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. 7 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 138. ...................................................................................... 76
Fig. 8 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 23. ........................................................................................ 77
Fig. 9 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 22. ........................................................................................ 79
Fig. 10 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 33. ...................................................................................... 80
Fig. 11 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 62. ...................................................................................... 81
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. 15 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 18/19. ..................................................... 133
Fig. 16 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 26/27. ..................................................... 136
Fig. 17 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 28/29. ..................................................... 140
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. 21 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 15/16. ............................................................................................ 155
Fig. 22 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 17/18. ............................................................................................ 156
Fig. 23 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 29/30. ............................................................................................ 158
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
Fig. 28 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 8 and Page 8. 1999. Lithograph in handmade
book. .......................................................................................................................................................... 185
Fig. 29 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 9 and Page 9. 1999. Lithograph in handmade
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.
50
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
51
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
53
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
54
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
55
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.
56
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.
57
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.
58
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
60
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.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted
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.
Fig. 5 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 4/5.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted
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
Fig. 6 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 24.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted
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.
76
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.
Fig. 8 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can
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).
79
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.
Fig. 9 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 22.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and
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.
Fig. 10 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 33.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and
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
Fig. 11 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can
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.
Fig. 12 Pyle, Kevin C. Take What You Can Carry. 130/131.
Selection from Take What You Can Carry. Text and illustrations copyright © 2012 by Kevin C. Pyle. Reprinted
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
83
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:
88
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).
89
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).
90
‘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
91
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.
92
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.
93
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.
94
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
95
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
98
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
100
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
101
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
102
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
103
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
104
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
105
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.
106
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.
107
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.
108
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.
109
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.
110
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
111
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.
112
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.
113
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
114
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.
115
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).
116
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
117
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
118
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
119
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.
120
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).
121
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.
122
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
123
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,
124
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.
125
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
126
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
127
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
128
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.
Fig. 14 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 10/11.
Selection from So Far from the Sea. Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Chris Soentpiet. Reprinted by permission.
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
129
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.
130
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
131
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.
132
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).
133
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.
Fig. 15 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 18/19.
Selection from So Far from the Sea. Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Chris Soentpiet. Reprinted by permission.
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
134
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.,
135
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
136
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.
Fig. 16 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 26/27.
Selection from So Far from the Sea. Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Chris Soentpiet. Reprinted by permission.
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
137
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).
138
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.
139
(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.
140
Fig. 17 Bunting, Eve. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. 28/29.
Selection from So Far from the Sea. Illustrations copyright © 1998 by Chris Soentpiet. Reprinted by permission.
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
141
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
142
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”).
143
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,
144
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.
145
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
146
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.
147
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.
148
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
149
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.
150
Fig. 19 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 19/20.
Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by
permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
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
151
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.
152
the FBI. On these two pages, Yamasaki indicates the disruption and changes to their family life
in both text and illustration.
Fig. 20 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 5/6.
Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by
permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
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:
153
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,
154
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).
155
Fig. 21 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 15/16.
Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by
permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
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.
156
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 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 17/18.
Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by
permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
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
157
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
158
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 Yamasaki, Katie. Fish for Jimmy. 29/30.
Selection from Fish for Jimmy. Text and illustrations copyright © 2013 by Katie Yamasaki. Reprinted by
permission of Holiday House Publishing, Inc. All rights reserved.
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
159
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”
160
(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.
161
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.
162
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
163
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).
164
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
165
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”).
166
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.
167
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).
168
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.
169
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.
170
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
171
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.
172
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.
173
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).
174
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”).
175
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.
176
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.
177
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.
Copyright © 1997 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission
of the copyright owner.
178
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.
Copyright © 1997 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission
of the copyright owner.
179
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.
180
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”).
181
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
182
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.
183
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.
184
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.
185
Fig. 28 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 8 and Page 8. 1999. Lithograph in handmade book.
Copyright © 1999 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
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.
186
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.
Fig. 29 Shimomura, Roger. Memories of Childhood, Text 9 and Page 9. 1999. Lithograph in handmade book.
Copyright © 1999 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
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).
187
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.
188
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.
189
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.
Copyright © 2006 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
Fig. 31 Shimomura, Roger. American Guardian. 2008. Lithograph.
Copyright © 2008 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
190
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.
191
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.
192
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,
193
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.
194
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.
195
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.
196
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.
Copyright © 2006 by Roger
Shimomura. Reproduced with
permission of the copyright owner.
197
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
198
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).
199
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).
200
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
permission of the copyright owner.
201
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.
202
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.
Copyright © 2006 by Roger
Shimomura. Reproduced with
permission of the copyright owner.
203
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).
204
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
205
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.
Copyright © 2012 by Roger Shimomura. Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner.
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.
207
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
208
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.
209
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.
210
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
211
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.
212
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
213
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
214
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
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Abatemarco, Michael. “East is West: Roger Shimomura and Asian-American Identity.”
Pasateimpo: The New Mexican (Aug. 10-16, 2012): 70-71. Print.
Abe, Frank. “The First Day of Remembrance, Thanksgiving Weekend 1978.” Densho Blog.
Densho, 21 Nov. 2018. Web. 03 Dec. 2018. <https://densho.org/the-first-day-of-
remembrance-thanksgiving-weekend-1978/>.
“About the 1940 Census.” 1940census.archives.gov. The U.S. National Archives and Records
Administration, n.d. Web. 29 May 2020. <https://1940census.archives.gov/about/>.
Adamowicz Kless, Lisa. “Take What You Can Carry.” 2ndFirstLook.com. 2nd First Look, 20
May 2012. Web. 18 July 2018. <https://www.2ndfirstlook.com/2012/05/take-what-
you-can-carry.html>.
Adams, Ansel. Born Free and Equal: The Story of Loyal Japanese-Americans. New York:
U.S. Camera, 1944. Print.
---. Manzanar Relocation Center from Tower. 1943. Photograph. Library of Congress.
Library of Congress, n.d. Web. 02 Sept. 2020. <www.loc.gov/item/2002695969/>.
---. Entrance to Manzanar, Manzanar Relocation Center. 1943. Photograph.
Library of Congress. Library of Congress, n.d. Web. 10 Nov. 2020.
<https://www.loc.gov/item/2002695960/>.
Alexander, Jeffrey C., Ron Eyerman, Bernhard Giesen, Neil J. Smelser, and Piotr Sztompka.
Cultural Trauma and Collective Identity. Berkeley: U of California P, 2004. Print.
Alexander, Jeffrey C. “Culture, Trauma, Morality and Solidarity: The Social Construction of
‘Holocaust’ and Other Mass Murders.” S:I.M.O.N. – Shoah: Intervention. Methods.
Documentation 1.2 (2014): 156-167. Print.
---. “Toward a Theory of Cultural Trauma.” Alexander/Eyerman/Giesen/Smelser/Sztompka 1-
31. Print.
Alexander, Jeffrey C., and Elizabeth Butler Breese. “Introduction: On Social Suffering and Its
Cultural Construction.” Introduction. Narrating Trauma: On the Impact of Collective
Suffering. Ed. Ron Eyerman, Jeffrey C. Alexander, and Elizabeth Butler Breese.
Boulder: Paradigm Publishers, 2011. xi-xxxv. Print.
Alinder, Jasmine. Moving Images: Photography and the Japanese American Internment.
Urbana: U of Illinois P, 2009. Print.
“Allegiance.” Allegiancemusical.com. Allegiance, 2021. Web. 17 Feb. 2021.
<http://allegiancemusical.com/>.
Alphen, Ernst van. “Symptoms of Discursivity: Experience, Memory, and Trauma.” Acts of
221
Memory: Cultural Recall in the Present. Ed. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe, and Leo
Spitzer. Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. 24-38. Print.
“A More Perfect Union: Japanese Americans & the U.S. Constitution.” Smithsonian National
Museum of American History. Smithsonian National Museum of American History,
n.d. Web. 06 Aug. 2018.
<http://amhistory.si.edu/perfectunion/experience/index.html>.
Anderson, Benedict. Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of
Nationalism. 2nd ed. London: Verso, 2006. Print.
“Ansel Adams’s Photographs of Japanese-American Internment at Manzanar.” Library of
Congress. Library of Congress, n.d. Web. 26 July 2018.
<http://www.loc.gov/pictures/collection/manz/>.
Anstey, Michèle, and Geoff Bull. “The Picture Book: Modern and Postmodern.” International
Companion Encyclopedia of Children’s Literature. 2nd ed. Ed. Peter Hunt. New York:
Routledge, 2004. 328-339. Print.
Anthias, Floya. “Identity and Belonging: Conceptualisations and Political Framings.” KLA
Working Paper Series No. 8. Cologne: Research Network for Latin America, 2013. 1-
22. Print.
Antliff, Allan. “Pedagogical Subversion: The ‘Un-American’ Graphics of Kevin Pyle.”
SubStance 46.2 (2017): 95-109. Print.
Antonsich, Marco. “Searching for Belonging – An Analytical Framework.” Geography
Compass 4.6 (2010): 644-659. Print.
Antze, Paul, and Michael Lambek. “Introduction: Forecasting Memory.” Introduction. Tense
Past: Cultural Essays in Trauma and Memory. Ed. Paul Antze and Michael Lambek.
New York: Routledge, 1996. xi-xxxviii. Print.
“Art Term Pop Art.” Tate.org.uk. Tate, n.d. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.tate.org.uk/art/art-terms/p/pop-art>.
Asai, Susan Miyo. “Transformations of Tradition: Three Generations of Japanese American
Music Making.” The Musical Quarterly 79.3 (1995): 429-453. Print.
Assmann, Aleida. “Anreicherung der Kultur, Vervielfältigung der Stimmen.” Kulturelles
Erbe: Was uns wichtig ist! Ed. Sabine Benzer. Wien: Folio, 2020. 11-36. Print.
---. Cultural Memory and Western Civilization: Functions, Media, Archives. Cambridge:
Cambridge UP, 2011. Print.
---. “Memory, Individual and Collective.” The Oxford Handbook of Contextual Political
222
Analysis. Ed. Robert E. Goodin and Charles. Tilly. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2006. 210-
224. Print.
Assmann, Jan. “Collective Memory and Cultural Identity.” Trans. John Czaplicka. New
German Critique 65 (1995): 125-133. Print.
---. “Communicative and Cultural Memory.” Cultural Memory Studies. An International and
Interdisciplinary Handbook. Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter,
2008. 109-118. Print.
