[e] a sort of bridge principle between the fictional worlds that we enjoy through a

comic and the actual world that we inhabit” (137); they symbolize what can be true in the actual

world and therefore make the readers feel with what they see. Recipients are reminded of

photographs that have importance for themselves – they can imagine themselves in the situation

of the characters in the graphic novel. For the characters, the photographs are shown to be

reminders of more positive times; with their help, they remember a time prior to the attack on

Pearl Harbor and the problems caused for their family. Since these characters exemplify

Japanese Americans at the time, recipients can further imagine what the situation of Japanese

Americans was like, understand their struggles and problems they are facing. Thus, recipients

can become emotionally connected to the characters.

Faulkner uses one photograph as documentary evidence of his relation to the Japanese

American incarceration experience. Right after the story about Koji Miyamoto and his family

ends, he adds two pages titled “Finding Adeline” (Faulkner, Gaijin 140). In this

autobiographical section, Faulkner explains what he knows about his great-aunt’s life.

Additionally, he describes how he tried to find his great-aunt, but only found her great-

granddaughter through searches on the Internet. He ends the section with an explanation of a

visit to Manzanar with his son. Through these written explanations, Faulkner wants to ensure

the reader of his connection to the Japanese American incarceration; these explanations leave

the impression that he as a white American feels the need to clarify this relation and justify why

he opted for this topic in the graphic novel. On top of that he includes broad historical

knowledge about the incarceration which gives the recipients the chance to understand the

contents of the graphic novel better. Following these personal statements, he adds a page with

a list of references (see Faulkner, Gaijin 142), through which recipients can learn more about

the incarceration; this again confirms that he wishes to inform recipients about what happened.

At the end of page 141, he adds a photograph of his great-aunt and her family in the

1920s in Japan. It is a black-and-white photograph showing Adeline and most likely her

husband, parents-in-law, daughter Mary and other family members of her Japanese family. The

women, including Adeline, are wearing traditional Japanese clothing. Two of the men depicted

(assumingly one of them is her husband) are wearing black suits. The family seems to be

99 With today’s ability to temper with photographs in the last decades, this belief has changed.

97

standing in the garden of a house that can be seen in the right-hand corner in the background.

The family members can be seen from head to toe; most of them are smiling and looking into

the camera. Adeline is placed right in the middle of the photograph, putting her arms around

the children standing in front of her. She is the center of the photograph and also the person

Faulkner wants recipients of the graphic novel to notice. It was her story that inspired him to

create this graphic novel and it is for her memory that he created it.

By including this photograph on the second to last page of his graphic novel, Faulkner

shows that this story is based on true events and on his personal family history. From a personal

object that the family held onto, this photograph is turned into an object of interest for the

readers and a narrative device of this graphic novel. Combined with the dedication on the first

page (see II.2), this photograph brings across the message that Faulkner has a relation to former

Japanese American incarcerees and wants their experiences to be remembered. Whereas for

Faulkner the photograph of his great-aunt has personal value and reminds him of a family

member, for the readers of his graphic novel it is a historical piece of evidence. In contrast to

the story, it is part of the real world which makes the readers connect both worlds with one

another; they can understand that the story about Koji Miyamoto is based on a real event of the

past.

Faulkner includes photographs that are part of the fictional story about Adeline

Miyamoto and her son Koji. These drawn photographs act as reminders of positive events for

the two main characters and have emotional value for them; additionally, they can evoke

emotions amongst recipients – they make the recipients feel with the characters and what they

have to go through after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Through this, empathy with both the

characters and Japanese Americans in general is achieved. While readers are aware that these

photographs “have no claim to any objective representation of the actual world” (Cook 133),

their inclusion in the story adds to the emotional response readers may experience; photographs

– no matter if original or imagined – are able to evoke emotional responses (see Cook 137).

One example can be found on pages 38 and 39: a total of four panels are depicted. The

first two panels on top of page 38 show Koji and his mother entering the apartment and Koji’s

mother telling him to sit down because she wants to show him something. In the second panel,

Koji sits on a wooden box, while his mother pours out a box with photographs next to Koji.

Koji expresses surprise when he says, “I thought they took all our pictures” (Faulkner, Gaijin

38) to which his mother replies that she hid these photographs. The reader here needs to rely on

information acquired before this segment. On page 21, Faulkner shows how the FBI took away

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the family possessions that were considered suspicious which would have included these

photographs. Since Koji’s father liked to take photographs, the FBI suspected him of being a

spy (see Faulkner, Gaijin 35-37).100 Koji’s mother expresses her feelings about what the FBI

did in both her actions and in what she says in the third panel on page 38: “I wasn’t about to let

those goons take your baby pictures” (Faulkner, Gaijin 38). The fact that Koji’s mother chose

to hide photographs depicting family life indicates their importance for keeping the family

together, at least in photographs. Keeping the photographs hidden from the FBI hints at Adeline

not being willing to give up her and Koji’s identity – as she cannot confront the FBI openly,

she hides photographs from them to give Koji access to his past and give him something to hold

onto. Faulkner here shows a mother trying to protect her family: on the one hand, her husband,

who was accused of being a spy because of a simple hobby and because he was staying in Japan

at the time; on the other hand, her son. These photographs thus become reminders of positive

times before their lives changed after the attack on Pearl Harbor and Executive Order 9066.

The third panel fills about two-thirds of page 38 and is placed under the two first panels.

It is much bigger than the first two panels. On the left, it shows Koji sitting on the box, holding

a few photographs in his hands and his mother sitting next to him. Circa half of this panel, on

the right, consists of fictional photographs that seem to float towards the reader. The reader

immediately realizes that these images are indeed photographs because of their shape that looks

like old family photographs at the time, their greyish color that reminds of black-and-white

photography and the fact that they had been introduced as “baby pictures” (Faulkner, Gaijin

38) in the panel before. As these photographs somehow float in the room (which in the real

world is not possible), they seem to have a lot of meaning in this panel and for the characters.

This impression is intensified when looking at page 39 that consists of one full panel that fills

the whole page.101

This panel shows Koji and his mother from another perspective; they are placed in the

lower right corner and are shown from the front. They are placed in front of photographs that

connect to the photographs on the page before. Since Koji is still holding some in his hands and

his mother is right next to him, the readers get the impression that they see the same scene as

100 Especially in the beginning of the story Koji seems to be afraid that his father may have been involved in what

happened at Pearl Harbor; he asks his mother whether his father might have been one of the pilots (see Faulkner,

Gaijin 8). This is further expressed through his dreams, which would be worth an analysis. Since these dreams

express his fear about his father being involved in the attack on Pearl Harbor (Gaijin 10-15 and 40/41) and his fear

that his mother may cheat on his father with an American soldier (Gaijin 102/103), I refrain from analyzing these

dreams here. 101 Full-width panels, “panels that extend across the whole page” (Groensteen 45), are often used to point out the

importance of a certain aspect of the story or deliver details that might not be visible in smaller panels.

99

depicted in the panel before, up close and shortly after. As almost only their faces are visible,

their emotions are more easily detectable. Further, emotions are also clarified in what the two

say. While looking at the photographs, Koji describes his father as “one swell guy” (Faulkner,

Gaijin 39) to which his mother agrees. They seem to reminisce about the past when Koji was

younger, and Koji’s father was with them.

On pages 38/39 well as on page 8 (see II.3.3), the readers can see Koji’s hands grasping

photographs. Nancy Pedri argues that “[t]he cartoon hand is a meta-representational narrative

technique that foregrounds the showing and telling – in short the representational construction”

(253). Koji is holding onto these photographs as they act as reminders of better times for him.

In both scenes Koji is holding the photographs in such a way that the readers can take a look.

They therefore gain access to what is important in his life and what reminds him of his father.

Through the position of his hands and their grasping photographs, Faulkner invites the readers

to feel with Koji. Photographs are here shown to be important carriers of memories; they give

Koji something to hold unto, both literally and metaphorically.

The photographs on pages 38 and 39 capture different moments of Koji’s family’s life.

Location and time are indicated on top of or under the photographs. All these photographs seem

to capture happy memories in the family’s life and different milestones in Koji’s early life. They

are of importance for him because some of them remind him of what his father was like when

he saw him on a regular basis. Since some of the photographs were taken at an early age, he

might not have any memories of the events depicted; when looking at these photographs, he

realizes the relationship he and his father used to have. The photographs in the third panel on

page 38 focus much more on Koji’s parents’ life before he was born, establishing almost a form

of chronology in the photographs themselves when ‘read’ from left to right. These photographs

show Koji’s parents’ wedding in 1927 and assumingly their honeymoon on a cruise ship. Since

the parents’ wedding took place in Japan, this page hints at the father’s being Japanese and

therefore Koji’s ancestry much more than the photographs on the next page do. On their

wedding day, both of Koji’s parents are shown wearing traditional Japanese clothing and there

is additionally a photograph of their flower girl, a Japanese girl (see Faulkner, Gaijin 38). In

contrast to this traditional clothing at their wedding, the clothes they wear on the cruise ship are

Western: Koji’s mother is wearing dresses, while his father is wearing suits or a tuxedo when

dancing (see Faulkner, Gaijin 38). The changed clothing indicates their journey from Japan to

the US; Koji’s father adjusts his clothing in order to adapt to his new life or even to fit in.

Faulkner also indicates the passing of time throughout the selection of the photographs: on both

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panels, one can see a change in hairstyles, especially in the mother’s case. Since Koji is shown

at different ages, the passing of time becomes clear even more. Koji’s mother wants to show

her son that they lived a very normal life and that her husband was certainly not a spy. She

might even have to remind herself of this fact. Here again, photographs are used as reminders

of more positive times.

For Koji, these photographs stabilize and confirm his identity. By looking at these

photographs, he is faced with his past of growing up with his parents in a town where he is now

faced with discrimination and racist behavior. Since these photographs are shown to have great

meaning for Koji and his mother (as expressed in their conversation and their facial expressions),

these photographs also have emotional value for the recipients. Recipients learn about the

family’s life before the attack on Pearl Harbor and Faulkner shows a happy family at these

points in life unaffected by the incarceration.

The fact that Faulkner drew these photographs and that they are not original photographs

does not take away from their capability to evoke emotions. While they are indeed fictional, the

effect of adding original family photography might have been the same. As Cook argues, “a

drawing of a photograph within a comic objectively, accurately, and authoritatively represents

individuals and actions within the fictional world to the same extent that actual photographs

accurately depict individuals and actions in the actual world” (131). Drawn photographs may

remind readers of the importance of their own family photographs. Most importantly, they can

make recipients feel with the characters and the Japanese American community. By combining

these fictional photographs with historical facts (and an original photograph), Faulkner ensures

that the reader not only learns about the incarceration, but also imagines what life for a Japanese

American family was like at the time. He thereby encourages recipients to feel empathetic

towards the Miyamoto family and all those who were in similar situations. Clearly, Faulkner

wants readers to feel with the family while reminding recipients that this story is not completely

fictional, it has a basis in historical facts.

II.3.3 Other Documentary Evidence

Historical facts are stressed by Faulkner as he includes maps and depictions of landmarks such

as the Golden Gate Bridge in his graphic novel (e.g. Faulkner, Gaijin 9). Through these visual

markers, he shows where the story is taking place: this story is not happening in an imagined

world, but in actual places. Additionally, when the story moves to Alameda Downs, he provides

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markers and symbols of the incarceration experience that express the Japanese Americans’

situation in the assembly centers and incarceration camps. While Alameda Downs itself is

fictional, these symbols anchor the story in a factual basis.

Through markers such as landmarks and recognizable symbols Faulkner gives recipients

easy access to the story he is telling. Generally speaking, maps and other “forms of

‘documentary evidence’” (El Refaie 158) can often be found in graphic novels based on true

events. Particularly maps are known “to provide clear, unambiguous links between locations in

a narrative and actual places in the real world” (El Refaie 158). This is even more so supported

by Faulkner’s inclusion of dates. While dates can only be found on the first spread and on the

last pages, they provide the readers with sufficient information to place the story in time and

provide a “fixed point in the past” (J. Assmann, “Communicative” 113; see also “Collective”

128). The narrative is framed by three dates provided in caption boxes (“Sunday, December 7,

1941. San Francisco, CA.” [Faulkner, Gaijin 3]; “San Francisco, 1946” [Faulkner, Gaijin 134];

“Tokyo, 1947” [Faulkner, Gaijin 136]). The story has a clear beginning and ending;

nevertheless, recipients understand that this story is only part of the Miyamoto family’s life.

The recipient is thrown into the story in the beginning and can expect the story to continue after

the end of the graphic novel.

Despite referencing historical facts, Faulkner uses an interesting mix of fact and fiction.

Since the story is mainly set in a fictional assembly center, the recipients may have trouble

differentiating between what is historical fact and what is fiction. Alameda Downs is to be

understood on a metaphorical level. It provides the readers with the historical context and gives

them an insight into the conditions, but also allows the readers access to an imagined place.

This also shows when looking at the two maps included in the graphic novel.

A full-width panel on page 8 shows Koji and his mother in front of a map. Through its

size and because it includes several layers of storytelling, this panel delivers detailed

information. It captures the moment after Koji and his mother learn about the attack on Pearl

Harbor and when they look at a map in order to find out where Pearl Harbor actually is (see

Faulkner, Gaijin 7). In an interview, Faulkner describes why he decided to include the question

of where Pearl Harbor is: “From my research I learned that Pearl Harbor in 1941 wasn’t a place

that every American was aware of the way it is today” (“5 Questions”) implying that the

meaning of Pearl Harbor changed once it was attacked. Prior to the attack, it had been just a

place on a map, afterwards it gained meaning as the place where the US officially joined the

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Second World War. Meaning has been attached to the place by one event in the past that is

remembered up until today.

This map is used as a background image – Koji and his mother are placed on the map.

While they are clearly still sitting in their apartment, Faulkner here makes them part of events

that are going on in the world. This map not only shows the location of Pearl Harbor (marked

by an X on the Hawaiian island Oahu), but also includes flying planes and an aircraft carrier on

which a Japanese flag can be seen. The aircraft carrier’s name placed in a caption box refers to

an actual aircraft carrier which was used by the Japanese army to attack Pearl Harbor – through

this, Faulkner gives historical facts but mixes them with imagery. Therefore, this is not simply

a map giving factual information, but one through which the attack on Pearl Harbor is shown

to the readers. Faulkner here adds his own interpretation of the attack or how Koji imagines the

attack on Pearl Harbor taking place. Thereby, Faulkner expresses Koji’s fear both of the attack

in itself and his fear that his father may have been involved in the attack. Faulkner mixes

historical facts and fictional, dreamlike elements to make the readers not only understand the

location of Pearl Harbor, but also for them to be able to imagine what the attack was like.

Furthermore, by placing Koji and his mother on the map, Faulkner shows the readers

that their reality becomes defined by what is captured on this map. The map depicts the one

event that will have an immense influence on their lives; it will change their lives forever. This

becomes even clearer when looking at the radio announcement to be found on the top. The

readers are aware of it being a radio announcement because Adeline is sitting in front of a radio

that Koji had turned on (see Faulkner, Gaijin 5). This radio announcement is in capital letters

in a relatively big speech bubble with an irregular shape that indicates that the voice implied

here is emanating from a machine (see Eisner, Sequential Art 27): “President Roosevelt

expected to declare war!” (Faulkner, Gaijin 8).

On a full-width panel on page 45 Faulkner shows the “trip across San Francisco Bay”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 45) Koji and his mother have to take on their way to the assembly center. San

Francisco Bay is here shown from a bird’s eye view, giving an overview of the area and showing

where Alameda Downs Assembly Center is located. The majority of places shown are true to

fact and pointed out by name in caption boxes, but Alameda Downs Assembly Center is an

imaginary place that Faulkner chose as the main location of this story.

Nevertheless, he presents it as fact here; he does not only include a detailed drawing of

its location on Alameda Island (an actual place) and layout, but additionally adds factual

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sounding caption boxes. In these two caption boxes close to the drawing of Alameda Downs, it

is described as a former “horse-racing track” (Faulkner, Gaijin 45) housing “over 8,000

Japanese Americans” (Faulkner, Gaijin 45). With this description, Faulkner stays close enough

to facts so that the story seems believable. Some of the assembly centers had indeed been former

race-tracks with questionable conditions (see e.g. Okihiro, “Assembly Centers” 219); as pointed

out earlier, Faulkner based his Alameda Downs on Tanforan, which was also one of these

former horse race-tracks and held “a total of 8,033 Japanese Americans from the San Francisco

Bay Area” (Okihiro, “Assembly Centers” 226; see also Robson 38) – Faulkner also stays close

to this number in his description of Alameda Downs. Since readers of the graphic novel may

not be familiar with the names and location of assembly centers, they may also believe that this

assembly center existed, also because the rest of the map depicts, while hand-drawn, actual

places.

Through the depiction of the way that Koji and Adeline have to take from San Francisco

through Oakland to Alameda Island ending up at Alameda Downs, Koji and his mother leave

the real world and move to the fictional world of Alameda Downs. Faulkner’s depiction here

places a fictional location on an actual and true-to-fact map; he moves the narrative from the

actual world to a place that, while capturing real conditions of incarceration, is completely

fictional. Faulkner therefore moves from a concrete example of the Miyamoto family to a more

general comment about the incarceration. He does not create a reminder of the Japanese

American incarceration that is in every detail adhering to the facts, but one that includes

fictional aspects which allow him to stress what he considers important. Conditions at Alameda

Downs are indicated through visual markers that work similar to how Faulkner uses maps in

his narrative; visual markers referring to the real world give an insight into historical facts about

the Japanese American incarceration.

II.3.4 Visual Markers of the Conditions in Assembly Centers and Incarceration Camps

Particularly the conditions in the assembly centers (and by extension in the incarceration camps)

are visualized and placed in panels throughout the graphic novel. These conditions were part of

the trauma experienced by Japanese Americans who lived in the incarceration camps. Living

conditions changed drastically for Japanese Americans when they were moved to the assembly

centers and later to the incarceration camps – it is often these changed conditions that made life

in the camps stay in former incarcerees’ subconscious and “violated many internees’ sense of

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self and dignity” (Nagata/Cheng 266; see also Nagata/Kim/Nguyen 358). These conditions

changed their everyday lives and additionally the way in which families functioned (see

Nagata/Kim/Wu 38). By showing these conditions to the readers Faulkner invites the readers

to gain an insight into the traumatic experience of the Japanese American incarceration.

Depending on the recipients’ ancestry and prior experiences, recipients are able to face traumata

they experienced themselves (be it incarceration or any other similar experience) or grasp what

the Japanese American incarceration experience was like.

To achieve this understanding and make recipients feel with the Japanese American

community, Faulkner uses visual markers. Visual markers such as barbed wire or searchlights

symbolize incarceration overall, making it possible for recipients to recognize what the

Japanese American incarceration was like in a bigger context. It is this process of recognizing

difficult living conditions in prison camps and seeing a family live in them that enables

recipients to feel with the Japanese American community and get access to their trauma. Koji

and his mother had been introduced previously as a family living a normal life which was

disrupted by the attack on Pearl Harbor and the issuance of Executive Order 9066. Here,

Faulkner comments on how quickly living conditions and life in general can change. He

includes aspects of incarceration that were specific to the Japanese American incarceration

during the Second World War: he depicts an improvised school system (see Faulkner, Gaijin

79), problematic sanitary conditions (see Faulkner, Gaijin 52) and eating in the mess halls (see

Faulkner, Gaijin 50/51), for example. These conditions, so foreign to most of the recipients, are

what really capture the traumatic experiences of the Japanese American incarceration.

Faulkner often uses a bird’s eye view to show the area of the assembly center. On page

96, one panel (out of four on this page) shows Koji and another boy walking through the

assembly center. They are walking in between some of the former horse stalls, which are used

to house the incarcerees; the whole area is surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers. The

map on page 45 already introduced the recipients to some of the conditions; here Faulkner

shows that Alameda Downs Assembly Center is a former racetrack. Soldiers are standing on

the guard towers watching over the people.

On page 96, Faulkner clearly indicates the deprivation of freedom; the assembly center

is surrounded by barbed wire and guard towers. The barbed wire fence is shown in detail on the

bottom of the panel and is further placed all around the area, confining Koji, the other boy and

all Japanese Americans in the assembly center. Here, the narrow shape of the panel adds to the

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feeling of being imprisoned; as Eisner argues “[a] narrow panel evokes the feeling of being

hemmed in” (Sequential Art 89) since it only shows a small range of the scenery.

Through this shape, recipients are made aware of the fact that Japanese Americans in

the assembly centers and incarceration camps had to cope with living in a limited amount of

space from which they could not escape. The placement of a part of the fence here is also

interesting: because of the perspective used here, readers are able to look over the fence and

gain access from outside. This makes the recipients outsiders, who look inside the assembly

center and are not part of what is happening.

In addition to the barbed wire fence, the guard tower is a prominent symbol that finds

its place in Faulkner’s story a number of times and also in this panel. Overall, a guard tower is

a means to watch over people and therefore symbolizes surveillance. Japanese Americans in

the assembly centers and incarceration camps could not make one move in the open without

being watched by soldiers in these guard towers, as is shown here on page 96. The soldier in

one of the guard towers looks down and watches the boys’ and everybody else’s moves.

Soldiers do not face what is outside of the assembly center but look into the camp to ensure that

the incarcerees do not ‘misbehave’ or attempt to escape.

Koji faces soldiers a number of times, for example shown on pages 81/82. As soon as

Koji and other Japanese American boys physically attack one another, soldiers on their guard

tower take notice and shout at them (see Faulkner, Gaijin 81). When this is not enough, they

even point their rifles in the general direction of the boys in order to threaten them (see Faulkner,

Gaijin 82). Faulkner depicts this panel from above, from a bird’s eye view, from the position

of the soldiers who are literally and symbolically at a higher position than the boys. They have

the power because of their rifles and because of their position in the assembly center; through

the support of the government, they can establish discipline through a display and a threat of

power. They do not even have to use their weapons but only threaten to use them. In panels

depicting the incarceration camp at night (e.g. Faulkner, Gaijin 88), this impression becomes

even more forceful because searchlights here add to the threatening atmosphere. The

searchlights which make the Japanese Americans visible even at night, can be seen as a symbol

for their constantly being watched inside of the incarceration camps. Additionally, their looks,

their being recognizable as being of Japanese ancestry, suggest this constant surveillance, no

matter where they are.

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After a fight with his mother, Koji tries to climb the fence surrounding the assembly

center in an attempt to escape both the fight with his mother and the general setting of being

behind barbed wire (see Faulkner, Gaijin 84/85). In these panels, the emotional stress put on

children in the assembly centers and incarceration camps becomes clear. Once again, Faulkner

depicts Koji’s attempted escape from above – Faulkner here clarifies the scale of the assembly

center as well as the power of the soldiers. As soon as he starts climbing the fence, Koji is

forced to climb down by one soldier pointing a rifle at him (see Faulkner, Gaijin 86). Soldiers

take him to his mother and tell them that the commander demands to see them the next day –

the commander, of course, is in an even higher position than the soldiers. When Koji and his

mother face him, the commander threatens to send Koji to a “camp for juvenile delinquents”

(Faulkner, Gaijin 95). Faulkner here shows that the assembly center and incarceration camps

work through threats of power – if the soldiers cannot solve a situation, the commander takes

over; if he cannot keep the assembly centers calm, those who cannot be disciplined are taken to

even stricter camps. Overall, it can be argued that discipline is established through the

visualization of power: whoever sees the barbed wired fences, the guard tower and the

searchlights, is reminded of the government’s power. This stands in opposition to Michel

Foucault’s idea of “automatic functioning of power” (201) through internalization (see Graulich

230).

In the incarceration camps, the changed living conditions including a loss of privacy led

to a “breakdown of the family structure” (Chen/Yu, “Traumatic Space” 560; see also

Nagata/Kim/Wu 38/39) 102 and to generational conflicts, 103 which Faulkner thematizes by

showing conflicts between Koji and his mother. Their relationship in the narrative changes

decisively. In the beginning, Koji and Adeline seem to form a harmonious union; while they

both clearly wish Koji’s father was with them, they get along well and agree on almost

everything. In the assembly center, this changes: Koji starts to act out, he suspects his mother

of having an affair with a soldier and confronts her about it and, generally, they seem to get into

fights a lot. The low point of their relationship is when Koji’s mother slaps him and he runs

away for a night (see Faulkner, Gaijin 87). In the story, Koji often gets in trouble because he is

102 Family members were not only surrounded by their close family and shared a room with them but had to cope

with living with many other people in very limited space. 103 Generational conflicts between the Issei and Nisei became most visible with the Loyalty Questionnaire that will

be discussed in another section of this dissertation, since it does not find mention in Faulkner’s graphic novel.

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influenced by some other boys to act out; he starts stealing (see Faulkner, Gaijin 90-92),

smoking (see Faulkner, Gaijin 97) and fighting with his mother.104

The Miyamoto family clearly is used as a representative of the Japanese American

community. Despite the fact that their situation is special because Adeline is not of Japanese

ancestry, conditions of life are the same for all incarcerees. The fact that Faulkner chose to add

no or only little text to panels in which conditions are thematized, exemplifies the power of

visuality. While the readers may be able to create similar images in their heads if they were

confronted with a text-based medium, being confronted with them visually creates a more

immediate impression. Visuals exemplify these conditions – they are rarely talked about, but

simply become a fact of life for these fictional characters who are shown to accept them in a

short amount of time. Seeing the characters accept these unusual living conditions may make

the recipients feel uncomfortable. Recipients are encouraged to feel with the Japanese

Americans in the story and the Japanese American community overall. Even though the

characters are clearly fictional, and the main part of the story is as well, the depicted living

conditions act as reminders of the Japanese American incarceration. The living conditions are

always shown in connection to the story developing around Koji. Thereby, they are not

presented to the readers directly, but are made clear in passing. While reading this graphic novel,

the readers are faced with the conditions at Alameda Downs, can imagine themselves in Koji’s

place and understand what the Japanese American incarceration experience was like. Visuals

here then have the task of both showing and narrating: they do not only illustrate that what is

said but go far beyond it. It is only by looking at the visuals that the conditions become clear;

they narrate and confront the readers directly with the experience of Japanese Americans during

the Second World War.

Through the depiction of various aspects of living in the assembly center, Faulkner

clarifies life behind barbed wire. This fictional account intercepted with factual imagery acts as

a medium of cultural memory. On the one hand, Faulkner reminds members of the Japanese

American community of what their relatives had to go through. On the other hand, for readers

unaware of the incarceration, the visual depiction of these conditions conjures up a picture of

life in the assembly centers and incarceration camps and gives them access to the trauma of the

incarceration. Through these means, Faulkner can generate compassion and empathy in the

104 The topic of petty theft plays a more prominent role in Pyle’s graphic novel, discussed in II.2.1.

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readers. This graphic novel not only acts as a simple reminder of the incarceration experience,

but makes the readers feel with the characters and with the Japanese American community.

In conclusion I here want to stress that both Faulkner and Pyle reflect not only on the

Japanese American community, but also on US society at large. They place their graphic novels

in a bigger picture of minority group’s status in the US “creat[ing] communality across both

space and time” (Erll/Rigney 1). Both authors’ respect for how the Japanese American

community handled the incarceration clearly shines through, but so does their position as non-

Japanese Americans. Especially Pyle’s account of the incarceration is dominated by an

admiration, through which the Japanese American community is presented as an exceptional

one. He makes use of the concept of ‘gaman’ to stress aspects of the incarceration that play into

the depiction of Japanese Americans as a model minority. His graphic novel thereby presents

the Japanese Americans as exceptional and could be argued to diminish other minority groups’

experiences of the past. Nevertheless, Pyle’s choice of the topic, his representation of

discrimination and the way he connects both stories in the graphic novel as well as in his other

works stresses his being aware of the problems minority groups face in the US throughout time.

In Faulkner’s case it is unfortunate to see that, especially in interviews, he does not seem sure

about the terminology used to describe the incarceration. Considering that he explains

terminology in his graphic novel, through which he aims to teach the readers, his choice of

words is, at times, regrettable.

In this chapter, I have established that these two graphic novels are media of cultural

memory that enable recipients to gain access to a historical event. The incarceration here is

presented as a traumatic event through the combination of visuals and text; by introducing

several aspects of this trauma to the readers, the two authors manage to make the readers feel

with the Japanese American community and other minority groups. Cultural memory here is

not limited to one minority group’s past, but connected to US society at large intertwining past,

present and future. Through their graphic novels, Faulkner and Pyle enable members of the

Japanese American community to come to reflect on their past and cultural trauma and to

eventually heal; furthermore, these graphic novels can be used as educational tools giving

members of the US society access to a part of history less known. The next chapter will focus

on the way in which picture books enable children access to the past.

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CHAPTER III. PICTURE BOOKS: Eve Bunting’s So Far from the Sea and

Katie Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy

In this chapter, I will focus on the picture books So Far from the Sea (written by Eve Bunting

and published in 1998) and Fish for Jimmy (written and illustrated by Katie Yamasaki in 2013)

that both tell the story of the Japanese American incarceration by focusing on a family each. It

is important to look at the picture book as a medium of cultural memory as picture books make

next and younger generations aware of historical events that still have an influence on today’s

society. When looking at picture books about the Japanese American incarceration, it is decisive

to consider their educational function. On the one hand, the two picture books analyzed in the

following give Japanese American children access to their parents’ or grandparents’ past and

the trauma of being put behind barbed wires. On the other hand, non-Japanese American

children learn about the past, understand what the Japanese American community experienced

and become aware of the risks of history repeating itself.

Even though picture books are created for children and are part of children’s literature,

I want to stress that these two picture books in particular also address adult readers. A so-called

“adult mediator” (Kokkola 39) is needed in order for children to understand the stories in these

picture books. Both authors explain historical information in the end that needs to be put into

context; an adult reader is required to make sense of what is written here. Additionally,

Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy does not only include illustrations that are easy to understand, but

also abstract illustrations that require interpretation. In Bunting’s picture book, illustrated by

Chris K. Soentpiet, the narrative structure of switching between two time periods might not be

understandable for all children; an adult mediator is also needed here. Additionally, these two

works are also designed in such a way that makes them approachable for adult readers on their

own. These are not simple child-oriented picture books, but both are also attractive for adult

readers – they contain “sophisticated content” (Nodelman, “More Words” 10) as they give

readers of all ages access to a traumatic event.

Recipients are presented with the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration both

through the text and the illustrations.105 Illustrations often accompany the text in such a way

that clarifies the written word – the trauma becomes visible and accessible for both Japanese

American and non-Japanese Americans. Bunting’s text and Soentpiet’s illustrations of So Far

105 In this chapter, I am going to use the term ‘illustration’ as opposed to the terms ‘image’ or ‘visual’ (see Chapter

II) – both Katie Yamasaki and Chris Soentpiet call themselves ‘illustrators.’ Additionally, the function of these

illustrations is different from that in graphic novels. Illustrations accompany the story told in picture books; the

text here is delivered in blocks and not spread over the images as in graphic novels.

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from the Sea enable the recipients to see the emotions of the two main characters as they are

described in the text and reflected in detailed illustrations. Yamasaki focuses on the main

character Taro and what he experiences – with the help of abstract illustrations, she enables the

readers to literally take a look at Taro’s and his brother’s thoughts. With these works, the two

authors “encourage readers to overcome their feelings of grief” (Kokkola 171) as they allow

readers access to the thoughts of the characters through both the text and the illustrations (see

Mallan 112). Furthermore, both picture books end on an optimistic note: while Taro’s father is

able to rejoin his family in Fish for Jimmy, the family depicted in So Far from the Sea is able

to move to another part of the country after visiting the grandfather’s grave. These hopeful

endings are surely aimed at children as the implied audience – they are shown that grief and

trauma can be overcome. Overall, both authors show that the trauma of the Japanese American

incarceration can be resolved, at least in parts. Consequently, these two picture books do not

only have an educational, but also a therapeutic function for the recipients.

Picture books also have a therapeutic function for authors, as Böger states graphic novels

can have for their authors (see “Silence” 605 and Chapter II). This is especially noteworthy for

authors whose families were incarcerated. As a Yonsei (fourth-generation Japanese American),

Yamasaki works through her family’s trauma and her own transgenerational trauma with this

picture book and her work as an artist and muralist. For her, the Japanese American

incarceration has become a postmemory; she feels connected to it through her family. By

creating this picture book, she stabilizes her own identity which is also reflected in the fact that

she combines two stories of her family’s incarceration in her Fish for Jimmy. By selecting

aspects of two stories she was told in her family, she stresses what she considers important: her

work is an interpretation of what some of her family members experienced. Bunting, despite

not being of Japanese ancestry, feels the need to memorialize this event – she immigrated to the

US and in numerous picture books pays specific attention to how migrants and minority groups

in the US are treated.

In both picture books, fact and fiction are mixed. While Bunting’s account and

Soentpiet’s illustrations are mainly based on research, the general setting of visiting the

grandfather’s grave is not coherent with historical facts.106 The illustrations include visual

106 While 146 incarcerees died at Manzanar, only a few were buried in Manzanar cemetery – numbers range from

15 to 80 (see e.g. Burton et al., I Rei To 5). “Most of the […] people who died in camp were cremated […] and

their remains kept in urns in the Buddhist church or the hospital until the camp closed” (Wehrey 103; see also

Philibert-Ortega 53). When Manzanar was closed down, 15 burial sites remained. This number decreased further

when some of the dead were taken to other cemeteries; in 1946 there were only six burial sites left (see Burton et

al., I Rei To 7). “[T]hree were bachelors in their 60s who had no relatives in the U.S., two were babies whose

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markers of the incarceration which place the story clearly in Manzanar incarceration camp. By

stressing the historical background to her story, Bunting shows that this event of the past needs

to be remembered in such a way that is historically valid. Yamasaki’s account, in contrast,

focuses less on historical facts but brings across the emotions of the main characters and

emphasizes the suffering of those incarcerated.

Both authors express their solidarity with the Japanese American community: they show

what the Japanese American incarceration during the Second World War was like in such a way

that enables readers to, on the one hand, understand historical facts and, on the other hand, to

feel with the two families depicted. Non-Japanese American Bunting tells the story from the

perspective of somebody outside of the Japanese American community whereas Yamasaki tells

it from somebody experiencing its aftereffects. Both want to unite US society as such by

pointing out injustices that the Japanese American community experienced and therefore work

for a united US society. They do so by using the means through which memory and trauma can

be depicted in picture books.

III.1 Memory and Trauma in Picture Books

The picture book is a medium of cultural memory through which memories and traumata can

be expressed and represented in a unique way. While it can be claimed that graphic novels and

picture books use a similar approach to telling stories as they both make use of written text and

pictorial elements as well as sequentiality, I understand them both as distinguishable media.107

Whereas picture books are often considered a genre (see e.g. Do Rozario 151;

Hatfield/Svonkin 431; Kidd 137), I suggest that picture books are more than that, particularly

when it comes to the way in which they represent the past. I agree with Nina Christensen who

states that “[u]sing the term ‘medium’ directs the attention to […] picture books both as material

objects with distinct characteristics […] and as a means of communication that uses medium-

parents were sent to the Tule Lake Segregation Center before the internment ended, and one was an unidentified

stillborn baby” (Burton et al., I Rei To 7; see also Wehrey 102). These burial sites remain until today. 107 A number of academic articles focus on the differentiation between comics/graphic novels and picture books

(see Hatfield/Sanders; Hatfield/Svonkin; Nel; Nodelman, “Picture Book Guy”; Op de Beeck; Sanders). Overall, it

is not easy to differentiate between the two media as they share a number of characteristics leading Elisa and

Patrick Gall to argue that “comics are picture books” (45). According to their argument, in picture books “whole

pages function the same way that panels in a comic do” (Gall 48; see also Nel 445; Sanders 78/79). However,

Nathalie op de Beeck argues that “picture books communicate via the comics medium” (470). I contend that what

differentiates picture books from graphic novels in the main is their assumed audience. Of course, graphic novels

are also sometimes created for children, but picture books are always assumed to have been created for this specific

audience.

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specific modes of visual-verbal communication” (158; see also Hatfield/Sanders 459).108 Thus,

it is important to consider both the picture book’s materiality and the way in which its authors

use text and illustration to convey a message.

Picture books are written for children, “a different audience, with different skills,

different needs, and different ways of reading” (Hunt 3/4; see also Nodelman, “Picture Books”

154; Nodelman, “Words Claimed” 11; Op de Beeck 473) from adult readers. However, this

does not mean that picture books are only consumed and perceived by children. On the contrary:

adults are almost always involved in the reading and creating of a picture book. Children’s

literature is made by adults who create books pursuing a purpose in writing – often an

educational one.

Furthermore, Joe Sutliff Sanders argues that – in contrast to comics – a picture book

“anticipates a reader who chaperones the words as they are communicated to a listening reader”

(61; see also Hatfield/Sanders 461). Therefore, according to Sanders, picture books are rarely

read alone – children are often accompanied when looking at or reading a picture book. First of

all, it is often parents or other adults who decide on what picture book to buy for children (see

Stanton 3). Secondly, an adult reads the text aloud, points out what is shown or explains the

text, which means he/she also performs the text.109 By doing so, the speaker “narrows [the

words’] meaning even as the words fix the meaning of the images” (Sanders 62). The adult’s

interpretation of text and illustration becomes dominant and is surely different from the way in

which a child would interpret the story on his/her own. Additionally, the shape of a picture book

(its materiality) and the placement of the text hint at the fact that it was produced for reading

aloud. Often, a picture book has a rather large shape and is horizontal, so that children and

parents can easily read them together (see Moebius 31; Sanders 63/64). Illustrations often cover

whole pages and the text is delivered in blocks, often separated from the illustration – both

aspects differentiate the picture book from a graphic novel or comic.

While in the main picture books appeal to children, some also address adults (see

Anstey/Bull 328/329). I agree with Sandra L. Beckett who states that “[t]he innovative graphics

and creative, often complex dialogue between text and image provide multiple levels of

meaning and invite readings on different levels by all ages” (2). Some seemingly easy-to-read

108 Nel suggests using the term ‘mode’ instead since “‘genre’ […] evades clear formal distinction” (451). 109 See the article “Performing Picture Books as Co-Authorship: Audiences Critically and Semiotically Interact

with Professional Authors during Author Visits” for an analysis of how “picture books become performances”

(Winters/Figg/Lenters/Potts 101) when authors read out their works in schools.

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picture books include text and illustrations that can be interpreted differently by adults or

children, allowing different aspects to play an important role in the interpretation, especially

when it comes to the representation of historical events of which adults may have previous

knowledge.

A number of academic works focus on how children’s books depict memories and

traumata (see e.g. Crockett; Kumar/Multani; Norbury; Tribunella; Ulanowicz), but only a

significantly smaller number focuses on their representation in picture books. Be it in trauma

fiction or picture books, the representation of traumatic events such as the Holocaust is

accounted a “moral obligation” (Kokkola 3) to represent the past accurately or in “an ethically

responsible manner” (Crockett 3). Often, the question arises what picture books representing

historical and traumatic events should actually show: children are often believed to be in danger

of being traumatized themselves when looking at illustrations that depict realistic settings (see

e.g. Connolly 288; Kokkola 11; Lezzi 35) of traumatic events.

It is a picture book’s fragmentation that gives access to a trauma for the recipients, be

they children or adults. A picture book is – similarly to, but nevertheless different from a graphic

novel – fragmented; it consists of text and illustrations that together create meaning, but also

leaves gaps that must be interpreted by the reader. Textual and pictorial elements “have a

synergistic relationship in which the total effect depends not only on the union of the text and

illustrations but also on the perceived interactions or transactions between those two parts”

(Sipe 98/99; see also Nikolajeva 32). Both text and illustration, when looked at individually,

may leave gaps in the narrative – as Lawrence R. Sipe stresses, the reader needs to go back and

forth between the two to understand the story (see 99; see also Kokkola 38; Nikolajeva/Scott

21; Youngs 38) and to access the trauma that is dealt with.

Picture books are also fragmented into smaller sequences that break up the story. In

contrast to panels in graphic novels, it is often whole pages that construct a sequence (see E.

Gall/P. Gall 48). Every reader connects these sequences differently and therefore different

interpretations come to be. Not everything can be said or shown to the recipient so that “what

remains unsaid” (Kokkola 36) gains importance. It is these gaps that “force a young reader to

seek out more information and actively engage with a text, and invite them to make connections

with other events, historical or recent, or even their own experiences” (Crockett 15).

Recipients of picture books are of course influenced by their own experiences, by their

surroundings and cultural memory. As Wolfgang Iser argues “a text can only come to life when

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it is read” (Prospecting 4) and meaning only comes to be through a “complex interaction

between text and reader” (Prospecting 5). His reception theory thereby explains how “the same

literary text can mean different things to different people at different times” (Iser, Theory 68;

see also Kokkola 43); one should always be aware of the fact that every reader has a different

cultural and personal upbringing in addition to his/her age that certainly has an influence on

this person’s way of reading and interpreting a text. This, I am sure, is not only true for a

medium of cultural memory making use of text, but also those media of cultural memory that

use text and visual elements.

It is also the fragmented structure through which authors work through their own

traumata, be they individual or cultural. Böger’s theory about the therapeutic function of

graphic novels for authors can be extended to the authors of picture books (see Böger, “Silence”

605). Similarly to authors of graphic novels, authors of picture books display their trauma.

Interestingly, the process of creating a picture book is often a different one since picture books

are often illustrated after the text is written – it is often editors who decide on an illustrator (see

Nodelman, Words 40) which of course decisively influences the way in which the trauma is

presented to the readers. Consequently, when looking at picture books representing the past, it

is important to consider the author’s and the illustrator’s work.110 Picture books that deal with

the past often include fictional aspects which, as Talia E. Crockett argues, “allow[s] for deeper

understanding of trauma than what we consider ‘factual’ accounts, as it encourages us to engage,

imagine, and empathize” (2). Their ability to cause empathy indicates that they are examples of

prosthetic memory, as well. Furthermore, I am sure that the addition of fictional elements allows

authors to make the readers focus on aspects of their trauma so that these aspects are put to the

forefront and can be worked through.

Many picture books about the Japanese American incarceration have been published

since the 1990s; amongst them The Bracelet by Yoshiko Uchida (1993) and Baseball Saved Us

by Ken Mochizuki (1993) are perhaps the two most famous ones. A number of academic works

look at children’s literature about the Japanese American incarceration, but often do not take

into account picture books or focus on them solely from an educational perspective (see e.g.

Liu; Rodríguez; Rodríguez/Kim; Tackett/Pennington; Youngs). For example, Matthew Teorey

looks at what he calls “young adult internment literature” (228), such as works written by

Yoshiko Uchida. These works have been written by former incarcerees themselves giving

110 Already here, it is important to note that Katie Yamasaki is author and illustrator of her Fish for Jimmy, with

which she works through her own transgenerational trauma.

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particularly Sansei an impression of what many of their parents and grandparents experienced

(see Teorey 238).

While Teorey focuses on these “firsthand accounts of actual experiences” (232), I focus

on works that were published since 1988 and were written by later generations of Japanese

Americans or even non-Japanese Americans. Works such as Fish for Jimmy and So Far from

the Sea belong in the realm of incarceration literature: they thematize the incarceration

experience and reflect on the past from the (imagined) perspective of children. For me, works

that were written by non-Japanese Americans such as Eve Bunting can also convey the trauma

of the Japanese American incarceration: they have had different experiences in their lives, but

nevertheless consider the Japanese American incarceration an important topic to focus their

work on. As Teorey argues for accounts written by former incarcerees, the two works (and

others) “force readers of all races to face the pain of the past and to accept the Japanese-

Americans and their culture in order to address the long-hidden issues of discrimination and

self-hatred” (240). The authors connect past and present and enable generations of people

access to the story of the Japanese American incarceration and tie it to current ways of thinking.

Both Fish for Jimmy and So Far from the Sea have found mention in academic studies

focusing on picture books, but mostly in studies that only in small parts consider the importance

of visuality for the depiction of the Japanese American incarceration. For example, Machiko

Inagawa focuses on cultural authenticity111 in picture books, historical fiction and nonfiction

books in her dissertation Japanese American Experiences in Internment Camps during World

War II as Represented by Children’s and Adolescent Literature (2007). Her study lacks an

analysis of visual components that – in my opinion – play a crucial role in the depiction of the

Japanese American incarceration experience.

Similarly, the authors of the article ‘Unpacking Japanese Culture in Children’s Picture

Books: Culturally Authentic Representation and Historical Events/Political Issues’ from 2018

look at 37 children’s picture books published between 1990 and 2016, comparing them with

the help of different categories. While the authors here also look at the illustrations, the high

number of works analyzed does not enable them to go into detail; the authors stick to a basic

analysis of “accuracy, stereotypes, and authenticity” (Wee et al. 42). These categories do not

111 Cultural authenticity in children’s literature is discussed in Stories Matter: The Complexity of Cultural

Authenticity in Children’s Literature, edited by Dana L. Fox and Kathy G. Short. Most authors here focus on the

question of whether authors of children’s literature can or should write literature about cultural groups they are not

a part of (see especially Cai; Seto).

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suffice for what I want to achieve here: addressing the question of how the Japanese American

incarceration is depicted and represented in picture books.

In the following analysis of So Far from the Sea and Fish for Jimmy, I want to stress the

way in which the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration is communicated through the

medium of the picture book, particularly focusing on how the trauma is worked through by

authors and how it is made accessible to the audience. I hereby add to research about the

representation of the Japanese American incarceration by focusing on a medium of cultural

memory that has rarely been discussed in Asian American studies.

III.2 Eve Bunting’s So Far from the Sea

The picture book So Far from the Sea, written by Eve Bunting and illustrated by Chris Soentpiet,

tells the story of how a Japanese American family visits their grandfather’s grave at former

Manzanar incarceration camp in 1972. This picture book manages to convey the Japanese

American incarceration experience by focusing on different family members and how they deal

with this historical event. Throughout the story, Bunting presents three perspectives on the

incarceration of Japanese Americans: the first one being the father (who experienced the

incarceration as a child) trying to forget what happened, the second one his daughter Laura

being angry and the third one being the mother who does not talk about her own incarceration

experience (except when asked about it). Through these different perspectives, particularly

Laura’s, Bunting enables the recipients to understand how the trauma manifests itself

differently from person to person and generation to generation. Since Laura’s perspective is the

focus of the story, the recipients are encouraged to empathize with her – children can even

identify with her position in the family and understand her being angry about what her family

experienced during the Second World War.

Through the narrative structure of So Far from the Sea, the influence of the past on the

present becomes clear. Furthermore, this narrative structure is not easy to understand: children

may require somebody to explain it to them in order to grasp the meaning and interrelation of

the time periods depicted. The story of how Laura Iwasaki and her family visit her grandfather’s

grave at Manzanar is set in 1972; this story is interrupted by sequences set in the time of the

Japanese American incarceration. The past is here clarified in the choice of colors – black-and-

white; the main story is illustrated in colors. Through this division into two time periods, it

becomes clear that Laura’s father remembers his incarceration with his parents – the

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illustrations show what Laura imagines the past to be like when he tells her about it. While his

trauma is on display here, the depiction shows how Laura adopts his memories and his trauma.

While this story focuses on the two main characters and their emotions, the primary

focus of Bunting’s picture book is on historical facts. The story and the illustrations are clearly

based on research: Bunting gives a short explanation of historical facts in an afterword while

Soentpiet’s illustrations depict a number of visual markers of the conditions of life in an

incarceration camp. Nevertheless, Bunting’s overall choice of telling the story of a family

visiting their grandfather’s grave at Manzanar is not historically accurate (see introduction to

this chapter). By mixing fact and fiction and using this setting, she makes the story more

forceful and shows how one family suffered during the incarceration. Bunting, as a non-

Japanese American with no connections to the Japanese American community, focuses on this

topic as she feels close to the experiences of immigrants to the US – she comments on her own

identity here. Through this picture book, she teaches the readers about this historical event and

gives in particular non-Japanese American recipients the chance to learn about it. The choice

in topic and the depiction within So Far from the Sea stress the importance of what it means to

be part of US society and, more importantly, to be accepted as such.

So Far from the Sea tells the story of the Iwasaki family’s visit to the grandfather’s

grave at former Manzanar incarceration camp in 1972. Laura, her parents and brother go to

Manzanar because they are about to move to Boston. At Manzanar, Laura asks many questions

about the incarceration and her father reflects on his memories of having been incarcerated

there together with his parents when he was a child. His father, Laura’s grandfather, died at

Manzanar and was buried there. Laura leaves her father’s Boy Scout neckerchief at her

grandfather’s grave as a reminder that her grandfather was an American.

I want to point out that the author Eve Bunting’s background as an immigrant to the US

is reflected on in her story – she reflects on her own life by describing how Japanese Americans

were treated in the US after the Second World War. Eve Bunting (Anne Evelyn Bolton) was

born in 1928 in Maghera, Northern Ireland (see Cockrell). In the late 1960s, she moved to the

US with her family and became a US citizen. She only started writing in the 1970s, but by now

has written around 150 children’s books (see Greenlee 128). As reviewers note, her books often

focus “on societal problems and difficult events in life and history” (Greenlee 129) addressing

“a world in where homelessness, poverty, and racial prejudice are facts of life” (Cockrell).

Some of these topics are argued to be “a reflection of [Bunting’s] life” (Greenlee 129) – while

living in Northern Ireland she experienced many of the conflicts occurring there which was one

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the factors that led to her and her family’s decision to move to the US. I agree with many

reviewers who state that moving to the US made Bunting get close to such topics as immigration

and get an insight into what it means when a family is moved to a completely new environment

(see e.g. “Eve Bunting”; Greenlee 128). Also in US society, she experienced and became aware

of injustice, especially when it comes to migrants and minority groups such as the Japanese

American community. Bunting certainly does not suffer from the trauma of the Japanese

American incarceration, but – because of her own life experiences – she feels the need to focus

on societal injustices in her works. With the help of stories told in picture books, she educates

in particular young children and makes them aware of historical events such as the Japanese

American incarceration, points out injustices and encourages readers to fight against these.

Since So Far from the Sea was not illustrated by Bunting herself, it is also important to

thematize the illustrator shortly. I am sure that his perspective is also reflected in the picture

book – while he did not write the story, his depiction is what readers focus on first of all. Chris

K. Soentpiet is of Korean descent and was adopted by an American family living in Hawaii

when he was eight years old (see Romano; Soentpiet, “Welcome”). He grew up in Hawaii and

in Oregon and studied Advertising, Illustrations, Graphic Design and Art Education at Pratt

Institute in New York City. Influenced by Ted Lewin, he started writing and illustrating his

own children’s books following his studies. He also made illustrations for other authors’ picture

books. On his website, Soentpiet states that he likes to illustrate Bunting’s works as “[s]he

writes with honesty and sensitivity about issues that are important in [this] country’s history”

(Soentpiet, “So Far”). His background as an immigrant to the US certainly influences his choice

in topics for children’s books. He chooses to write and illustrate books that reflect on a wide

range of topics important in US history and society such as the Japanese American incarceration.

His drawing style gives access to the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration: he uses

watercolors and creates illustrations in “photographic quality” (Brabander/Sutton 329) stressing

the historical background of the story.

While their backgrounds may be one of the reasons for both Bunting’s choice in topic

and Soentpiet’s decision to illustrate this picture book, these very generalized statements should

be treated with caution. Certainly, every human being is influenced by their growing up, their

environment and their memories of it, but these arguments are one-dimensional and do not take

into account other factors, such as – just as an example – a simple interest in the topic or

financial interests. In the same way that Soentpiet argues that he is not “limited to just doing

Korean books” (Romano), one should not assume that just because he is an American of Asian

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descent, he decided to illustrate this particular book or assume that he must have an inherent

interest in stories about immigration or adoption, just because he is an immigrant and adoptee.

Nevertheless, the fact that both the author and the illustrator of this children’s book are not of

Japanese descent, is an interesting fact that should find mention in an analysis – especially in

comparison with a children’s book written and illustrated by a Japanese American. With So Far

from the Sea, Eve Bunting and Chris Soentpiet certainly present the Japanese American

incarceration from outside of the Japanese American community.

So Far from the Sea has often been used in a classroom setting. Bunting argues that she

“love[s] to write picture books for the older child, that can also be read and used by adults and

teachers in classrooms” (Bunting, “Interview”). While she is writing primarily for children, she

is aware that her picture books are not only read by children themselves but may also be used

as tools in a classroom. The fact that she acknowledges this double function as both

entertainment and teaching tool indicates that she is aware of picture books’ role and importance

in a child’s life. Picture books may teach children certain aspects of life or arouse interest in a

specific historical topic. The illustrator, Chris K. Soentpiet, who himself visits schools regularly

to teach students about his works (see Romano), explains on his website that So Far from the

Sea “can be used to introduce […] students to Japanese-Americans, the internment camps,

World War II, refugees, discrimination, multigenerational families, parents who have jobs and

homes that were taken away from them, parents who serve in the military” (Soentpiet, “Lesson

Plan”). Soentpiet directly talks to teachers in this lesson plan on his website; he expects them

to read this statement on his website prior to their making use of So Far from the Sea in their

classrooms. This shows that the contents of this picture books does not simply become clear by

reading it, but also needs support from external texts, such as Soentpiet’s website. Furthermore,

with this statement, Soentpiet opens up a broad context in which teachers can position this

picture book: it can not only be used to teach children about the incarceration and Japanese

Americans in general, but also about US society in general. Similarly, Suzette Youngs argues

that this picture book is one that “create[s] spaces for readers to discuss and contemplate issues

of fairness and justice in American history” (37),112 a topic that comes up in many media of

cultural memory discussed in this dissertation.

112 Deborah A. Ellermeyer and Kay A. Chick argue along the same line that children can reflect on the question of

what it means to be an American (see 87) after having read So Far from the Sea.

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III.2.1 Narrative Structure: Two Time Periods and Laura’s Perspective

The story of So Far from the Sea is roughly divided in half: of the 32 pages, 14 pages illustrate

the 1940s while 16 pages tell the story of Laura Iwasaki and her family set in 1972. 113

Illustrations in color follow Laura and her family on their way through former Manzanar

incarceration camp – in the main, Laura’s family is shown and therefore put the focus on. The

pages in black-and-white114 have been referred to as ‘flashbacks’ by Inagawa (136) and Youngs

(40) or “the father’s traumatic accounts of the past” (Chen/Yu, “Literature” 117) – since the

accompanying text tells the story from Laura’s perspective, I disagree with the usage of the

term ‘flashback.’ What is shown here is a form of transgenerational memory that was

transferred from her father to Laura in the process of him telling her the story of his and his

parents’ incarceration. I suggest that both time frames focus on Laura: the illustrations set in

1972 show her and her family; the 1940s show what she imagines what her father experienced

and therefore give an insight into her thoughts.

She imagines her father and other Japanese Americans at Manzanar in a way that she

has learnt about from her father. Many of the illustrations show her father or her grandparents

in the incarceration: a classroom filled with Japanese American children (including Laura’s

father) at Manzanar (see Bunting, So Far 8/9), the grandparents and their son eating in one of

the barracks at Manzanar (see Bunting, So Far 14/15), Laura’s father and his parents lining up

in front of a bus (see Bunting, So Far 22/23), Laura’s father and his parents behind barbed wire

(see Bunting, So Far 24/25) as well as her father in his Boy Scout uniform when soldiers come

to pick him and his parents up (see Bunting, So Far 28/29). By including family members in

these illustrations, recipients’ emotions are addressed. The recipients get to know the Iwasaki

family throughout the story and learn to recognize their faces amongst others at Manzanar

incarceration camp. Their faces of course also express emotions that convey what they

experienced; this stands in contrast to the afore-mentioned historical facts stressed through both

text and illustrations.

Two illustrations in black-and-white do not show family members of the Iwasaki family:

an overview of Manzanar (discussed in III.2.2) gives an insight into the conditions. Another

illustration shows the attack on Pearl Harbor from the perspective of Japanese soldiers (see

Bunting, So Far 12/13). This double-spread does not show the incarceration of Laura’s father

113 On the first page, the title is placed; page 32 contains the afterword and some additional information. 114 Kevin C. Pyle used a similar approach to depict two time periods in his graphic novel Take What You Can

Carry (see Chapter II).

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and his parents but focuses on the historical event that Laura’s father claims is the reason for

the Japanese American incarceration (see Bunting, So Far 12). The double-spread shows the

attack from a perspective that the father could not have had. Once again, it is Laura’s

imagination at play here: she imagines Japanese soldiers attacking Pearl Harbor. However, one

could also argue that these two illustrations emphasize historical facts again; here, emotions do

not play a dominant role. Instead, the conditions of war and of the incarceration are presented

to the readers.

The story is told from Laura’s perspective, a first-person perspective, with which the

author tries to capture and focus the readers’ attention. Adele Greenlee notices that many of

Bunting’s stories are told from a first-person perspective and often from that of a child (129).

This stands in contrast to many other picture books which are commonly told from a third-

person perspective, “because [picture books’] limited length does not enable developed

characterization” (112), as Kerry Mallan argues. By telling the story from Laura’s point of view,

Bunting gives the reader the chance to focus on her perspective alone. This perspective allows

for an understanding of the main character. This already becomes clear on the first page of the

story starting with the words “my mom and dad, my little brother Thomas, and I” (Bunting, So

Far 2). With this first sentence Bunting introduces the readers to the story; from the beginning

on, the readers know who the main characters are: a family of four people on a trip, told from

the perspective of the older sibling.

The written text is positioned outside of the illustrations through which the readers are

encouraged to focus on text and illustration separately. The text is written on white background,

in the main positioned on the left next to a double-spread, covering the rest of the two pages.115

Thereby, the readers, while focusing on the text, are not aware of the illustrations as much as

they would if the text was positioned inside. The illustration occasionally does not depict what

is described on the same page, but takes up text from previous pages, demanding the readers to

understand the order this story is told in. Through this division, the readers have to focus on

bringing text and illustration together in order to grasp meaning.

To understand the perspective and the narrative structure, this picture book may require

an adult mediator. Furthermore, the choice in color may have to be explained to children

115 There is one exception: the pages 20 and 21 on which one illustration is placed on page 20 covering it in whole,

while page 21 is made up of text on white background on the left and an illustration on the right. These are also

the only two pages that do not show people: they show “offerings at the monument, held down by pieces of word

or stones” (Bunting, So Far 21) on page 20 and the grandfather’s grave on page 21.

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unfamiliar with the convention of the past being depicted in black-and-white. It is in the main

these black-and-white illustrations that depict the conditions of life in an incarceration camp.

III.2.2 Establishing Historical Facts

Both text and illustration of So Far from the Sea emphasize historical facts – both directly and

indirectly. By referencing these historical facts, Bunting and Soentpiet want to ensure the

readers that the story is based on an event that truly happened and one that the readers should

learn from. First of all, I will show here how Bunting’s afterword, which is placed after the

story ends, clarifies the setting of the story and historical facts. Furthermore, I will focus on the

fact that Bunting and Soentpiet both point out that they had to do a lot of research for this picture

book; they did not know much about this historical event but had to make use of other people’s

works to understand what happened. They used historical sources and media of cultural memory

to create their picture book, in itself a medium of cultural memory. Lastly, I will discuss an

example of how Soentpiet interprets and remediates aspects of a photograph taken by Ansel

Adams during the Japanese American incarceration.

So Far from the Sea is based on historical facts some of which Bunting mentions in an

afterword. Anyone reading this afterword has to be aware of the convention that the “paratext

is truthful” (Kokkola 60) in contrast to the fictional account told in the story. By using for

example afterwords authors of picture books can authenticate their works and stress historical

facts (see Kokkola 57/58). Bunting’s afterword consists of just ten sentences, written in a

neutral tone, which makes all that she mentions at this point sound like a fact. Through this,

“readers [are enabled] to interpret the fiction/faction divide” (Kokkola 57). With this afterword

she positions herself as somebody telling a true story, somebody whom people can believe as

she knows the historical facts. Since the afterword is written in a different style from the text in

the story, I am sure that children require help and explanation when reading it. In contrast to

the story, Bunting here tries to explain historical background information through dates and

place names that require readers, and in particular children, to have basic knowledge about the

Second World War. Bunting’s afterword right away starts with the year 1942 and does not

mention the overall situation of the world at the time. Adults need to explain this situation to

children so that they are able to understand what Bunting describes here.

Bunting’s afterword is not very detailed and in parts not historically accurate, as pointed

out by Niiya. Niiya notes that what she presents as fact in the afterword is “not technically

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correct” (“So Far”): Bunting argues that Executive Order 9066 “stated that all people of

Japanese ancestry […] must be placed in relocation camps” (So Far 32). Executive Order 9066

in itself never mentioned the Japanese American community by name; it only implied their

incarceration (see Niiya, “So Far”). Jennifer M. Brabander and Roger Sutton additionally

criticize that Bunting’s short statement “tells only a piece of the story” (329). Overall, this

afterword only gives very basic historical information that might be useful as a first insight into

the topic but is not much more than that. In order to strengthen the educational function of her

picture book, Bunting could have added more details and a bibliography through which readers

learn where to look for further information. The lack of historical accuracy expressed in the

afterword and in parts of the story also shows that she is an outsider – she is neither a member

of the Japanese American community nor is she aware of detailed historical information; while

she did surely research the Japanese American incarceration (see below), she also lacks certain

knowledge. However, Bunting does not claim to create a historically accurate work – it is

mainly her intention to educate her readers both through historical facts and a setting which

makes the recipients empathize with the characters in the story.

In addition to basic historical facts, Bunting delivers background knowledge for the

story told in her work: she mentions the year the story is set in (1972) as well as the name of

the family (Iwasaki); she “specifies the setting as well as the time” (Chen/Yu, “Literature” 117).

Further, she stresses that her story belongs in the realm of historical fiction: “The Iwasaki family

is fictional, but there are thousands of American citizens of Japanese ancestry with the same

kinds of memories” (Bunting, So Far 32). Especially the subordinate clause here emphasizes

once again that the story is based on true events, on true people’s memories of the past. I want

to stress that, by pointing out that it is not this imaginary family alone that experienced the

incarceration, Bunting wants her readers to feel with the Japanese American community.

In contrast to Matt Faulkner, who explains his connection to the Japanese American

community in his graphic novel (see II.2.2), Bunting does not explain how she came to write

the story about the incarceration. She therefore clearly positions herself outside of the Japanese

American community. Her afterword barely contains emotions but overall reflects that she

bases her picture book on research.116

116 Chen and Yu compare So Far from the Sea with Allan Say’s Home of the Brave and in this context also note

that Bunting’s book “is much more descriptive and direct” (“Literature” 117) and “depicts this past trauma in a

more historical context” (“Literature” 117) than Say’s work. Noticeably, Allan Say has lived both in Japan and the

US: while he grew up in Japan during the Second World War and his direct family was not incarcerated in the US,

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Both Bunting’s narration and Soentpiet’s illustration in the picture book are based on

research in an attempt to create a historical setting in the story. The author and the illustrator

emphasize the importance of research for creating their works in interviews and on websites

that accompany So Far from the Sea as epitexts. For Bunting, visiting the site of a historical

event is an important factor in her research, as she describes herself: “This not only makes sure

your setting is accurate, but it gives color and veracity to what you write” (“Being there”). For

So Far from the Sea, she “went to the long-abandoned camp, walked among the deserted huts,

and found an old graveyard, way in the back” (Bunting, “Being there”). She bases her story on

these experiences that not only supported her factual knowledge, but also adds an emotional

component, “feelings of sadness and desolation” (Bunting, “Being there”).

Here, Bunting hints at the importance of seeing and experiencing what she wants to

write about. For her, the landscape117 plays an important role in remembering. Since she herself

is not a Japanese American, she seems to feel the need to find a connection to the experiences

of Japanese Americans during World War II. While for her the landscape as well as research in

libraries enabled her to comprehend the Japanese American incarceration on both a factual and

an emotional level, she gives others access to her understanding of the Japanese American

incarceration through her picture book. Interestingly, she describes how she herself uses

children’s books to research historical topics: “I find that children’s books are clear and focused

and […] they’re usually easier to comprehend than books from the adult sections” (Bunting,

“Being there”). While she talks about her approach to researching in this statement, this

statement can also be used to describe her own writing: with an easy-to-understand writing style

for children, she clarifies a historical event. The fact that she as an adult relies on children’s

books for research further hints at their importance: they are not merely used by children but

may also be accessed by and useful to adults.

Chris Soentpiet, illustrator of So Far from the Sea, has an interesting approach to

“illustrating the accuracy of the details” (“Chris Soentpiet”). After researching historical

background knowledge in libraries, Soentpiet – according to his own description – likes to “hire

models to play the parts of the main characters” (“Chris Soentpiet”). He then takes photographs

of his models in costume and uses these photographs when creating the illustrations (see “Chris

Soentpiet”; Romano). Similarly to Bunting, Soentpiet wants to depict historically accurate

he has a connection to the Japanese American community. This connection shows also in his narrative that is much

more personal than Bunting’s approach. 117 See a discussion of the meaning of the landscape for Japanese Americans in the following pages.

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details so that others may learn about and from the past event depicted. Furthermore, Soentpiet

used photographs such as Ansel Adams’ to envision the setting of the picture book (see Inagawa

98/99). This becomes clear when taking a look at the following illustration.

Fig. 13 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 4/5.

Selection from So Far from the Sea. Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Chris Soentpiet. Reprinted by permission.

Fig. 13 shows the second double-spread of the story. It is directly placed after the

introductory pages which lead the reader into the story. While these two pages are set in what

is the present for the characters (1972) and depicted in color, fig. 13 depicts the 1940s and is in

black-and-white. It gives an overview of Manzanar incarceration camp. As all of the

illustrations are, this double-spread is painted in watercolor and is very detailed and in a realistic

style, so that for example people’s faces can be made out.

The double-spread shows Laura’s imaginations of what Manzanar looked like,

following her father’s descriptions. These descriptions make up the first four sentences on the

left, placed next to the illustration. As is often the case in works about the Japanese American

incarceration, this double-spread includes many symbols of the Japanese American

incarceration: a watchtower, soldiers, searchlights, barbed wire and the mountains in the

background being the most recognizable. Additionally, rows of barracks can be seen as well as

a number of Japanese American incarcerees. With these visual markers of the incarceration (see

also II.3.4), the living conditions at Manzanar incarceration camp are clarified. In this double-

spread, in particular the soldiers in front of the gate and on top of the watchtower create a

threatening atmosphere for the readers. The perspective is that of somebody looking inside the

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incarceration camp from outside through which the author’s as well as the readers’ position is

reflected on.