---. Cultural Memory and Early Civilization: Writing, Remembrance, and Political
Imagination. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2011. Print.
---. “Globalization, Universalism, and the Erosion of Cultural Memory.” Memory in a Global
Age: Discourses, Practices and Trajectories. Ed. Aleida Assmann and Sebastian
Conrad. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010. 121-137. Print.
Baetens, Jan. “Graphic Novels: Literature Without Text?” English Language Notes 46.2
(2008): 77-88. Print.
Bal, Mieke. Introduction. Acts of Memory: Cultural Recall in the Present. Ed. Mieke Bal,
Jonathan Crewe, and Leo Spitzer. Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. vii-xvii. Print.
Bartal, Ory. “From Hiroshima to Fukushima: Comics and Animation as Subversive Agents of
Memory in Japan.” Interdisciplinary Handbook of Trauma and Culture. Ed. Yochai
Ataria, David Gurewith, Haviva Pedaya, and Yuval Neria. Basel: Springer, 2016. 101-
116. Print.
Bechdel, Alison. Fun Home: A Family Tragicomic. New York: Houghton Mifflin, 2007. Print.
Beckett, Sandra L. Crossover Picturebooks: A Genre for All Ages. New York: Routledge,
2012. Print.
Bennett, W. Lance. “Storytelling Criminal Trials: A Model of Social Judgment.”
L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, Memory 72-103. Print.
Bieger, Laura. Belonging and Narrative: A Theory of the American Novel. Bielefeld:
transcript, 2018. Print.
---. “No Place Like Home; or, Dwelling in Narrative.” New Literary History 46 (2015): 17-39.
Print.
---. “Some Thoughts on the Spatial Forms and Practices of Storytelling.” Zeitschrift für
Anglistik und Amerikanistik 64.1 (2016): 11-26. Print.
Birke, Dorothee, and Birte Christ. “Paratext and Digitized Narrative: Mapping the Field.”
Narrative 21.1 (2013): 65-87. Print.
Blakemore, Erin. “View Daily Life in a Japanese-American Internment Camp Through the
223
Lens of Ansel Adams.” Smithsonian.com. Smithsonian Magazine, 28 Feb. 2017. Web.
26 July 2018. <https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smart-news/view-daily-life-
japanese-american-internment-camp-through-lens-ansel-adams-
180962307/#tRTRDw4Qx9ETwp0U.99>.
Bodnar, John. “Public Memory in an American City: Commemoration in Cleveland.”
Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity. Ed. John R. Gillis. Princeton:
Princeton UP, 1994. 74-89. Print.
Böger, Astrid. “Conquering Silence: David Small’s ‘Stitches’ and the Art of Getting Better.”
Amerikastudien/American Studies 56.4 (2011): 603-616. Print.
---. “Grafische Literatur (A. Bechdel: Fun Home und D. Small: Stitches).” Handbuch
Literatur & Visuelle Kultur. Ed. Claudia Benthien and Brigitte Weingart. Berlin: De
Gruyter, 2014. 544-560. Print.
Bolter, Jay David, and Richard Grusin. Remediation: Understanding New Media. Boston:
MIT P, 2000. Print.
Brabander, Jennifer M., and Roger Sutton. Rev. of So Far from the Sea, by Eve Bunting. The
Horn Book Magazine 74.3 (1998): 329. Print.
Brison, Susan J. “Trauma Narratives and the Remaking of the Self.” Acts of Memory:
Cultural Recall in the Present. Ed. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe, and Leo Spitzer.
Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. 39-54. Print.
Brockmeier, Jens, and Donal Carbaugh. Introduction. Narrative Identity: Studies in
Autobiography, Self and Culture. Ed. Jens Brockmeier and Donal Carbaugh.
Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2001. 1-24. Print.
Brooks, Peter. Reading for the Plot: Design and Intention in Narrative. Cambridge: Harvard
UP, 1992. Print.
Brubaker, Rogers, and Frederick Cooper. “Beyond ‘Identity.’” Theory and Society 29.1
(2000): 1-47. Print.
Bruner, Jerome. “Life as Narrative.” Social Research 73.3 (2004): 691-710. Print.
---. “Self-making and World-making.” Narrative Identity: Studies in Autobiography, Self and
Culture. Ed. Jens Brockmeier and Donal Carbaugh. Amsterdam: John Benjamins,
2001. 25-38. Print.
Brunow, Dagmar. Remediating Transcultural Memory: Documentary Filmmaking as Archival
Intervention. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2015. Print.
Bunting, Eve. “Being There – and Other Kinds of Research.” The Writer 109.12 (1996): n.
224
pag. Web. 14 Feb. 2019. <http://link.galegroup.com/apps/doc/A18881100/LitRC?u=
freiburg&sid=LitRC&xid=21aac96b>.
---. So Far from the Sea. Illus. Chris Soentpiet. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1998. Print.
---. “Transcript from an Interview with Eve Bunting.” Interview by ReadingRockets.
ReadingRockets.com. WETA, 2019. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://www.readingrockets.org/books/interviews/bunting/transcript>.
Burton, Jeffery F., et al. Confinement and Ethnicity: An Overview of World War II Japanese
American Relocation Sites. 2nd ed. Seattle: U of Washington P, 2002. Print.
Burton, Jeffery F., et al. I Rei To: Archeological Investigations at the Manzanar Relocation
Center Cemetery, Manzanar National Historic Site, California. Tucson: Western
Archeological and Conservation Center, 2001. Print.
Cabral, Sam. “Covid ‘hate crimes’ against Asian Americans on rise.” BBC.com. BBC, 1 Mar.
2021. Web. 15 Mar. 2021. <https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-56218684>.
Cai, Mingshui. “Can We Fly across Cultural Gaps on the Wings of Imagination? Ethnicity,
Experience, and Cultural Authenticity.” Stories Matter: The Complexity of Cultural
Authenticity in Children’s Literature. Ed. Dana L. Fox and Kathy G. Short. 167-181.
Print.
Calhoun, Craig. “Social Theory and the Politics of Identity.” Social Theory and the
Politics of Identity. Ed. Craig Calhoun. Cambridge: Blackwell Publishers, 1994. 9-36.
Print.
California State Senate. AJR-30 Japanese American World War II Internment. Assembly Joint
Resolution No. 30. Chapter 61, 2003. California Legislative Information. Web. 05
Nov. 2018. <http://leginfo.legislature.ca.gov/faces/billTextClient.xhtml?bill_
id=200320040AJR>.
Carr, David. “Narrative and the Real World: An Argument for Continuity.” History and
Theory 25.2 (1986): 117-131. Print.
Caruth, Cathy, ed. Trauma: Explorations in Memory. Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 1995.
Print.
Caruth, Cathy. Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, and History. Baltimore: John
Hopkins UP, 1996. Print.
Castells, Manuel. The Power of Identity. 2nd ed. Chichester: John Wiley & Sons, 2010. Print.
“Cemetery Offerings.” National Park Service. U.S. Department of the Interior, n.d. Web. 15
Mar. 2019. <https://www.nps.gov/museum/exhibits/manz/cemetery.html>.
Chan, Gei. “Roger Shimomura, Artist on a Mission.” Northwest Asian Week: (24 Nov-30
225
Nov. 2007): 6. Print.
Chapman, L., et al. “The effectiveness of art therapy interventions in reducing post traumatic
stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms in pediatric trauma patients.” Art Therapy 18
(2001): 100-104. Print.
Chen, Fu-jen, and Su-lin Yu. “Asian North-American Children’s Literature About the
Internment: Visualizing and Verbalizing the Traumatic Thing.” Child Lit Educ 37
(2006): 111-124. Print.
---. “Reclaiming the Southwest: A Traumatic Space in the Japanese American Internment
Narrative.” Journal of the Southwest 47.4 (2005): 551-570. Print.
Cheung, Floyd. “Psychology and Asian American Literature: Application of the Life-Story
Model of Identity to No-No Boy.” The New Centennial Review 6.2 (2006): 191-214.
Print.
Cheung, Helier, Zhaoyin Feng, and Boer Deng. “Coronavirus: What attacks on Asians reveal
about American identity.” BBC.com. BBC, 27 May 2020. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.bbc.com/news/world-us-canada-52714804>.
“Chris Soentpiet.” Penguinrandomhouse.com. Penguin Random House Network, 2019. Web.
15 Feb. 2019. <https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/authors/245455/chris-
soentpiet>.
Christensen, Nina. “Between Picture Book and Graphic Novel: Mixed Signals in Kim Fupz
Aakeson and Rasmus Bregnhøi’s I love you Denmark.” More Words about Pictures:
Current Research on Picture Books and Visual/Verbal Texts for Young People. Ed.
Naomi Hamer, Perry Nodelman, and Mavis Reimer. New York: Routledge, 2017.155-
170. Print.
Chute, Hillary. “Comics as Literature? Reading Graphic Narrative.” PMLA 123.2 (2008):
452-465. Print.
---. Disaster Drawn: Visual Witness, Comics, and Documentary Form. Cambridge: Harvard
UP, 2016. Print.
Clough, Rob. “Reviews: Take What You Can Carry.” Rev. of Take What You Can Carry, by
Kevin C. Pyle. The Comics Journal. Fantagraphics Book, 22 June 2012. Web. 18 July
2018. <http://www.tcj.com/reviews/take-what-you-can-carry/>.
Cockrell, Amanda. “Bunting, Eve.” The Oxford Encyclopedia of Children’s Literature.
Oxford Reference, 2019. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://www.oxfordreference.com/view/10.1093/acref/9780195146561.001.0001/acref
-9780195146561-e-0477?rskey=6X4Wno&result=1>.
226
Colborn-Roxworthy, Emily. “‘Manzanar, the Eyes of the World Are upon You’: Performance
and Archival Ambivalence at a Japanese American Internment Camp.” Theatre
Journal 59.2 (2007): 189-214. Print.
Collins, Catherine Ann. “‘America Behind Barbed Wire’: Artistic Representations of
Japanese-American Internment During World War Two.” War, Experience and
Memory in Global Cultures since 1914. Ed. Angela K. Smith and Sandra Barkhof.
New York: Routledge, 2018. 89-109. Print.
Collins Goodyear, Anne. “Roger Shimomura: An American Artist.” American Art 27.1
(2013): 70-93. Print.
“Common Ground: The Heart of the Community.” Janm.org. Japanese American National
Museum, 2021. Web. 24 Feb. 2021. <http://www.janm.org/exhibits/commonground/>.