Indicators of the living conditions can be found in almost all of the illustrations set in

the 1940s: on page 8, a watchtower can be seen through the window of a classroom; similarly,

on pages 14/15, barracks and a watchtower can be seen through the window of the Iwasaki

family’s room; soldiers can be seen on pages 22/23 as well as 24/25. In the latter, the barbed

wire fence is prominently placed in front of the Iwasaki family, stressing their being

incarcerated. With all these visual markers of the incarceration (that are in parts also mentioned

in the text) the conditions of life in an incarceration camp become clear. In particular Soentpiet’s

illustrations enable the recipients to envision the realities of life behind barbed wire – they can

imagine themselves being incarcerated as they see a family of US citizens there.

The sign saying ‘Manzanar War Relocation Center’ on the bottom right of the double-

spread is mentioned specifically in the text: “Dad says there was once a sign that hung between

those wooden planks. MANZANAR WAR RELOCATION CENTER, it said” (emphasis in

original, Bunting, So Far 4). By naming and showing this sign, Bunting and Soentpiet set the

location of the story set in the 1940s. The sign can be found in numerous photographs taken by

Ansel Adams that Soentpiet clearly based his illustrations on (see Inagawa 98/99). The sign can

be seen in Ansel Adams’ Entrance to Manzanar, Manzanar Relocation Center that was taken

in 1943. In this photograph, the sign is placed prominently in the front; in the background

mountains, a barrack and a car can be made out. Soentpiet clearly used this specific photograph

as a template for his interpretation since, in his illustration, the sign is placed in the lower right

corner in a similar perspective to that used by Adams. The wording on the sign and the way it

is constructed can be made out. With this sign, Soentpiet, on the one hand, pays homage to

Adams, and, on the other hand, uses the iconic status of Adams’ photography of Manzanar

incarceration camp to trigger memories of the incarceration. Anyone who stayed at Manzanar

would surely remember the sign – for those generations afterwards and non-Japanese

Americans, this sign gives an insight into what life at Manzanar was like. He therefore

remediates Adams’ photographs to make them part of his illustrations of a time he researched

in great detail.

The location is mentioned here for the first time, so that readers become aware of where

both story lines are taking place. In the pages before, the wooden planks indicating the place

where the sign was placed are mentioned as well, as they mark where Laura’s father parks the

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car. By mentioning the wooden planks, Bunting connects both story lines: the readers realize

that the family is now in the place where former Manzanar incarceration camp was located.

What Bunting and Soentpiet do not indicate on this double-spread or the one before is

the time of the incarceration; the grandfather and the family’s connection to the place is only

mentioned on the next page (see Bunting, So Far 6). What sticks out here is the phrasing used

which almost makes one think of a fairy tale: Bunting uses ‘once’ three times in the first four

sentences, referring to a yet to be defined time in the past. In two sentences this impression is

further intensified: these two sentences start with “Once there was” and “Once there were”

(Bunting, So Far 4) respectively. These beginnings of sentences clearly remind readers of the

stock phrase ‘Once upon a time’ that is often used in children’s stories and fairy tales to indicate

a time long ago, set in a past long gone. Interestingly, fairy tales are fictional; by referencing

the stock phrase, Bunting allows readers to doubt her account. However, through these words

Bunting enables recipients to imagine themselves in a setting in the past not yet defined. They

become engaged in the story, empathize with the characters described and shown and later

become aware that it is the year 1942. Throughout the story, the time frame becomes clear when

the attack on Pearl Harbor is mentioned and the year 1942 is named (see e.g. Bunting, So Far

10). Not giving a defined date in the beginning also suggests that what happened here could

have happened anytime and could by extension happen again in the future.

Following these four sentences, the text switches to Laura’s present, in which she, her

brother and parents are in the car looking at what is left of former Manzanar incarceration camp:

“The towers are gone now, along with almost everything else” (Bunting, So Far 4). Soentpiet’s

illustration does not include this present but stays in the past on the whole double-spread; it thus

depicts only what the first four sentences describe. Bunting and Soentpiet thereby introduce an

interesting way of telling the story, divided between past and present (for a more detailed

discussion, see below). The story itself does not only deal with the past, but also acknowledges

the consequences this past had. Laura describes how she, despite having visited Manzanar

before, is nervous. She knows the place, knows what happened there, but this knowledge does

not help her to cope with the place where her father and grandparents were incarcerated and

where her grandfather died. The statement that she is nervous raises curiosity in the readers:

they do not know about her family’s connection to Manzanar in the beginning of the story and

may therefore wonder why she experiences these feelings.

By introducing dates in writing and concrete places through illustrations, Bunting and

Soentpiet create a basis of historical accuracy that they nevertheless often amend. Thereby, fact

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and fiction become mixed, making it hard for readers unaware of the historical background to

see through their construction.

III.2.3 Memory Objects: Landscape, the Grandfather’s Grave and the Neckerchief

In this subchapter, I identify three memory objects that play a decisive role in the story and

when they are transferred into true life for the Japanese American community as such or even

US society. The landscape of Manzanar is used as a place through which Bunting clarifies the

conditions of life in an incarceration camp in this picture book. Additionally, the grandfather’s

grave, placed in this landscape, is a place of mourning for the Iwasaki family. The neckerchief

has immense meaning in the story and in particular for Laura and her father. It symbolizes

Laura’s belief that her grandfather was an American citizen and did not deserve to live and die

in an incarceration camp; in contrast to her parents, she is angry about the incarceration which

reflects the attitudes of many children of former incarcerees. Furthermore, through the symbol

of the neckerchief, Bunting comments on injustices immigrants to US society have to face:

through Laura, she shows that the grandfather deserved to be treated as an American and not as

an outsider to US society.



The landscape is used to show readers the conditions of life at Manzanar incarceration

camp. The illustrations emphasize that the former Manzanar incarceration camp is surrounded

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by empty desert. Through these depictions and Bunting’s stressing of what Laura experiences,

the living conditions of life at Manzanar become clear. Furthermore, the landscape has become

a ‘site of memory’ in Pierre Nora’s definition (see Erll, “Introduction” 10; Erll, Memory in

Culture 23-27; Hebel x) for the Japanese American community. In 1992 it was made a National

Historic Site through which its meaning has grown, also for US society at large. In the story, it

is a site of memory and a place of mourning for the Iwasaki family: they want to visit the

grandfather’s grave.

Fig. 14 shows the Iwasaki family walking through the landscape of former Manzanar

incarceration camp. The illustration, interestingly, depicts what Bunting writes about on page

8, accompanying the previous double-spread: “We start walking across the wide dirt field”

(Bunting, So Far 8). Soentpiet’s illustration sticks closely to Bunting’s description delivered by

Laura: tire tracks and bushes in the background are mentioned and the family members walk

next to each other (see Bunting, So Far 8). Included in the text on page 8 are also Laura’s

thoughts about what had happened here. She has trouble imagining what the incarceration camp

was like because “[t]he way it was almost seems like a picture on a blackboard that got wiped

out by a giant eraser” (Bunting, So Far 8).

Most buildings in the incarceration camps were “sold and moved, dismantled for their

materials, or simply left vacant” (Wyatt 81; see also Hayashi 58) shortly after the Japanese

Americans left them. Through this act of destruction, the government disposed of any reminder

of what had happened in the years before. The government – unsuccessfully – tried to eradicate

any memory sustained by the place, which Laura describes with the metaphor of an eraser used

on a blackboard. The government tried to create a blank slate, a place without meaning.

However, the Japanese American community in the 1960s gave the place new and old meaning:

annual pilgrimages began and act as reminders of what the landscape118 had been used for

during World War II and act as a warning of a repetition of history nowadays.

Mostly the Sansei, most of them sons and daughters of former incarcerees, made an

effort to reclaim this site, the place of a traumatic event. In 1969, annual pilgrimages organized

by the so-called ‘Manzanar Committee’119 started. While the annual pilgrimages began with

118 The area is also a reminder of other traumata, especially the trauma of Native Americans who were forced to

leave this area when farmers entered the scene (see Chen/Yu, “Traumatic Space” 565). 119 In 1969, the organization was still called ‘Organization of Southland Asian American Organizations,’ only in

1970 did it receive its now known name of ‘Manzanar Committee’ (see Kitayama, “Camp pilgrimages” 134). It is

still in existence today and is “dedicated to educating and raising public awareness about the incarceration and

violation of civil rights” (“Who We Are”) of not only Japanese Americans but of all members of society.

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only around 150 Japanese Americans, mainly of the Sansei generation, it became a bigger event

every year, particularly with the Redress Movement. Through yearly pilgrimages to Manzanar,

the former incarceration camp gave members of the Japanese American community access to a

part of land that they had left behind in their past or recently had just learned about. Nowadays,

not only Japanese Americans join the annual pilgrimage, but additionally “people from different

ethnic and religious backgrounds” (Nakagawa) participate showing their belief in the

importance of the Japanese American incarceration remembrance and connecting it to US

society at large. The pilgrimages are not only a means of remembrance and a part of the cultural

memory but are also used didactically: “Visitors hold workshops to facilitate cross-generational

understanding of the experience, share political information, and tour the site” (Hayashi 55; see

also “Who We Are”). Physically standing in its former position makes the incarceration camp

real: something did really happen at this place in the past.

Landscape became a part of the cultural memory of Japanese Americans when they

regained access to it. Through confronting their past, Japanese Americans have regained access

to a place that they once were forced to enter. Coming to terms with the past also meant coming

to terms with the place itself. Here, Fu-jen Chen and Su-lin Yu’s interpretation fits well: “Never

historicized and materialized, the ‘space’ of internment camps stays abstract, a dream space”

(“Traumatic Space” 557). If though the site becomes recognized as a place of trauma, Japanese

Americans of any generation can work through their traumata – the site becomes a concrete

place. “Trauma as a cultural process is based on symbolization” (Halas 318); this symbolization

was mainly achieved by the works of Sansei as their parents and grandparents often did not talk

about World War II and their experiences. For the Sansei the actual place gained importance:

“the sites on which the camps stood became all the more important in efforts to connect with

and anchor that history” (Alinder 128).

It was only in 1992 that Manzanar was made a ‘National Historic Site’ under the

supervision of the National Park Service. It “was established to preserve the stories of the

internment of nearly 120,000 Japanese Americans during World War II and to serve as a

reminder to this and future generations of the fragility of American civil liberties” (“History &

Culture”; see also Hayashi 51). The landscape was thereby turned into a memorial and meaning

was inscribed on the location itself. The former Manzanar incarceration camp reminds visitors

of “the fragility of the civil rights taken for granted in American democracy” (Foote 305); it

therefore becomes not only a reminder of wrongdoings in the past, but also a warning as to what

can happen in the future. As pointed out by Kenneth Foote (305), this is something the

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American government has rarely done in its past: the American ideology is dominated by the

belief that what the American government and society does is usually correct; admitting guilt

and even considering that something like that may happen again completely opposes this

ideology. Nevertheless, an inscription on a historical marker at Manzanar states: “May the

injustices and humiliation suffered here as a result of hysteria, racism and economic exploitation

never emerge again” (Burton et al., Confinement 201). The historical marker declares what

happened at the site – so does the memorial at the cemetery (see below); the Visitor Center,

which was “renovated from the old auditorium” (Alinder 127; see also Colborn-Roxworthy

189), is used to inform visitors with the help of exhibitions and a movie; furthermore,

reconstructed barracks can be seen and visitors may “drive a 3.2 mile auto tour and see remnants”

(“Plan Your Visit”) of Manzanar.

The fact that parts of Manzanar incarceration camp have been reconstructed exemplifies

the landscape’s120 importance for cultural memory, especially in the case of the Japanese

American incarceration. Nowadays, despite this existing infrastructure and an attempt at

making Manzanar a tourist attraction, the remoteness of the area comes across. The drive to

Manzanar of around 226 miles from Los Angeles and 262 miles from Las Vegas already

stresses this – “[t]he sense of remoteness […] characterized the relocation centers” (Wyatt 82)

not only during World War II, but until today.

In the 1970s, the before-mentioned amenities for visitors were not yet in existence,

creating an even stronger feeling of remoteness for Laura and her family in the story. Laura

describes the incarceration camp as a “wide dirt field” (Bunting, So Far 8) and comments that

“Manzanar is a quiet kind of place” (Bunting, So Far 8). She cannot “imagine that once

thousands of people lived here” (Bunting, So Far 8), including her grandfather. In the end of

the text on page 8, it almost seems as if Laura has to remind herself of what happened here:

“There have been people here before us, people who came and left again” (Bunting, So Far 8).

Because at the time the story is set in, the Iwasaki family seem to be the only visitors, the

emptiness and seclusion of the place of Manzanar is made clear.

The text on page 10 accompanying fig. 14 mentions a song that “was popular in 1942”

(Bunting, So Far 10): Don’t Fence Me In, written in 1934 by Cole Porter, based on a poem by

120 The landscape of former incarceration camps plays an enormous role in a controversy surrounding former Tule

Lake incarceration camp – the Tule Lake Committee opposed the construction of a fence around an airport placed

on former Tule Lake incarceration camp arguing that the “barbed-wired topped fence sends a message of racism

and exclusion at a place that is sacred to Japanese Americans” (“Tule Lake Committee”). The controversy received

media-attention (see e.g. Fuchs) and has not been resolved as of today.

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Robert Fletcher (see Furia/Lasser 192; W. Young/N. Young 45 and 211). The song had

originally been written for an unpublished movie and was rediscovered during World War II.

It was sung by several artists, e.g. Roy Rogers in the movie Hollywood Canteen and Bill Crosby

and the Andrew Sisters (see Furia/Lasser 192; W. Young/N. Young 45). In So Far from the Sea,

Laura’s father remembers the song while walking through Manzanar incarceration camp. He

starts singing its most famous verses: “Give me land, lots of land, under starry skies above.

Don’t fence me in” (emphasis in original, Bunting, So Far 10). Similarly to boy scout activities

(see below), music was a means of expressing one’s feelings and distraction from the harsh

conditions as well as the routine in the incarceration camps. In the incarceration camps, both

Japanese traditional music as well as American popular music were widespread (see Asai 432

and 435; Robertson 295), particularly among the Nisei. Minako Waseda points out that music-

making was also approved by the camp authorities: it “was understood to be a mechanism by

which resentment could be diffused and morale built” (172; see also 179/180). Other music-

related activities in the incarceration camps included the screening of movies and ballroom

dancing where swing bands played. “[A]lmost every camp had one or more jazz bands which

provided live music for dancing” (Waseda 197). By attending these dances and shows, Nisei

“affirm[ed] their identity as Americans” (Waseda 198) following the WRA’s ideas of the

Americanization of the incarcerees.

Laura’s father starts thinking about the meaning of the song Don’t Fence Me In for

incarcerated Japanese Americans. As a child he did not understand its metaphoric language.

During the 1940s, the song was very popular and was one of the songs that found its way into

the incarceration camps and the cultural memory of being incarcerated. The lyrics explicitly

mention a fence, one of the most decisive symbols of the incarceration of Japanese Americans

at the time and up until today. Nevertheless, no research mentions that this song was used as a

means to resist or point out the peculiar situation Japanese Americans found themselves in.121

Bunting places the song in the story to clarify the irony of the situation: Japanese Americans

behind barbed wire singing a song called Don’t Fence Me In. This irony is reinforced by the

father shaking his head and saying, “Can you imagine?” (Bunting, So Far 10). While Laura’s

father here clearly addresses his daughter, readers of the story can also understand that the

121 The song is, e.g., also mentioned in Jeanne Wakatsuki Houston and James D. Houston’s Farewell to Manzanar,

the authors here also describe that the song was not used as a means to resist but just happened to be popular at the

time (see 73/74).

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question is addressed to them. Reading about and seeing it in So Far from the Sea, makes it

easier for the readers to imagine a past they are (in most cases) not familiar with.



The grandfather’s grave is a memory object in this picture book for different reasons.

First of all, the reason why the Iwasaki family comes to Manzanar is to visit the grandfather’s

grave once more before leaving the area; they want to remember the grandfather and the fact

that he died while incarcerated. Secondly, the grave in the story acts as a reminder that a number

of people died in the incarceration camp; Bunting includes the topic of death here to show that

these were not mere summer camps.

Bunting clearly mixes fact and fiction. As described above, the remaining six burial sites

at Manzanar are not visited by family members – the deceased were people with no family left

to care for them. With this background knowledge, one may then wonder why Bunting chose

this unrealistic setting for her story. Assumingly, the family in the story – if they were real –

would not have buried the grandfather at Manzanar and if they had, they would surely have

brought him to another cemetery when Manzanar was opened.

The three generations of the Iwasaki family symbolize the Japanese American

community as a whole: with the help of these characters and by showing Laura, Thomas and

their parents coming to Manzanar to visit a deceased family member, Bunting asks the readers

to empathize with the Japanese American community. It is especially on the double-spread on

pages 18 and 19 (fig. 15) that recipients are asked to put themselves in the position of the family

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shown. The family is shown from behind, giving recipients the chance to take their position.

Thomas is standing right in front of the monument; Laura and her parents are walking through

the entrance of the cemetery that is enclosed by a fence. The cemetery consists of several graves

marked off by stones on sandy ground. In the background, the desert surrounding Manzanar is

visible, once again making clear the vastness and emptiness of the landscape surrounding

Manzanar (see above).

All four family members are wearing thick coats including either a hood or are wearing

an additional hat indicating that it is cold. Laura’s narrative thematizes the cold: “The wind is

gusting, blowing ice prickles on my face” (Bunting, So Far 18; see also 6). This sentence can

be interpreted to not only refer to Laura’s present, but also to the time incarcerees spent at

Manzanar. In many secondary sources, the extreme weather at Manzanar is pointed out: because

of its location in the desert, Manzanar was hot in the summer and cold in the winter with wind

ever present. Especially the wind, often the cause of dust storms, is stressed in former

incarcerees’ accounts of the time spent at Manzanar or other incarceration camps (see e.g.

Kitayama, “Manzanar”; Tateishi 130). Bunting connects past and present with small statements

that clarify the suffering of the incarcerees. While Laura and her family only have to fight the

cold wind for a few hours, incarcerees lived at the place and had to cope with its conditions

year-round.

The cemetery and especially the monument within it play an important role in the

cultural memory of the Japanese American incarceration up until today. As described in Burton

et al.’s I Rei To: Archeological Investigations at the Manzanar Relocation Center Cemetery, a

decisive amount of work and time was invested into this place when the original cemetery was

reconstructed by an archaeological team from 1999 to 2001. Jeffery F. Burton et al. state that

“[t]he cemetery serves as a poignant reminder that some of the 10,000 Japanese Americans

interned at Manzanar never saw their homes again” (I Rei To 1). The cemetery is up until today

a place to mourn the dead and acts as a reminder of the Japanese American incarceration for

those visiting, be they Japanese Americans, other US citizens or tourists from further away. Up

until today it is visited by Japanese Americans during their annual pilgrimages.

The monument depicted in several illustrations and described by Bunting is a symbol of

the Japanese American incarceration as such. It was constructed in 1943 and designed by

stonemason and incarceree Ryozo Kado and financed by the incarcerees themselves – everyone

paid $0.15 for the material needed (see Burton et al., I Rei To 6; Philibert-Ortega 52; Wehrey

103). The monument “is a large concrete obelisk with Japanese characters […]” (Burton et al.,

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I Rei To 9). The characters on the front literally translate as “‘soul consoling tower’, [but] [m]ore

liberal translations include ‘memorial to the dead’” (Burton et al., I Rei To 7; see also “Cemetery

Offerings”) and others. The obelisk is surrounded by concrete. Often, “people leave offerings:

coins, personal mementos, paper cranes, water and sake, and religious items” (“Cemetery

Offerings”) close to the monument when they visit Manzanar.

In So Far from the Sea, Laura describes the monument, its size and color as well as the

writing on it. Bunting here opted for the translation ‘Memorial to the dead’ (see Bunting, So

Far 18) that is much easier to understand than the literal translation of the three Japanese

characters. In the story, Laura adds that “[the monument] looks so weird standing out here in

the middle of nothingness” (Bunting, So Far 18). This nothingness clearly comes across not

only through this double-spread but throughout the whole story line set in 1972. No people

except for the family are visible. The family is surrounded by an uninviting environment filled

with dust and cold wind. Particularly on this double-spread, the horizon intensifies the feeling

of being in the middle of nowhere. Behind the fence surrounding the cemetery, only sand and

patches of grass are visible – at some point the sand and a foggy sky merge. The monument

fills a big part of the illustration on page 19. With Thomas right in front of it, it seems to be

quite tall and further sticks out because of its white color. The depiction here is close to what

the monument and the cemetery look like in real life; it is an object that can easily be recognized

and has found its place in the cultural memory of the Japanese American incarceration.

In front of the monument offerings are displayed – they symbolize that the incarceration

and the people who died during it have not been forgotten. These offerings are further

thematized and shown in detail on the following page. Here, “origami birds, their wings trapped

under little rocks” (Bunting, So Far 21) dominate. The phrasing chosen by Bunting here makes

the readers think about being trapped in various situations. While there is a practical purpose to

trapping the birds’ wings (keeping them from being blown away from the wind), usually the

term ‘trapped’ has a negative connotation that here takes on symbolic meaning. When

somebody is trapped, they are not able to leave on their own. Japanese Americans were also

trapped in the incarceration camps – they could not leave on their own and had to rely on others

to let them go. Furthermore, up until today, the Japanese American community can be argued

to be trapped in the memory of the incarceration.

The Iwasaki family in the story does not leave offerings at the monument, but at their

grandfather’s grave: flowers mark his grave when they leave. As described by Laura, the family

decided on silk flowers for their last visit: these were meant to last longer than real flowers and

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they had made them themselves, putting a lot of thoughts and work into this day (see Bunting,

So Far 8). Both facts indicate the importance of the grandfather’s grave for the family – he was

a member of their family whom they left behind at Manzanar and now leave again when moving

to a different part of the country. By placing these silk flowers on the grave, their wish to keep

his memory alive as long as possible is clarified. In addition to the flowers, Laura leaves the

neckerchief on his grave.



Throughout the story, the father’s Boy Scout neckerchief, depicted in fig. 16, plays an

important role. It is mainly used as a symbol of the grandfather having been a “true American”

(Bunting, So Far 28) and is a memory object for the family as it reminds them that members of

their family had been incarcerated. Having remembered a story her father had told her, Laura

brought the Boy Scout neckerchief with her to the family’s visit of Manzanar. There, she places

it on her grandfather’s grave. As she does this, her father tells the story of the neckerchief to

her brother and by extension to the readers: when the family was picked up by soldiers in their

home, his father (Laura’s grandfather) told him to wear his Boy Scout uniform including the

neckerchief in order to show that he was an American. The grandfather had hoped that his son

would not be incarcerated if he was wearing the uniform of the Boy Scouts of America (BSA),

but nevertheless the whole family was sent to Manzanar.

The Boy Scouts (as well as the Girl Scouts) had been significant in the Japanese

American community, especially for the Nisei, prior to and during the incarceration. The Boy

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Scouts were one way in which the Nisei could “take on the mannerisms and customs of

respectable white Americans” (L. Kurashige 39) in their communities. The BSA, one of the

biggest Scouting organizations in the US (founded in 1910), “supported the jarring spectacle of

Japanese American scouting” (Honeck, Frontier 194) in the incarceration camps. This

organization was loyal to the government and supported the WRA in its attempts to prove

Japanese Americans’ loyalty with the help of symbols that were recognizable in- and outside

of the incarceration camps. The WRA made use of the general prominence of scouting amongst

young people in general and amongst Japanese Americans especially and acted as a sponsor for

Boy Scout troops in the incarceration camps (see Greg Robinson, “War Relocation Authority”).

As had been the case before the war, most members were of the Nisei generation and

encouraged to show their loyalty to the US (see Peterson) which was rewarded with scouts

being able to leave the incarceration camps from time to time. Becoming a scout for a young

boy or girl in an incarceration camp “created a semblance of normalcy and mitigated the

impression that the country to which they had pledged allegiance was imprisoning them”

(“Soldiers” 145), as pointed out by Mischa Honeck. Being a member meant participating in

outdoor activities that apart from schools and sports were a distraction from everyday life

behind barbed wire. Some Nisei showed their support of and loyalty to the US with their being

members of the Boy Scouts,122 which created tensions amongst the Nisei in the incarceration

camps. Laura’s father seems to have continued his being a Boy Scout: on page 25, he is shown

in his uniform at Manzanar, indicating his and his parents’ continued belief in the US and his

need to feel ‘normal’ in an unusual environment.

Five pages in So Far from the Sea show the neckerchief – on three pages it is a decisive

part of the story, both thematized in the text as well as shown in the illustration. The neckerchief

is first mentioned (not shown) on the third double-spread when Laura checks her pocket: “The

folded neckerchief is still there” (Bunting, So Far 6). The reader at this point of the story does

not know about the neckerchief’s importance for Laura and her family so that this sentence does

not seem of too much importance at this point in the story.

122 Japanese American Boy Scouts seemingly showed their support and loyalty to the US, when, as the Manzanar

riot broke out, they protected the US flag that protestors attempted to pull down (see Honeck, Frontier 195;

Peterson). Knowledge of this event and the thereby created image of incarcerated Japanese Americans being loyal

was also spread to other scouts throughout the US as the Scouting Magazine reported on it (see “Japanese Scouts”).

In the BSA outside of the incarceration camps, racist sentiments dominated: “‘Caucasian leadership’ of [the]

troops” (Honeck, Frontier 195) and segregation of Japanese American troops from other American scouts outside

of the incarceration camps was recommended.

That loyalty was thought to be a key aspect amongst Japanese American Boy Scouts further shows in the fact that,

before the Loyalty Questionnaire of 1943 was thought of, loyalty was to be determined by a point system – anybody

who was a member of the BSA received points (see Muller, American 47).

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The double-spread on pages 26/27 (fig. 16) shows Laura putting the neckerchief on her

grandfather’s grave in the foreground. Behind her, the monument can be made out. In the

background, on page 26, Laura’s parents and her brother are standing close to each other and

watch Laura.123 Further in the background, a fence as well as the mountains surrounding

Manzanar can be seen. In the text, the neckerchief is first introduced as a “piece of cloth”

(Bunting, So Far 26) that Laura takes from her pocket. Her father soon realizes that this is his

old neckerchief from the Boy Scouts and wonders where it came from. Laura then replies that

she took it out of the bag with clothes for Goodwill and brought it with her. The last sentence

on this page accompanies Soentpiet’s illustration: Laura places the neckerchief on the grave

and “hold[s] it in place with the tree root” (Bunting, So Far 26) that she had picked up earlier

(see Bunting, So Far 18).

The focus of the illustration clearly is on Laura: her body covers most of page 27. She

is focused on her task of getting the neckerchief in place and looks down on the neckerchief

while holding onto it with both hands. Soentpiet here works with colors: while the neckerchief

is yellow, her hands are covered by gloves in a bright red color, establishing a contrast. The

contrast becomes even stronger when seen in front of her blue coat with white fur attached to

its sleeves. With these vibrant colors, Soentpiet clearly directs the readers’ eyes to Laura. The

background is in mainly brown and darker colors. Her parents’ clothes are not as colorful: they

are both wearing brown coats and dark pants. Thomas, while wearing a coat with numerous

colors and a blue hat, does not take up as much space as Laura does, so that the color in his coat

is not that noticeable. On this double-spread, the only other vibrant colors are that of the flowers

that Laura’s mother had brought with them and that are also placed on the grave. This focuses

the readers’ attention on the neckerchief, a symbol of the family being American and a reminder

of what the grandfather and his family experienced.

The father’s willingness to give away his uniform and neckerchief can be interpreted as

a wish to forget the past – something he also expresses throughout the story: “it was more than

thirty years ago, Laurie. We have to put it behind us and move on” (Bunting, So Far 14). In a

way, he almost seems to try to defend the actions of the US government by arguing that “[i]t

wasn’t fair that Japan attacked this country either” (Bunting, So Far 14). The perspective on

the incarceration here represented by Laura’s father seems to be connected to him feeling

ashamed. He seems to be ashamed about Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor: “It was a terrible thing”

123 The way they are positioned here is similar to the way in which Laura’s grandparents and her father are depicted

on page 25; with this, a connection between past and present is emphasized.

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(Bunting, So Far 12); from the way he talks about the attack on Pearl Harbor and the

incarceration to his children, he seems to have a certain understanding of the US government’s

actions. This also comes across in his posture: “Dad pulls his head far back in his hood, like a

snail going into its shell” (Bunting, So Far 12). He does not like remembering what happened

and tries to hide from it.

The fact that he talks to his children about his experiences (and has done so before)

nevertheless shows that he feels that they should know about it: the incarceration was part of

his life and something he wants his children to know about. The family had visited Manzanar a

number of times (see Bunting, So Far 4) and Laura and her brother are familiar with what had

happened there. This might particularly be the case because their grandfather had died at

Manzanar: they had a reason to return to the place, to visit his grave.

In contrast to her father, Laura is angry that her family was incarcerated. She questions

why this was the case: “It wasn’t fair” (Bunting, So Far 14). Furthermore, she points out that

her grandfather and father “were Americans” (Bunting, So Far 14), an argument often used by

activists pointing out the injustice of the Japanese American incarceration. The neckerchief

connects both Laura’s and her father’s points of view: “[it] intersects both Laura's anger and

her father's desire to forget the past, and father and daughter meet on common ground in their

mutual sadness and in their agreement that Grandfather was ‘a true American’”

(Brabander/Sutton 329).

The mother’s way of thinking about her own incarceration (which is thematized on page

16) is difficult to pinpoint. She does not talk about it and the readers only learn about the weather

at Heart Mountain incarceration camp in Wyoming, where she was incarcerated. This silence

of course is also an important aspect of the way in which the Japanese American community

handled the aftereffects – as mentioned before, many tried to forget what had happened and did

not talk about their feelings about it to their children. Throughout the story, Laura’s “feelings

are thought-provokingly juxtaposed with her mother’s reticence about her internment in a

different camp and her father’s simply stated desire to move on” (Brabander/Sutton 329). The

fact that all family members with their different ways of thinking about the incarceration come

to Manzanar show the family’s willingness to face the past together. By positioning the

neckerchief on the grandfather’s grave, Laura gives her parents and herself a chance to come to

terms with the situation. Through this, their trauma is – at least in parts – resolved: visiting the

grandfather’s grave gives them closure and enables them to move to another part of the country

in order to start a new life.

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On pages 28 and 29 (fig. 17), the event that leads to Laura bringing the neckerchief with

her is depicted. The text on the left side of the illustration includes the father’s memories of this

event following Thomas’s question as to why Laura had brought the neckerchief. Laura

describes her father’s voice “com[ing] from some remembering place” (Bunting, So Far 28).

He is taken back to the neckerchief, something he wanted to forget about but is reminded of

because of Laura’s actions. He is, in his thoughts, quite literally taken back to his parents’ home.

While the father is the one remembering, it is not his perspective that is depicted since the

readers view the situation from the outside.

The illustration covers, as usual, about two-thirds of the left page and the whole of the

page on the right. It is set in the grandparents’ home, in what looks like their living room. On

the left, two soldiers are visible with their backs to the readers. They both have rifles on their

backs making the readers aware of the graveness of the situation. One of the soldiers has a

clipboard in his hand with what can be assumed to be a list of Japanese Americans. Soentpiet

clarifies their belonging to the US Army by placing the abbreviation ‘U.S.’ on one of the

soldiers’ small bags attached to his belt – thereby the contrast between the soldiers and the

family is strengthened. Page 29 shows Laura’s father and her grandparents. Because of their

position in the room and the fact that the readers see their backs, the readers are here clearly

placed in the position of outsiders and potential intruders. The reader is outside of the action,

getting a glimpse into their past. The readers watch what is happening to a family of Japanese

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Americans from the outside and are seemingly protected by the soldiers who are placed in front

of the readers.

Laura’s father is about eight years old and in his full Boy Scout uniform. He is saluting

to the soldiers with a serious face, indicating that he is aware of what is going on. As his father

had asked him to, he is trying to prove his loyalty and his being American to the soldiers.

Slightly behind him, his parents are depicted embracing. While Laura’s grandmother has her

back to the readers leaning into her husband, Laura’s grandfather’s face is shown. He has his

eyes closed, has a serious face and is hugging his wife tightly, seemingly trying to protect her

from what is to come. He seems to be strong and protective in this illustration which stands in

contrast to the readers’ knowledge of him dying at Manzanar. He could not prevent his family’s

incarceration and he himself never left Manzanar.

Behind the family, parts of their living room can be seen: furniture, decorations as well

as two pictures of family members and an American flag. The latter two are prominently placed

between the soldiers and the family. I suggest that they indicate the family’s standing in between

two cultures: on the one hand their family in Japan signaled by the woman depicted dressed in

a Kimono and, on the other hand, the American flag. Together with Laura’s father’s body

posture and his Boy Scout uniform including the neckerchief, Soenpiet here stresses the

family’s will to prove their Americanness. Especially Laura’s father feels like an American, he

grew up in the US and is a member of the Boy Scouts of America, an US organization which is

known to stand for American values. Bunting and Soentpiet show with both the text and the

illustration the focus of the story on stressing Japanese Americans’ belonging to the US. With

a clear focus on Americanness, Bunting and Soentpiet also comment on their own identity.

They are both immigrants to the US but feel American and want to be accepted as American

citizens, a feat that is difficult for many immigrants. The story told by Laura’s father

exemplifies this.

The symbol of the neckerchief also returns on the last double-spread on pages 30 and

31. It shows Laura looking back at the neckerchief she had placed on her grandfather’s grave

where it is fluttering in the wind. Because of its shape, it reminds Laura of the sail of a boat.

Laura’s grandfather had worked as a fisherman, had had his own boat and had always lived

close to the sea (see Bunting, So Far 22). He was taken from his familiar surroundings to a

place dominated by sand and dust, surrounded by mountains, which is a stark contrast to life at

and close by the sea. With the title of her work, Bunting reuses a part of a sentence taken from

the story: “[Laura’s father] said the government took those things [their house and boat] and

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Grandfather’s dignity along with them when they brought him here, so far from the sea”

(emphasis added, Bunting, So Far 22).124 Already in the beginning the sea plays an important

role and Bunting uses similar phrasing: “we are moving from California to Boston […]. That’s

very far away. There’s a sea in Boston […]. To [grandfather] the sea was everything” (emphasis

added, Bunting, So Far 6). The family is moving from the West Coast of the US to the East

Coast. While they are separated from the grandfather by a long distance, they seem to be able

to stay connected to him when looking at the sea through the windows of their new house in

Boston. The sea will always remind them of him and Laura imagines what her grandfather

would have said to living in Boston: “I think how much Grandfather would have liked that”

(Bunting, So Far 6). It is not the landscape of former Manzanar incarceration camp that acts as

a reminder for the Iwasaki family – once they move to Boston, so the story implies, it is the sea

that will act as a reminder of their family’s incarceration.

Here, the neckerchief symbolizes “a boat, moving on” (Bunting, So Far 30) and thereby

becomes a symbol of freedom (see Chen/Yu, “Literature” 117), the freedom to accept the past

and move on, in both its literal and metaphorical sense. That the neckerchief in the shape of a

sail is on the last page of the story surely is no coincidence but indicates Bunting’s and

Soentpiet’s wish to end the story on an optimistic note.125 This optimism shows that the trauma

for the Iwasaki is resolved: they are able to leave the grandfather behind and are able to move

to Boston where they can still remember their grandfather by looking at the sea.

Bunting’s So Far from the Sea, despite sharing a number of characteristics with Fish for

Jimmy, is quite different from it. In the next section, I will take a closer look at the latter work

and focus on Katie Yamasaki’s way of telling the story of the Japanese American incarceration.

III.3 Katie Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy

Katie Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy is a medium of cultural memory with which the author and

illustrator works through her own transgenerational trauma. The trauma of the Japanese

American incarceration has been transferred to Katie Yamasaki, a Yonsei (fourth-generation

Japanese American), through generations of her family. By creating this picture book and other

124 Similar phrasing can also be found on another occasion: “In summer, at sunset, [the mountains] were pink and

a shadow like a giant eagle would fall across them. I’d wish I could climb on its back and fly away… far, far,

away” (emphasis added, Bunting, So Far 14), says Laura’s father when he talks about his experiences at Manzanar. 125 Bunting also admits to her optimism in an interview in which she states that “[a]t the end of my books, I always

try to have not a happy ever after thing, but hope for the future” (Bunting, “Interview”).

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works of art and spreading knowledge about the incarceration, Yamasaki works through her

own trauma, stabilizes her own identity and, additionally, helps others to do so as well.

Furthermore, her picture book gives readers, be they Japanese American or not, the

opportunity to learn about and from the incarceration. With her choice of creating a picture

book about her family’s history, Yamasaki aims at reaching a young audience, one that can

learn from the past. Nevertheless, the style of her illustrations and the way in which thoughts

are projected in the illustrations also make this picture book interesting for adults. Children may

require explanations to understand abstract elements so that an adult mediator is required here

as well.

In Fish for Jimmy, Yamasaki combines historical facts with amended family history and

fictional elements. On the one hand, she stresses that this picture book is based on true events.

Especially a letter to the reader and photographs in the end of the story add a personal touch to

the story that show readers that she has a connection to what happened during World War II.

On the other hand, she allows fictional elements to reflect the characters’ emotions, particularly

in the illustrations. By using realistic and abstract illustrations Yamasaki gives the recipients

the chance to take a look at what the characters think in addition to what they experience.

With the help of emotional illustrations, Yamasaki asks readers of her picture book to

empathize with the Japanese American community and other minority groups. By focusing on

one family’s experiences, she shows the readers what the Japanese American community

experienced during World War II in such a way that allows the readers to suffer with them.

Furthermore, she breaks down the concept of what consequences political decisions may have

on individuals and how prejudice against a community can lead to false accusations. However,

Yamasaki resolves their trauma, at least in part, and ends the story on a positive note. Through

this act she shows that the Japanese American incarceration has come to an end and that the

unity of a family can help to survive these situations.

Fish for Jimmy tells the story of a Japanese American family of four people: the parents

and their two sons, Taro and Jimmy. They live together in California, where the father owns a

vegetable store. Right after the bombing of Pearl Harbor in 1941, the father is taken away by

the FBI. Soon thereafter, the mother and her two children have to leave their home to move to

one of the incarceration camps. There, Jimmy refuses to eat because he misses the food he used

to eat at home, which worries both Taro and his mother. In order to help his brother, Taro sneaks

out of the incarceration camp and catches fish for his brother. Since his brother enjoys the fish,

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Taro from then on leaves the incarceration camp regularly to catch fish for him. At the end, the

father joins the rest of the family in the incarceration camp.

Katie Yamasaki is of Japanese descent: she is a fourth-generation Japanese American

(with a French-Canadian and Irish mother) and grew up in a diverse family near Detroit,

Michigan (see Yamasaki, “About Katie”; Yamasaki, “Incarceration”). There, she experienced

what it meant to stand out as one of the few people of Japanese descent in the area (see

Yamasaki, “Incarceration”). In 2003, she completed a Masters of Fine Art at the School of

Visual Arts in New York. She works as a teacher, author and illustrator and has published

several children’s books. In addition, she works internationally as a muralist and community

artist and has done “community-based social justice work, restorative justice work and

international street art projects” (Yamasaki, “About Katie”). Her murals126 are placed in public

places, e.g. on the outside walls of museums or prisons. On her website, she states that she

“believes deeply in the power of art to inspire individual and social transformation” (Yamasaki,

“Artist Statement”), which ties in with the way she uses Fish for Jimmy to educate the US

population about the Japanese American incarceration. Sharing her family’s past experiences

and making students of all ages learn from it, is Yamasaki’s main goal. The fact that she writes

an online blog about her work shows her wish to spread knowledge to as many people as

possible. Furthermore, she emphasizes in this blog that she was as a child “frustrated by the

complete absence of the Japanese Internment from any lesson” (“Catching up!”) – this is

something she wants to change and works for.127

In interviews, she clearly indicates that this picture book is not only for Japanese

Americans, but for anyone who is interested in the topic or who may face similar issues in US

society nowadays. She for example says that she “was thinking this would be a book that

resonates with Muslim Americans, this concept of detention and being separated from your

families and loss of civil liberties” (Yamasaki, “Incarceration”). She thereby connects the

incarceration experience to similar experiences in US society and elsewhere and invites others

to work through their own traumata by engaging with her work. In addition to Muslim

126 One of her murals is ‘Moon Beholders,’ an artwork drawn on the outside wall of the Japanese American

National Museum in Los Angeles in 2014. She created this mural with the help of the community surrounding the

Japanese American National Museum. It is “intended to represent and celebrate, challenge and preserve diverse

concepts within Japanese American culture, both contemporary and historic, while connecting with the diverse

community” (Yamasaki, “Moon Beholders”). Because of its prominent location, it is an important part of Japanese

American cultural memory. 127 In 2017, Fish for Jimmy was purchased by the publishing house McGraw-Hill “to include [it] in their textbooks”

(“Katie Yamasaki”; see also Kai-Hwa Wang, “Internment”; Yamasaki, “Incarceration”), making it an important

part of history lessons in US schools.

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Americans, she here also thinks about Syrian refugees and children of Latin American

immigrants who fear deportation (see Yamasaki, “Incarceration”). She comments: “That’s a

damn shame that here we are, 75 years later, and kids are so afraid that their parents are going

to be taken away” (Yamasaki, “Incarceration”). Her focus on children who experience injustices

is reflected on as well. With her work as a muralist and artist, she wants to educate and help

people to understand injustices in US society.

Yamasaki herself uses her picture book to educate children: “I’ve been invited to schools,

bookstores and conferences across the country to share this story” (“Catching up!”).

Additionally, illustrations from Fish for Jimmy were used in exhibitions about the Second

World War in museums in New York City (see “Katie Yamasaki”; Yamasaki, “Book

Signings”); thereby turning this book into cultural memory on an even bigger scale.

III.3.1 Establishing Historical Facts and a Personal Connection to the Japanese American

Incarceration

Yamasaki establishes historical facts and the connection to family history in a number of ways

in order to show that the Japanese American incarceration had an immense influence on her,

her family and US society as such. First of all, she uses the cover page of her picture book to

show that the story is based on true events; further, she uses a letter and photographs placed in

the end of the book to stress her family’s experiences during World War II. With the help of

these elements Yamasaki enables readers to access her family’s past and understand her

personal engagement with the story. The fact that this work does not mention any dates (except

for a short reference to the attack on Pearl Harbor) can be seen as a comment that not much has

changed in US society since World War II through which Yamasaki makes readers think about

US society at large.

Additionally, she makes use of visual markers of the conditions of life in an

incarceration camp in order to point out what life was like. Similarly to So Far from the Sea, a

barbed wire fence, guard towers and soldiers are shown. These elements emphasize not only

the conditions, but also the harshness of life in an incarceration camp.

Already on the cover page of Fish for Jimmy, the reader is told that the book’s story

draws on events from the past: “Inspired by One Family’s Experience in a Japanese American

Internment Camp” (Yamasaki, Fish book cover). From the beginning onwards, it becomes clear

that the story is not purely fictional, but also historical. The readers are made aware that real

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people suffered during the Japanese American incarceration and that this is one story that

symbolizes the Japanese American community’s experiences.

In addition, Yamasaki emphasizes that the story is based on true events in a letter to the

reader at the end of her book. She directly addresses the readers, thereby acknowledging their

existence and importance. Additionally, she also points out that the story of the Japanese

American incarceration needs to be kept in mind by US society. In the letter to the reader, she

gives very basic historical facts to support her story: here she shortly describes the attack on

Pearl Harbor, indicating that this was the reason for the Japanese American incarceration. She

then describes the incarceration camps, the number of people who stayed there and mentions

the closing of the incarceration camps in 1945 (see Fish 31). She further indicates that the US

government apologized to the Japanese American community in 1988 (see Fish 31). In these

short paragraphs that establish historical facts of the incarceration, Yamasaki uses emotional

language. She says, for example, that these “were extremely hard times for people of Japanese

descent” (Fish 31), calls the locations of the incarceration camps “desolate parts of the country”

(Fish 31) and stresses that “[m]any innocent Japanese men” (Fish 31) were arrested. In contrast

to Bunting’s afterword as discussed above, this letter is a much more emotional and personal

account which is why I suggest that, while Yamasaki gives historical background information

here, she does not do so in a neutral tone.

This also shows in the way in which she describes her connection to the Japanese

American incarceration. She shares her family’s personal history in a few sentences, giving the

readers access to how the story came to be. She explains that she combined aspects of family

history: her grandfather’s cousin “snuck out of the camp to find fish for his […] son” (Yamasaki,

Fish 31) and her great-grandfather was arrested by the FBI right after Pearl Harbor. When

describing the amount of people who were incarcerated, she emphasizes that her “great-

grandparents, aunts, and uncles” (Fish 31) were part of those incarcerated. By pointing out this

personal connection, Yamasaki engages the readers. They are asked to empathize with the

Japanese American community as such and with Yamasaki’s family in particular.

By stressing her family’s story and making it part of a medium of cultural memory,

Yamasaki stays close to facts she has learned from her family but also amends them to create a

picture book that focuses on what she considers important about the incarceration experience.

The characters in the story are fictional, but based on family members, enabling readers to

empathize with them more easily. She creates “a world into which the reader can be drawn, a

credible world with characters he or she can relate to” (Fisher 490) or learn from.

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She acknowledges in particular her great-grandfather, whom she mentions by name,

giving readers the opportunity to imagine his life. In the beginning, she further acknowledges

her “Uncle Jim and Aunt Aki Yamazaki” (Fish Acknowledgment), once again mentioning

names through which she raises the readers’ expectations to the truth content of this picture

book. She thanks them “for keeping [their] family stories alive” (Fish Acknowledgment)

pointing out here the importance of sharing stories and within a family; it was those stories that

enabled her to access the story of her family’s incarceration, process it in a picture book and

work through the transgenerational trauma.

Yamasaki’s letter to the readers is supported by two photographs taken at Granada

incarceration camp. The first one shows Yamasaki’s great-grandmother, great-aunt and great-

grandfather; the other photograph shows a group of Japanese Americans in formal Western

clothing standing and sitting in front of one of the barracks at Granada (Fish 32). Here,

photographs are used to provide evidence. They ought to dispel any doubt the reader may have

and prove that her relatives really stayed at one of the incarceration camps during the Second

World War. Nevertheless, these are photographs to which readers may react on an emotional

level, as well. After reading the story told in Fish for Jimmy and learning about Yamasaki’s

personal connection to the incarceration experience, these real-life photographs depict what is

described in the text and shown in the illustrations. The people shown in the photographs are

not fictional, but really had these experiences, enabling the readers to imagine themselves in

their position more easily. These photographs are printed in sepia-color and therefore stress that

this was an event of the past, once more.128 Katie Yamasaki, overall, places indicators in her

work that show that this book is based on historical facts.

Fig. 18 includes a number of visual markers of the Japanese American incarceration that

can be found in many media of cultural memory. Yamasaki uses this illustration to introduce

the readers to the conditions of life in an incarceration camp. In contrast to many other

illustrations, the focus here is less on the characters. Instead, Yamasaki focuses on the

environment of the camp and shows a number of people moving into the camp area.

128 Compare Matt Faulkner’s usage of the photograph of his family.

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Fig. 18 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 9/10.

Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by

permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.

The illustration captures the moment Taro, his brother and his mother, arrive at the

incarceration camp: “The buses carried Mother, Jimmy, Taro, and others to a desolate land

where they were forced to live in tiny barracks surrounded by guarded fences” (Yamasaki, Fish

9). Here, Yamasaki refrains from using abstract illustrations, but depicts what she explains in

writing without giving an insight into the characters’ thoughts. The double-spread shows the

area of the incarceration camp and a bit of the surrounding area in a realistic, yet childlike style.

The incarceration camp is circular and consists of several barracks completely surrounded by

fences with barbed wire and guard towers. At one point, the fence is left open to allow buses

filled with incarcerees to enter. Inside of the incarceration camp, the readers can see a number

of incarcerees who seemingly just arrived. Two buses are standing right next to the people; one

bus is just entering and two are on the street leading to the entrance. The incarcerees are

surrounded by seven guards holding rifles in their hands.

Despite the situation captured here, the illustration style is non-threatening and could be

called innocent. While the style does include realistic aspects and is detailed enough to clarify

the conditions of life in an incarceration camp, the choice of mainly light colors and the way in

which the illustration is composed does not seem threatening to the readers looking at it.

What could be perceived as threatening but is less so due to Yamasaki’s style, is the

position of the incarceration camp. The incarceration camp seems fully surrounded by

mountains that isolate those inside even more than the fence and barbed wire. Additionally,

only one street leads to the entrance of the incarceration camp, giving soldiers on the

watchtowers the chance to see everyone coming close or leaving. Yamasaki’s illustration

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depicts the bleakness of the surrounding area and in the incarceration camp itself. While

Yamasaki talks about “tiny barracks” (Fish 9), the illustration clarifies that these barracks are

not only small considering the number of people living in them, but they all look the same. In

the whole area of the incarceration camp, only the simple barracks dominate.

Yamasaki stresses the guards’ power in a number of ways. First of all, their position on

top of the watchtowers and surrounding the incarcerees shows that they are in charge. Secondly,

compared to the incarcerees, the guards are much bigger and drawn in more detail. The guards

are wearing uniforms including helmets that emphasize their authority: at first glance already

the soldiers’ power is visible. Their position is further symbolized by their rifles which the

guards are holding in their hands. Yamasaki establishes a clear difference between the guards

and the incarcerees: the incarcerees have, despite their numbers, no power whereas the guards

have all the power.

On the street, on the lower right of the illustration, a bus is prominently placed. From

the context and from the written text in the left corner of page 9, the reader learns that Taro and

his family are in the bus depicted. One of the children is looking out of one of the windows of

the bus; it looks as if either Taro or Jimmy lift the curtain that covers the windows from the

inside. In addition to this child, the only other visible person in the bus is the bus driver. He is

holding onto the steering wheel looking at the street that leads to the entrance of the

incarceration camp. He has blond hair and a beard – the color of his (facial) hair indicates that

he is not a Japanese American.

Since there is only little text on this double-spread, the reader is asked to focus on the

illustration. Nevertheless, the language in the one sentence on page 9 is very strong. It indicates

that the incarceration camps were in desolate areas, far away from other people and from their

homes. Particularly interesting here is that the author talks about a “desolate land” (emphasis

added, Yamasaki, Fish 9), making it sound as if the Japanese Americans were not even in the

US anymore. On a metaphorical level, this was certainly the case. The Japanese Americans had

put their trust into the United States, a country most of them chose to immigrate to. After

Executive Order 9066, most people lost this trust and their hopes for a peaceful future in the

United States. Further, the author chose the words “forced to live” (Yamasaki, Fish 9) in this

little passage: the incarcerees certainly did not come to live in the barracks voluntarily but were

put into them. Because they were ordered by the government, a government that openly

demonstrated its power, they did have no other chance but to obey.

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In contrast to fig. 18, the atmosphere in fig. 19 is much more threatening. Yamasaki uses

this illustration to engage the readers: they see what Taro risks in order to help his little brother,

Jimmy. In the foreground on the lower right, Taro is shown cutting the fence that surrounds the

incarceration camp. He is cutting the part of the fence that consists of close-meshed wire. On

top of it, barbed wire can be made out. In the background and in the middle of the illustration,

a watchtower with soldiers dominates the scene. Further back, rows of barracks and searchlights

are depicted.

In this example, the illustration captures several of Taro’s actions described in the text.

In the background, Taro can be seen running; as the text says, he is “creep[ing] from shadow to

shadow until he arrived at the fence” (Yamasaki, Fish 19). Yamasaki here drew the character

Taro several times: the reader can follow his way from one of the barracks to another, but also

has to be aware of this person always being Taro. Since the person shown is always wearing

the same clothes, this may be obvious, but without context it would be difficult to understand,

nonetheless. In the foreground, Taro can be seen escaping the incarceration camp to help his

brother. He is cutting the fence with the help of shears (as mentioned on page 17); through this

hole in the fence, he has the chance to leave and enter the incarceration camp as he pleases.

Obviously, Taro here put himself in danger – if the guards had seen him escape, they surely

would have followed and punished him.

It is especially the dark colors that create a threatening atmosphere here. Additionally,

the soldiers’ faces and body posture can be made out: they look serious and seem to watch their

environment closely. One of them has a rifle in his hand, emphasizing the seriousness of the

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situation. Furthermore, the combination of Taro’s actions with the main symbols of the

incarceration (barbed wire, 129 guards, guard towers and searchlights) indicate that Taro’s

actions are very dangerous. The character Taro is used to teach children divergent thinking,

which “requires one to see outside the problem at hand; to reach for more than logical solutions”

(xiv), according to Marianne Saccardi. Taro is a “risk-taking, divergent-thinking character”

(Saccardi 53) – somebody from whom children can learn that in some situations it may well be

worth taking risks in order to help others. Obviously, what children should learn from this is to

be helpful and supportive; especially when it comes to family members. As the readers take a

close look at Taro’s actions and see the development in Jimmy once Taro has helped him, the

learning effect is even bigger (see below).

III.3.2 Emotions and Thoughts Expressed in Illustrations

Yamasaki uses illustrations to clarify the main characters’ emotions. Emotions are particularly

reflected in Taro’s and Jimmy’s faces. Additionally, Yamasaki often makes use of abstract

illustrations to give an insight into their thoughts as is also described on the book cover:

Yamasaki aims “to show the subconscious and conscious imaginings of the main characters”

(Yamasaki, Fish book cover). By doing so, Yamasaki allows an inside view of the characters

that would hardly be possible with only written text; it is often these abstract illustrations that

may require children to read this picture book together with an adult in order to explain the

contents. Her illustrations are not simply a depiction of what is written but go beyond that.

Abstract elements can be found on a number of pages. For example, “rooms morph into

landscapes and surrealistic fish seem to swim through the air” (Roach 119). Often, characters

are depicted more than once in one double-spread, which makes these more difficult to

understand (see above). These elements can of course also be interpreted differently depending

on the age and the background of the readers.

Fig. 20 depicts the point in the story that changes the family life: the pages before show

a normal and happy family life while on this double-spread, the family’s peaceful life is

interrupted. It is the night of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the family father is picked up by

129 In her blog, Yamasaki herself explains the meaning of barbed wire for her and the Japanese American

community: it is “symbolic of the JA [Japanese American] internment camps of WWII” (Yamasaki, “Moon

Beholders”). She also used barbed wire as a symbol in one of her murals painted on one of the walls of the Japanese

American National Museum in Los Angeles.

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the FBI. On these two pages, Yamasaki indicates the disruption and changes to their family life

in both text and illustration.




It is only on page 5 that a date is mentioned: “one night early in December 1941”

(Yamasaki, Fish 5). By putting this day in focus, Yamasaki grounds the story in the past as such

and in a specific time, the beginning of World War II for the US. The text on page 5 continues

to explain the historical background: “Japan had bombed Pearl Harbor, in Hawaii” (Yamasaki,

Fish 5). This sentence explains sufficient information for the readers familiar with US history

during World War II to understand the setting of the situation. However, the text also mentions

the children’s surprise about their parents’ worry. While the illustration on page 5 shows the

children playing on the ground, the father looks worried. He also looks towards the door of their

house. What connects page 5 to page 6 is on the one hand the parents’ gaze, on the other hand

the steam rising from their teacups and teapot. The steam from the mother’s teacup is leaving

the room and is blown towards three men standing in front of the door. Further, it is used as the

background for the written text on page 6.

The sudden change of the family’s situation becomes clear through the words “Bang!

Bang! Bang!” (emphasis in original, Yamasaki, Fish 6). The noise interrupts the family’s

normality. Since the words are written in italics in contrast to the rest of the text on these two

pages, they also stand out to the readers. The words interrupt their reading experience and

symbolize the disruption of family life also on the level of written words. Furthermore, the

repetition of the word ‘Bang’ combined with an exclamation mark emphasizes the situation:

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the readers are enabled to ‘hear’ the word in their heads and can put themselves in a situation

that is disrupted.

A clear contrast is established between the three men of the FBI standing in front of the

door and the family inside the house. While the family is dressed casually, the three men wear

grey suits including hats; presumably a uniform that symbolizes their power. Since they face

the door to the house, only their backs can be seen so that emotions do not come across.

However, their posture indicates the seriousness of the situation: they stand close together and

look into the house. Also, race and ethnicity are hinted at here: all family members have black

hair in contrast to one of the men who has blond hair. In the same way, guards at the

incarceration camp or the driver of the bus taking the family to the incarceration camp are

indicated (see Yamasaki, Fish 9 and 19/20). Through this, Yamasaki points out a visible

difference between Japanese Americans and other members of the American population: the

color of their hair that together with other characteristic traits indicates their racial belonging.

It is mainly “their race and ethnicity” (Potucek 568) that is commented on here indirectly; by

pointing it out, Yamasaki clarifies that the incarceration was based on racial discrimination and

justified only by appearances.

The readers get to see the family through one window of their house, as if standing in

front of it. Therefore, the readers are not family members, but clearly outside of it. On the one

hand, they become intruders who invade the family members’ private lives similarly to the FBI

agents entering the family’s life. On the other hand, the readers are enabled to view normal

family life the way it was before the attack on Pearl Harbor. It was not Yamasaki’s wish to turn

the readers into intruders, but that she wanted to establish a clear contrast here. The inside of

the house symbolizes normal life before the attack on Pearl Harbor, while the three FBI men

coming inside indicate changes to come.

The text on page 6 explains historical facts by using the father as an example of what

happened to many Issei men. He is a Japanese who has to go with the FBI because “he posed a

threat to America” (Yamasaki, Fish 6). Despite his speaking out against the allegations, he has

to leave his family. Looking at historical sources may inform the reader about what happened

to the father of Fish for Jimmy: these sources state that the “suspects were sent to remote Justice

Department detention camps for an indefinite stay” (Harth, “Introduction” 3). The father’s story

is not told in Fish for Jimmy: he is only shown in the beginning, when he is taken away, and at

the end, when he returns to his family, “many months later” (Yamasaki, Fish 29). This can be

seen as one of the blanks or gaps described by Iser: “As no story can ever be told in its entirety,

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the text itself is punctured by blanks and gaps that have to be negotiated in the act of reading.

Whenever the reader bridges a gap, communication begins” (Iser, Theory 64). By leaving out

this information in Fish for Jimmy, Yamasaki asks the reader to think about what might have

happened to the father. With prior background knowledge, the readers can easily fill these gaps.

If though they do not have any background knowledge, they may feel the need to look up

information after having read Fish for Jimmy. Thus, the readers are led to learn something new

about the incarceration, something that goes beyond the written and depicted story.

In addition to the father having to leave, the rest of the family has to go to one of the

incarceration camps. Before he leaves, the father tells Taro to take responsibility for his mother

and his little brother as he is “the man of the house now” (Yamasaki, Fish 7). Here, Taro’s

position in the family changes overnight: he turns from a child, as depicted up to page 5, into

an adult. He becomes the male head of the family, even though he still is quite young. Yamasaki

indicates this position in his family: his Japanese name means “first-born male” (Norman 335);

it therefore is a talking name that indicates that he has to take responsibility when his father

cannot be around.

The reader does not get to know whether the mother is of the Issei or Nisei generation;

since she is allowed to stay with her children, the FBI apparently does not consider her a threat.

Her position in the family, as many other women’s position, changed when her husband had to

leave, since “fathers, who were the decision makers in the family, were taken away during the

stressful weeks when families prepared to be sent to internment camps” (MacDonald 138).

Yamasaki here gives an example of the mother who is one of the “many single female-headed

households” (Ng 34) during the incarceration. All family members feel the changes in family

life: Jimmy, youngest son in the family, suffers openly as indicated in fig. 21.

Throughout the story, fish becomes the symbol of Jimmy’s longing for home. This title-

giving symbol can be found all over the story, from the first page showing Jimmy and Taro

swimming in the ocean to the last page depicting the two of them drawing fish on the ground.

Fish seems to be on Jimmy’s thoughts everywhere and all the time: while other children are

playing, he dreams of fish as shown in fig. 21 (Yamasaki, Fish 15/16); while other families eat

in the mess hall, he can only think of fish (see Yamasaki, Fish 13/14).

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In fig. 21 Yamasaki mixes a realistic background of barracks with elements that express

Jimmy’s thoughts: fish is literally flowing around his head and amongst the other children

playing. The focus of the illustration is on Jimmy who is shown in a bigger size than the other

children. His face is placed on crossed arms on a table that was shown on the previous page

(see Yamasaki, Fish 13/14). Children in a much smaller size are playing around him, sitting on

his shoulders and seem happy, in contrast to him. Two of them play with a number of fish

instead of a jump rope while another child catches fish instead of a ball.

These fish seem to take over Jimmy’s thoughts as they symbolize what he remembers

mostly about his life before the incarceration camp. Since their father had owned a vegetable

store and they had lived close to the Pacific Ocean, the family was used to eating fresh food,

particularly fish, every day. At the incarceration camp, he refuses to eat the food that is offered

in the mess halls (see Yamasaki, Fish 13/14) through which Yamasaki also indicates the lack

of quality of the prepared food that many historical sources point out (see e.g. Ng 41). His not

eating can certainly be seen as a symptom of a trauma: he is suffering because he is missing his

father and his normal surroundings. Yamasaki includes further symptoms of trauma when

describing Jimmy’s behavior: he does not play with other children and stops asking about fish

(see Yamasaki, Fish 16). His mother and brother start to worry about him and believe that he

is getting sick; it is Taro who tries to fight Jimmy’s sadness and catches fish for him to be able

to accept the situation.

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III.3.3 Resolving Trauma

Yamasaki uses the main character Taro to show that taking action can help to improve a

situation and to resolve a trauma. In the story, Taro sneaks out of the incarceration camp in

order to catch fish for his brother Jimmy. With the help of these fish, Jimmy is able to accept

the situation of being incarcerated and separated from his father. The character Taro, who

himself is haunted by images of his father’s being taken away by the FBI (see below), here

actively fights against his own and his brother’s trauma. Additionally, he aims to fulfill his

responsibilities; this requires him to break some of the rules of incarceration.




Fig. 22 indicates Taro’s trauma as well as his willingness to fight his own and his

brother’s trauma. Further, he is shown to remember that he promised his father to take care of

his brother and mother while his father is gone. Yamasaki here includes several levels of

storytelling on one double-spread. Firstly, this double-spread shows what is described in the

text: the two boys are lying in bed. While Jimmy is sleeping, Taro is worried “about Jimmy

[and] about their father” (Yamasaki, Fish 17). When he remembers his father’s words, “You

must help your mother and take care of Jimmy until I return” (Yamasaki, Fish 17; see also

Yamasaki, Fish 7), he decides to take action. He sneaks out of the incarceration camp to catch

fish for his brother.

Secondly, his memory of the moment his father was taken away by the FBI is shown:

“The family stands poised on Taro’s reclining form” (Paul). The family is depicted as small

figures standing on his knees but is still identifiable. Taro’s mother is holding hands with his

brother Jimmy, while his father is putting a hand on Taro’s shoulder. This is the moment in

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which he explains the responsibilities Taro now has to face; the father and Taro are depicted in

the same posture on page 7. What is shown on page 18 therefore, invites to be read as Taro’s

memory of this moment.

Additionally, the “torsos of F.B.I. agents loom in a forbidding muddy background”

(Paul) of the two pages. Even though the background is quite dark, several details are visible.

The men are holding badges, on which the letters FBI are evident, in their hands. Furthermore,

it becomes apparent that these are the men that picked up Taro’s father: there are three men to

be seen. Overall, the reader gets an inside view of what is going on in Taro’s head, in his

subconscious. Furthermore, this can be seen as a comment on the function of memory on a

meta-level. He remembers something so clearly that it is projected onto his surroundings and

becomes visible for the reader.

Thirdly, Yamasaki clarifies the conditions Taro and his family live in. These influence

Taro and his subconscious: “the menacing shadows of the camp’s guard tower” (Paul) are

projected onto the blanket covering Taro and Jimmy. In combination with the men in the

background, these create a dark and frightening atmosphere. Yamasaki here employs symbols

of the incarceration that can be recognized by anyone in the community and that also convey to

non-Japanese Americans the severity of the situation Taro and Jimmy are in.

Yamasaki adds another layer of meaning to these two pages: on page 18, the reader gets

to see how Taro opens the door and has “the shears he had secretly borrowed from the camp

garden” (Yamasaki, Fish 17) in his back pocket. This is what happens after Taro leaves the bed

that he is shown to be lying in on page 17. Yamasaki puts two subsequent events onto one

double-spread: first, Taro is in bed; secondly, he leaves the room. Even though these two actions

are depicted on the same double spread, the reader understands that they follow one another.

This is because of Western reading conventions: “the pages must be looked at in a certain order,

across each double-page spread from left to right” (Nodelman, “Picture Books” 156/157).

Nonetheless, if the readers came from a different cultural upbringing (e.g. Japanese) or did not

know that this boy was Taro himself, they might think that this was another boy sneaking out

of the room. Again, it is only the combination of text and illustrations that clarifies the situation

and creates its atmosphere. The readers have to understand both components in order to fill the

gaps.

These two pages can be seen as a symbol of the cultural trauma Japanese Americans

had to face. Taro is suffering from the consequences of the incarceration. He is so worried that

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his subconscious does not allow him to fall asleep, which hints at an individual trauma: “To be

traumatized is […] to be possessed by an image or event” (Caruth, Explorations 4/5). Taro

keeps on thinking about what happened to his father – he cannot stop the thoughts. The way his

thoughts are projected onto his surroundings symbolize the trauma of many former incarcerees:

many must have gone through similar experiences that influenced them for the rest of their lives,

as is recalled in historical sources.

The fact that Taro is seen taking action and thereby resolving his and his brother’s

individual trauma, symbolizes that fighting traumata is possible. In this book, these two pages

are a representation of the cultural trauma. Thus, they are a means for Japanese Americans to

come to terms with their past. Ron Eyerman points out that “[a]s cultural process, trauma is

mediated through various forms of representation” (Cultural 1); Yamasaki’s Fish for Jimmy

certainly is one of these representations that uses the here-analyzed symbols to convey the

cultural trauma.