Connolly, Paula T. “Retelling 9/11: How Picture Books Re-Envision National Crises.” The
Lion and the Unicorn 32 (2008): 288-303. Print.
Cook, Roy T. “Drawings of Photographs in Comics.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art
Criticism 70.1 (2012): 129-138. Print.
Creef, Elena Tajima. Imaging Japanese America: The Visual Construction of Citizenship,
Nation, and the Body. New York: New York UP, 2004. Print.
Crites, Stephen. “The Narrative Quality of Experience.” L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, Memory
26-50. Print.
---. “Storytime: Recollecting the Past and Projecting the Future.” Narrative Psychology: The
Storied Nature of Human Conduct. Ed. Theodore R. Sarbin. London: Praeger, 1986.
152-173. Print.
Crockett, Talia E. “The Silence of Fragmentation: Ethical Representations of Trauma in
Young Adult Holocaust Literature.” Barnboken – tidskrift för
barnlitteratursforskning/Journal of Children’s Literature 43 (2020): 1-18. Print.
Crownshaw, Richard. “The Limits of Transference: Theories of Memory and Photography in
W. G. Sebald’s Austerlitz.” Erll/Rigney 67-90. Print.
Danico, Mary Yu, and Franklin Ng. Asian American Issues. Westport: Greenwood Press,
2004. Print.
Daniels, Roger. Concentration Camps: North America – Japanese in the United States and
Canada during World War II. Reprint ed. Malabar: Krieger, 1993. Print.
---. “Words Do Matter: A Note on Inappropriate Terminology and the Incarceration of the
Japanese Americans.” Part 1-5. Discover Nikkei: Japanese Migrants and Their
Descendants. Japanese American National Museum, 2008. Web. 06 Aug. 2015.
227
<http://www.discovernikkei.org/en/journal/2008/2/1/words-do-matter/>.
Demertzis, Nicolas. “The Drama of the Greek Civil War Trauma.” Narrating Trauma: On the
Impact of Collective Suffering. Ed. Ron Eyerman, Jeffrey C. Alexander, and Elizabeth
Butler Breese. Boulder: Paradigm Publishers, 2011. 133-161. Print.
Demertzis, Nicolas, and Ron Eyerman. “Covid-19 as Cultural Trauma.” American Journal of
Cultural Sociology 8 (2020): 428-450. Print.
Dennett, Daniel. “The Self as a Center of Narrative Identity.” Self and Consciousness:
Multiple Perspectives. Ed. Frank S. Kessel, Pamela M. Cole, and Dale L. Johnson.
Hillsdale: Erlbaum, 1992. 103-115. Print.
“Densho: The Japanese American Legacy Project.” Densho: The Japanese America Legacy
Project. Densho, 2019. Web. 11 Dec. 2018. <https://densho.org/>.
Dhanani, Lindsay Y., and Berkeley Franz. “Unexpected Public Health Consequences of the
COVID-19 Pandemic: a National Survey examining anti-Asian attitudes in the USA.”
International Journal of Public Health 65 (2020): 747-754. Print.
Diamond, Shira, and Amit Shrira. “From ‘a Nothing’ to Something Special: Art as a Space of
Holding Attunement in the Creative Experience of Holocaust Survivor Artists.”
Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts. Advance Online Publication, 2020:
1-14. Print.
“Digital Archives.” Densho: The Japanese America Legacy Project. Densho, 2019. Web. 25
Sept. 2018. <https://densho.org/archives/>.
Do Rozario, Rebecca-Anne C. “Consuming Books: Synergies of Materiality and Narrative in
Picturebooks.” Children’s Literature 40 (2012): 151-166. Print.
Drucker, Johanna. “What is Graphic about Graphic Novels?” English Language Notes 46.2
(2008): 39-55. Print.
Dusselier, Jane. “Gendering Resistance and Remaking Place: Art in Japanese American
Concentration Camps.” Peace and Change 30.2 (2005): 171-204. Print.
---. Artifacts of Loss: Crafting Survival in Japanese American Concentration Camps. New
Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2008. Print.
Eacott, Madeline J. “Memory for the Events of Early Childhood.” Current Directions in
Psychological Science 8.2 (1999): 46-49. Print.
Eaton, L.G., K.L. Doherty, and R.M. Widrick. “A Review of Research and Methods used to
establish Art Therapy as an effective Treatment for Traumatized Children.” The Arts
in Psychotherapy 34 (2007): 256-262. Print.
Eisner, Will. Comics & Sequential Art. Tamarac: Poorhouse Press, 1985. Print.
228
---. Graphic Storytelling and Visual Narrative: Principles and Practices from the Legendary
Cartoonist. New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 2008. Print.
Ellermeyer, Deborah A., and Kay A. Chick. Multicultural American History through
Children’s Literature. Portsmouth: Teacher Idea Press, 2003. Print.
El Refaie, Elisabeth. Autobiographical Comics: Life Writing in Pictures. Jackson: U of
Mississippi P, 2012. Print.
Enjeti, Anjali. “Can Protest Art Survive and Thrive During a Trump Presidency?” Pacific
Standard. Grist, 22 May 2017. Web. 05 Nov. 2018. <https://psmag.com/social-
justice/can-protest-art-survive-and-thrive-during-a-trump-presidency>.
Erll, Astrid. Introduction. Cultural Memory Studies. An International and Interdisciplinary
Handbook. Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008. 1-18. Print.
---. Kollektives Gedächtnis und Erinnerungskulturen: Eine Einführung. Stuttgart: J. B.
Metzler, 2005. Print.
---. “Literatur als Medium des kollektiven Gedächtnisses.” Gedächtniskonzepte der
Literaturwissenschaft: Theoretische Grundlegung und Anwendungsperspektiven. Ed.
Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2005. 249-276. Print.
---. “Literature, Film, and the Mediality of Cultural Memory.” Cultural Memory Studies. An
International and Interdisciplinary Handbook. Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning.
Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008. 389-398. Print.
---. “Medium des kollektiven Gedächtnisses: Ein (erinnerungs-)kulturwissenschaftlicher
Kompaktbegriff.” Medien des kollektiven Gedächtnisses: Historizität, Konstruktivität,
Kulturspezifität. Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004. 3-24.
Print.
---. Memory in Culture. Transl. Sara B. Young. London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011. Print.
---. “Remembering across Time, Space, and Cultures: Premediation, Remediation and the
‘Indian Mutiny.’” Erll/Rigney 109-138. Print.
---. “Traumatic Pasts, literary Afterlives, and Transcultural Memory: new Directions of
Literary and Media Memory Studies.” Journal of Aesthetics & Culture 3 (2011): 1-5.
Print.
Erll, Astrid, and Ann Rigney, eds. Mediation, Remediation, and the Dynamics of Cultural
Memory. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2009. Print.
Erll, Astrid, and Ann Rigney. “Introduction: Cultural Memory and its Dynamics.”
Introduction. Erll/Rigney 1-14. Print.
Esaki, Brett J. Enfolding Silence: The Transformation of Japanese American Religion and Art
229
under Oppression. New York: Oxford UP, 2016. Print.
“Eve Bunting.” Colorín Colorado. WETA, 2019. Web. 05 Mar. 2019.
<www.colorincolorado.org/author/eve-bunting>.
Eyerman, Ron. Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity.
Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2001. Print.
---. “Cultural Trauma: Slavery and the Formation of African American Identity.” Alexander/
Eyerman/Giesen/Smelser/Sztompka 60-111. Print.
---. Memory, Trauma, and Identity. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2019. Print.
---. “Cultural Trauma and the Transmission of Traumatic Experience.” Social Research: An
International Quarterly 87.3 (2020): 679-705. Print.
Ezzy, Douglas. “Theorizing Narrative Identity: Symbolic Interactionism and Hermeneutics.”
The Sociological Quarterly 39.2 (1998): 239-252. Print.
Faulkner, Matt. “5 Questions with Matt Faulkner, Creator of the Graphic Novel ‘Gaijin.’”
Interview by James Preller. James Preller’s Blog. Web Instinct, 23 Feb. 2017. Web.
25 June 2018. <http://www.jamespreller.com/2017/02/23/5-questions-with-matt-
faulkner-creator-of-the-graphic-novel-gaijin/>.
---. “About Matt.” MattFaulkner.com. FASO, n.d. Web. 25 June 2018.
<http://www.mattfaulkner.com/about.html>.
---. “APALA Author Interview – Matt Faulkner.” Interview by Molly Higgins. Apalaweb.org.
APALA, 26 Oct. 2015. Web. 11 Aug. 2020. <https://www.apalaweb.org/apala-author-
interview-matt-faulkner/>.
---. “Fantastic Rumpus: Illustrators in the Vein of Maurice Sendak.” Interview by Rebecca
Thiele. WMUK.org. WMUK, 23 Dec. 2013. Web. 25 June 2018.
<http://wmuk.org/post/fantastic-rumpus-illustrators-vein-maurice-
sendak#.Ur8JAzpD7aw.facebook>.
---. “Friday, November 1, 2013.” Matt Faulkner’s Bodacious Blog. Blogspot, 2013. Web. 26
June 2018. <http://mattfaulknerblog.blogspot.com/2013/11/>.
---. Gaijin: American Prisoner of War. New York: Disney/Hyperion, 2014. Print.
---. “Gaijin: American Prisoner of War Meet-the-Author Book Reading.” Teachingbooks.net.
Teaching Books, n.d. Web. 26 June 2018.
<https://www.teachingbooks.net/book_reading.cgi?id=11069&a=1>.
---. “Matt Faulkner (Ep. 50).” Interview by Matthew C. Winner. Lgbpodcast.blogpost.com.
Let’s Get Busy Podcast, 2014. Web. 26 June 2018.
<http://lgbpodcast.blogspot.com/2014/05/matt-faulkner-ep-50.html>.
230
---. “Monday, June 16, 2014.” Matt Faulkner’s Bodacious Blog. Blogspot, 2014. Web. 26
June 2018. <http://mattfaulknerblog.blogspot.com/2014/06/>.
---. “The Craig Fahle Show – Gaijin: American Prisoner of War.” Interview. Wdet.org.
WDET, 23 Apr. 2014. Web. 25 June 2018. <http://archives.wdet.org/shows/craig-
fahle-show/episode/gaijin-american-prisoner-of-war/>.