Fig. 23 shows the last double-spread of the story told by Yamasaki. It is only followed

by the before-mentioned letter to the reader and photographs (see III.3.1). It depicts the moment

the trauma of the two children is, at least in parts, resolved. On the left (Yamasaki, Fish 29), it

shows Taro and Jimmy drawing in the sand after Taro had brought fish from outside the

incarceration camp. For a while, the trauma of having been incarcerated and separated from his

father and his home had kept Jimmy’s thoughts occupied, making him unable to eat the food

provided at the incarceration camp or engage with other children (see above). After having

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eaten the fresh fish, he draws in the sand and then “went off to play with” (Yamasaki, Fish 29)

other children. Fresh fish that reminds him of living in the family home becomes a way for him

of dealing with the trauma.

Nevertheless, his and his brother’s thoughts are still occupied with their situation as can

be seen in their drawings: rows of houses, mountains, close-meshed wire and fish. The fish is

placed in the foreground, indicating its importance in the two brothers’ thoughts and its

importance in the story. This page also shows Jimmy for the last time for the readers – the story

ends with a happy ending for him that is only clouded by reminders of the incarceration

Yamasaki places on this page. On the one hand this is the close-meshed wire the two brothers

are drawing in the sand, on the other hand it is the closed-meshed wire that Yamasaki places in

front of the two brothers. In contrast to page 30, though, the closed-meshed wire here only

covers about a third of the page on the right, as it fades out close to the two boys. Yamasaki

hereby supports the impression of a happy ending once more: the two boys will not have to

spend their whole lives behind fences but can escape them.

The illustration on page 30 stands in slight contrast to the impression of a happy ending,

at least at first glance. It shows Taro and his father standing behind close-meshed wire covering

the whole page (which connects pages 29 and 30). In the background, a watchtower can be seen.

Both the wire and the watchtower clearly indicate their still being incarcerated. Nevertheless,

the way the two are positioned with the father holding onto Taro’s right shoulder indicates a

happy ending also for Taro. His father has joined the family in the incarceration camp, and he

can share the responsibility he was given with his father again. Here, Taro and his father are

looking straight at the reader with Taro pointing at something ‘behind’ the reader. When reading

the text, it becomes clear what he is pointing at: “Taro showed Father how, each week, he would

creep beyond the fence to the free air of the mountains to find fish for Jimmy” (Yamasaki, Fish

30). Only after having read this sentence can the reader understand what is depicted here:

meaning only becomes clear when combining text and visual elements.

Overall, these two last pages show the effects of the incarceration experience on families.

While the youngest son of the family, Jimmy, seems to suffer most from the conditions, his

brother takes action and is able to free his brother from his trauma. But also Taro suffers,

especially because the family is separated from the father. It is only when the father is able to

join them that Taro is able to share the responsibility that had been put on him. For him,

therefore, the story also has a happy ending. With this happy ending, Yamasaki stresses the

importance of families sticking together in times of trouble; “the reconstruction of the family”

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(Grenby 139) is achieved. For young readers, this may be a way to understand the incarceration

experience. For readers who are interested in the historical background, this story indicates that

generational and family conflicts played an immense role in the incarceration camps.

As “an externalized memory” (J. Assmann, Early Civilization 9) this picture book gives

its readers the possibility to learn from the past. With it, Yamasaki works through the cultural

and transgenerational trauma she is faced with in her family and in the Japanese American

community. By authoring this book, Yamasaki stabilizes her own identity, links it to the

Japanese American incarceration and, furthermore, creates a product of cultural memory that

stabilizes the Japanese American community’s cultural identity.

In addition, this picture book may clarify the role the United States played during the

Second World War. As pointed out by John Y. Tateishi, most Americans remember the Second

World War as “a glorious past” (129; see also Harth, “Introduction” 3); this is a stark contrast

to the Japanese American community whose members remember a time of injustice. Overall,

Fish for Jimmy is a means to preserve Yamasaki’s and the Japanese American community’s

memory of the incarceration and to share it with people outside of their community.

Interestingly, both picture books discussed here end on a positive note through which

the authors show, on the one hand, the simple fact that the Japanese American incarceration has

come to an end. On the other hand, they show that it is possible to overcome its trauma. In and

with the help of Fish for Jimmy, Yamasaki works through her own trauma that was transmitted

through generations of her family. She amends her family’s history, places a fictional family in

focus so that all readers can empathize with the family and the Japanese American community

as such. Bunting also focuses on one family and therefore engages the readers’ empathy, but –

since her work is much more focused on historical facts – readers’ emotions are addressed less.

Picture books as such are produced for children, an audience that is meant to learn from

these works. While these two picture books certainly enable children to learn about and from

the past, adults are also addressed here. Hence, these are picture books written and illustrated

for US society as such, and anyone interested in the topic of the Japanese American

incarceration.

In the next chapter, I will focus on Roger Shimomura’s paintings and prints; in contrast

to graphic novels and picture books, these do (in the main) not include any text. Consequently,

the focus is much more on the visuals which reflect on Shimomura’s own incarceration

experience and his wish to depict not only the past, but also the present.

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CHAPTER IV. Roger Shimomura’s PAINTINGS AND PRINTS

In this chapter, I will focus on a number of Japanese American artist Roger Shimomura’s

paintings and prints taken from different series.130 His perspective is unique as he experienced

the incarceration as a three- to five-year-old child, which is considered a formative time for

children and also a time from which most people can recall their first memories. It is thus

important to add his prints and paintings to my analysis of media of cultural memory; doing so

enables me to take a closer look at the way in which a former incarceree reflects on his own

personal and his family’s memories as well as the transgenerational and cultural trauma of the

incarceration. Shimomura’s paintings and prints are specific media of cultural memory that can

provide access to the past but also connect to the future; Shimomura’s pop art style and the way

in which his prints and paintings work together with text, add important aspects to my study of

media of cultural memory and the way in which the Japanese American incarceration is narrated

through both text and visuals.

Artworks, including paintings and prints, have often been looked at as media of cultural

memory (see e.g. J. Assmann, “Communicative”; J. Assmann, Early Civilization; Bal; Erll,

“Remembering”), since artworks reflect on what occupies the artist in a specific time.

Furthermore, the choice of which artworks are placed in museums or kept by a society reflect

on what a society considers important in past and present. Thus, artworks can be used to ensure

that a society is reminded of a specific event in the past, so that contemporary society and further

generations may learn from it.

By combining his pop art prints and paintings with text (in titles or descriptions added

to the works), Shimomura creates an innovative way of telling the story of the Japanese

American incarceration. He narrates both personal concrete events in the incarceration camps

and the story of the incarceration experience in general to an audience that is mostly unfamiliar

with the topic. The way in which he uses the format of art objects enables him to further increase

the public’s awareness about the incarceration on a bigger scale than the before-analyzed

130 Shimomura’s performance art will not be analyzed in this chapter, but also makes up an interesting part of his

artworks dealing with the incarceration experience and his being of Japanese descent. Examples for performance

art include the Seven Kabuki Plays Project (1986) and Last Sansei Story (1990-93) (see Shimomura, “Complete

Career”). Roger Shimomura also “collect[s] anything that has to do with the internment camp” (Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 61) and that depicts stereotypical thinking about Japanese people and Japanese

Americans. Sometimes, parts of his collection are placed in exhibitions in museums (see e.g. Shimomura,

“Paintings”).

In contrast to the previous chapters, I here only focus on one artist. Roger Shimomura’s artworks are immensely

diverse and enable access to the representation of personal experiences. I focus primarily on his prints and paintings

since the 1990s in order to show how the Japanese American incarceration has influenced him and his works

throughout the last 30 years.

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graphic novels and picture books could. Through the pop art style, which has a certain similarity

to the style used in graphic novels, and the usage of clear colors, these prints and paintings

attract the recipients’ attention and offer a specific way in which the Japanese American

incarceration is narrated. Yasuko Takezawa adds that Shimomura is “one of only a handful of

Asian American artists recognized by a white-dominated society” (“Narratives” 66), which is

also reflected in the high number of public appearances and the amount of art galleries that

feature his works. His prints and paintings are often placed in exhibitions in well-known

museums or can be accessed online, so that the incarceration experience is acknowledged by a

considerable number of recipients, who gain access to the topic and the artist’s experiences.

Thus, Shimomura’s paintings and prints have a variety of functions. Similarly to the previously

discussed graphic novels and picture books they have an educational and therapeutic function.

Moreover, many of his more current paintings and prints, especially those created after 9/11,

warn the audience of a repetition of history.

First of all, creating prints and paintings enables Shimomura to express his thoughts

about his own personal experiences of being placed in Minidoka incarceration camp as a young

child; he works through his own personal trauma, his family’s trauma as well as the cultural

trauma of the Japanese American community. Böger’s theory about the therapeutic function of

graphic novels can surely also be extended to artworks (see Böger, “Silence”; see Chapter I for

details). Not only the previously discussed graphic novels and picture books have a therapeutic

function for their producers, but in particular Shimomura as a former incarceree puts his trauma

of the Japanese American incarceration on paper or on canvas, which enables him to work

through the traumatic experience of the incarceration. Fragments of his own trauma, his

family’s and the cultural trauma of the incarceration are strung together to tell the story of the

incarceration through visuals. The accompanying titles and descriptions to both whole series of

paintings or prints and single works play an additional important role, in particular for the

recipients: they give context and enable the recipients to better understand that what is depicted

and told the story of. Therefore, Shimomura’s prints and paintings are, as Catherine Ann Collins

argues, “trauma narrative[s]” (90) for both the artist himself as well as recipients.

Secondly, many of Shimomura’s paintings and prints have an educational function:

these are in a documentary style and provide many facts of the incarceration. The recipients are

directly confronted with the conditions of life in an incarceration camp through the depiction

of symbols and visual markers of the incarceration and are therefore invited to learn about and

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from the incarceration experience. Furthermore, the text delivered next to or below the paintings

and prints gives context, so that recipients are enabled to understand what is shown.

Thirdly, Shimomura uses these media of cultural memory to warn of a repetition of

history. He does so by incorporating symbols of the incarceration in prints and paintings that at

first glance do not thematize the topic, but other historical events. Fragments of various

historical events are placed in one painting or print, which enables the recipients to make

connections between the events and make them realize what they have in common, e.g. racist

behavior towards certain groups in US society. With many of his artworks, Shimomura

generates empathy for Japanese Americans incarcerated during the Second World War and asks

for solidarity with other minority groups experiencing discrimination, racism and/or

incarceration in the US. Thereby he connects the past with the present and warns of what might

happen in the future.

Roger Shimomura, born 1939 in Seattle, is a third-generation Japanese American, a

Sansei. Roger Shimomura’s parents, his paternal grandparents and he himself at age two, were

at first sent to Puyallup Assembly Center (so-called ‘Camp Harmony’), “a former fairground

with a horse racetrack” (Lowe Meger 107) and later incarcerated in Minidoka incarceration

camp 131 in Idaho until he turned five years old. After ten months at Minidoka, Roger

Shimomura’s father was able to leave, but was not allowed to go back to the West Coast. He

went to Chicago and was joined by his wife and their children in 1944 (see Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 8). When Roger was six years old, the family returned to Seattle.

Shimomura only became an artist after a degree in commercial design in 1961 (see Matsumoto,

“Roger Shimomura”), followed by two years in the US Army and working as a commercial

designer. He then started taking up painting, received a master’s degree in fine arts in 1968 (see

McCormick 3) and slowly became a professional artist.

131 Minidoka incarceration camp was located “15 miles from Jerome and Twin Falls, Idaho, […] about 50 miles

away from the actual town of Minidoka” (Okihiro, “War Relocation Authority Camps” 266). It was one of three

incarceration camps “placed on public land owned by the Bureau of Reclamation” (Lowe Meger 104); it opened

in August 1942 and closed down in October 1945 (see Burton et al., Confinement 205; Wakatsuki). The number

of incarcerees varies when looking at historical accounts: Okihiro notes “7,318 Japanese Americans, mainly from

Washington, Oregon, and Alaska” (“War Relocation Authority Camps” 266) as a peak population number, while

Amy Lowe Meger mentions a “peak population of 9,397” (105), making the number of Japanese Americans stand

out in Idaho. The incarcerees lived in 35 residential blocks with twelve barracks each (see Burton et al,

Confinement. 205), surrounded by “five miles of barbed wire fencing and eight watch towers” (Burton et al.,

Confinement 203). Since Minidoka was located in a high desert, the Japanese Americans’ living conditions were

dominated by dust storms and hot weather in the summer and cold winters (see Okihiro, “War Relocation Authority

Camps” 267/268; see also Lowe Meger 113). The barracks were soon dismantled after Minidoka was closed down

(see Burton et al., Confinement 207). “In 1979 [Minidoka] was added to National Register of Historic Places”

(Burton et al., Confinement 214).

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In 1969 Shimomura started working as a professor at the School of the Arts at the

University of Kansas in Lawrence, Kansas. He stayed there until 2004 and “has been a visiting

artist and lectured on his work at more than 200 universities, art schools, and museums across

the country” (Shimomura, “Biography”). He also worked on various art projects, leading to

more than 150 solo exhibitions, numerous performances and his paintings and prints being

exhibited in over 100 museums in the US (see Shimomura, “Biography”). He continues to work

as an artist.

For Shimomura, the way in which he depicts the incarceration in his prints and paintings

is based on his own memories and memories that were handed down through the generations.

While his parents did not talk about the incarceration experience and remained silent until the

Redress Movement (see Collins Goodyear 76; Lippard 4; Shimomura, “Interview” Densho

Segment 17), he learned about many of the conditions of the incarceration experience through

his grandmother’s diaries and his involvement in the Redress Movement which resulted from a

changed political climate in the 1970s.132 Consequently, for Shimomura, the incarceration

experience, while a personal experience, also is a postmemory and a transgenerational trauma.

It had immense influence on the ways in which he grew up, the way in which his parents

behaved and on the way in which he experienced his being of Japanese descent. As he reaches

out to a high number of recipients with his artworks, his works are prosthetic memories, as well.

Other people’s reactions to his being a Japanese American had additional influence on

his identity, often expressed in his prints and paintings. Whereas before going to Kansas, his

art was less focused on his identity as a Japanese American and his experiences at Minidoka,

after his arrival there he soon had to face that his being Japanese American seemed to stand out

much more in a less diverse Kansas than it had done in Seattle and Syracuse.133 His audience is

132 In Lawrence, he experienced “race protests (1970), […] and demonstrations against the US involvement in

Southeast Asia” (Stamey 30). Shimomura himself participated in some of these protests (for details, see

Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 44); at the same time, he underwent a political “movement to the left”

(Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 46). Shimomura was involved in the Redress Movement in Seattle

which “led the way with […] events as the first official Day of Remembrance […] in 1978” (Stamey 38; see also

Abe). Shimomura helped the organizers of the event by “screen printing […] hundreds of t-shirts emblazoned with

the event logo” (Stamey 38; see also Uradomo 84), which symbolized a connection between the generations of

Japanese Americans in the US. As Stamey argues, his participation in the Redress Movement “prompted

Shimomura to make the incarceration the subject of his own work” (39; see also Matsumura 136) and led to the

creation of his first series of paintings dealing with the incarceration experience, Minidoka (1978-79; see e.g.

Shimomura, Minidoka Series #2). 133 In many interviews and presentations (see e.g. Shimomura, “Artist Talk”; Shimomura, “Interview” Densho

Segment 48), Shimomura stresses one event that has become exemplary of what he often faced in Kansas. One

day, Shimomura was at an auction in Lawrence, when a farmer approached him. He asked him about how he had

come to speak English, inquiring where he was from. When Shimomura replied that he was from Seattle and that

his parents had grown up in Seattle and Idaho, the farmer insisted on him saying that his cultural heritage lay in

Japan. In the following conversation, the farmer then asked Shimomura about his artworks assuming that he would

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clearly not the Japanese American community alone, but US society or a global audience that

can learn from his works and reflect on their own position in society. Firstly, he establishes

knowledge about the Japanese American incarceration as such, but then, secondly, asks his

audience to learn from the past and reflect on the present and future. This is also possible

because of the way in which trauma and memory can be captured and reflected on in paintings

and prints.

IV.1 Trauma and Memory in Paintings and Prints

Shimomura’s paintings and prints are media of cultural memory that give access to the memory

and trauma of the Japanese American incarceration in a particular way. In contrast to many

other visual artists, Shimomura adds text in various forms next to or below his paintings and

prints. Therefore, when it comes to his prints and paintings, both visuals and text are equally

important in conveying the experiences of Japanese Americans during World War II.

In contrast to visuals in graphic novels and illustrations in picture books, generally

speaking, Shimomura’s single prints and paintings do not include text and are (unless clearly

indicated as a series to be placed together) not placed in sequential order but are to be looked

at individually. While, “[f]rom a narratological point of view[,] pictures of typical scenes and

perennial activities […] would be considered particularly low in narrativity” (Steiner 147),

single prints and paintings can nevertheless enable recipients to understand specific events that

are told visually. I agree with Peter D. Owen, who argues that paintings make use of “a two-

dimensional visual language” (Owen). Illustrations and visuals can, as shown before, clearly

communicate a story or even enable recipients to recognize this story as one of memory or

trauma. For example, “shapes, lines, colours, tones, and textures” (Owen), the choice in style,

the way in which characters are depicted and the order in which they are placed influence the

way in which the viewers ‘read’ the story told. Shimomura’s paintings and prints further capture

the recipients’ attention through his usage of a generic pop art style that stands in opposition to

what his works often depict: traumatic events that he and his family lived through.

Shimomura adds meaningful titles, longer factual explanations or excerpts from his

grandmother’s diaries to his single prints and paintings or whole series, so that the recipients

are faced with text next to or below his works. Text adds context to the works and clarifies the

surely do Japan-inspired works. Shimomura recalls that “I had enough, primarily because I had heard the same

series of questions so many times” (Shimomura, “Artist Talk”).

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memory and the trauma of the incarceration and enables Shimomura to tell the story of the

incarceration experience; yet again, the trauma is reflected on through a fragmentation in, but

also a combination of both text and image. Shimomura states that “[a]ll [his] work is inspired

by stories, or leads into stories” (Lippard 6). His paintings and prints are based on particular

stories (e.g. told in his grandmother’s diaries), but they also lead to new stories. New stories

may be invoked in the recipients’ minds, who are inspired by what they see in his paintings and

prints, what they themselves are reminded of when looking at these paintings and prints.

He is able to work through the trauma of the incarceration also because of the way in

which creating art enables producers to express themselves. Creating art has often been ascribed

a therapeutic function as can be seen in the amount of works on art therapy (e.g. Chapman et

al.; Eaton/Doherty/Widrick; Rubin). Here, people who experienced a traumatic event are asked

to use art to work through their feelings. In Shira Diamond and Amit Shrira’s article “From ‘a

Nothing’ to Something Special: Art as a Space of Holding Attunement in the Creative

Experience of Holocaust Survivor Artists” (2020), the authors look at the way in which

Holocaust survivors use art to cope with their trauma. Their results indicate that art therapy

allows Holocaust survivors to express themselves, to “reunite pieces of the self, which had been

detached and dispersed” (7). Therefore, “art [can be] a safe space where traumatic memories

may be seen, in which engagement in art appeared to enable detached and silenced early

traumatic experiences to be exposed and contained” (10). Similar studies have been conducted

for Japanese Americans who experienced the trauma of the incarceration. Carleen Yates et al.

asked six former Japanese American incarcerees (Nisei) to express their trauma verbally, in

writing or through artworks. They “found that art making added details that went beyond the

scope of verbal description” (Yates et al. 117) – thus, the act of creating artworks enabled the

participants to express themselves, to add to what could not be said verbally or in writing. I

agree with this statement and will show that Shimomura uses art as a form of therapy – on the

one hand, he works through his experience of having been incarcerated as a young child, but,

on the other hand, also reflects on his experience as a Japanese American in US society

nowadays. He uses his prints and paintings in particular to comment on both past and current

events in order to show that US society has not overcome many of its prejudices and that history

may repeat itself.134

134 Of course, Shimomura has a different standing in society than a lay person working through traumata with the

help of creating artworks. In contrast to lay persons, he creates media of cultural memory through which not only

he, but also others, are enabled to face and work through the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration.

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Art also played an important role during the actual time of trauma, while many Japanese

Americans were incarcerated. As mentioned in Chapter II.2, many Japanese Americans used

scrap wood to create furniture, crafts etc. in the incarceration camps. It is often argued that craft

making was simply a way for the incarcerees to pass the time (see e.g. Esaki 13). However, I

here concur with Jane Dusselier who states that

a forced leisure interpretation of camp-made art is problematic because it suggests that internee artwork

is evidence of humane treatment. Rather than focusing our attention on the harsh conditions and struggles

for survival, the forced leisure interpretation encourages us to see images of internees with an abundance

of free time on their hands, occupying themselves with carving, sewing, and planting gardens. (Artifacts

7)

In this book a variety of artworks created during the incarceration are interpreted; these

artworks can also be read as “creating narratives that bring past losses and, by association, past

oppression into the present moment” (Dusselier, Artifacts 4). Artworks, be they professional

ones as created by Henry Sugimoto or made by anyone, were a way in which the incarcerees

could improve their lives – on the one hand, by making barracks more habitable, but on the

other hand also by expressing their feelings about the incarceration.135 “Through and with art,

internees spoke loudly, voicing their commitment to survival” (Dusselier, Artifacts 50). Art

enabled the incarcerees to express their trauma.

Some incarcerees used art as a way of documentation; since photography 136 was

forbidden in the incarceration camps, it was often only possible to make drawings of the

conditions. “These representations generally lacked an overtly critical position or commentary

on the social and political circumstances that brought about the imprisonment of Japanese

Americans” (Uradomo 65), which was also because “art […] provided a venue for the WRA to

show a positive face to the public at large” (638), as pointed out by Kristine C. Kuramitsu (see

also Esaki 13).

As previously mentioned, many first- and second-generation Japanese Americans did

not discuss their incarceration with their children for a long time; when the third generation

learned about it, many artists among them felt the need to create artworks based on their

family’s history.137 Stacey Mitsue Uradomo points out that “[t]he incorporation of family

memories […] serves as a strategy to undermine a form of cultural amnesia that is occurring

135 Brett J. Esaki even suggests that “the arts became a vehicle for outwardly assimilating religious ideas,

transforming them into seemingly harmless artistic or cultural ideas that could be transmitted in the camps” (13). 136 As shown before, there were exceptions: Toyo Miyatake, Ansel Adams and Dorothea Lange were allowed to

take photographs, but had to follow instructions of the WRA. 137 Shimomura is one of the few Sansei who experienced the incarceration – most Sansei were born after World

War II (see Introduction).

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among Asian Americans” (4). While she argues that this is “due to the influx of new Asian

immigrants and the passing of each generation” (4), I consider the main reason for their

(re-)using family memories a consequence of the cultural trauma that occurred after the Second

World War. Lucy R. Lippard stresses that, “[i]f there is a Japanese-American esthetic, it consists

of constant negotiations between personal, family, and bicultural experiences” (6/7). In very

general terms it can be seen that Asian American artists take their own personal or cultural

memories into account when creating their works of art. Nevertheless, one should not forget

that many artists refrain from these traditions.

Since Roger Shimomura is a well-known artist in contrast to the authors of the graphic

novels and picture books discussed in the previous chapters, he has commented on his life and

work in several interviews.138 His works of art have been discussed in many newspapers,

exhibition guides and on the websites of galleries (Greg Kucera Gallery, Seattle; Flomenhaft

Gallery, New York City) that represent him. Furthermore, his paintings and prints have been

analyzed in several academic works, often in connection with a discussion of his life. Two

dissertations study Shimomura’s work: Pop, Place and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger

Shimomura (Emily E. Stamey, 2009) and Rhetorical Pop: The Art of Roger Shimomura (Allison

Morgan McCormick, 2013); in a third his work is compared to that of the Japanese American

artists Tomie Arai and Lynne Yamamoto (Stacey Mitsue Uradomo, 2005). Since these were

written in the field of Art History, the focus of their analysis is a different one from mine. In

my analyses, I want to pay attention to storytelling in these artworks and the way in which

memories are incorporated.

Additionally, Shimomura’s work has found mention in some other contexts. Catherine

Ann Collins’ chapter “‘America Behind Barbed Wire’: Artistic Representations of Japanese-

American Internment During World War II” in War, Experience and Memory in Global

Cultures since 1914 (2018) is particularly interesting: making use of concepts of cultural

memory and trauma, she points out that “the memories of internment are increasingly linked to

the potential repetition of discrimination of other groups during times of conflict” (89). I concur

138 The most extensive interview was published by the Densho Digital Archives in 2003. “The Densho Archives

contain primary sources that document the Japanese American experience from immigration through redress in

the 1980s, with a strong focus on the World War II mass incarceration” (“Digital Archives”). In these digital

archives, “thousands of historic photographs, documents, newspapers, letters” (“Digital Archives”) etc. can be

found. All this material is provided online “for educational purposes” (“Digital Archives”) reflecting on the term

‘densho’ that translates as “‘to pass on to the next generation,’ or to leave a legacy” (“Digital Archives”).

Roger Shimomura’s video interview is part of their Visual History Program, a collection of over 900 video

interviews that is growing consistently (see “Visual History Program”). Interviews focus on the incarceration

experience. Shimomura’s interview was fully transcribed and can be accessed online. It is divided into 67

segments; I will indicate the respective segment when quoting from this interview.

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with this statement: by analyzing the following prints and paintings, I will support her reading

of Shimomura’s works. I, nevertheless, add the aspects of empathy and solidarity to her reading,

which play a central role in Shimomura’s prints and paintings in my reading. These ensure that

the Japanese American community and US society at large do not forget what happened in the

past in order to prevent it from happening in the present and future. Past, present and a potential

future become intertwined.

Noteworthy is also Kimiko Matsumura’s article “‘We Who Are Enemy’: Incarceration

Redress in the Paintings of Roger Shimomura” from 2019. She points out that Shimomura

“frames incarceration within its broader social meaning” (129), a statement that I certainly agree

with. She underlines a connection between Shimomura’s paintings and redress and focuses on

the way in which Shimomura employs stereotypes. I consider both Collin’s book chapter and

Matsumura’s article decisive additions to previous works that mainly focus on Shimomura’s

life as such. What these analyses lack is the aspect of storytelling or in particular in which way

Shimomura uses both visuals and text to tell the story of the incarceration experience in order

to warn of a repetition of history.

IV.2 Paintings and Prints

With the help of the following analyses of several of Roger Shimomura’s paintings and prints

taken from a number of series, I will show that these have different functions – both for him at

the time of creation and for society overall. I am going to start with an analysis of the An

American Diary series (1997; see “Roger Shimomura An American”),139 which is aimed at

educating its audience with clear and direct depictions; nevertheless, it also is a means with

which Shimomura works through his own and his family’s past. This therapeutic function is

even more visible when looking at the Memories of Childhood series (1999; see “Memories of

Childhood, 1999”), which was also published as a book. Here, Shimomura presents his first

memories of life – placed in an assembly center and at Minidoka incarceration camp. I will then

continue with an analysis of the Minidoka on my Mind series (2006-2010; see “Roger

Shimomura Minidoka on my Mind”), in which he often employs irony to clarify conditions of

life in an incarceration camp. Additionally, I will focus on single prints and paintings taken

from the Stereotypes and Admonitions series (2003; see “Roger Shimomura Stereotypes”), the

139 I accessed all the prints and paintings online and will therefore indicate the online source when referring to the

prints and paintings or the descriptions/titles added to them.

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Minidoka on my Mind series (2006-2010; see above) and Minidoka and Beyond series (2017;

see “Roger Shimomura Minidoka and Beyond”), through which Shimomura clearly combines

the Japanese American incarceration with more current events. In this way, he connects the

Japanese American incarceration with present times and makes his audience realize that past

and present are connected.

All these functions are based on the way in which Shimomura uses elements from pop

art such as a graphic style that reminds of comics – objects and people are often outlined and

clear colors capture the viewers’ attention (see Lyons 33; Stamey 59/60). In pop art, an art

movement that started in the 1950s in Great Britain and the US, artists “look for inspiration in

the world around them, representing […] everyday items, consumer goods, and mass media”

(“Pop Art”; for details see e.g. Shanes). It was a means through which young artists felt they

could revolt against traditional art forms particularly in the 1960s (“Art Term”). They blurred

“the line between modernism and commercial design in their art” (Whiting) and were often

criticized for the “appropriation of mass culture” (Whiting). While Shimomura does not

necessarily revolt against traditional art forms, he often uses pop art in order to point out that

he is an American.

Shimomura was inspired by Andy Warhol, one of the most well-known pop artists,

when he studied at Stanford University in 1967 and later at Syracuse University, New York

(see Collins Goodyear 79; Matsumoto, “Roger Shimomura”; McCormick 3; Stamey 64). While

Kara Kelley Hallmark argues that the “[a]daptation of the Pop Art style is a deliberate choice

as a means of developing an ironic flavor to his work” (191), the choice of pop art was a natural

development for Shimomura. He had been interested in commercial design, had worked as a

commercial designer and felt interested in this style that uses elements from the everyday world

and has been associated with being typically American (see Lyons 33). This was also because

Shimomura grew up in a house in which no Japanese art could be found. After the incarceration,

his parents removed anything showing their Japanese descent from their home (see Kuramitsu

642/643; Shimomura, “Artist Talk”). In an interview Shimomura states that “[Japanese art]

almost feels like it’s of a different culture” (Shimomura, “Art Talk”); he has hardly any relation

to it, but in contrast has “spent [his] whole life trying to demonstrate that [he is] as American

as you are” (Shimomura, “Art Talk”).140 In his paintings and prints he reflects on the way in

140 Nevertheless, his being of Japanese ancestry made his environment, particularly in Kansas, question his art

style (see introduction to this chapter). This led to him including Japanese imagery in some series of works in the

1970s (Oriental Masterprints, 1972-78; see “Roger Shimomura Editioned Prints”) and the usage of ukiyo-e [“a

genre of Japanese woodblock prints and paintings produced between the seventeenth and twentieth centuries

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which his being of Japanese descent has influenced his life and how the incarceration

experience has been a part of his, his family’s and the Japanese American community’s life.

IV.2.1 An American Diary

Roger Shimomura uses the series An American Diary (1997) in the main to inform recipients.

By placing excerpts from his grandmother’s diaries next to the paintings in the series, he gives

context to them and connects paintings in the series to one another; these excerpts become part

of the paintings and part of the way in which the story of the incarceration of his grandmother

is told. As these excerpts are delivered in blocks next to or below the paintings, they may remind

recipients of the way text is often placed in picture books (see Chapter III). Furthermore,

Shimomura makes use of clearly identifiable symbols of the incarceration such as barbed wire

or a guard tower141 in an almost documentary style to clarify the conditions of life at Minidoka

incarceration camp. Nevertheless, he also uses the series as a means to work through his own

and his family’s trauma of incarceration: his grandmother’s diaries stand in focus and therefore

connect the generations. Both functions clearly come to show when looking at the way in which

he employs the settings of the paintings – they “follow his family’s physical surroundings

before and during internment” (Lyons 24) and are clearly recognizable as Seattle and Minidoka.

The series An American Diary (1997) consists of thirty paintings (Acrylic on canvas, 11

x 14 inches) in a pop art style; each painting is framed in black, which focuses the recipients’

depicting city life […] as well as tales from history, and, later, scenes from nature” (Harris 9; for details see

Thompson)] in the series Minidoka (1978-79; see e.g. Shimomura, Minidoka Series #2) and Diary (1980-83; see

e.g. Shimomura, Diary: December 12, 1941). While he employed Japanese imagery “us[ing] humor and irony to

compel the viewer to think about stereotypes” (Takezawa, “Narratives” 66; see also Uradomo 73), many people

misunderstood his intentions, assuming that his Japanese descent made him different from the rest of US society.

In a way, recipients of these early works then confirmed what he was trying to show: Whereas he considered

himself an American, people only focused on his looks. Whereas he considered painting in pop art style normal,

people assumed that he was more comfortable with a Japanese painting style.

What should be emphasized is that Shimomura tried to make use of these Japanese influences not to stress his

ancestry, but that he was “interested in the pictorial language of ukiyo-e for its design elements and its metaphoric

capacity to represent generic metonyms of Japanese Americans” (Uradomo 88). A detailed reading of the original

meaning of the ukiyo-e elements is not necessary since Shimomura puts these elements in a completely new

context. He creates new meaning by using traditional Japanese imagery and referencing it as something that the

mostly American recipients of his artworks recognize as Japanese, but also do not know the original meaning of.

These ukiyo-e elements were not meant to represent a specific meaning important in Japanese culture but were

used simply as representing something Japanese. Shimomura here reflects on the Kansas farmer’s (and many other

white Americans’) confusion of Japanese and Japanese American. Shimomura sees this confusion as one of the

reasons for the incarceration of Japanese Americans during the Second World War (see “Roger Shimomura

Editioned Prints”; “Roger Shimomura Paintings”; “Yellow No Same, 1992”); in later works he addresses this

confusion even more clearly. 141 I have discussed these symbols in detail in Chapter II.

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attention on the rather colorful depiction inside. Each painting is based on one entry in

Shimomura’s grandmother’s diaries written during the incarceration. His grandmother Toku

Shimomura came to the US in 1912 (see Nakane/Lau; Shimomura, “Interview” Densho

Segment 2). She immigrated to the US as a so-called picture bride142 to marry Yoshitomi

Shimomura, Roger Shimomura’s grandfather, who had come to Seattle in 1906. On the way to

the US, Toku Shimomura started writing diaries, which she continued for 56 years (see

Shimomura, “Artist Talk”; Shimomura, “Art Talk”). When World War II broke out, Toku

Shimomura “burned nearly seventy-five percent of her diaries […], fearing that references in

writing to the emperor of Japan or anything construed as exhibiting loyalty to Japan would be

used as evidence by the FBI of disloyalty to the United States” (Uradomo 93/94). Still, while

incarcerated during World War II, Toku Shimomura continued to write her diaries, describing

the conditions in Camp Harmony and at Minidoka. She died in 1968 and as Roger Shimomura’s

father threatened to throw her diaries out, Roger Shimomura took many of her diaries (see

Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 49; Uradomo 94).143

In 1980, Shimomura had his grandmother’s diaries translated, funded by a grant (see

McCormick 41), as he could not read Japanese. Collins describes these diaries as “a mediated

link, translated by someone else so he could learn about his past” (96/97). The translation of

the diaries enabled Shimomura to gain access to his grandmother’s thoughts about her life; he

made use of what she had written in several series, particularly Diary144 (1980-1983) and An

American Diary (1997). Other series of works were of course also influenced by her diaries as

her diaries can be seen as a means through which parts of his grandmother’s memories were

transferred to him.

142 “In the years between the GENTLEMEN’S AGREEMENT of 1907-8 and 1920, women made up a significant

part of Japanese immigration to the United States. […] The arrival of these women was the key element in the

settling of the Japanese American population and the beginning of families and permanent communities”

(emphasis in original, Niiya, “Picture Brides” 334). After having seen each other only on photographs, picture

brides’ marriages took place in Japan, but without the husband, which was accepted by the Japanese government

(see Niiya, “Picture Brides” 334). Picture brides arrived in the US by ship, where there – until 1917 – “would be

a mass wedding ceremony” (Niiya, “Picture Brides” 334) so that the US government would also accept the

couple’s marriage. 143 Her diaries “not only elicited interest from her grandson […], but its comprehensive description of an issei’s

immigration and subsequent experience in the United States has garnered attention from several scholars”

(Uradomo 93). In famous Japan scholar Donald Keene’s book Modern Japanese Diaries: The Japanese at Home

and Abroad as Revealed Through Their Diaries (1998) her diaries find mention, for example. 144 Diary (1980-83) is a series of 25 paintings, some in various versions (see Shimomura, “Interview” Densho

Segment 52). All these paintings correspond to entries in Toku Shimomura’s diaries. In exhibitions, the translations

were “displayed next to each painting of the corresponding diary entry” (McCormick 41). Matsumura argues that

“Diary […] gives voice to repressed narratives at the exact moment when the nation formally and collectively

enacts the same process” (142) in the Redress Movement.

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Uradomo argues that “Shimomura’s works can thus be understood as a representation

or working through of what Marianne Hirsch defines as postmemory” (94; see Chapter I). I

agree with this statement since, with the help of his grandmother’s diaries, Shimomura gains

access to his family’s past and his grandmother’s memories. His memories of the incarceration

derive from a very young age and are consequently limited, but nevertheless strong. In the An

American Diary series, “one cannot be sure where his memories of internment and the

memories that his grandmother recounted in her diaries begin” (Uradomo 94). Toku

Shimomura’s descriptions and impressions of life at Minidoka enable him to tell stories that he

had no personal memories of. Shimomura surely identifies with his grandmother’s experiences

at Minidoka, not only because he lived through them, but also because her diaries provide

access to her thoughts and feelings expressed in them. Especially in the 1970s and early 1980s,

access to his family’s past was limited since his parents did not talk to him about their

incarceration before the Redress Movement.145 The diaries enabled him to take a look this part

of his own past and his grandmother’s experiences, making him potentially understand his

parents’ way of dealing with what they went through during World War II. However, I propose

that through the An American Diary series also a feeling of empathy is created so that his works

of art can also be called prosthetic memories (see Landsberg, American Remembrance; Chapter

I). The depiction of himself and members of his family in particular make the recipients

understand the situation the Shimomura family was in, feel with them and consequently with

the Japanese American community at the time. Hence, they are asked to transfer this feeling of

empathy to other minority groups which have gone through similar events; thus, a feeling of

belonging amongst a much bigger group of people is established.

The An American Diary series was funded by the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund,

a “federal program […] established to educate the public on the issues surrounding the wartime

incarceration” (Yamato), which was created as part of the Civil Liberties Act of 1988 that

resulted from the Redress Movement. An exhibition which included paintings of the An

American Diary series “toured the country, recounting this chapter in American history for

thousands of viewers” (Stamey 151) in 1999 and the early 2000s. This series is not only aimed

145 Shimomura describes how the relationship to his parents improved after he heard about what they had

experienced during the incarceration (see Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 53). Nevertheless,

Shimomura indicates that his father’s public account of the incarceration was limited as he “was always

concern[ed] about what other people thought” (Collins Goodyear 76; see also Shimomura, “Interview” Densho

Segment 53).

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at working through his own past, but also aims at engaging people unfamiliar with the story of

the incarceration.

The funding is one of the reasons why Shimomura at this point changed his style when

depicting the Japanese American incarceration and his grandmother’s diaries. While previous

series such as Diary made use of ukiyo-e, in An American Diary he “render[ed] the paintings

and prints in a clean and direct American comic-book style” (Stamey 53). By making these

paintings “look much closer to the actual source of the diary entry” (Shimomura, “Artist Talk”),

Shimomura tried to educate his audience much more than he had with his earlier Diary series.

In contrast to the early Diary series, which is set in Japan, these paintings are clearly

recognizable as taking place in Seattle, the assembly center and Minidoka. Brick walls, Western

furniture, the skyline of Seattle, a mostly Western clothing style and barbed wire dominate the

paintings and, in this way, reflect that Shimomura “felt compelled to create paintings that

addressed internment clearly and directly” (Uradomo 135). I agree with Uradomo who

describes that these paintings have a “documentary nature” (133) in an attempt to make these

works confirm historical facts.146

This is also reflected in the way in which titles of each single painting reference entries

in Toku Shimomura’s diaries: the paintings are based on specific passages and the titles of the

paintings indicate the date on which Toku Shimomura wrote a passage. Therefore, each title

gives the recipients context about time and place of the specific painting and allows them to

situate themselves in the time frame that Shimomura indicates by placing the paintings in

chronological order just like in his grandmother’s diaries. Shimomura reflects on different

aspects of his family’s history from 1941 to 1943 when they were moved from Seattle to the

assembly center and then to Minidoka incarceration camp.

These dates do not only help to orient the recipients in the chronological order of the

series, but also add additional meaning: specifically historically relevant dates such as

December 7, 1941 (title of the first painting in the series, see “Roger Shimomura An

American”), have meaning for the general audience and the Japanese American community in

particular – the dates placed in the title indicate that the paintings are set in the Second World

War, a time that is often considered traumatic for the US as such.

146 Exceptions are December 12, 1941, in which a figure of Superman can be seen, and April 28, 1942, which is

more abstract (see “Roger Shimomura An American”).

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Following the title of the painting, the setting of the depicted and described scene is

named: “Seattle, WA [;] Camp Harmony Assembly Center, Puyallup, WA [and] Camp

Minidoka, Hunt, ID” (“Roger Shimomura, An American”). By announcing these place names,

Shimomura clearly tells his audience that the scenes take place in the US. In consequence, he

engages the recipients and invites them to remember what they know about this time and the

places in the US.

The diary entries that follow the title and the place name are translations of Shimomura’s

grandmother’s diary entries. Through the text, Shimomura lets his grandmother narrate the story

that he creates paintings of: “the family’s story is told through Shimomura’s visual

representation of his grandmother’s voice,” (191) as argued by Hallmark.147 Nevertheless, this

is his way of telling the story of the incarceration – he chose what passages to makes use of,

focuses on specific aspects of what his grandmother talks about and interprets her words

according to his own limited memories, according to what he knows about his family’s history

in general and according to what the diaries tell him specifically.

Fig. 24 is the seventh of the thirty

paintings from the An American

Diary series. Its title April 21,

1942 corresponds to the

following diary entry:

Seattle, WA: At last the order for

evacuation was given formally by

General DeWitt. There were some

limitations to the first move. Kazuo

(son) along with some others will leave

here on the 28th as an advanced party. In

haste, we prepared for the leave. (quoted

in “Roger Shimomura An American”)

The diary entry is placed

below the painting on Greg

Kucera Gallery’s website and,

presumably, also in exhibitions – a connection between the text in the diary entry and the

painting itself becomes clear at first glance. On the right side, the iconic Exclusion Order is

depicted; this Exclusion Order has become symbolic for the incarceration of Japanese

147 Since they are all of the same size and drawn with similar colors, their belonging together is stressed.

Fig. 24 Shimomura, Roger. April 21, 1942. 1997. Painting.

Copyright © 1997 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission

of the copyright owner.

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Americans during World War II and is often shown in original or print in museums,148 which

emphasizes its symbolic meaning. Here, the Exclusion Order is shown as taped on a brick wall

against which its white color stands out. The Exclusion Order is recognizable as such because

of its clearly readable title. The rest of the text is not readable, but its design fits the original

Exclusion Orders. I agree with McCormick who argues that “[b]y painting only the title and

large script legibly, Shimomura demonstrates less interest in the details of the proclamation

than in the greater meaning for Toku” (69/70). In the diary entry referenced here it is only

indirectly mentioned. Accordingly, the Exclusion Order here acts as a visual reminder of the

seriousness of Toku Shimomura and her family’s situation and, additionally, confirms

Shimomura’s basing these paintings on historical reality.

On the left, Toku’s environment is visible. In the background, blue, white, brown and

green are used; mountains can be seen that Stamey identifies as the “Cascade Mountains” (150)

surrounding Seattle. In between the mountains and the skyline in the foreground, water and

sailing boats can be made out. In the sky, clouds are visible. Seattle’s skyline is identifiable by

“the Smith tower, an iconic building in the Seattle landscape” (Stamey 150). The skyline is

depicted in black, giving away only the silhouette of the three buildings shown here. The black

color dominates in this part of the painting.

Interestingly, none of these buildings are mentioned in the diary passage: Shimomura

focuses the recipients’ attention less on the family’s struggles described by his grandmother,

but instead stresses the location. The left side of the painting symbolizes the Shimomura

family’s normal surrounding that is interrupted by the Exclusion Order depicted on the right.

Through the strict division into two parts, Shimomura calls attention to the way in which many

Japanese Americans’ lives were disrupted: they had to move to another place and had to leave

their homes and familiar surroundings behind.

148 For example, it can be found in the exhibition “Then They Came for Me: Incarceration of Japanese Americans

during WWII and the Demise of Civil Liberties” at Alphawood Gallery, Chicago (2017) (see “Then”) or “Common

Ground: The Heart of the Community,” an exhibition in the Japanese American National Museum in Los Angeles,

California (see “Common”) as well as the Japanese American Museum in San Jose, California (see “JAMSJ”) and

many others.

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Shimomura’s painting August 17,

1942 (fig. 25) depicts the moment

Toku Shimomura arrives at

Minidoka incarceration camp:

Camp Minidoka, Hunt, ID: We arrived at

Arlington, Idaho, unnoticed, at 5:30 a.m.

Everybody looked terribly depressed.

After lunch, the heat increased. Barely

alive, we continued on. We made it to

Rock Mountain at 2:30 p.m. We changed

to buses, and after a two and a half mile

ride we arrived at the newly built camp at

4 p.m. Though the camp was still

unfinished we could see the grand scale

of this city near the mountains. We stared

in amazement. I was assigned to Block 5-

B-6, apt. A. After cleaning the dust from

the room, I went to bed. (quoted in

“Roger Shimomura An American”)

In the painting,

Shimomura shows many symbols of the incarceration with barbed wire being the most clearly

identifiable one. Barbed wire here is placed right in the foreground and the recipients look inside

“as outsiders to the camp” (Lyons 26). Furthermore, in the background barbed wire is shown

again, indicating that the whole area is surrounded by it. Additionally, a guard tower is visible.

The inside of the incarceration camp is “organized by rows of uniform cabins along a dirt road”

(Hallmark 191). On this road, two mostly bare trees can be seen. In contrast to his

grandmother’s diary entry in which the incarceration camp is described as a ‘city’ which the

family stares at ‘in amazement,’ in Shimomura’s depiction the emptiness of the area and the

uniformity of the barracks is conveyed.

This depiction encourages the recipients to feel with the Japanese American community:

they get access to a depressing looking piece of land that is, as described in the last third of the

diary entry, the home of the Shimomura family for the foreseeable future. The barracks are

dominated by a dark, bluish color that stands in opposition to the sky in a yellow color that

seems rather unnatural. While the yellow sky and the rather bright ground could be argued to

create an almost positive atmosphere, the color of the barracks dominates. Certainly, in

connection with the barbed wire surrounding the area, Shimomura here stresses the feeling of

being incarcerated.

A comparison with December 31, 1941 of the same series, as suggested by Samantha

Lyons (26), intensifies this feeling of loneliness and hopelessness this painting makes the

Fig. 25 Shimomura, Roger. August 17, 1942. 1997. Painting.



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recipients experience in my reading. December 31, 1941 shows the inside of the Shimomura’s

home, where they lived before being incarcerated in “a similar palette of golden yellow, blues,

and browns” (Lyons 26) as August 17, 1942. It becomes clear that a lot has changed for the

Shimomura family: they had lived in what seems to be a typical suburban home and are moved

to a bleak looking environment. The recipients’ position here changes as well: while in

December 31, 1941, the recipients seem to stand inside the Shimomura’s home, in August 17,

1942, they are standing in front of the barbed wire looking at Minidoka from the outside,

making them look at what Toku Shimomura and her family face.

For former incarcerees looking at these paintings, memories of their incarceration could

be triggered with small details. In this painting, a smokestack is visible inside of the

incarceration camp, something “that only a Minidoka internee would recognize” (Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 63) as being a part of Minidoka. Whereas most incarceration

camps looked similar, it is those small details that place Shimomura’s paintings at Minidoka.

In an interview Shimomura says that he did not remember these small details himself but looked

at photographs and “replicated that” (Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 63). In the

process of creating these paintings he therefore not only made use of his grandmother’s diaries,

but also researched in other forms of cultural memory, such as photographs. This indicates the

limitations of his own memories and his willingness to rely on other sources in order to make

these paintings confirm historical facts.

Shimomura’s painting June 26,

1943 (fig. 26) is also placed at

Minidoka. The diary entry

referenced here reads as follows:

Camp Minidoka: Fine weather today.

Because this was Roger's birthday, Fumi

(daughter) came over to visit us in the

morning. In the afternoon, over tea and

cake, we all had a lively time celebrating

the day with Roger. In the evening the

Tsuboi family joined us, so a total of 11

people gathered for a dinner of Ocean

Perch, which we brought back from the

mess hall. (quoted in “Roger Shimomura

An American”)

In this painting, two

people are recognizable. In the

front, a child playing with a red

Fig. 26 Shimomura, Roger. June 26, 1943. 1997. Painting.



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ball is depicted. Behind the child, the entry to one of the barracks is visible. Through the open

door, parts of a person are visible; this person is sweeping the floor. The diary entry here gives

context to the recipients: Since young Roger Shimomura’s birthday is mentioned, it can be

assumed that the child depicted is Roger Shimomura himself.149 Furthermore, recipients can

assume that the person shown in the barracks is his grandmother – the diary was written by her

and she describes a birthday celebration for which she, so the recipients can assume, prepares

the room. Both Roger and Toku Shimomura are depicted in many of the series’ paintings (e.g.

December 7, 1941; April 8, 1942; August 14, 1942; June 26, 1943). By including himself and

his grandmother in the series, Shimomura stresses that these are family memories depicted; the

paintings are based on excerpts from his grandmother’s diaries – through which he gains access

to his family’s past.

In the entry way, the interior of the barrack can be made out. On top of a table, a cake

with four candles is visible, stressing that this day is Roger Shimomura’s birthday as described

in the accompanying diary entry. While the barracks themselves are black and the window

behind Toku only shows the walls of another barrack, the inside is bright and seems to be well

taken care of. McCormick suggests that “[a]lthough the environment is dark and reminds the

viewer that the family is incarcerated, the inclusion of bright colors on the child’s clothes, as

well as the ball and cloth under the cake demonstrates the small joys of Toku’s day” (72).

Furthermore, the brightness of the inside of the barrack shows that the family attempted to make

the barracks a home: Whereas the barrack looks rather empty, the tablecloth stresses the

family’s efforts of creating a homely atmosphere and some form of normality for young Roger

so that he may not be affected by the environment he is placed in. Also the diary excerpt stresses

this attempt: Toku Shimomura describes how she and family friends celebrate Roger

Shimomura’s birthday. Interestingly, the diary mentions rarely any of the hardships of

incarceration: if the recipients were only faced with the description of a birthday party, they

may not recognize that the here described family is in an incarceration camp. The name ‘Camp

Minidoka’ and the date added to the diary entry are hence of importance: they orient the

recipients in the time and place of the incarceration experience. Shimomura’s painting

exemplifies the situation a bit more in that he depicts the barracks and gives a glimpse into the

conditions of life there.

149 In a few of the series’ paintings, Shimomura adds an image of himself as a child – in December 25, 1941, he is

shown celebrating Christmas with his family in Seattle; in May 16, 1942, he is shown sitting on his father’s

shoulders and in June 16, 1942, he and his father are shown through a window in one of the barracks. In other

paintings and prints he also includes images of himself in different ages; I will talk about one example below.

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Overall, the An American Diary series educates the audience about the incarceration of

the Shimomura family. The recipients have the opportunity to understand both text and image

in order to grasp the realities of the time that Shimomura attempts to clarify. By putting his

family in focus and by placing family members in some of the paintings, this series of paintings

enables the recipients to experience what they went through. I suggest that the Shimomura

family can further be seen as symbolizing many Japanese American families who experienced

the incarceration. While Shimomura also works through his personal past with the An American

Diary series, it is much more his own past that is stressed through the series Memories of

Childhood, discussed in the following.

IV.2.2 Memories of Childhood

The main function of Roger Shimomura’s series Memories of Childhood (1999), created just

two years after An American Diary, is to portray his own memories of life in an incarceration

camp. He thereby also clarifies the conditions in an incarceration camp and works through his

own personal memories and the trauma of having been incarcerated at a very young age. One

reason for that is certainly the way in which he came to produce the series: together with

fourteen artists, Shimomura was asked to “do a series of paintings […] that represented [their]

first ten memories of life” (Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 64). All these artists were

“artists of color or women” (Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 64) whose lives were

in some way special and different from that of a “middle-class white male” (Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 64). At first his ten paintings were exhibited together; later, a

lithograph150 series was created and bound in a book. The fact that these prints are placed

together in an artist book, are printed in the same size of ten inches wide and seven inches high,

shows that these memories, for Roger Shimomura, belong together.151

A book of lithograph prints is a different medium than paintings or prints that are hung

up on walls and placed in museums. A book as such is meant to be interacted with more than

150 A lithograph is a print that was traditionally made on a stone surface, but nowadays metal plates are often used.

Lithographs are often used in artworks of which many copies are to be sold (see “Lithograph”). In the book

accompanying the series, the process of how these prints were created, is explained: “The key line images were

drawn by the artist on mylar and exposed to positive working plates. The color plates were hand painted under the

artist’s direction by workshop staff. The prints were hand printed […] on a direct pressure flatbed press”

(“Memories of Childhood, 1999”). 151 In my analysis, I will focus on single prints and accompanying text presented in the book Memories of

Childhood as shown on the website of The Lawrence Lithography Workshop in Kansas (see “Memories of

Childhood, 1999”).

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with a picture on a wall: readers flip through pages, have to take it into their hands and

consequently are in direct contact with it. In contrast to the previously discussed graphic novels

and picture books though, Shimomura’s Memories of Childhood cannot be bought easily; it is

a handmade book only sold in small quantities. Shimomura donated a few copies of this book

to museums, e.g. the National Museum of American History in Washington D.C. or the San

Jose Museum of Art (see “Memories of Childhood”; “Memories of Childhood, Artist Book”)

so that the number of people having access to the prints in the book increases. However, the

audience cannot touch the book when it is placed in exhibitions in a display case, limiting access

on a different level. In this way, the reading experience changes again and the book becomes

an art object that can only be viewed from afar. Thus, there is again a certain distance between

the recipients and the artist book Memories of Childhood when it is placed in exhibitions.

To encourage viewers’ engagement with the book however, it can be fully accessed

online through the website of The Lawrence Lithography Workshop in Kansas (see “Memories

of Childhood, 1999”). Here, each page of the book is shown individually and below one another,

giving at least the impression of going through the book from beginning to end. By giving

people access to the book on a publicly accessible website, its potential audience increases.

Nonetheless, the experience of reading or seeing something online is yet again different from

standing in front of an artwork in a museum or directly interacting with a book. On the one

hand, the recipients view the book through a screen, cannot touch it and thus are distanced from

it. On the other hand, by putting many of his works of art on the Internet, Shimomura gives a

bigger number of people the chance to take a look at, engage with and experience them.

In the book Memories of Childhood, the story of the Shimomuras’ incarceration is told

from the perspective of young Roger Shimomura. Each print is accompanied by a short sentence

that describes the respective situation depicted. Both text and visuals convey the perspective of

a young child who describes the incarceration with a child-like tone of voice and point-of-view.

Through this perspective, the audience realizes what Shimomura’s reality (and other Japanese

Americans’) was at the time. Consequently, they are asked to empathize with him and other

children who experienced the incarceration firsthand; they learn from and about the

Shimomuras’ experiences. These prints show his first memories during his life, which was at

the time situated in an assembly center and an incarceration camp for Japanese Americans.

As a three- to five-year old Shimomura experienced the incarceration at a quite young

age. Many studies hint at humans recalling their first memories from the age of about three to

four years mostly in a fragmented manner (see e.g. Eacott 46; Howes/Siegel/Brown 95/96 and

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103).152 Shimomura recalls his first memories from a time in which he was incarcerated which

he reflects on in Memories of Childhood. These memories therefore become the starting point

for the construction of his self and his autobiographical memory. As Christine Wells, Catriona

M. Morrison and Martin A. Conway point out, “[a]dult recall of fragmentary details of

childhood events are ‘filtered’ through adult autobiographical memory to produce narrative

accounts of early experiences” (10). From hindsight, these are memories formed during a

traumatic time for all those people surrounding him; while he, at the time, most likely was not

able to comprehend what was happening, his memories now demonstrate the time of the

incarceration as a traumatic event for both himself and everyone in his immediate environment.

What should be considered nonetheless is that Shimomura’s memories have surely mixed with

his grandmother’s after having read and interpreted her diaries.153

The style of the prints in the book is different from An American Diary – in Memories

of Childhood, he uses even clearer and very few colors and clearly to identify shapes. These, as

McCormick argues, “emphasize the childish understanding that formed these early memories

in the artist” (74). These prints seem like part of a bigger picture, they are “dramatically cropped

[and] closely focused” (Stamey 161). Stamey states that this focus “convey[s] a sense of

extreme enclosure” (161) reflecting on conditions of incarceration. Furthermore, since these

prints reflect the memories of a three- to five-year old, it could be said that at that time

Shimomura was simply not able to see the bigger picture, literally and metaphorically.

Shimomura here puts himself in his younger self’s perspective and establishes a reminder of

the incarceration that puts children in the focus. Consequently, this is a series of prints that is

accessible for both children and adults, because of its style and directness.

In the book, the first page indicates the time period depicted in the prints: 1942-1944,

placing Shimomura’s first memories clearly in the assembly center and at Minidoka. After a

title page, the ten prints can be found on individual pages. Preceding every print, another almost

empty page is placed. On each of these pages, single-line sentences that describe the following

lithograph are printed. Since these pages seem to be made of a light material which Lyons

identifies as goyu paper (20), they are almost transparent, allowing the viewer to get a first

impression of the print on the next page (see fig. 27 to fig. 29). The sentences printed on the

goyu paper are printed in a position that makes them look like a title placed below the barely

152 Most humans do not remember their lives before the age of three which has been called childhood amnesia (see

e.g. Eacott 46; Howe/Courage 499). Studies suggest that memories from the age of around six years become more

detailed and have more context (see Howes/Siegel/Brown 96; Wells/Morrison/Conway 1). 153 Some of the prints correspond to entries in his grandmother’s diaries and paintings in An American Diary.

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visible print on the next page (see below). In contrast to the much longer diary entries in the An

American Diary series, the sentences are very short and factual, describe conditions in the

assembly center and at Minidoka or give short explanations of what can be seen in the print.

Readers of the book will first encounter these goyu pages, therefore encounter the text before

the print. The sentences make the recipients curious about what is to come and might engage

their creativity: after reading the sentence, they can imagine a scene in their minds that might

be similar to or different from what is actually shown in the print they encounter then. These

preceding pages can also be interpreted as something foggy in front of Shimomura’s memories

that are thematized here: as mentioned above, early memories are often foggy and unconnected

in the mind. When turning the pages or scrolling through the website, the recipients are allowed

access to the artist’s much more clear memories in a next step.

While Collins argues that “Memories of Childhood reflects individual rather than public

memory” (96), my reading of this series suggests that this is a personal memory that he has

turned into a public one. Japanese Americans looking at the artist book may identify with young

Roger depicted here, especially when they experienced the incarceration as children themselves.

Non-Japanese Americans may get a glimpse of what it meant to be incarcerated unjustly when

engaging with the book.

Fig. 27 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 1 and Page 1. 1999. Lithograph in handmade book.

Copyright © 1999 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.

Fig. 27 is the first of the ten prints and its accompanying page to be found in Memories

of Childhood.154 The book starts with the words “my first memory of life” (fig. 27) clarifying

154 Since these prints are bound together in a book that can be fully accessed online, I will indicate page numbers

here, as is done on the website (see “Memories of Childhood, 1999”). All prints in this subchapter are taken from

the website of The Lawrence Lithograph Workshop in Kansas.

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the purpose of this book and what is shown in the print. As Mary Howes, M. Siegel and F.

Brown point out, first memories are often “characterized by distinct emotion” (95) – as

described in the accompanying sentence, the print depicts Shimomura’s third birthday that he

celebrated in the assembly center. He recalls this day in an interview: “I remember very clearly

walking in and out of our quarters [in the assembly center] telling people that I was three”

(Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 7). In fig. 27 no people are visible; the perspective

seems to be that of Roger standing in the room looking at his birthday cake.

In the print, a cake with three candles is dominantly placed in the middle, on top of a

table in a rather barren looking room. In the print, each object is outlined in black and there are

only a few distinguishable colors which make the print look generic. Even the cake for three-

year old Roger is white and does not convey a festive atmosphere, especially when seen against

the background. Behind the table, a wall made out of different segments is visible. In one of

these segments, an image of a black star on grey background in a red picture frame is shown.

Next to it, a window and through it two rows of barbed wire can be made out. The emptiness

of the room and even more so the barbed wire fence in the background indicate where this

birthday is taking place – incarcerated in an assembly center. In the accompanying sentence,

the words “in camp” (fig. 27) make the viewers realize that this is not a typical family home,

but a home of people incarcerated. As described previously, many former incarcerees used and

sometimes still use the word ‘camp’ when talking about their experiences of being incarcerated

which makes their children and grandchildren unable to understand the conditions. This

inconspicuous word adds to the “unsettling” (21) feeling that Lyons suggests recipients have

when looking at prints in the book. I agree with Lyons’ reading of this scene – when looking at

this print something seems wrong and cannot be fully grasped by the audience at first sight.

Because of its thematic proximity, this print can be compared to June 26, 1943 from the

An American Diary series (fig. 26; see above). Fig. 26 depicts Roger Shimomura’s birthday one

year later, when he is turning four (as is indicated in the number of candles on the cake) in

Minidoka incarceration camp. Both fig. 26 and fig. 27 feature a similar looking cake on a similar

looking table in a similarly constructed room indicating that the conditions of life have not

changed much between the assembly center and Minidoka incarceration camp. Thus, this print

introduces the recipients to the overall conditions of life behind barbed wire for Japanese

Americans during the Second World War.

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A feeling of unease is also present when looking at fig. 28, the eighth print in the book.

This print is introduced with the sentence “One time a friend from Seattle came to visit me

while I was in camp” (fig. 28). The repetition of the phrase ‘in camp’ here stresses the situation

young Shimomura is in and anchors the story told in the time of the incarceration, once again.

In his interview with Densho, Shimomura recalls these visits: “I remember friends coming to

visit right after we got there. […] And I remember talking through the fence” (Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 7). While having visitors is a good memory, the way in which

these visits worked (as depicted in the print) are unsettling.

The print shows two children and one adult figure. One of the children is talking to

another child through barbed wire fence. A woman is standing next to the child left from the

barbed wire fence – most likely this is the child’s mother. From the context provided by the

introductory sentence, the recipients know that the child on the left is Shimomura; his friend is

on the other side of the fence. The recipient here is seemingly inside of the assembly center

with Roger and his mother and thus experiencing what they experience. But, as Lyons rightly

suggests, the recipient also looks inside from “outside this barrier, at a remove from time and

place” (31). The recipients are looking at Roger and his mother and Roger’s mother watches

over him. Former incarcerees and people with background knowledge further know that guards

watch over the whole scene in order to ensure that Roger and his mother stay behind barbed

wire. Recipients who do not have background knowledge may not know about the guards but

might still assume that Roger and his family are being watched simply because they are

incarcerated. Thus, all recipients may feel unease when looking at this print.

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Like in many of the prints in the book, Shimomura “denies the viewer access to facial

expressions or emotion” (McCormick 74): Roger has his back towards the audience, so that

only his profile is visible; his friend’s face can only be seen from the nose down. However,

Shimomura still captures the recipients’ attention and makes them empathize particularly with

the two children shown. The fact that Roger and his friend, who are around three or four years

at the time, are kept apart by a barbed wire fence, makes the viewer aware of what the

incarceration included. Not only adults were affected, but also very young children who lived

through the conditions. Children, though, may have experienced the incarceration differently

since they grew up in these conditions for a while and had less experience with what life was

like outside.



With fig. 29, Shimomura introduces many iconic symbols of the incarceration into the

book and to the recipients. This print shows a hand holding an American flag in the foreground.

Right behind it, two rows of barbed wire are placed; because of its size compared to the hand,

this barbed wire seems very strong. In the background, silhouettes of barracks and further rows

of barbed wire can be made out. This print is accompanied by the sentence “I was sad when my

uncle left camp to go fight in the war” (fig. 29). Three of Shimomura’s uncles fought in the

442nd Regimental Combat Team155 during the war. As depicted here, they must have left from

Minidoka. Because of the position of the hand in front of the fence, this person seems to be

standing outside of Minidoka at this moment; so is the recipient. The American flag is waving

155 Burton et al. point out that “Minidoka had the largest casualty list of the ten relocation centers” (Confinement

213).

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in the wind and the person is holding it high, making it look like he is proud of his being allowed

in the US Army.

For those looking at this print with background knowledge, the print once again creates

a feeling of unease. Only those who had signed up for service in the US Army could leave the

incarceration camps – they had to fight for a country that had imprisoned them and their families

and left their families behind barbed wire. For those lacking this knowledge the print and its

accompanying sentence nevertheless imply that this is not a happy scene; the accompanying

sentence expresses Shimomura’s sadness about his uncle leaving Minidoka. However, this

sadness is based on feeling with young Shimomura rather than feeling with the Japanese

American incarceration experience as such.

Shimomura’s almost ironic usage of the symbol of the American flag waving in the

wind in front of Minidoka incarceration camp implies that this is a less clear memory, but much

more a comment. This print is the second to last in the book; Shimomura stresses the power of

the US government at the time with the whole book and this print in particular. He indicates the

irony of the Loyalty Questionnaire and its consequences for many young Japanese Americans.

Overall, Shimomura places himself in his younger self in order to reflect on his first memories

and to find closure. He does so by putting on canvas that what he cannot express in words or

writing and thereby copes with his trauma, shown in his first memories of life, through this

medium. Consequently, the prints depicted in the book have a therapeutic function for him and

recipients of it. While the accompanying sentences here give context, in the following analysis

of the Minidoka on my Mind series, the title of the individual paintings and prints plays a

decisive role and often ironically juxtaposes that what is shown.

IV.2.3 Minidoka on My Mind

Shimomura uses the series Minidoka on My Mind156 and especially the titles of prints and

paintings in the series to stress the ironies of incarceration. By looking at the paintings and

prints American Infamy #2, American Guardian, Shadow of the Enemy, Enemy Alien #2 and

American Alien #4, I will show how Shimomura juxtaposes text and visuals in the series in

order to convey the injustice of the incarceration. In addition, I contend that in some of the

paintings and prints of the series, he ironically employs a Japanese style of painting similarly

156 Two exhibitions had the title Minidoka on My Mind. One exhibition was from 2007, while the other, consisting

of 30 paintings, was opened in 2010, both at Greg Kucera Gallery in Seattle.

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to how he employed ukiyo-e in some of his earlier series.157 With these means, he asks the

recipients to engage with both the title and the paintings and prints, to think about what the

incarceration actually meant and to put themselves in the position of Japanese Americans

incarceration. By doing so, they are more likely to empathize and feel with them.