---. “Thursday, May 2, 2013.” Matt Faulkner’s Bodacious Blog. Blogspot, 2013. Web. 26
June 2018. <http://mattfaulknerblog.blogspot.com/2013/05/>.
Faulkner, Matt (MattFaulkner1). “1942: Never trust a Jap // 2016: Who shouldn’t we trust
now? Gaijin: American Prisoner of War @DisneyHyperion.” 5 May 2016, 5:57am.
Tweet.
---. “Boss Trump. That sort of talk could get you into trouble.” 15 Nov. 2016, 6:50pm. Tweet.
---. “Making America White Again: ConmanPres. Trump signed exec. order to suspend
refugees from 7 Muslim nations & give preference to Christians.” 27 Jan. 2017,
6:35pm. Tweet.
Felski, Rita. The Limits of Critique. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2015. Print.
Fisher, Janet. “Historical Fiction.” International Companion Encyclopedia of Children’s
Literature. 2nd ed. Ed. Peter Hunt. New York: Routledge, 2004. 490-498. Print.
Fludernik, Monika. “Identity/Alterity.” The Cambridge Companion to Narrative. Ed. David
Herman. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2007. 260-273. Print.
---. “Narratologische Probleme des faktualen Erzählens.” Faktuales und fiktionales Erzählen:
Interdisziplinäre Perspektiven. Ed. Monika Fludernik, Nicole Falkenhayner, and Julia
Steiner. Würzburg: Ergon, 2015. 115-133. Print.
Fludernik, Monika, and Marie-Laure Ryan. “Factual Narrative: An Introduction.”
Introduction. Narrative Factuality: A Handbook. Ed. Monika Fludernik and Marie-
Laure Ryan. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020. 1-26. Print.
Fludernik, Monika, Nicole Falkenhayner, and Julia Steiner. “Einleitung.” Introduction.
Faktuales und fiktionales Erzählen: Interdisziplinäre Perspektiven. Ed. Monika
Fludernik, Nicole Falkenhayner, and Julia Steiner. Würzburg: Ergon, 2015. 7-22.
Print.
Foote, Kenneth E. Shadowed Ground: America’s Landscapes of Violence and Tragedy. 2nd
ed. Austin: U of Texas P, 2003. Print.
Foucault, Michel. Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison. Trans. Alan Sheridan. New
York: Vintage Books, 1979. Print.
Fox, Dana L., and Kathy G. Short, eds. Stories Matter: The Complexity of Cultural
231
Authenticity in Children’s Literature. Urbana: National Council of Teachers of
English, 2003. Print.
Friederich, Ute. “Fragmentarische Strukturen: Wie Art Spiegelman und W.G. Sebald
Zeugenschaft und Trauma erzählbar machen.” Der dokumentarische Comic:
Reportage und Biografie. Ed. Dietrich Grünewald. Essen: Christian A. Bachmann
Verlag, 2013. 209-220. Print.
Fuchs, Chris. “Descendants of World War II Internees Oppose Proposed Airport Fence on
Former Camp.” NBCNews.com. NBC, 27 Sept. 2017. Web. 25 Mar. 2019.
<https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/descendants-world-war-ii-internees-
oppose-proposed-airport-fence-former-n805136>.
Fujita-Rony, Thomas Y. “Arizona and Japanese American History: The World War II
Colorado River Relocation Center.” Journal of the Southwest 47.2 (2005): 209-232.
Print.
---. “Poston (Colorado River).” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 25 Oct. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Poston_(Colorado_River)/>.
Fulbrook, Mary. “Narrating a Significant Past: Historical Writing and Engaged History.”
Faktuales und fiktionales Erzählen: Interdisziplinäre Perspektiven. Ed. Monika
Fludernik, Nicole Falkenhayner, and Julia Steiner. Würzburg: Ergon, 2015. 77-93.
Print.
Furia, Philip, and Michael Lasser. America’s Songs: The Stories Behind the Songs of Broadway,
Hollywood, and Tin Pan Alley. New York: Routledge, 2006. Print.
“Gaijin.” Jisho.org. Jisho – Japanese-English Dictionary, n.d. Web. 26 June 2018.
<https://jisho.org/word/%E5%A4%96%E4%BA%BA>.
Gajanan, Mahita. “Virginia Mayor: Wartime Internment of Japanese justifies ban on Syrian
Refugees.” The Guardian. Guardian News and Media, 18 Nov. 2015. Web. 19 Feb.
2021. <https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2015/nov/18/virginia-mayor-wartime-
internment-of-japanese-justifies-ban-on-syrian-refugees>.
Gall, Elisa, and Patrick Gall. “Comics are Picture Books: A (Graphic) Novel Idea.” The Horn
Book Magazine (2015): 45-50. Print.
“Gaman.” Jisho.org. Jisho – Japanese-English Dictionary, n.d. Web. 04 July 2018.
<https://jisho.org/search/gaman>.
García, Santiago. On the Graphic Novel. Trans. Bruce Campbell. Jackson: U of Mississippi P,
2015. Print.
Genette, Gérard. Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation. Trans. Jane E. Lewin. Cambridge:
232
Cambridge UP, 1997. Print.
---. “Fictional Narrative, Factual Narrative.” Trans. Nitsa Ben-Ari. Poetics Today 11.4 (1990):
755-774. Print.
Gesensway, Deborah, and Mindy Rosenman, eds. Beyond Words: Images from America’s
Concentration Camps. Ithaca: Cornell, 1987. Print.
Gessner, Ingrid. From Sites of Memory to Cybersights: (Re)framing Japanese American
Experiences. Heidelberg: Winter, 2007. Print.
Gillis, John R. “Introduction: Memory and Identity: The History of a Relationship.”
Introduction. Commemorations: The Politics of National Identity. Ed. John R. Gillis.
Princeton: Princeton UP, 1994. 3-24. Print.
Gitlin, Todd. “From Universality to Difference: Notes on the Fragmentation of the Idea of the
Left.” Social Theory and the Politics of Identity. Ed. Craig Calhoun. Cambridge:
Blackwell Publishers, 1994. 150-174. Print.
Gordon, Linda, and Gary Okihiro, eds. Impounded: Dorothea Lange and the Censored Images
of Japanese American Internment. New York: W.W. Norton, 2006. Print.
Graulich, Melody. “‘Cameras and Photographs were not Permitted in the Camps’:
Photographic Documentation and Distortion in Japanese American Internment
Narratives.” True West. Ed. William Handley and Nathaniel Lewis. Lincoln: U of
Nebraska P, 2004. 222-256. Print.
Greenlee, Adele. “Bunting, Eve (Anne Evelyn Bolton).” Continuum Encyclopedia of
Children’s Literature. Ed. Bernice E. Cullinan and Diane G. Person. London:
Bloomsbury Publishing, 2003. 128-130. Print.
Grenby, Matthew O. Children’s Literature. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP Ltd, 2008. Print.
Grishakova, Marina, and Marie-Laure Ryan, eds. Intermediality and Storytelling. Berlin: De
Gruyter, 2010. Print.
Groensteen, Thierry. Comics and Narration. Trans. Ann Miller. Jackson: UP of Mississippi,
2013. Print.
“Guardian.” Oxford Living Dictionaries. Oxford UP, 2018. Web. 05 Oct. 2018.
<https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/guardian>.
“Guest Post: the Wing Looks Back to Move Forward.” 4culture.org. 4culture, 02 Feb. 2017.
Web. 13 Nov. 2018. <https://www.4culture.org/guest-post-the-wing-looks-back-to-
move-forward/>.
Guterson, David. Snow Falling on Cedars. London: Bloomsbury, 1995. Print.
Halas, Elzbieta. “Time and Memory: A Cultural Perspective.” TRAMES 14.4 (2010): 307-
233
322. Print.
Halbwachs, Maurice. The Collective Memory. Ed. Mary Douglas. New York: Harper & Row,
1980. Print.
Hallmark, Kara Kelley. Encyclopedia of Asian American Artists: Artists of the American
Mosaic. Westport: Greenwood Press, 2007. Print.
Hall, Stuart. “Cultural Identity and Diaspora.” Identity: Community, Culture, Difference. Ed.
Jonathan Rutherford. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1998. 223-237. Print.
---. Introduction. Questions of Cultural Identity. Ed. Stuart Hall and Paul du Gay. London:
Sage Publications, 1996. 1-17. Print.
---. “Who Needs ‘Identity’?” Identity: A Reader. Ed. Paul du Gay, Jessica Evans, and Peter
Redman. London: Sage Publications, 2000. 15-30. Print.
---. “The Question of Cultural Identity.” Modernity: An Introduction to Modern Societies. Ed.
Stuart Hall, David Held, Don Hubert, and Kenneth Thompson. Oxford: Blackwell
Publishers, 1996. 596-634. Print.
Handler, Richard. “Is ‘Identity’ a Useful Cross-Cultural Concept?” Commemorations: The
Politics of National Identity. Ed. John R. Gillis. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1994. 27-40.
Print.
Harth, Erica, ed. Last Witnesses: Reflections on the Wartime Internment of Japanese
Americans. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2001. Print.
Harth, Erica. Introduction. Harth 1-20. Print.
Harris, Frederick. Ukiyo-e: The Art of the Japanese Print. North Clarendon: Tuttle
Publishing, 2010. Print.
Harvey, Robert C. The Art of the Comic Book: An Aesthetic History. Jackson: UP of
Mississippi, 1996. Print.
Hatamiya, Leslie T. Righting a Wrong: Japanese Americans and the Passage of the Civil
Liberties Act of 1988. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1993. Print.
Hatfield, Charles, and Joe Sutliff Sanders. “Bonding Time or Solo Flight?: Picture Books,
Comics, and the Independent Reader.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly
42.4 (2017): 459-486. Print.
Hatfield, Charles, and Craig Svonkin. “Why Comics Are and Are Not Picture Books:
Introduction.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 37.4 (2012): 429-435.
Print.
Hayashi, Robert T. “Transfigured Patterns: Contesting Memories at the Manzanar National
Historic Site.” The Public Historian 25.4 (2003): 51-71. Print.
234
Hebel, Udo J. Introduction. Sites of Memory in American Literatures and Cultures. Ed. Udo J.
Hebel. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag C. Winter, 2003. ix-xxxii. Print.
Hedges, Inez. World Cinema and Cultural Memory. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015.
Print.
He, Jun, Leshui He, Wen Zhou, Xuanhua Nie, and Ming He. “Discrimination and Social
Exclusion in the Outbreak of COVID-19.” International Journal of Environmental
Research and Public Health 17 (2020): 2933. Print.
Hernadi, Paul. “On the How, What, and Why of Narrative.” On Narrative. Ed. W.J.T.
Mitchell. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1981. 197-199. Print.
Hinchman, Lewis P., and Sandra K. Hinchman, eds. Memory, Identity, Community: The Idea
of Narrative in the Human Sciences. Albany: State U of New York P, 2001. Print.
Hinchman, Lewis P., and Sandra K. Hinchman. “Community.” L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman,
Memory 235-240. Print.
---. Introduction. L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, Memory xiii-xxxii. Print.
---. “Memory.” L. Hinchman/S. Hinchman, Memory 1-5. Print.
Hirabayashi, Lane Ryo. Japanese American Resettlement Through the Lens. Boulder: UP of
Colorado, 2009. Print.
Hirasuna, Delphine. The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American
Internment Camps, 1942-1946. Berkeley: Ten Speed Press, 2005. Print.
---. “The Art of Gaman.” Npca.org. National Parks Conservation Association, 2011. Web. 30
July 2018. <https://www.npca.org/articles/1001-the-art-of-gaman>.
Hirsch, Marianne. “An Interview with Marianne Hirsch.” Interview. Columbia UP, n.d. Web.
01 May 2019. <https://cup.columbia.edu/author-interviews/hirsch-generation-
postmemory>.
---. “Editor’s Column: Collateral Damage.” PMLA 119.5 (2004): 1209-1215. Print.
---. Family Frames: Photography, Narrative and Postmemory. Cambridge: Harvard UP,
1997. Print.
---. “Projected Memory: Holocaust Photographs in Personal and Public Fantasy.” Acts of
Memory: Cultural Recall in the Present. Ed. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe, and Leo
Spitzer. Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. 2-23. Print.
---. The Generation of Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture after the Holocaust. New
York: Columbia UP, 2012. Print.
Hirsch, Marianne, and Leo Spitzer. “What’s Wrong with This Picture?” The Generation of
235
Postmemory: Writing and Visual Culture after the Holocaust. Ed. Marianne Hirsch.
New York: Columbia UP, 2012. 55-78. Print.
Hirst, William, Travis G. Cyr, and Clinton Merck. “Witnessing and Cultural Trauma: The
Role of Flashbulb Memories in the Trauma Process.” Social Research: An
International Quarterly 87.3 (2020): 591-613. Print.
“History & Culture.” Nps.gov. National Parks Service, U.S. Department of the Interior, n.d.
Web. 15 Mar. 2019. <https://www.nps.gov/manz/learn/historyculture/index.htm>.
History and Memory: For Akiko and Takashige. Dir. Rea Tajiri. Women Make Movies, 1991.
DVD.
Ho, Jennifer Ann. Racial Ambiguity in Asian American Culture. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP,
2015. Print.
Hollywood Canteen. Dir. Delmer Daves. Perf. Joan Leslie, Robert Hutton, Dane Clark. Warner
Bros. Picture, 1944. DVD.
Honeck, Mischa. “Good Soldiers All? Democracy and Discrimination in the Boy Scouts of
America, 1941-1945.” War and Childhood in the Era of the Two World Wars. Ed.
Mischa Honeck and James Marten. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2019. 128-148. Print.
---. Our Frontier is the World: The Boy Scouts in the Age of American Ascendancy. Ithaca:
Cornell UP, 2018. Print.
Horstkotte, Silke. “Zooming In and Out: Panels, Frames, Sequences, and the Building of
Graphic Storyworlds.” From Comic Strips to Graphic Novels: Contributions to the
Theory and History of Graphic Narrative. Ed. Daniel Stein and Jan-Noël Thon. Berlin:
De Gruyter, 2013. 27-48. Print.
Howard, John. Concentration Camps on the Home Front: Japanese Americans in the House
of Jim Crow. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 2008. Print.
Howe, Mark L., and Mary L. Courage. “The Emergence and Early Development of
Autobiographical Memory.” Psychological Review 104.3 (1997): 499-523. Print.
Howes, Mary, M. Siegel, and F. Brown. “Early Childhood Memories: Accuracy and Affect.”
Cognition 47 (1993): 95-119. Print.
Hughes, Kiku. Displacement. New York: First Second Books, 2020. Print.
Hunt, Peter. “Introduction: The World of Children’s Literature Studies.” Introduction.
Understanding Children’s Literature. Ed. Peter Hunt. New York: Routledge, 1999. 1-
14. Print.
Ikeda, Tani, director. “A Vigilant Love.” Vimeo, uploaded by Nikkei Democracy Project, 2017.
Web. 15 Feb. 2021. <https://vimeo.com/254789121>.
236
Imai, Shiho. “Fred Korematsu.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho 2018. Web. 15 Nov. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Fred%20Korematsu/>.
Inada, Lawson Fusao, ed. Only What We Could Carry: The Japanese American Internment
Experience. Berkeley: Heyday Books, 2000. Print.
Inagawa, Machiko. Japanese American Experiences in Internment Camps during World War
II as Represented by Children’s and Adolescent Literature. Diss. University of
Arizona, 2007. Print.
Inouye, Karen M. The Long Afterlife of Nikkei Wartime Incarceration. Stanford: Stanford UP,
2016. Print.
“Internment Should be Repudiated.” Hrw.org. Human Rights Watch, 7 Feb. 2003. Web. 05
Nov. 2018. <https://www.hrw.org/legacy/press/2003/02/internment0207.htm>.
Iser, Wolfgang. How to do Theory. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006. Print.
---. Prospecting: From Reader Response to Literary Anthropology. Baltimore: John Hopkins
UP, 1989. Print.
JACL. “JACL Responds to ‘Defense of Internment, Case for Race Profiling’: Response to
Michelle Malkin.” 24 Aug. 2004. Internet Archive IMdiversity.com, 2008. Web. 08
Nov. 2018. <https://web.archive.org/web/20081007095519/http://www.imdiversity.
com/villages/asian/politics_law/archives/jacl_malkin_response_0804.asp>.
“JAMSJ.” Jams.org. JAMsj, 2020. Web. 24 Feb. 2021. <https://www.jamsj.org/>.
“Japanese American Citizens League.” jacl.org. JACL, 2020. Web. 26 Aug. 2020.
<https://jacl.org/>.
“Japanese Scouts keep Flag Flying.” Scouting Magazine 31.1 (1943): 24. Print.
Jasper, James M., and Aidan McGarry. Introduction. The Identity Dilemma, Social
Movements, and Contested Identity. Ed. James M. Jasper and Aidan McGarry.
Philadelphia: Temple UP, 2015. 1-17. Print.
Johnson, Jenna, and David Weigel. “Donald Trump Calls for ‘Total’ ban on Muslims
Entering United States.” Washington Post. Washington Post, 8 Dec. 2015. Web. 13
Nov. 2018. <https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/2015/12/07/e56266f6-9d2b-
11e5-8728-1af6af208198_story.html?utm_term=.c1857d28b7ac>.
“June 10.” Todaingeorgiahistory.org. Georgia Historical Society and Georgia Public
Broadcasting, 2011-2013. Web. 15 May 2021.
<https://www.todayingeorgiahistory.org/content/georgia-my-mind>.
Kai-Hwa Wang, Frances. “She was told Internment didn’t happen. Now, her Family’s Story is
237
in School Books.” NBCNews.com. NBC, 13 Oct. 2017. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/she-was-told-internment-didn-t-
happen-now-her-family-n809821>.
---. “Muslim Americans Read 'Letters from Camp' to WWII-Incarcerated Japanese
Americans.” NBCNews.com. NBC, 24 May 2016. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.nbcnews.com/news/asian-america/muslim-americans-read-letters-camp-
Kaplan, E. Ann. Trauma Culture: The Politics of Terror and Loss in Media and Literature.
New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2005. Print.
---. “Traumatic Contact Zones and Embodied Translators: With Reference to Select
Australian Texts.” Trauma and Cinema: Cross-Cultural Explorations. Ed. E. Ann
Kaplan and Ban Wang. Hong Kong: Hong Kong UP, 2004. 45-64. Print.
Kashima, Tetsuden. Judgment without Trial: Japanese American Imprisonment during World
War II. Seattle: U of Washington P, 2003. Print.
“Katie Yamasaki.” Dedalusfoundation.org. The Dedalus Foundation, 20 July 2017. Web. 04
Mar. 2019. <https://www.dedalusfoundation.org/blog/tag/katie-yamasaki/>.
Keene, Donald. Modern Japanese Diaries: The Japanese at Home and Abroad as Revealed
Through Their Diaries. New York: Columbia UP, 1998. Print.
Kelley, Brian. “Sequential Art, Graphic Novels, & Comics.” SANE journal: Sequential Art
Narrative in Education 1.1 (2010): 3-21. Print.
Kellner, Douglas. “Popular Culture and the Construction of Postmodern Identities.”
Modernity and Identity. Ed. Scott Lash and Jonathan Friedman. Oxford: Blackwell,
1992. 141-177. Print.
Kerby, Anthony Paul. Narrative and the Self. Indianapolis: Indiana UP, 1991. Print.
“Kevin C. Pyle.” The Nation. The Nation Company, 2018. Web. 18 July 2018.
<https://www.thenation.com/authors/kevin-c-pyle/>.
Khawaja, Samra. “Spotlight on Boise Art Museum.” Art Works Blog. National
Endowment for the Arts, 12 Jan. 2016. Web. 04 Oct. 2018. <https://www.arts.gov/art-
works/2016/spotlight-boise-art-museum>.
Kidd, Kenneth. “‘A’ is for Auschwitz: Psychoanalysis, Trauma Theory, and the ‘Children’s
Literature of Atrocity.’” Children’s Literature 33 (2005): 120-148. Print.
Kim, Daniel. Y. “Once More, with Feeling: Cold War Masculinity and the Sentiment of
Patriotism in John Okada’s ‘No-No Boy.’” Criticism: A Quarterly for Literature and
the Arts 47.1 (2005): 65-83. Print.
Kim, Heidi Kathleen. “Incarceration, Cafeteria Style: The Politics of the Mess Hall in the
238
Japanese American Incarceration.” Eating Asian America: A Food Studies Reader. Ed.
Robert Ji-Song Ku, Martin F. Manalansan IV, and Anita Mannur. New York: New
York UP, 2013. 125-146. Print.