As the series’ title indicates, this series is focused on life in Minidoka incarceration camp.

Furthermore, the title is reminiscent of the song Georgia on My Mind, composed by Hoagy

Carmichael (lyrics written by Stuart Gorrell) in 1930 (see “June 10”; M. Neal 157). This song

was made famous by Ray Charles in 1960. While the lyrics can either indicate a woman or the

state of Georgia, Ray Charles’ version is nowadays deeply connected to the state of Georgia

and was declared its state song in 1979 (see M. Neal 157). Ray Charles was born in Georgia

and is argued to have “turned [the song] into an anthem about the ghosts that haunt those who’ve

experienced the racism of the south” (Maillot). Shimomura’s choice in title for the series thus

not only illustrates that Minidoka is still on his mind, but also connects the Japanese American

incarceration to other instances of racism in the US. He hints at the unjust treatment of other

minority groups in the series’ prints and paintings as well, thus making recipients reflect on

their own positions in US society.

Since both the painting American Infamy #2 (fig. 30) and the lithograph American

Guardian (fig. 31) are similar in perspective and style, I here want to compare them. For both

the painting and the print the title is decisive in conveying the ironies of the Japanese American

incarceration experience. American Infamy #2 is made up of four panels that together make up

one painting of 72 inches high and 120 inches wide; American Guardian in contrast is much

smaller with only 27 inches high and 39 inches wide. Both show Minidoka from one of the

guard towers surrounding the incarceration camp. In each, the silhouette of a guard dominates

the foreground. Both guards are looking down at the incarceration camp and people in it with

binoculars, one from the left, one from the right side. In American Infamy #2 many people can

be seen, while in American Guardian only a child on a tricycle is visible.

The main part of the two works depicts rows of barracks at Minidoka. Stamey points

out that the barracks play a dominant role in the Minidoka on My Mind series: Shimomura

“draws attention to the barrack’s construction, its simple verticals and diagonals, its architecture

of monotony” (Stamey 164). Often, “the architecture appears, layer upon layer, one material

157 Matsumura points out that in the first series of works Minidoka from 1978 in which Shimomura makes use of

ukiyo-e ironically, it is the title that indicates what the paintings actually depict – the Japanese American

incarceration.

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juxtaposed against another, receding into the distance” (“Roger Shimomura Minidoka on my

Mind”). These structures exemplify the size and monotony of Minidoka and other incarceration

camps.

Fig. 30 Shimomura, Roger. American Infamy #2. 2006. Painting.


Fig. 31 Shimomura, Roger. American Guardian. 2008. Lithograph.


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Behind these rows of barracks, barbed wire and a guard tower are visible in both the

painting and the lithograph; as previously explained these are decisive visual markers of the

incarceration experience. In the far background, a range of mountains can be made out.

Additionally, American Infamy #2 shows a river – it can be assumed that Shimomura here

references the North Side Canal, “[t]he most notable topographic feature at the site [that]

formed the southern boundary” (Burton et al., Confinement 203). These small details confirm

that these artworks depict Minidoka – they are especially recognizable for Japanese Americans

who were incarcerated there themselves (see above).

Shimomura’s usage of the word ‘infamy’ in the title of his painting American Infamy #2

immediately reminds viewers of President Roosevelt’s speech on December 8, 1941, the day

after the attack on Pearl Harbor. In this speech, President Roosevelt asked Congress to agree

on declaring war on Japan. He called December 7, 1941, “a date which will live in infamy”

(Roosevelt), a phrase that has stayed in many people’s minds ever since. Roosevelt here uses

‘infamy’ to describe Japan’s attack on Pearl Harbor as something that will not be forgotten. The

attack on Pearl Harbor had been unexpected and surprised the US government and population;

the fact that there had been no warning from the Japanese government and because of the high

number of casualties, this day became one of the most remembered days in US history.

By placing the word ‘American’ in front of ‘infamy,’ Shimomura changes people’s

perception about what this painting depicts. It does not depict the attack on Pearl Harbor, the

so-called day of infamy, but what he himself considers infamy: the incarceration of Japanese

Americans in the US during the Second World War. With the title’s narrative and thought-

provoking capability and ironic usage of the term ‘infamy,’ which reminds people of

Roosevelt’s speech, Shimomura expresses the importance of remembering the incarceration;

he feels that it is the incarceration that should stay in people’s minds. In his painting, he depicts

non-threatening everyday men, women and children in a setting that conveys that they were

incarcerated unjustly. He thereby stresses that “[s]uspicions of the Japanese Americans’ loyalty

were based on a systematic conflation of ethnic Japanese in this country with the Japanese

enemy abroad” (Harth, “Introduction” 3; see also Uradomo 66). The fear of people who ‘looked

like the enemy’ was what led to the incarceration because “[m]ajority culture couldn’t

distinguish between the Japanese who were born in this county and the ones that were born

abroad” (Abatemarco 70; see also Shimomura, “Art Talk”; Uradomo 40 and 65). According to

the title of Shimomura’s painting, it was the US that committed the true ‘infamy,’ the

incarceration of Japanese Americans.

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The title American Guardian of his lithograph also employs irony. The word ‘guardian’

usually refers to “a person who protects or defends something [or] a person who is legally

responsible for the care of someone who is unable to manage their own affairs” (“Guardian”).

Often, it is also used in combination with ‘angel,’ referring in the religious sense to an entity

that watches over individual people or nowadays often also to a person who takes care of

another person. In these definitions, the term has a positive connotation. When people only read

the lithograph’s title without seeing the actual work, they may assume that this print depicts

something positive, the US taking care of somebody.

Combined with the print though, this impression quickly changes. The ‘American

Guardian’ in this print is a soldier carrying two rifles, looking down at the people inside of the

incarceration camp. In contrast to a protector, he is perceived as a threat. With this title,

Shimomura comments on the US government’s role in the incarceration and their claim that

Japanese Americans were protected in the incarceration camps (see also Chapter IV.2.4). In an

interview, Shimomura states that soldiers “had the machine guns turned in and not turned out”

(Shimomura, “Artist Talk”), which he shows here in the lithograph. Since the recipients are

positioned behind the soldier and look inside the incarceration camp the same way as the soldier

does, they are defined here as outsiders as well. This may make viewers feel uncomfortable,

think about their role in (US) society and reflect on the way in which Japanese Americans were

treated during World War II. Furthermore, since the soldier is only shown as an outline, the

recipients cannot identify this person as an individual; they themselves may be that soldier

threatening Japanese Americans inside.

In addition to both these ironic titles, Shimomura uses what Lippard calls “visual irony”

(8; see also Uradomo 65) to comment on the inability of many Americans to differentiate

between Japanese, Japanese Americans and other Asian Americans.158 In both the painting and

the print, Shimomura translates the style of Japanese byobu screen painting into a modern

setting, indicating his identity as a Japanese American (see Platt 166/167; “Roger Shimomura

Minidoka on my Mind”). While Shimomura’s usage of ukiyo-e in earlier works (see above) was

clearly reminiscent of Japanese paintings, the references to byobu are less obvious. Byobu

translates as “protection from wind” (“Kin byōbu”), referring to the original purpose of these

screens in Japanese culture. Apart from their practical function, “[d]ecorative folding screens

known as byōbu are one of the most representational formats for painting in the history of

158 For Shimomura, this is one of the main reasons for the incarceration, as he shows for example in the series

Yellow No Same.

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Japanese art” (“Kin byōbu”). They are “comprised of several individual panels made of layers

of paper pasted on a wooden framework” (“Kin byōbu”). Painting on these screens allowed

artists to create big-sized artworks, often “painted in bright pigments and precious metal

gildings of gold and silver leafing” (“Kin byōbu”). Especially clouds were often painted in gold;

in between the clouds, traditionally, “street-scene action” (Khawaja) was depicted.

Apart from reminding the audience of traditional Japanese art forms and therefore

making use of the before-mentioned irony to indicate that Japanese Americans were unjustly

incarcerated, Shimomura comments on the way in which memories can be stored away in one’s

mind. By putting his and the Japanese Americans’ memories in this format, Shimomura points

out how memories are sometimes subconsciously or consciously put away so that they do not

have to be dealt with (especially in the case of traumatic experiences). In the Japanese American

community this was often the case, as Shimomura also experienced with his own parents. His

parents did not talk to him about the incarceration – they stored their memories away. Only

with the Redress Movement did they open up and put the folding screens where they could be

seen.

The usage of clouds in both the painting and the print further creates a link between

byobu screen painting and the way in which memories are perceived to be working. In American

Infamy #2, the clouds are grey with a black edging, reminding the viewers of smoke, while in

American Guardian, they are lightly brown-colored, also with a black edging. For Bettina Klein

and Carolyn Wheelwright, in their analysis of Japanese six-fold screens from the sixteenth

century, clouds can “organize [a] potentially confusing array of small motifs” (103) as they

connect from one panel to another and thereby enable the viewer to understand that the panels

together make up one image. Samra Khawaja explains that in Japanese imagery “clouds

symbolize breaks in time” (Khawaja). Clouds are, in several variations of the American Infamy

painting, “used to create voyeuristic visual drama within the picture plane” (Shimomura,

“American Infamy #3”). They hinder viewers from viewing the whole scene, but only aspects

of it. These aspects, which can be viewed directly, so I contend, are what Shimomura

remembers clearly and has learned about from the Japanese American community; while what

is hidden behind the clouds indicates many more aspects of the incarceration that he does not

thematize consciously.

Takezawa even argues that in American Infamy #2, the “dark clouds […] evok[e] the

aftermath of 9/11 when the idea of mass confinement of Arab Americans was widely voiced,

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reminiscent of Japanese Americans after Pearl Harbor” (“Narratives” 66).159 Because of their

color, these clouds can be interpreted as the smoke that was present in New York City after the

attack on the Twin Towers, but in the same way one could say that these clouds cover up parts

of Shimomura’s experiences at Minidoka. Due to his young age while being incarcerated, he

only remembers some aspects and puts what he remembers in this painting. Further, the dark

color simply creates a threatening atmosphere that gives viewers an impression of what life at

Minidoka was like and stands in opposition to the bright colors of the clothes worn by the people

in the painting.

In American Guardian, on the other hand, the light brown color of the clouds is similar

to the golden color in Japanese byobu screen paintings. Once again, through the placement of

the clouds, Shimomura gives the audience access to certain parts of his memory of the

incarceration; other parts are covered up by the clouds. This lithograph is not divided into panels,

thereby less closely referencing screen paintings. For Japanese American actor George Takei,

who was interviewed when visiting an exhibition of Shimomura’s works, the clouds stand for

the dust storms that he and his family faced in Rohwer incarceration camp in Arkansas:

“[Shimomura] meant these as Japanese floating clouds, but I see it from the vantage points of

an Arizona camp, the dust storms” (Takei quoted in Rastrelli). This also shows that personal

experiences have an influence on how works of art are perceived: for Takei, the dust storms

were an important part of his incarceration experience as a child and he thinks about them when

viewing Shimomura’s works. Shimomura also remembers “sandstorms” (Shimomura,

“Interview” Densho Segment 7) at Minidoka, subconsciously surely also influencing his

depiction of the clouds.

A girl shown in the lower right of American Infamy #2 is also featured in another

painting of that series, Shadow of the Enemy (fig. 32). Here, only her shadow, thrown onto one

of the barrack’s exterior, can be seen. Nevertheless, the similarity between the girl shown in

American Infamy #2 and the girl here cannot be denied. Both are jumping rope – the jump rope

is mid-air above their heads. Both have their hair in pigtails and both are wearing a T-shirt and

a short skirt.160

159 In other paintings and prints Shimomura makes references to 9/11 very clearly – I will discuss these in the

following section. 160 In the series Minidoka Snapshots, a series of small prints from 2010, Shimomura shows another girl in a similar

pose in the lithograph The Enemy (see “Minidoka Snapshots, 2010”): here again, the shadow of a jump-roping girl

is depicted in front of one of the barracks; in this case, she has her hair in a ponytail.

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With the title Shadow of the Enemy, Shimomura makes

the viewer aware of the ironies of incarceration once

again. “The idea of children playing, even in the

shadows, cannot be reconciled with the idea of alien

enemies” (McCormick 133). Shimomura thereby

makes the viewers realize that Japanese American

children were also incarcerated and that they were

perceived as enemies despite their young age.

Since the shadow of the girl occupies the

middle of this painting, the viewer looks directly at her

shadow. Logically, the viewer is in the position of the

girl, especially since the viewer’s shadow does not

cover up the girl’s: the viewer is the girl or at least

imagines him- or herself to be in her position. With this

perspective, Shimomura forces the recipients to put

themselves in the Japanese Americans’ shoes: they can imagine life behind barbed wire directly

and consequently empathize with their perspective and position.

Throughout the Minidoka on My Mind series, Shimomura shows several children that

symbolize himself.161 Particularly interesting is Enemy Alien #2 (fig. 33), in which Shimomura

is depicted twice. Once, as his present self in the background, depicted inside one of the barracks

in Minidoka, recognizable by his glasses and his overall facial features. Only the upper part of

his face can be seen through a window; the rest of his body has to be imagined by the viewer.

Further, Shimomura is depicted as the silhouette of a child in the foreground. The boy’s upper

body can be made out: he is holding onto something in his hand, seems to be wearing a T-shirt

and has a cap on his head. Shimomura makes use of the same depiction of himself in several

paintings, acknowledging different aspects of the incarceration. In Enemy Alien #2, as argued

by Susan Kunimatsu, he “inject[s] some fantasy: an adult Shimomura […] in the same

environment” (11) as that of the young child. Of course, the viewer is aware that the adult

161 Also in American Guardian, he can be found in the figure of the child riding a tricycle. According to statements

by Shimomura in interviews, this child is the artist himself (see “Roger Shimomura Editioned Prints”; Shimomura,

“Artist Talk”).

Fig. 32 Shimomura, Roger. Shadow of the

Enemy. 2007. Painting.

Copyright © 2007 by Roger Shimomura.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright

owner.

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Shimomura was not incarcerated, but that his younger self

was. By placing him in the incarceration camp also as an adult,

he shows that his life up unto today is influenced by the

experience of having been incarcerated.

Since both people shown in this painting symbolize

Shimomura himself, he shifts the viewers’ attention to his

own fate. McCormick explains that, “[b]eginning as early as

2002, […] [h]e becomes the predominant subject of his

paintings” (135), with which he “politicize[s] and […]

moralize[s] his works” (74). He reminds the audience that he

was incarcerated and that he still suffers the consequences

from it, since he still feels the need to picture himself in a

variety of scenes behind barbed wire. Surely, these scenes also

have a therapeutic function for him: he is able to see himself

behind barbed wire while at the same time knowing that, with

his works, he can prevent others from having similar experiences.

In this painting, the perspective is an interesting one. The child’s silhouette is shown in

front of one of the barracks and can barely be made out because of its dark color. In the upper

right, Shimomura’s face stands out: he is looking out of one of the windows of the barrack

directly at the viewer. The inside of the barrack can also be seen; parts of the walls inside the

barrack, in lighter color, are shown. Further, the viewer is able to look outside of the barrack

on the other side: through another window on the far side of the barrack, another barrack placed

right behind it can be made out. Also, barbed wire surrounding the barracks is visible in front

of a blue sky. The crisscrossing of the different sections of the walls of the barracks and the

window frame add to the feeling of being locked in, only looking outside at the blue sky.

With the title of this painting Shimomura indicates Japanese Americans’ status during

World War II. While two thirds of the incarcerees were born on US soil, they were declared

enemy aliens by their own government. No distinction was made between Japanese living in

Japan, Japanese nationals living in the US and their sons and daughters, US citizens.162 The

162 I do not want to imply that incarcerating Japanese nationals would have been justified – however, the fact that

the US incarcerated its own citizens adds another layer of injustice.

Fig. 33 Shimomura, Roger. Enemy

Alien #2. 2006. Painting.

Copyright © 2006 by Roger

Shimomura. Reproduced with

permission of the copyright owner.

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simple depiction of an older Japanese American and a child in this painting clarifies that all

generations were affected.

The painting American Alien #4 (fig. 34) shows a “metaphor for Shimomura himself”

(Kunimatsu 11), a Japanese American boy of around four to five years dressed up in a cowboy

costume. With the help of this depiction, Shimomura comments on his identity: the cowboy

symbolizes a ‘true American,’ somebody who is, for example in movies, nearly always depicted

as a brave hero fighting for the right thing.163 One might read the painting American Alien #4

as Shimomura wanting to be that true American.

That the cowboy at the same time is often juxtaposed

to Native Americans as in the children’s game ‘Cowboys and

Indians’ adds another layer of meaning to this painting.

Shimomura himself is an American, he was born on US soil,

but incarcerated because of his ancestry; similarly, Native

Americans are (if there is such a thing) ‘true Americans,’ they

were on American soil before the Europeans arrived, and their

land was taken away from them. Up until today they are

discriminated against. Shimomura draws a connection

between his situation and that of Native Americans in this

painting. While he depicts himself as a cowboy, thereby

showing that he is American, he is placed behind barbed wire.

The government does not accept his being an American, but

assumes that because of his looks he supports Japan, so that

he needs to dress up in order to prove his Americanness. Both

Native Americans and second- and third-generation Japanese

Americans were not accepted as Americans, a fact that Shimomura wants to stress here.

There is another connection between Japanese Americans and Native Americans that

should be mentioned in the context of the incarceration. Two of the incarceration camps were

built on Native Americans’ reservations, namely Colorado River (Poston) and Gila River, both

located in Arizona. At the time, minority groups in US society saw a connection between

163 In the painting Yellow No Same #10 of the series Yellow No Same young Roger is depicted as a cowboy, as

well. In this series of twelve lithographs, each print features a “ukiyo-e figure in the foreground and a Japanese

American” (Uradomo 90) behind barbed wire (see also Collins 97; Stamey 110). In Yellow No Same #10, he is

juxtaposed with “the image of the Japanese kabuki figure in the foreground, illustrating the unwillingness of many

white Americans to see Japanese Americans other than as exotic Japanese” (Uradomo 92).

Fig. 34 Shimomura, Roger.

American Alien #4. 2006. Painting.




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themselves: injustice suffered through the US government. Native Americans were forcibly

removed from their ancestral homelands with the ‘Indian Removal Act’ of 1830 and had to live

on so-called Indian territory from then on; Japanese Americans from the West Coast were

forced to leave their homes behind in 1942 and placed in incarceration camps. Interestingly, the

Japanese American community was forced away from the West Coast, while Native Americans

were removed from land east of the Mississippi: both minority groups found themselves in the

vast middle of the country. What should be remembered is that “anti-Japanese racism never

reached the level of the institutions that had enslaved blacks or colonized Native Americans”

(21), as pointed out by Lon Kurashige, and that one should therefore be careful when comparing

Japanese Americans’ to Native Americans’ experiences in US society.

The Pima Indian Reservation (on which Gila River incarceration camp was constructed)

and the Colorado River Indian Reservation were created in 1859 and 1865 respectively; with

the “Indian Reorganization Act of 1934 […] greater self-government for Indian nations” (Greg

Robinson, “John Collier”) was established and their situation generally improved. Nevertheless,

all Indian Reservations remained under “the oversight of the Office of Indian Affairs within the

Department of the Interior” (Leong). Colorado River and Gila River were chosen as locations

for two incarceration camps when Commissioner of Indian Affairs, John Collier, was

approached by the WRA. “Both Tribal Councils opposed the use of their land on the grounds

that they did not want to participate in inflicting the same type of injustice as they had suffered,

but they were overruled by the Army and the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA)” (Burton et al.,

Confinement 39; see also 215; Fujita-Rony, “Poston”). Collier said that “he wanted nothing to

do with the project if it were to be just another concentration camp” (Greg Robinson, “John

Collier”; see also Greg Robinson, Tragedy 155), hinting at his understanding of unfair treating

of minority groups in the US. On the one hand, he argued that “the Department [of Interior] had

resources of land [as well as] experience working with an ethnic minority, the American Indians”

(Leong) and could “work with the Japanese Americans” (Leong). On the other hand, he also

“hoped to be given control […] in order to implement an ambitious program of irrigation of

desert lands, agricultural cooperatives, and model communities” (Greg Robinson, Order 132).

He succeeded with this approach and so the Gila River and Colorado River incarceration camps

were constructed on these two Indian reservations with the Bureau of Indian Affairs having

control over Poston. “To help develop his model community, Collier recruited […] social

scientists […] to run the camp and to use it as a study site, adapting methods of conflict

resolution to camp life and training Nisei for future service as social analysts” (Greg Robinson,

Tragedy 155). He thereby tried to create an incarceration camp with more just and more

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transparent conditions than those under the full control of the WRA. However, he also kept the

situation of the Bureau of Indian Affairs in mind that hoped for improvements of the

reservations “without having to fund them” (Fujita-Rony, “Poston”).

When Dillon Myer became the new director of the WRA, a position that Collier himself

had wanted, he “insisted that the camps be run in uniform fashion” (Greg Robinson, Tragedy

155, see also Greg Robinson, “John Collier”) to the other incarceration camps and the WRA

took over control at the end of 1943 (see Fujita-Rony, “Arizona” 218; Greg Robinson, “John

Collier”; Greg Robinson, Tragedy 155). Myer feared that, if life in Gila River and Poston was

‘too good,’ Japanese Americans could become too dependent on the government (see Greg

Robinson, Tragedy 155; Greg Robinson, “John Collier”); he therefore encouraged Japanese

Americans to leave the area after the war ended. When Gila River and Poston were closed, the

“WRA […] did not fulfill the terms of the contract” (Leong), once again showing their immense

power over minority groups.

Shimomura shows that he is aware of the connection between Native Americans and

Japanese Americans by including details in his paintings that enable viewers to approach his

works of art on different levels. He thereby acknowledges that “the Japanese American

internment during World War II cannot be treated in isolation from other traumatic events

experienced by other ethnic groups or residents” (Chen/Yu, “Traumatic Space” 564/565). On

the one hand, he enables access to this part of the Japanese American history and, on the other

hand, makes recipients of his prints and paintings aware that injustice was not only done to

Japanese Americans, but also to other minority groups in US society. This comparison between

different minority groups comes to play a role in the next section, as well. With these

comparisons, Shimomura opens up avenues for storytelling about unfair treatment of minority

groups in US society.

IV.2.4 Mixing Past, Present and Future: Solidarity with Minority Groups

In this section, I will talk about two ways in which Shimomura connects the Japanese American

incarceration with more current times. By establishing a connection between the past, the

present and a potential future, he makes recipients of his works of art aware of the danger that

what had happened to the Japanese American community during World War II might happen

again. Hence, “the story of Japanese-American internment becomes a cautionary tale alive in

the present” (Collins 90).

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In a number of his works racial profiling is thematized. Shimomura’s two paintings

Justified Internment and Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin discussed in the following, refer to

concrete examples of when the Japanese American incarceration was defended as legitimate

action during the Second World War and a measure that might be useful in today’s times. With

the help of these paintings, Shimomura shows that racial profiling is never justified and a tool

that is often misused by the US government. It is shown that the Japanese American

incarceration is still a matter worth discussing as it connects to current events.

Further, in a number of paintings and prints, particularly from the Minidoka on My Mind

series and the Stereotypes and Admonitions series, produced in the 2000s, Shimomura relates

the Japanese American experience to that of Muslim Americans after 9/11. He comments

through his paintings and prints on the rhetoric surrounding similarities between the attack on

Pearl Harbor and 9/11 that are connected in many people’s minds because “Pearl Harbor is […]

the clearest and most recent analogue to the attacks of September 11,” as Eric Muller states

(“Inference” 106).164

As Matsumura correctly points out these paintings and prints are less personal and focus

more on the consequences of racism and discrimination (see 142). Nevertheless, I am sure that

also these paintings have a therapeutic function for Shimomura: they help him externalize his

thoughts about current society in images. Thus, he shows that what is happening in

contemporary society is not altogether different from what happened during the Second World

War; the “racist framework remains robust” (Matsumura 152). By standing up against this

framework and creating what Anjali Enjeti calls “protest art” (Enjeti), his paintings and prints

become “[p]olitical [i]magery” (McCormick 141), which warn of a repetition of history.

164 In contrast to many others, Muller does not share the opinion that the biggest mistake that led to the incarceration

of Japanese Americans was “to infer – from the unadorned fact of his or her ethnicity – something about the risk

of subversion that a person of Japanese ancestry posed” (“Inference” 108). He instead claims, “that the most

obvious error of the internment was the enormity of the deprivation that the government imposed on the Nikkei of

the West Coast” (“Inference” 108). He also suggests that “there is a space within which we can consider the legality

and wisdom of using race or ethnicity in law enforcement” (“Inference” 119) – therefore, he does not completely

dismiss racial profiling as many others do, including Shimomura. For Muller, “slight intrusions” (“Inference” 123)

seem acceptable, but at the same time he worries that the government has not learned enough from its past mistakes

and that there would always be the danger “that time has not created sufficient firebreaks in the legal landscape to

keep the flame of minimal race- or ethnicity-based intrusions from blazing out of control” (“Inference” 127).

Consequently he argues against racial profiling because “we cannot yet trust our law enforcement system to use

race and national origin delicately and responsibly” (Muller, “Inference 108/109). For him, the Japanese American

incarceration “plays the important role of reminding us of how ugly profiling is when it gets out of hand” (Muller,

“Inference” 131).

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Justified Internment (fig. 35) is a painting (20 x 24 inches) from Shimomura’s

Stereotypes and Admonitions series from 2003. In many of this series’ paintings, Shimomura

references racist behaviors towards Asian Americans which have had an influence on his life,

as well. On the one hand, these are personal experiences, on the other hand, public ones.165 On

the website of Greg Kucera Gallery, the painting is accompanied by an explanatory text through

which its context is made clear:

On February 5, 2003, Representative

Howard Coble, Chairman of the Judiciary

Subcommittee on Crime, Terrorism and

Homeland Security, participated on a radio

call-in program about national security.

When a caller suggested Arabs in the

United States should be confined, Coble

disagreed. However, Coble did say he

agreed with President Franklin D.

Roosevelt who established the internment

camps for Japanese Americans during

World War II. Following the furor raised by

the Asian community and others, the

Republican Representative from North

Carolina attempted to clarify his remarks by

saying that the internment camps were as

much for the Japanese Americans’ own

safety as for national security. (“Roger

Shimomura Stereotypes”)

Howard Coble (1931-

2015) served as a Republican

member of the US House of

Representatives from 1984 to 2015

(see Schudel). Coble was urged to step down as Chairman of the Subcommittee on Crime,

Terrorism, and Homeland Security (see California State Senate; “Representative”) but did not

follow this request.

165 This series consists of 30 paintings in which he depicts “incidents of racial sensitivity [he has] experienced

during [his] life [as well as] events that have affected the Asian American community” (“Roger Shimomura

Stereotypes”), accompanied by descriptions. The experiences Shimomura had as a Japanese American include his

being thought of as a non-English speaking Vietnamese student, being told to go back to Japan and often being

referred to as “Oriental” (“Roger Shimomura Stereotypes”) and others. As in the Minidoka on My Mind series, he

places himself directly in these paintings: “sometimes as a samurai […], because that refers to how people see

[him] as the person from Japan, or as that World War II ‘yellow peril’ threat, which is still that kind of eternal

foreigner” (Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 61).

Other artworks refer to events that caused uproar in the Asian American community on a broader level: the murder

of Vincent Chin in 2003, the creation of the cartoon ‘Mr. Wong’ depicting a stereotypical Asian in 1999, the store

Abercrombie & Fitch selling T-shirts full of “racial stereotyping” (“Roger Shimomura Stereotypes”; see also

Shimomura, Densho Segment 65) and others.

Fig. 35 Shimomura, Roger. Justified Internment. 2003. Painting.

Copyright © 2003 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with


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Justified Internment (fig. 35) thematizes Coble’s statement concerning the Japanese

American incarceration that attracted media attention nationwide and was reported on, amongst

others, in The New York Times and The Washington Post (see “Representative”; Schudel). Also

Human Rights Watch commented on it (see “Internment”). In the Japanese American

community, this statement also caused a lot of uproar. It has often been cited as a clear case of

a wrong understanding of history since it has long been shown that the incarceration of Japanese

Americans was not for their protection but was rather the consequence of racism and

discrimination (see e.g. Danico/Ng 133; Plowright 184).

The painting shows Representative Coble166 in uniform standing on what appears to be

a watchtower constructed of a wooden structure. He has a rifle in his hands and looks down at

something that the recipients cannot see. He is placed on the left of the painting – on the right,

in the background, barbed wire is visible, indicating that he is inside an enclosed space.

Together with the accompanying text and the symbolical meaning of barbed wire and guard

towers for the Japanese American community, it becomes clear that this area is one of the

incarceration camps for Japanese Americans, even though no other people are visible.

For this painting, both the title and the accompanying text are decisive. The text clarifies

what the painting depicts, namely a member of the US government seemingly protecting

Japanese Americans placed in incarceration camps, as Representative Coble had argued the US

government had done during World War II.167 Shimomura here shows Representative Coble as

somebody who watches over Japanese Americans – but does so with a rifle in his hands. He

could therefore also be seen as a threat and can be compared to the soldier in the painting

American Guardian (see above): while it is unclear where he points the rifle, he can be

perceived as ensuring that the incarcerees stay in the enclosed area rather than looking outside

at a potential threat.

The title is a provocative one, particularly for the Japanese American community and

former incarcerees. However, Shimomura plays with irony here yet again. When looking at the

painting and the accompanying text, it becomes clear that Shimomura does not believe the

incarceration to be justified. Instead, he wants to draw attention to the fact that this version of

history is still around and still has the power to influence current political action. Thus, the

166 Shimomura copied his features from a photograph (see Shimomura, “Interview” Densho Segment 65). 167 Additional research confirms that Representative Coble had said that he believed that “it wasn’t safe for [the

Japanese Americans] to be on the street” (Coble quoted in “Representative” and Schudel; see also Muller,

“Inference” 128) after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

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painting encourages viewers to consider Representative Coble’s words and the version of

history his words create. Shimomura’s fear of history being misrepresented becomes clear.

While Representative Coble disagreed with the idea of incarcerating Muslim Americans,

Shimomura’s painting hints at the possibility of similar events happening again.

Another painting that clearly features a contemporary person

is Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin (fig. 36; 36 x 24 inches)

from the Minidoka on My Mind series. It shows a woman in a

barrack of an incarceration camp. The recipients get to see her

as if they were standing outside the building looking inside

through a window. Behind her, another window can be seen

through which mountains and barbed wire are visible. The

woman is wearing a white blouse and a red coat which she is

seemingly in the process of taking on or off. She has shoulder-

length black hair, is wearing bright red lipstick and has her

mouth wide open “in protest” (“Roger Shimomura Minidoka

on my Mind”; see also Chan 6; McCormick 141).

The woman depicted here is Michelle Malkin,168 of

Filipino descent (see Ramsey), who is described as a

“conservative blogger, syndicated columnist, Fox News

Channel contributor, and author” (“Michelle Malkin”) of

several books. One of these books is In Defense of Internment: The Case for ‘Racial Profiling’

in World War II and the War on Terror, which was published in 2004. In this book, Malkin

defends the incarceration of Japanese Americans during World War II as well as the actions of

the US government after 9/11.

In her book, Malkin re-uses one popular claim that has long been refuted: that Japanese

Americans on the West Coast were recruited by the Japanese Empire as spies; that the

incarceration was not the result of a racist attitude towards Japanese Americans but was justified.

She does so with the help of, amongst others, the MAGIC-files, 169 “top-secret Japanese

diplomatic cables […] revealing an aggressive effort to recruit West Coast spies” (Malkin xvii),

168 She is identifiable by her features. Also, the painting is accompanied by the following description: “In KEEP

ON TALKIN’, MICHELLE MALKIN, the American activist who has tried to minimize the concerns of Japanese

Americans about the internment, is shown placed inside a camp building, her mouth open in protest” (emphasis in

original, “Roger Shimomura Minidoka on my Mind”). 169 Roughly one third of her book consists of scans of documents and photographs (see Appendices A-F in Malkin).

Fig. 36 Shimomura, Roger. Keep

on Talkin', Michelle Malkin. 2006.

Painting.




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which she claims had great importance and should have been paid more attention to when

discussing the incarceration of Japanese Americans (see e.g. Malkin 37-41). She accuses

scholars such as Greg Robinson and Tetsuden Kashima of down-playing their importance (see

Malkin 137/138); she argues that the Commission for Wartime Relocation and Internment of

Civilians (whose work led to the apology of the US government to Japanese Americans and the

establishment of the Civil Liberties Public Education Fund) ignored important information in

their analysis of the incarceration of Japanese Americans (see Malkin 117-121); she even

asserts that “[m]ass-market novels and movies […] have popularized the view of the West Coast

evacuation as an unmitigated wrong” (Malkin 143) and that altogether history has been falsified

(see Malkin 148).

From her point of view, the incarceration of Japanese Americans was justified, the

conditions in the incarceration camps were adequate170 and overall racial profiling is acceptable

in times of war (see Malkin xxx, for example). Describing those who fight against racial

profiling and other means used by the US government as “civil liberties absolutists” (e.g.