Kim, Kristine. Henry Sugimoto: Painting an American Experience. Berkeley: Heyday Books,
2000. Print.
“Kin byōbu: Golden Screens.” ngv.vic.gov.au. National Gallery of Victoria Asian Art, n.d.
Web. 04 Oct. 2018. <https://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/asianart/resources/pdf/Sheet22_
AsianEduRes_A4_sheets_DVD.pdf>.
King, Nicola. Memory, Narrative, Identity: Remembering the Self. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP,
2000. Print.
Kitayama, Glen. “Camp Pilgrimages.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 134-135. Print.
---. “Japanese American Citizens League.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 219-220. Print.
---. “Manzanar.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 15 Mar. 2019.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Manzanar/>.
Kiyama, Henry (Yoshitaka). The Four Immigrants Manga: A Japanese Experience in San
Francisco, 1904-1924. Trans. Frederik L. Schodt. Berkeley: Stone Bridge Press, 1999.
Print.
Klein, Bettina, and Carolyn Wheelwright. “Japanese Kinbyōbu: The Gold-Leafed Folding
Screens of the Muromachi Period (1333-1573).” Artibus Asiae 45.2/3 (1984): 101-173.
Print.
Klepper, Martin. Introduction. Rethinking Narrative Identity: Persona and Perspective. Ed.
Claudia Holler and Martin Klepper. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing
Company, 2013. 1-32. Print.
Kohli, Sonali. “Watch Muslim kids read letters from Japanese internment camp survivors.”
Los Angeles Times. Los Angeles Times, 20 May 2016. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.latimes.com/local/education/la-me-smithsonian-internment-letter-
20160517-snap-htmlstory.html>.
Kokkola, Lydia. Representing the Holocaust in Children’s Literature. New York: Routledge,
2003. Print.
Korematsu, Fred. “Do We really Need to Relearn the Lessons of Japanese American
Internment?” SFGate.com. Hearst, 16 Sept. 2004. Web. 08 Nov. 2018.
<https://www.sfgate.com/opinion/openforum/article/Do-we-really-need-to-relearn-the-
lessons-of-2724896.php#ixzz1G4XdDKkU>.
Kumar, Kamayani, and Angelie Multani, eds. Childhood Traumas: Narratives and
239
Representations. Milton Park: Taylor & Francis, 2019. Print.
Kunimatsu, Susan. “‘Minidoka on My Mind’: Recent work by Roger Shimomura.”
International Examiner 34.22 (2007): 11. Print.
Kupczynska, Kalina. “Unerzählbares erzählbar machen: Trauma-Narrative in der Graphic
Novel.” Der dokumentarische Comic: Reportage und Biografie. Ed. Dietrich
Grünewald. Essen: Christian A. Bachmann Verlag, 2013. 221-239. Print.
Kuramitsu, Kristine C. “Internment and Identity in Japanese American Art.” American
Quarterly 47.4 (1995): 619-658. Print.
Kurashige, Lon. Japanese American Celebration and Conflict: A History of Ethnic Identity
and Festival in Los Angeles, 1934-1990. Berkeley: U of California P, 2002. Print.
Kurashige, Scott. The Shifting Grounds of Race: Black and Japanese Americans in the
Making of Multiethnic Los Angeles. Princeton: Princeton UP, 2008. Print.
LaCapra, Dominick. Writing History, Writing Trauma: With a New Preface. 2nd ed.
Baltimore: John Hopkins UP, 2014. Print.
Landsberg, Alison. Prosthetic Memory: The Transformation of American Remembrance in
the Age of Mass Culture. New York: Columbia UP, 2004. Print.
---. “Prosthetic Memory: The Ethics and Politics of Memory in an Age of Mass Culture.”
Memory and Popular Film. Ed. Paul Grainge. Manchester: Manchester UP, 2003. 144-
161. Print.
Lange, Dorothea. Grocery Store front: “SOLD” and “I AM AN AMERICAN.” 1942.
Photograph. Smithsonian National Museum of American History. Smithsonian
National Museum of American History, n.d. Web. 30 July 2018.
<https://amhistory.si.edu/perfectunion/collection/image.asp?ID=626>.
---. Windstorm at Manzanar. n.d. Photograph. Smithsonian National Museum of American
History. Smithsonian National Museum of American History, n.d. Web. 30 July
2018. <https://amhistory.si.edu/perfectunion/collection/image.asp?ID=638>.
Lawhorn, Chad. “For local Japanese-American artist, Time Spent in Internment Camps fueled
a Lifetime of Work.” Ljworld.com. Lawrence Journal World, 2011. Web. 18 Sept.
2018. <http://www2.ljworld.com/news/2011/dec/06/local-japanese-american-artist-
time-spent-internme/>.
Lefèvre, Pascal. “The Modes of Documentary Comics.” Der dokumentarische Comic:
Reportage und Biografie. Ed. Dietrich Grünewald. Essen: Christian A. Bachmann
Verlag, 2013. 50-60. Print.
Leong, Karen J. “Gila River.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 24 Oct. 2018.
240
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Gila_River/>.
“Letters from Camp by Frank Chi.” Si.edu. Smithsonian, 2021. Web. 17 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.si.edu/object/letters-camp-frank-chi%3Ayt_76WX0XUWTvs>.
Levy, Daniel. “Traumatism and the Changing of Temporal Figurations.” Social Research: An
International Quarterly 87.3 (2020): 565-590. Print.
Lezzi, Eva. “Representations of the Shoa in Picture Books for Young Children: An
Intercultural Comparison.” European Judaism 42.1 (2009): 31-48. Print.
Lippard, Lucy R. “Delayed Reactions.” Roger Shimomura: Delayed Reactions. Lawrence: U
of Kansas, 1995. 1-12. Print.
“Literature Awards.” APALA, n.d. Web. 26 June 2018.
<http://www.apalaweb.org/awards/literature-awards/>.
“Lithograph.” Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Merriam-Webster Inc., 2017. Web. 28 Sept.
2018. <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/lithograph>.
Liu, Yi-chen. Identity Issues in Asian-American Children’s and Adolescent Literature (1999-
2007). Diss. University of North Texas, 2009. Print.
Li, Wen, Yuan Yang, Chee H. Ng, Ling Zhang, Qinge Zhang, Teris Cheung, and Yu-Tao
Xiang. “Global imperative to combat stigma associated with the coronavirus disease
2019 pandemic.” Psychological Medicine 2020: 1-2. Print.
Lowe, Lisa. Immigrant Acts: On Asian American Cultural Politics. Durham: Duke UP, 1996.
Print.
Lowe Meger, Amy. “Minidoka Internment National Monument: Historic Resource Study.”
National Park Service. U.S. Department of the Interior, n.d. Web. 21 Apr. 2021.
<https://www.nps.gov/miin/learn/historyculture/upload/Historic-Resource-Study-
MIIN-A-L-Meger.pdf>.
Lyons, Samantha. “‘Home’ Revisited in Roger Shimomura’s Minidoka.” Rutgers Art Review:
The Graduate Journal of Research in Art History 33/34 (2018): 20-42. Print.
MacDonald, Eleanor Kay. A Window into History: Family Memory in Children’s Literature.
Phoenix: Oryx Press, 1996. Print.
MacIntyre, Alasdair. After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory. Notre Dame: U of Notre Dame P,
1984. Print.
Maillot, Elodia. “‘Georgia on My Mind’: the Spirit of Ray Charles returns to the South.” Pan-
african-music.com. PAM Magazine, 2021. Web. 15 May 2021. <https://pan-african-
music.com/en/black-history-month-georgia-on-my-mind-ray-charles/>.
Maira, Sunaina Marr. The 9/11 Generation: Youth, Rights, and Solidarity in the War on Terror.
241
New York: New York UP, 2016. Print.
Maki, Mitchell T., Harry H. L. Kitano, and S. Megan Berthold. Achieving the Impossible
Dream: How Japanese Americans Obtained Redress. Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1999.
Print.
Malkin, Michelle. In Defense of Internment: The Case for ‘Racial Profiling’ in World War II
and the War on Terror. Washington, DC: Regnery, 2004. Print.
Mallan, Kerry. “Empathy: Narrative Empathy and Children’s Literature.” (Re)imagining the
World: Children’s Literature’s Response to Changing Times. Ed. Yan Wu, Kerry
Mallan, and Roderick McGillis. Berlin: Springer Verlag, 2013. 105-114. Print.
Matsuda Gruenewald, Mary. Looking Like the Enemy: My Story of Imprisonment in Japanese
American Internment Camps. Tillamook: NewSage Press, 2005. Print.
Matsumoto, Nancy. “Documenting Manzanar.” Part 1-18. Discover Nikkei: Japanese
Migrants and Their Descendants. Japanese American National Museum, 2011. Web.
06 Aug. 2015. <http://www.discovernikkei.org/en/journal/article/3804/>.
---. “Roger Shimomura.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Roger_Shimomura/>.
Matsumura, Kimiko. “‘We Who Are Enemy’: Incarceration Redress in the Paintings of Roger
Shimomura.” Asian Diasporic Visual Cultures and the Americas 5 (2019): 129-154.
Print.
McAdams, Dan P. The Redemptive Self. Stories Americans Live By. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2013.
Print.
McCloud, Scott. Understanding Comics: The Invisible Art. New York: HarperCollins, 1994.
Print.
McCormick, Allison Morgan. Rhetorical Pop: The Art of Roger Shimomura. Diss. Florida
State University, 2013. Print.
McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The Extensions of Man. Cambridge: MIT P,
1994. Print.
“Medium.” Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Merriam-Webster Inc., 2017. Web. 01 May 2017.
<https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/medium>.
Meek, Allan. “Cultural Trauma and the Media.” Interdisciplinary Handbook of Trauma and
Culture. Ed. Yochai Ataria, David Gurewith, Haviva Pedaya, and Yuval Neria. Basel:
Springer, 2016. 27-37. Print.
“Memories of Childhood.” Smithsonian National Museum of American History. Smithsonian
National Museum of American History, n.d. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
242
<https://americanhistory.si.edu/collections/search/object/nmah_1821443>.
“Memories of Childhood, Artist Book.” Sjmusart.org. San Jose Museum of Art, n.d. Web. 15
Feb. 2021. <https://sjmusart.org/embark/objects1/info?query=Portfolios%3D%2217
%22&sort=61&page=8>.
“Memories of Childhood, 1999.” 1999. Color Lithographs. Lawrencelitho.com. The Lawrence
Lithograph Workshop, 2018. Web. 28 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.lawrencelitho.com/portfolio-item/memories-of-childhood-1999/>.
Meretoja, Hanna. “Narrative and Human Existence: Ontology, Epistemology, and Ethics.”
New Literary History 45.1 (2014): 89-109. Print.
Meuter, Norbert. “Identity and Empathy: On the Correlation of Narrativity and Morality.”
Rethinking Narrative Identity: Persona and Perspective. Ed. Claudia Holler and
Martin Klepper. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 2013. 33-48. Print.
Meyer, Christina. “Un/Taming the Beast, or Graphic Novels (Re)Considered.” From Comic
Strips to Graphic Novels: Contributions to the Theory and History of Graphic Narrative.
Ed. Daniel Stein and Jan-Noël Thon. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013. 271-299. Print.
Michel, Chantal Catherine. “Bericht oder Propaganda? Dokumentarische Comics über den
Nahostkonflikt.” Der dokumentarische Comic: Reportage und Biografie. Ed. Dietrich
Grünewald. Essen: Christian A. Bachmann Verlag, 2013. 189-206. Print.
“Michelle Malkin.” Townhall.com. Townhall.com/Salem Media, n.d. Web. 08 Nov. 2018.
<https://townhall.com/Columnists/MichelleMalkin/>.
Mikkonen, Kai. “Subjectivity and Style in Graphic Narratives.” From Comic Strips to Graphic
Novels: Contributions to the Theory and History of Graphic Narrative. Ed. Daniel Stein
and Jan-Noël Thon. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013. 101-123. Print.
“Minidoka Snapshots, 2010.” Lawrencelitho.com. The Lawrence Lithograph Workshop,
2018. Web. 02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.lawrencelitho.com/portfolio-item/minidoka-
snapshots-2010/>.
Mink, Louis. “History and Fiction as Modes of Comprehension.” New Literary History 1.3
(1970): 541-558. Print.
Mitchell, W.J.T. Picture Theory: Essays on Verbal and Visual Representation. Chicago: U of
Chicago P, 1995. Print.
---. “There Are No Visual Media.” Journal of Visual Culture 4.2 (2005): 257-266. Print.
Mittell, Jason. “Film and Television Narrative.” The Cambridge Companion to Narrative. Ed.
David Herman. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2007. 156-171. Print.
Miyatake, Toyo. Three Boys Near Barbed Wire at Manzanar. 1943. Photograph.
243
Calisphere.org. California Digital Library, n.d. Web. 19 Apr. 2021.
<https://calisphere.org/item/d407634bab36ac3ae4c6e84b05bce2e6/>.
Mochizuki, Ken. Baseball Saved Us. Illus. Dom Lee. New York: Lee & Low Books, 1993.
Print.
Moebius, William. “Six Degrees of Closeness in the Picture Book Experience: Getting
Closer.” More Words about Pictures: Current Research on Picture Books and
Visual/Verbal Texts for Young People. Ed. Naomi Hamer, Perry Nodelman, and Mavis
Reimer. New York: Routledge, 2017. 30-43. Print.
Möckel-Rieke, Hannah. “Introduction: Media and Cultural Memory.” Amerikastudien/
American Studies 43.1 (1998): 5-17. Print.
Moreno Acosta, Angela. “The ‘Japaneseness’ of OEL Manga: On Japanese American Comic
Artists and Manga Style.” Drawing New Color Lines: Transnational Asian American
Graphic Narratives. Ed. Monica Chiu. Hong Kong: Hong Kong UP, 2015. 227-244.
Print.
Muller, Eric L. American Inquisition: The Hunt for Japanese American Disloyalty in World
War II. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 2007. Print.
---. “Indefensible Internment.” Reason.com. Reason Foundation, Dec.2004. Web. 08 Nov.
2018. <https://reason.com/archives/2004/12/01/indefensible-internment>.
---. “Inference or Impact? Racial Profiling and the Internment’s True Legacy.” Ohio State
Journal of Criminal Law 1.103 (2003): 103-131. Print.
Murray, Alice Yang. Introduction. What did the Internment of Japanese Americans Mean? Ed.
Alice Yang Murray. Boston: Bedford/St. Martin’s, 2000. 1-26. Print.
Nabizadeh, Golnar. Representation and Memory in Graphic Novels. London: Routledge,
2019. Print.
Nagata, Donna K. “Echoes from Generation to Generation.” Harth 61-71. Print.
Nagata, Donna K., and Wendy J. Y. Cheng. “Intergenerational Communication of Race-Related
Trauma by Japanese American Former Internees.” American Journal of
Orthopsychiatry 73.3 (2003): 266-278. Print.
Nagata, Donna K., Jacqueline H. J. Kim, and Kaidi Wu. “The Japanese American Wartime
Incarceration: Examining the Scope of Racial Trauma.” American Psychologist 74.1
(2019): 36-48. Print.
Nagata, Donna K., Jackie H. J. Kim, and Teresa U. Nguyen. “Processing Cultural Trauma:
Intergenerational Effects of the Japanese American Incarceration.” Journal of Social
Issues 71.2 (2015): 356-370. Print.
244
Nakagawa, Martha. “Camp Pilgrimages.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 15 Mar.
2019. <http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Camp%20pilgrimages/>.
Nakane, Kazuko, and Alan C. Lau. “Misrepresentation: or The Bittersweet Cartoon of Life –
The Art of Roger Shimomura.” GIA Reader 22.3 (2011): n. pag. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<https://www.giarts.org/article/misrepresentation-or-bittersweet-cartoon-life>.
National JACL Power of Words II Committee. “Power of Words Handbook: A Guide to
Language about Japanese Americans in World War II – Understanding Euphemisms
and Preferred Terminology.” Jacl.org. JACL, 27 Apr. 2013. Web. 20 May 2020.
<https://jacl.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/Power-of-Words-Rev.-Term.-
Handbook.pdf>.
Neal, Arthur G. National Trauma and Collective Memory: Extraordinary Events in the
American Experience. Armonk: M.E. Sharpe, 2005. Print.
Neal, Mark Anthony. “Charles, Ray.” African American Lives. Ed. Henry Louis Gates Jr. and
Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004. 156-158. Print.
Nel, Philip. “Same Genus, Different Species?: Comics and Picture Books.” Children’s
Literature Association Quarterly 37.4 (2012): 445-453. Print.
Neumann, Birgit. Erinnerung – Identität – Narration: Gattungstypologie und Funktionen
kanadischer ‘Fictions of Memory.’ Berlin: De Gruyter, 2005. Print.
---. “Literatur, Erinnerung, Identität.” Gedächtniskonzepte der Literaturwissenschaft:
Theoretische Grundlegung und Anwendungsperspektiven. Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar
Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2005. 149-178. Print.
---. “Literarische Inszenierungen und Interventionen: Mediale Erinnerungskonkurrenz in Guy
Vanderhaeghes The English Boy und Michael Ondaatjes Running in the Family.”
Medien des kollektiven Gedächtnisses: Historizität, Konstruktivität, Kulturspezifität.
Ed. Astrid Erll and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2004. 195-216. Print.
---. “Narrating Selves, (De-)Constructing Selves? Fictions of Identity.” Narrative and
Identity: Theoretical Approaches and Critical Analyses. Ed. Birgit Neumann, Ansgar
Nünning, and Bo Petterson. Trier: WVT Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2008. 53-69.
Print.
Neumann, Birgit, and Ansgar Nünning. “Ways of Self-Making in (Fictional) Narrative:
Interdisciplinary Perspectives on Narrative and Identity.” Narrative and Identity:
Theoretical Approaches and Critical Analyses. Ed. Birgit Neumann, Ansgar Nünning,
and Bo Petterson. Trier: WVT Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2008. 3-22. Print.
Neumann, Birgit, and Martin Zierold. “Media as Ways of Worldmaking: Media-specific
245
Structures and Intermedial Dynamics.” Cultural Ways of Worldmaking: Media and
Narratives. Ed. Vera Nünning, Ansgar Nünning, and Birgit Neumann. Berlin: De
Gruyter, 2010. 103-118. Print.
Ng, Wendy. Japanese American Internment during World War II: A History and Reference
Guide. Westport: Greenwood P, 2002. Print.
Ngai, Mae M. Impossible Subjects: Illegal Aliens and the Making of Modern America.
Princeton: Princeton UP, 2004. Print.
Niiya, Brian, ed. Encyclopedia of Japanese American History: An A-to-Z Reference from
1868 to the Present, Updated Edition. New York: Facts on File, 2001. Print.
Niiya, Brian. “442nd Regimental Combat Team.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 163-164. Print.
---. “Making it worse.” Densho Blog. Densho, 06 Aug. 2014. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://densho.org/making-it-worse/>.
---. “Military Necessity.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 275. Print.
---. “Picture Brides.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 334-336. Print.
---. “So Far from the Sea (book).” Resource Guide to Media on the Japanese American
Removal and Incarceration. Densho, 2018. Web. 14 Feb. 2019.
<https://resourceguide.densho.org/So%20Far%20from%20the%20Sea%20(book)/>.
---. “The Art of Gaman: Arts and Crafts from the Japanese American Internment Camps, 1942-
1946 (exhibition).” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 23 July 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/The_Art_of_Gaman%3A_Arts_and_Crafts_from_the
_Japanese_American_Internment_Camps%2C_1942-1946_%28exhibition%29/>.
---. “Yellow Peril.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 424-425. Print.
Niiya, Brian, and Christine Quemuel. “Japanese Latin Americans.” Niiya, Encyclopedia 229-
230. Print.
Nikkei Democracy Project. Facebook. Facebook, 2017. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.facebook.com/nikkeidemocracyproject>.
Nikolajeva, Maria. “Interpretative Codes and Implied Readers of Children’s Picturebooks.”
New Directions in Picturebook Research. Ed. Teresa Colomer, et al. New York:
Routledge, 2010. 27-40. Print.
Nikolajeva, Maria, and Carole Scott. How Picturebooks Work. New York: Routledge, 2006.
Print.
Nodelman, Perry. “Picture Book Guy Looks at Comics: Structural Differences in Two Kinds
of Visual Narrative.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 37.4 (2012): 436-
444. Print.
246
---. “Picture Books and Illustration.” International Companion Encyclopedia of Children’s
Literature. 2nd ed. Ed. Peter Hunt. New York: Routledge, 2004. 154-165. Print.