Malkin xx) or “civil liberties Chicken Littles” (Malkin xxxiv) who play the “internment card”

(Malkin xxxi), Malkin claims that in times of war the “nation’s survival” (163) is more

important than civil rights. For her, nowadays, the so-called ‘War on Terror’ justifies the usage

of racial profiling just as the attack on Pearl Harbor had done during World War II. She claims

that the incarceration has often been used as an example “to attack virtually every homeland

security initiative aimed at protecting America from murderous Islamic extremists” (Malkin

xx). With this and other cases of a questionable choice of words, she expresses her beliefs.

Since she is a public figure, she could potentially also influence others.

Malkin’s account of the incarceration experience has been criticized by many. The

JACL published a response to her book in August 2004 recalling the “loyalty of Japanese

Americans during World War II” (JACL) and pointing out that the Commission on Wartime

Relocation and Internment of Civilians had indeed looked at the MAGIC cables. The JACL

further stressed “that [it] will continue to be outspoken toward any policy that targets or profiles

Arab or Muslim Americans or undermines the civil liberties of any American” (JACL).

Fred Korematsu, known for being a “[c]hallenger of World War II exclusion and

confinement” (Imai; see Introduction) whose case is mentioned in Malkin’s book (see Malkin

xxxi-xxxiii), reminds his readers of his own past arguing that “no one should ever be locked

170 She claims that “at most camps the [barbed wire] fencing was erected more to mark property boundaries and

keep out wildlife and range cattle than to corral camp residents” (Malkin 108).

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away simply because they share the same race, ethnicity, or religion as a spy or terrorist”

(Korematsu). Greg Robinson, who was criticized by Malkin in her book, wrote a review about

the book and states that “Malkin’s book is not a useful work of history, but a polemic that relies

for its attraction on sensationalism and overstatement” (“A Critique”). Eric Muller, another

important scholar of Japanese American history, reviewed her book and refutes her arguments

(see “Indefensible”).

Also in the Muslim American community, her book has been a point of discussion. It

has, for example, found mention in Stephen Sheehi’s book Islamophobia: The Ideological

Campaign against Muslims, in which it is described as a “gem of right-wing argumentation”

(136).

With this painting, Shimomura adds to these public statements against Malkin’s book

and protests her kind of rhetoric. By placing Malkin in one of the incarceration camps, therefore

making her experience what she claims was justified during World War II, shows what Chan

suggests is “artistic justice” (6). While this interpretation hints at Shimomura being revengeful,

Shimomura aims to show Malkin and those who believe her words what incarceration behind

barbed wire means. Even though the barbed wire is only in the background, the impression of

imprisonment dominates the painting together with the window frame in the front.

While the title directly addresses Michelle Malkin and suggests that she should ‘keep

on talkin’,’ her being depicted in an incarceration camp shows that she should consider her

words more carefully. Shimomura subsequently exemplifies his fear of people like Malkin

influencing public opinion concerning governmental action in the past and nowadays. He shows

that current ways of thinking about the incarceration experience are often still dominated by the

belief in the justness of the US government’s actions.

In a number of paintings and prints Shimomura delivers an even more clear warning of

what happens when the Japanese American incarceration is used to justify current political

action. He draws a comparison between the way in which Muslim Americans were treated after

9/11 and the way in which Japanese Americans were treated after the attack on Pearl Harbor.

By doing so Shimomura clearly declares his solidarity with the Muslim American community

and their fears of racism, discrimination and governmental action after 9/11.

Shimomura is not the only one who fears the repetition of history in the time after 9/11

and when Donald Trump became US President in January 2017. Many examples for Japanese

American solidarity towards Muslim Americans can be found: community solidarity, Internet

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postings, public statements or film projects. Generally speaking, Sunaina Marr Maira points out

that “[i]n most instances, Muslim/Arab-Japanese American solidarity was forged through a

common struggle for civil and citizen rights as enemy aliens in wartime” (116); Shimomura

encourages this connection and asks his audience to show solidarity with all minority groups

and anyone facing racism and discrimination in US society.

Consequently, Shimomura shows that the Japanese American incarceration is “merely

one egregious example of racism in a larger American tradition that punishes difference”

(Matsumura 142). In order to establish comparisons between the attack on the Twin Towers

and the attack on Pearl Harbor, Shimomura has to combine historical facts and symbols from

different time periods. This makes the paintings much more fictional than earlier ones.

Not Pearl Harbor171 (fig. 37) was created in 2012. With 72 inches high and 144 inches

wide, it is quite big and consists of four panels, similar to American Infamy #2. These panels

show different aspects of World War II and of the attack on the World Trade Center on

September 11, 2001. The two left panels are dominated by images of 9/11, the two on the right

by images of World War II. “Each scene or portrait is divided by black smoke, which dominates

large portions of the composition” (McCormick 162). This smoke is comparable to the smoke

or clouds shown in American Infamy #2 (fig. 30). Shimomura explains in an interview that the

“prevalent smoke that covers the painting emanates from the World Trade Center” (Collins

Goodyear 93). In addition, the shape of the smoke is similar to the shape of thought bubbles

found in comics and graphic novels. Since the smoke surrounds each scene depicted here, it

could be argued that these are aspects that Shimomura thinks of when he thinks about the

Japanese American incarceration and 9/11.

171 In the Stereotypes and Admonitions series, a painting of the same title is featured. It depicts “the faces of WWII

Japanese enemy stereotypes, now bearded and turbaned as the stereotypical terrorists” (“Roger Shimomura

Stereotypes”). Here, Shimomura conflates two stereotypical depictions of minority groups who face(d)

discrimination and racism in US society, particularly after the attack on Pearl Harbor and 9/11. Matsumura points

out that this “painting collapses the historical distance between 1941 and 2001 and highlights the eerie similarity

in American reactions to both attacks” (143), which can also be argued for the painting analyzed here.

206

Fig. 37 Shimomura, Roger. Not Pearl Harbor. 2012. Painting.


The title Not Pearl Harbor is Shimomura’s reply to a statement he had heard many times

after 9/11: “This is our Pearl Harbor” (Lawhorn). Shimomura states in an interview that,

“[w]ithin hours, comparisons were being made to the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor and how the

world would change forever” (Collins Goodyear 91/92). It was this realization and his fear that

Muslim Americans would be faced with discrimination and racism similar to what the Japanese

American community faced during World War II that led to this painting and similar ones. It is

interesting to see here that Roger Shimomura felt the need to produce new paintings and prints

to stress his fear of mistreatment of a part of US society similarly to other producers of media

of cultural memory discussed in previous chapters. Shimomura makes a statement against 9/11

being the cause of Muslim American incarceration; the Muslim American community should

not have to suffer the same consequences as those Japanese Americans faced after the attack on

Pearl Harbor in 1941.172

On the far left, in three small images, different aspects of the attack on the World Trade

Center are depicted: on top, barely recognizable because of its overall dark color, the inside of

“the cockpit of a plane just before it struck one of the towers” (McCormick 162). Below, a

172 That the way Muslim Americans were treated after 9/11 already had an effect on them, is shown by Sunaina

Marr Maira in her book The 9/11 Generation from 2016. In it, she analyzes the influence the ‘War on Terror’ has

had on Muslim American teenagers living in Silicon Valley in California. Just as many Japanese Americans and

scholars of Asian American studies argue, she says that the “exclusion of certain categories of people – defined

according to race, religion, or citizenship – is not exceptional but the norm” (6). Similarly to how racism towards

Japanese immigrants had existed prior to the Second World War, “racism and surveillance targeting Muslim and

Arab American youth did not begin on September 11, 2001” (5), but was intensified after 9/11.

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Muslim woman wearing a hijab carrying an American flag is shown. In the bottom left corner,

a portrait of Osama bin Laden is featured. Other images on the left two panels include a plane,

prisoners in orange uniform with their faces covered by black cloth, the inside of a plane during

a hijacking, three men one of whom has his head bandaged as well as the skyline of New York

City. The panels on the right include a mushroom cloud from a nuclear explosion and a Japanese

soldier on the top right, an idyllic beach, an exploding ship, “three Japanese bomber planes

flying” (McCormick 162), the Pearl Harbor Memorial with an American flying overhead as

well as the image of an incarceration camp.

The images in the middle connect what is shown on the left and on the right. In the

middle on top, portraits of former President George W. Bush and former President Roosevelt

are featured. The two were US Presidents during World War II and the ‘War on Terror’

respectively. Below them, in the center of the whole painting, one image is placed: it shows two

caricatures, one of a stereotypical terrorist with a beard wearing a turban and with a weapon in

his hand, the other of a stereotypical Japanese soldier in uniform, with buckteeth and yellow

skin. This shows, how in Shimomura’s mind, both World War II (in particular the incarceration

of Japanese Americans) and the ‘War on Terror’ following 9/11 were dominated by racism

towards a group of people. During World War II, it was the stereotypical depiction of Japanese

as frightening men that influenced Americans in their way of thinking about not only Japanese

soldiers, but also Japanese Americans living in the US. During the ‘War on Terror,’ the way

Muslims were depicted surely also influenced how people thought about Muslim Americans –

undeniably, both events “led to racist rhetoric and actions from many American citizens”

(McCormick 164).

Below the caricatures, the attack on the World Trade Center is depicted: one of the

towers has just been attacked, the other one is still standing. The afore-mentioned plane on the

left is, in its own image, flying towards the towers – so are the three Japanese bombers on the

right. While Japanese planes did not attack the Twin Towers, their position in the painting hints

at the comparison that Shimomura draws between the attack on Pearl Harbor and 9/11. Both

the attack on Pearl Harbor and the attack on the World Trade Center are considered attacks on

US society and are believed to threaten the US at its core. It was the same belief in the US as a

nation under attack that, so Shimomura shows, led to the incarceration of Japanese Americans

in 1942 and heightened discrimination towards Muslim Americans in 2001.

McCormick argues in this context that Shimomura “force[s] viewers to deal with their

own feelings about race and identity” (164). By comparing the two events, he shows how

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discrimination and racism prevailed after both: it is often those who are of a similar descent or

religion or those who look similar to those who committed atrocities, who suffer the

consequences and are being treated differently from the rest of US society. As Shimomura states,

he wants this painting “to ask the question: Just how far have we come in exercising good

judgment where racial profiling and religious tolerance are concerned?” (Collins Goodyear 93).

By looking at this painting, his answer becomes clear: still, discrimination following racial

profiling is an issue in US society that, so Shimomura seems to fear, might lead to similar

governmental action as in World War II.

After Donald Trump entered US politics as a

candidate for the presidency in 2016,

Shimomura’s messages have become even

more clear. Already in 2015, during his

presidential campaign, Donald Trump

suggested “a ‘total and complete’ ban on

Muslims entering the United States”

(Johnson/Weigel). This and other statements

by Donald Trump and his supporters led

Shimomura to creating prints and paintings

such as American Citizens (fig. 38). American

Citizens is a painting from 2015 about which

Shimomura said the following: “‘American

Citizen’ was one of about 7-8 paintings I’ve done in response to our new president’s stated

ambivalence towards the WWII incarceration of Japanese Americans. Based upon that fact it is

apparent today that Muslims are the new Japanese Americans” (“Guest Post”). This lithograph

therefore carries a similar message to Not Pearl Harbor: discrimination and racism remain a

problem in US society. With this print, Shimomura repeats his fear that Muslim Americans may

be incarcerated just as Japanese Americans had been during the Second World War. When

asked about an exhibition in 2017 that also featured this painting, Shimomura said that

“[h]opefully this exhibition […] will remind the viewers of the consequences of repeating past

mistakes” (“Guest Post”). With the help of his paintings, he aims at preserving the memory of

what happened during World War II in order to prevent it from happening again.

American Citizens shows two women: a Japanese American woman on the left, wearing

a red dress and glasses and a Muslim American woman on the right, dressed in black and

Fig. 38 Shimomura, Roger. American Citizens. 2015.

Painting.

Copyright © 2015 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced

with permission of the copyright owner.

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wearing a hijab. In the print, they are standing in an incarceration camp: they are behind barbed

wire and behind them one of the barracks is recognizable. Both are wearing bright red lipstick

and are looking friendly, even smiling. With their non-threatening looks Shimomura makes the

viewers empathize with them and their situation – he makes recipients aware of what they have

to go through as members of US society.

With the title Shimomura stresses that the two women depicted are US citizens, but

nevertheless have to fear discrimination and racism and in the end incarceration. What

happened during the Second World War is still imaginable nowadays, so Shimomura seems to

argue – especially during the time of the Trump administration. In an interview in 2017

Shimomura stated the following: “Under this presidential regime, anything is possible. [Trump]

even said he might have made the same choice that was made during World War II”

(Shimomura, “Paintings”).

This painting can easily be compared to Shimomura’s paintings Classmates (e.g.

Classmates #3) from the Minidoka on My Mind series as the setting is the same. In these

paintings, two people are featured respectively, barbed wire is shown and a barrack is depicted

in the background. One of these paintings, for example, shows a Japanese American girl and a

white girl with blonde hair. They look very similar: both are wearing dresses, their hair is about

the same length, they are both holding an apple in their right hand and both are looking directly

at the viewer with a smile on their faces. But, while the Japanese American girl is behind barbed

wire, the white girl is standing in front of the barbed wire; she is not incarcerated. McCormick

points out that the “most disturbing aspect of [this painting] is the smiling faces. […] the

children’s lack of fear or resentment heightens the viewer’s feeling of wrongness” (134). In this

painting, Shimomura points out that during World War II it was the looks that decided on who

was incarcerated and who was not. Because of its title, it can be assumed that the girls here are

indeed classmates who, until the incarceration, went to the same school and shared a classroom.

By placing the Muslim American woman and the Japanese American woman behind

barbed wire in American Citizens, Shimomura points out that the two are different from the

white woman depicted in the Classmates paintings: they (supposedly) look like the enemy

which makes them suspicious enough for US society and government to judge and place them

behind barbed wire.

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Fig. 39 Shimomura, Roger. Infamy Repeated #2.

2016. Painting.

Copyright © 2016 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced

with permission of the copyright owner.

Fig. 40 Shimomura, Roger. September 11. 2016.

Painting.

Copyright © 2016 by Roger Shimomura.

Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.

The paintings Infamy Repeated #2 (Acrylic, 24 x 24 inches) and September 11 (Acrylic,

24 x 24 inches), both from 2016, carry similar messages in that they both warn of a conflation

of what happened during the Second World War to Japanese Americans and what is happening

to Muslim Americans after 9/11. Infamy Repeated #2 shows the face of a Muslim American

man behind barbed wire. He is wearing a taqiyah cap and has a beard. His face is placed in the

left half of the painting. Behind him, a structure is visible that is reminiscent of that of the

barracks in the incarceration camps. The right half is in a greyish color, presumably the sky.

Barbed wire covers the whole painting.

Here, Shimomura repeats once again the message that he fears a repetition of history:

that Muslim Americans may be unjustly incarcerated, just as Japanese Americans had been.

The painting’s title reinforces this message: he talks about infamy repeated. As previously

mentioned, the term ‘infamy’ was used by Roosevelt to describe the attack on Pearl Harbor –

Shimomura uses it to argue that the Japanese American incarceration was what was truly

infamous. Now, he uses the same word to refer to the possible incarceration of Muslim

Americans – for him, that would be just as infamous as the incarceration of Japanese Americans

during the Second World War was.

September 11 shows in the left top corner the attack on the World Trade Center on

September 11, 2001. One of the towers has just been hit and there is smoke rising from it. The

rest of the painting shows the inside of a barrack: parts of wood that make up the construction

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are recognizable. The attack on the Twin Towers is visible through a window and through

barbed wire that covers this part of the painting. If the attack was seen by someone standing

inside a barrack, this might be the view he or she might be seeing.

The title of the series Minidoka and Beyond indicates what Shimomura here wants to

stress: he thinks beyond his own experiences and includes other minority groups’ experiences

in US society into account. Just as the attack on Pearl Harbor had led to the incarceration of

Japanese Americans, the attack on the September 11, 2001, may lead to incarceration of Muslim

Americans.

Clearly, Shimomura mixes past, present and a possible future in many of his prints and

paintings. He uses the Japanese American incarceration as a showcase to make his viewers

aware of what the incarceration was like and what others may experience if racism and

discrimination remain in US society. He thereby declares his solidarity with Muslim Americans

living in the US in current times and expresses his fear of a repetition of history.

Overall, Shimomura rightly calls himself “that stick in the eye that won’t let you forget”

(Shimomura, “Paintings”; see also Collins 101; Matsumoto, “Roger Shimomura”) the Japanese

American incarceration. By doing so, he also stands up for other minority groups in US society,

particularly Muslim Americans, asks the recipients for solidarity with one another and

encourages a feeling of belonging. With the help of titles and descriptions added to his paintings

and prints, he adds context to his media of cultural memory. Text and visuals work together and

enable Shimomura to share his belief that the Japanese American incarceration ought to be

remembered; a belief that is shared by the producers of graphic novels and picture books and

many others, as well.

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CONCLUSION

I started this dissertation by taking a look at various cases of mass incarceration in US history

that have resulted from discrimination and racism. Several studies, including mine, have

established that racism, discrimination and a feeling of threat were the main reasons for the

Japanese American incarceration during the Second World War. By looking at the way in which

the Japanese American incarceration is remembered in different media of cultural memory

produced since 1988, I have made clear that the incarceration experience is nowadays used as

a warning of history repeating itself. This warning is important: many cases of racism and

discrimination of which the consequences are yet unknown can be found even today. An

unfortunate example is the current pandemic: Americans of Asian descent experience racism

and discrimination even more than they did before the virus Covid-19 was discovered. This

stresses the need for further reflection on and research about the influences of racism and

discrimination in US society and the role the memory of past events plays for today’s society.

The focal point of my study has been media of cultural memory: through these, the story

of the Japanese American incarceration is told, remembered by and reaches a wide audience.

Two main functions of these media of cultural memory have become clear: (1) an educational

function through which knowledge is spread and empathy is created and (2) a therapeutic

function for both producers and recipients. Depending on the medium, the focus is on either

function, but both are always present in graphic novels, picture books, paintings and prints

analyzed in this study.

By including non-Japanese Americans’ media of cultural memory in my study, I have

pointed out that the Japanese American incarceration is not only a part of the cultural memory

of Japanese Americans, but also of US society at large. The trauma of the Japanese American

incarceration has manifested itself in former incarcerees and further generations of Japanese

Americans and, additionally, has had effects on non-Japanese Americans.

Despite their inherent differences and the degree to which their functions vary, the media

that I analyzed use particular and comparable narrative structures in order to tell the story of

the Japanese American incarceration. All analyzed media of cultural memory make use of (a)

visuals and text to display the trauma of the incarceration, (b) incorporate symbols of the

incarceration and remediate other media of cultural memory and (c) employ fact and fiction.

These three aspects have turned out to be decisive means through which the Japanese American

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incarceration is remembered, reflected on and used to raise awareness about injustices in US

society in past and present.

(1) Educational Function:

Clearly, all media of cultural memory that I analyzed have an educational function: they are

aimed at increasing knowledge about the Japanese American incarceration. Nonetheless,

recipients are not only asked to gather knowledge, but instead are encouraged to empathize with

the Japanese American community, see connections between different historical times and

reflect on experiences of minority groups in US society. Through this, the producers ask the

audience for solidarity in US society and establish a feeling of belonging. Consequently, I have

established that these are prosthetic and multidirectional memories of the Japanese American

incarceration.

Graphic novels as such may not be typical media that are used to educate their readers

since comics are often considered entertainment. However, the analysis of Faulkner’s Gaijin:

American Prisoner of War has shown that his graphic novel is, in the main, used to inform

people who are unaware of what happened in the US during the Second World War. While

readers are encouraged to feel with the family depicted, they are indirectly asked to learn

terminology and get to know the conditions of life in an incarceration camp. Pyle also uses his

graphic novel Take What You Can Carry to teach his audience, but here the focus is on the

emotions expressed by the mainly silent characters in the story set in the 1940s. These emotions

make recipients focus less on the overall conditions, but on the consequences that a life in an

incarceration camp has. Through this, compassion and empathy are generated.

Picture books as such are aimed at informing and teaching children about the world.

Bunting’s picture book, illustrated by Soentpiet, fulfills this educational function in that it

shows conditions of life in an incarceration camp directly. By setting the story in 1972, Bunting

exemplifies the influence of the past on the characters’ present and thereby enables recipients

to realize this connection. Yamasaki instead encourages recipients to feel with the main

characters and understand their suffering by depicting their emotions more closely. In both,

afterwords are used to address the readers directly which again hints at these picture books

being produced for people unaware of the Japanese American incarceration.

Shimomura’s paintings and prints have to be differentiated. While a part of his artwork

is clearly aimed at teaching the audience with a documentary style, another is aimed at making

recipients realize connections between historical events. In the latter, he places the Japanese

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American incarceration next to events such as 9/11 – these memories do not compete with one

another but are used to point out injustices in US society over time. Furthermore, his artwork is

used to warn of a repetition of history most clearly: he reflects on various cases of racism and

discrimination and expresses his fear of US society not having learned from the past.

(2) Therapeutic Function:

Media of cultural memory analyzed in this dissertation have a two-fold therapeutic function.

On the one hand, producers of these media are able to reflect on their own trauma(ta) and

personal standing in society. Furthermore, they allow themselves to work through their life

stories and potential traumata, be they individual, family or cultural ones. They do so by telling

stories through the respective media. The combination of text and visuals makes it possible to

tie together fragments of their stories (see (a) below). It is in particular visuality through which

they express their traumata as it enables them to show (rather than put into words) what they

experienced. Therefore, my analysis has shown that producers of media of cultural memory use

their narratives to cope with their traumata and reflect on their lives.

Japanese Americans Shimomura and Yamasaki clearly reflect on the postmemory of the

Japanese American incarceration that has been transferred to them through generations and

manifested itself as a transgenerational trauma; by putting this trauma in a picture book and on

canvas, they are able to express that what they cannot talk or write about. Especially in

Yamasaki’s abstract illustrations she gives an insight into her thought processes and the way in

which she chooses to work through the trauma her family experienced.

Faulkner, Pyle and Bunting, in contrast, do not personally suffer from the trauma of the

incarceration experience, but feel affected by it. These three producers reflect on the

incarceration experience as non-Japanese Americans. Interestingly, all three incorporate parts

of personal stories in the narratives: Faulkner reflects on family history, Pyle makes use of

childhood experiences to find a connection between two time periods and Bunting uses her

picture book to reflect on the unjust treatment of migrants. They therefore also use their

respective media of cultural memory as a means to work through personal stories and connect

these stories to the cultural trauma of the Japanese American incarceration.

On the other hand, recipients of the respective media are enabled to work through

personal or cultural traumata. They are able to see that what might occupy their minds on paper

or canvas and therefore gain access to the trauma. Depending on the recipients’ background

and experiences, they are provided with the means to work through their own, family or cultural

215

trauma. While I do not want to generalize their experiences, former incarcerees and members

of the Japanese American community in particular can begin to overcome the trauma and

stabilize their own and the community’s identity when accessing media of cultural memory.

Non-Japanese Americans on the other hand are more likely to feel with the experiences that

they get access to and can transfer this knowledge to other traumata they may feel.

What is noticeable in this context is that the two picture books analyzed in this

dissertation end on an optimistic note through which Bunting and Yamasaki enable recipients

to feel that the trauma has been resolved. Particularly children, the implied audience of picture

books, are given hope. Graphic novels, paintings and prints, in contrast, are mainly produced

for adults – the storylines told in the two graphic novels are more difficult to grasp;

Shimomura’s prints and paintings, while often in an almost documentary and direct style, leave

the recipients with a feeling of unease through which recipients are encouraged to think about

their own experiences.

Overall, the therapeutic function of media of cultural memory shows that the Japanese

American incarceration is reflected on from various perspectives through which connections to

other personal stories and traumata become clear. All media analyzed here have a “curative”

(Böger, “Silence” 605) function for both producers and recipients.

Graphic novels, picture books, prints and paintings analyzed in this study make use of

the following narrative strategies through which both the educational and the therapeutic

function become clear.

(A) Visuals and Text:

Visuals are an important means that connects to the before-mentioned functions. The visuals,

be they panels in a graphic novel, illustrations in a picture book or prints and paintings by an

artist, allow the producers to put on paper that what they cannot communicate via text alone:

they can work through their personal experiences or traumata, be they individual or cultural.

By taking a look at the trauma through visuals, recipients get access to it and can either simply

learn about the time depicted or work through their own trauma. They get a glimpse of other

peoples’ traumata and experiences and therefore have the opportunity to feel with those people.

The analyzed media of cultural memory combine text and visuals in different ways.

In graphic novels text is included in the visuals via speech bubbles, caption boxes etc.

Recipients therefore are closely involved in what is happening: they can see the characters’

words and thoughts right in front of them and imagine themselves in their place. Picture books

216

make use of illustrations and text delivered in blocks through which recipients are forced to

draw attention to text and visuals separately. This gives both text and visuals more power as

such, but the recipients have to understand their combined meaning. Gaps that are the result of

combining text and visuals must thus be interpreted by the recipients which engages their

attention. Shimomura’s paintings and prints are combined with text next to or below the

respective artwork; text and visuals are even more divided than in picture books. The recipients

here read the text or title of the artwork first and then use knowledge gained there to understand

what is depicted. Consequently, text and visuals play an important role in these media – neither

can be neglected, even though it is in particular visuals, as I have shown, which enable both

producers and recipients to gain access to the trauma of the Japanese American incarceration.

(B) Symbols and Remediation:

In all media of cultural memory analyzed here symbols and visual markers of the incarceration

experience of Japanese Americans are present. These include barbed wire fences, guard towers

and a bleak environment such as a desert or mountains in the background. With the help of

these symbols, the producers create a threatening atmosphere through which the realities of the

incarceration are emphasized. The recipients look at and thereby learn about the conditions of

incarceration and are asked to feel with the Japanese Americans depicted and the Japanese

American community in general.

Reappearing symbols also are a means through which the recipients are engaged.

Bunting and Soentpiet employ reappearing memory objects that capture the audience’s

attention throughout the story told – the carved birds in Pyle’s graphic novel have a similar

function in that they connect different time periods. When facing these symbols and memory

objects recipients are enabled to reflect on their own, their family’s or the cultural trauma of the

Japanese American incarceration. Through this, these symbols support the therapeutic function

of the media.

Oftentimes, producers remediate other media to use their iconic status in order to stress

that their depictions are based on reality. Furthermore, by reusing other media of cultural

memory, they ask the recipients to make connections between their works and prior knowledge.

In particular, photographs are a source of inspiration for producers of the here-analyzed media,

which also stresses their function for processes of remembering. Photographs enable recipients

to take a look at what is seemingly a real depiction of the past – by remediating photographs,

producers ensure the audience that what they see is historically accurate. Of course, this is not

217

necessarily true – producers base these depictions on their own traumatic experiences or on

research both of which is influenced by their perspective.

(C) Fact and Fiction:

(A) and (b) already include aspects of fact and fiction. Panels in graphic novels, illustrations,

paintings and prints are always interpretations and are therefore, in some way, always fictional.

Nevertheless, it is possible to differentiate different degrees of fictionality and factuality and

the way in which producers make use of them. All these media of cultural memory employ and

stress historical accuracy in some way but add to or change historical reality (if there is such a

thing) to fit their needs and bring across their messages. Furthermore, fictional elements enable

producers to tie together fragments of their personal stories and this historical event in order to

produce a coherent story through which they work through their own personal experiences and

traumata.

Faulkner and Yamasaki use parts of their families’ history but amend these stories and

use fictional elements in order to be able to tell a logical story from which the recipients can

learn. Pyle uses a constructed connection between his life and the life of Japanese American

incarcerees to tell his story and thereby stresses that past and present are intertwined. In order

to point out ongoing racist behavior in US society, Shimomura combines historical events in

his paintings and prints. In this way, he creates a fictional setting through which he is able to

communicate a message of warning to the audience.

Mixing fact and fiction in media of cultural memory also carries a certain risk, in my

opinion. In particular in Bunting’s picture book and Faulkner’s graphic novel the setting of the

respective story is only very loosely based on reality but so close to it that recipients may have

trouble differentiating fictional and factual elements. As media of cultural memory, it is of

course not the function of these works to depict historical reality in all details – but, if the

producers aim at educating their audience, I suggest that factual and fictional elements should

either be differentiable or be pointed out.

The here-analyzed media of cultural memory show is that there are connections between

different historical periods and events – the connection often is shown to be rooted in racism

and discrimination. While media of cultural memory are means to remember, my analysis has

shown that these particular media are not simply reminders of a past event. Their message is

that the Japanese American incarceration should not be forgotten but can instead be used to

warn of similar events happening in present and future. Thus, past, present and future appear to

218

be intertwined and recipients are asked to realize that history can easily repeat itself. With the

help of visuals and text as well as fact and fiction, producers show that past, present and future

are connected and that society can only benefit from remembering this important time in US

history.

The results of this study could provide a starting point for further investigation into the

way in which the Japanese American incarceration is depicted in various cultural objects.

Following studies could focus on media of cultural memory that use other narrative strategies

and incorporate sound as these add another layer to the way in which stories of the incarceration

are told and remembered. These could include documentary films,173 popular films (e.g. Snow

Falling on Cedars) or the musical Allegiance. Media that communicate only via sound may

also be worth taking a look at, e.g. the podcast Scapegoat Cities or music (e.g. Japanese

American singer Kishi Bashi’s Omoiyari).

Furthermore, the way in which popular media engage with the Japanese American

incarceration should be considered. TV series such as Hawaii Five-O or Teen Wolf tell the story

of the Japanese American incarceration in single episodes, which have been criticized by Niiya,

for example (see Niiya, “Making”). On platforms such as Facebook, Twitter or in TED-talks

producers of media of cultural memory and activists share their opinions in a public forum that

can be accessed by anyone.174 Here, visuals and text often mix and could thus add to my

findings. Another interesting example is the Nikkei Democracy Project which can be accessed

on Facebook and Vimeo; activists produce videos which show connections between the

Japanese American incarceration and current events (see Ikeda; Nikkei).

An analysis of the usage of hashtags and statements such as #NeverForget or

#NeverAgainIsNow could furthermore be beneficial when considering solidarity, also between

Japanese Americans and other minority groups in US society (see e.g. Shibuya) that I have

hinted at already. An example for the way the experiences of Muslim Americans and Japanese

Americans are connected is the short film Letters from Camp by Frank Chi from 2016. In this

short film, Muslim American children read letters to Japanese American men and women; these

letters were written by Japanese American incarcerees during World War II (see e.g. Kai-Hwa

173 In a first version of this dissertation, I included an analysis of the documentary films Toyo’s Camera: Japanese

American History during WWII and History and Memory: For Akiko and Takashige. I decided to exclude it from

this final version as the focus on sound as an element in the analysis is beyond the scope of this study. 174 An example is George Takei and the way in which he points out racism and discrimination in US society and

uses his status to raise awareness about the Japanese American incarceration (see Takei, “International” and

“Why”).

219

Wang, “Muslim”; Kohli; “Letters from Camp”). Other minority groups’ experiences have also

been compared to the Japanese American incarceration and the way in which Japanese

Americans were treated in US society. This has increased solidarity between various minority

groups, an aspect that I find worth analyzing in more detail. Examples include the so-called

Refugee Crisis (see Varner, “Anti-Refugee”) or the Black Lives Matter movement (see Varner,

“Intersections”).

Further research could – or should – be done when looking at the current pandemic, as

pointed out above.175 Since the first cases of Covid-19 infections were found in China, racist

behavior towards Asian Americans has increased, as reported by the BBC, e.g. (see Cabral;

Cheung/Feng/Deng). This also implies that the idea of the ‘yellow peril’ is still on peoples’

minds, as Esther Wang rightly points out (see Wang). Some academic studies have already

looked at this phenomenon (see Dhanani/Franz; He et al.; Li et al.; Viladrich); it would be

worthwhile here to take a look at anti-Asian (American) sentiments throughout time or the way

in which specific diseases have been associated with people of a specific descent. Statements

by former President Trump such as calling Covid-19 a “Chinese virus” or “Kung Flu” (see e.g.

“President”; Rogers/Jakes/Swanson) show that politicians nowadays do not always join

attempts to create a more united society, but instead support racist behavior. 176 In other

countries discrimination of and racism towards people of Asian ancestry have also been

reported on since the outbreak of the pandemic.

Consequently, there are various aspects that can be paid attention to and that apply not

only to US society, but to society worldwide. Still in the 21st century racism, discrimination and

the fear of what is unfamiliar have not ceased to exist but instead have increased. With studies

such as mine it is possible to point out ways in which the past can be used to call attention to

current and ongoing problems in the world and through that contribute to fighting racism and

discrimination. The Japanese American incarceration is just one example of a group of people

experiencing unjust incarceration as a result of racism and discrimination in society. Maybe

society is able to understand the warning included in media of cultural memory reminding us

of these experiences.

175 Already in 2020, Nicolas Demertzis and Ron Eyerman have looked at the way in which this new virus can be

considered a cultural trauma in their article “Covid-19 as Cultural Trauma.” 176 In 2015 David A. Bowers, mayor of Roanoke in Virginia, stated the following: “I’m reminded that President

Franklin D. Roosevelt felt compelled to sequester Japanese foreign nationals after the bombing of Pearl Harbor,

and it appears that the threat of harm to America from Isis now is just as real and serious as that from our enemies

then” (quoted in Gajanan). This is a clear example of politicians using the Japanese American incarceration to

justify political action nowadays.

220

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