---. “Why We Need More Words.” Introduction. More Words about Pictures: Current
Research on Picture Books and Visual/Verbal Texts for Young People. Ed. Naomi
Hamer, Perry Nodelman, and Mavis Reimer. New York: Routledge, 2017. 1-17. Print.
---. Words about Pictures: The Narrative Art of Children’s Picture Books. Athens: U of
Georgia P, 1988. Print.
---. “Words Claimed: Picturebook Narratives and the Project of Children’s Literature.” New
Directions in Picturebook Research. Ed. Teresa Colomer, et al. New York: Routledge,
2010. 11-26. Print.
Norman, Teresa. A World of Baby Names. New York: Perigee, 1996. Print.
Norbury, Kate. “Representations of Trauma and Recovery in Contemporary North American
and Australian Teen Fiction.” Bookbird: Journal of IBBY (International Board on
Books for Young People) 50.1 (2012): 31-41. Print.
Nünning, Ansgar. “How to Distinguish between Fictional and Factual Narratives:
Narratological and Systemtheoretical Suggestions.” Fact and Fiction in Narrative: An
Interdisciplinary Approach. Ed. Lars- Åke Skalin. Örebro: Örebro University Library,
2005. 21-56. Print.
---. “Making Events – Making Stories – Making Worlds: Ways of Worldmaking from a
Narratological Point of View.” Cultural Ways of Worldmaking: Media and Narratives.
Ed. Vera Nünning, Ansgar Nünning, and Birgit Neumann. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2010.
191-214. Print.
Nünning, Vera, and Ansgar Nünning. “Produktive Grenzüberschreitungen: Transgenerische,
intermediale und interdisziplinäre Ansätze in der Erzähltheorie.” Erzähltheorie
transgenerisch, intermedial, interdisziplinär. Ed. Vera Nünning and Ansgar Nünning.
Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2002. 1-22. Print.
Okada, John. No-No Boy. 4th ed. Seattle: U of Washington P, 1986. Print.
Okihiro, Gary Y., ed. Encyclopedia of Japanese American Internment. Santa Barbara: ABC-
CLIO, 2013. Print.
Okihiro, Gary Y. “Assembly Centers.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 219-228. Print.
---. “Civil Liberties Act (1988).” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 17-18. Print.
---. “Evacuation.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 42-45. Print.
---. “442nd Regimental Combat Team.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 2-55. Print.
---. Introduction. Okihiro, Encyclopedia xi-xxxii. Print.
247
---. “Korematsu, Fred (1919-2005).” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 92-96. Print.
---. “Martial Law.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 108-110. Print.
---. “Military Necessity.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 118-120. Print.
---. “Resettlement.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 160-162. Print.
---. “War Relocation Authority Camps.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 251-283. Print.
---. “Yellow Peril.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 211-213. Print.
Okubo, Miné. Citizen 13660. New York: Columbia UP, 1946 Print.
“Omoiyari.” Kishibashi.com, n.d. Web. 17 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.kishibashi.com/#announcements>.
Op de Beeck, Nathalie. “On Comics-Style Picture Books and Picture-Bookish Comics.”
Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 37.4 (2012): 468-476. Print.
Oppenheim, Joanne. Stanley Hayami, Nisei Son: His Diary, Letters, and Story from an
American Concentration Camp to Battlefield, 1942-1945. New York: Brick Tower
Press, 2008. Print.
Owen, Peter D. “Painting.” Britannica.com. Encyclopædia Britannica, 2018. Web. 18 Sept.
2018. <https://www.britannica.com/art/painting>.
Paik, A. Naomi. Rightlessness: Testimony and Redress in U.S. Prison Camps since World
War II. Chapel Hill: U of North Carolina P, 2016. Print.
Paul, Pamela. “Families in Wartime: ‘Red Kite, Blue Kite’ and ‘Fish for Jimmy.’” Rev. of
Fish for Jimmy, by Katie Yamasaki. New York Times. New York Times, 20 Feb 2013.
Web. 10 Sept. 2015. <http://www.nytimes.com/2013/02/20/books/red-kite-blue-kite-
and-fish-for-jimmy.html?_r=0>.
Pedri, Nancy. “Cartooning Ex-Posing Photography in Graphic Memoir.” Literature &
Aesthetics 22.2 (2012): 248-266. Print.
Peterson, Robert. “Scouting in World War II Detention Camps.” Scoutingmagazine.org. Boy
Scouts of America, 1999. Web. 06 Mar. 2019.
<https://scoutingmagazine.org/issues/9911/d-wwas.html>.
Phelan, James. Living to Tell About It: A Rhetoric and Ethics of Character Narration. Ithaca/
London: Cornell UP, 2005. Print.
Philibert-Ortega, Gena. Cemeteries of the Eastern Sierra. Charleston: Arcadia, 2007. Print.
Phu, Thy. Picturing Model Citizens: Civility in Asian American Visual Culture. Philadelphia:
Temple UP, 2011. Print.
“Plan Your Visit.” National Park Service. U.S. Department of the Interior, 2018. Web. 25
Mar. 2019. <http://www.nps.gov/manz/planyourvisit/index.htm>.
248
Platt, Susan Noyes. “Intimate Violence: Artists’ Responses to Illegal Detention and Torture.”
Brown Journal of World Affairs XIX.11 (2013): 163-183. Print.
Plowright, John. The Causes, Course and Outcomes of World War Two. New York: Palgrave
Macmillan, 2007. Print.
Polkinghorne, Donald E. Narrative Knowing and the Human Sciences. Albany: State U of
New York P, 1988. Print.
Polletta, Francesca, and James M. Jasper. “Collective Identity and Social Movements.”
Annual Review of Sociology 27 (2001): 283-305. Print.
“Pop Art.” Moma.org. MoMALearning, n.d. Web. 03 Dec. 2018.
<https://www.moma.org/learn/moma_learning/themes/pop-art/>.
Potucek, Susan C. “Using Children’s Literature to Make History Come Alive: Discussing
Prejudice and the Japanese Internment.” The History Teacher 28.4 (1995): 567-571.
Print.
Pratt, Henry John. “Narrative in Comics.” The Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism 67.1
(2009): 107-117. Print.
“President Trump calls Coronavirus ‘Kung Flu.’” BBC.com. BBC, 24 June 2020. Web. 15
Feb. 2021. <https://www.bbc.com/news/av/world-us-canada-53173436>.
Prorokova, Tatiana, and Nimrod Tal. Introduction. Cultures of War in Graphic Novels:
Violence, Trauma, and Memory. Ed. Tatiana Prorokova and Nimrod Tal. New
Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2018. 1-19. Print.
Pyle, Kevin C. “Author Biography.” Kevincpyle.com. Kevincpyle, 2018. Web. 18 July 2018.
<http://kevincpyle.com/bio/>.
---. “Carry On: The Kevin C. Pyle Interview.” Interview. Graphicnovelreporter.com. The
Book Report, 2018. Web. 18 July 2018.
<https://www.graphicnovelreporter.com/authors/kevin-pyle/news/interview-050412>.
---. “Interview: Kevin C. Pyle.” Interview by Esther Keller. SLJ.com. School Library Journal,
26 Apr. 2012. Web. 18 July 2018.
<http://blogs.slj.com/goodcomicsforkids/2012/04/26/interview-kevin-c-pyle/>.
---. Lab U.S.A.: Illuminated Documents. New York City: Autonomedia, 2003. Print.
---. “Post on MacKids Blog.” Kevincpyle.com. Kevincpyle, 24 Feb. 2012. Web. 19 July 2018.
<http://kevincpyle.com/post-on-mackids-blog/>.
---. “Pyle Invites You to ‘Take What You Can Carry.’” Interview by Alex Dueben. CBR.com.
CBR, 13 June 2012. Web. 18 July 2018. <https://www.cbr.com/pyle-invites-you-to-
take-what-you-can-carry/>.
249
---. “Roger Shimomura on Studio 360.” Kevincpyle.com. Kevincpyle, 9 Mar. 2012. Web. 19
July 2018. <http://kevincpyle.com/roger-shimomura-on-studio-360/>.
---. Take What You Can Carry. New York: Henry Holt, 2012. Print.
---. “The Art of Gaman.” Kevincpyle.com. Kevincpyle,14 Feb. 2012. Web. 19 July 2018.
<http://kevincpyle.com/the-art-of-gaman/>.
---. “Workshops.” Kevincpyle.com. Kevincpyle, 2018. Web. 18 July 2018.
<http://kevincpyle.com/category/workshops/>.
Pyle, Kevin (KevinPyle2). “Read this comic based on interviews with Dreamers in El Paso.
We need a humane solution! kevincpyle.com/the-dreamers/ #DACA #Dreamers
#comics.” 5 Sept. 2017, 12:32pm. Tweet.
Pyle, Kevin C., and Jeffry Odell Korgen. “Seeking Refuge: A graphic Interview from a
Women’s Shelter in Nogales, Mexico.” The Nation. The Nation Company, 28 Mar.
2018. Web. 18 July 2018. <https://www.thenation.com/article/seeking-refuge/>.
---. “Waking From A Nightmare: A graphic Interview with two Dreamers in El Paso.” The
Nation. The Nation Company, 24 Jan. 2018. Web. 18 July 2018.
<https://www.thenation.com/article/waking-from-a-nightmare/>.
Ramsey, Bruce. “‘In Defense of Internment’: In Denial of Role of Race, Paranoia.” Seattle
Times. Seattle Times, 19 Feb. 2004. Web. 08 Nov. 2018.
<http://old.seattletimes.com/html/books/2002038689_malkin19.html>.
Rastrelli, Tom Mayhall. “Ore. Exhibit Evokes Childhood Internment for Today.”
usatoday.com. Gannett, 15 Nov. 2014. Web. 02 Nov. 2018.
<https://eu.usatoday.com/story/life/people/2014/11/15/ore-exhibit-evokes-internment-
camp-for-takei/19120851/>.
“Representative Wants Colleague Censured for Internment Remarks.” New York Times. New
York Times, 17 Feb. 2003. Web. 05 Nov. 2018.
<https://www.nytimes.com/2003/02/17/us/representative-wants-colleague-censured-
for-internment-remarks.html>.
“Review: Take What You Can Carry by Kevin C. Pyle.” Rev. of Take What You Can Carry,
by Kevin C. Pyle. Wakingbraincells.com. Waking Brain Cells, 24 May 2012. Web. 19
July 2018. <https://wakingbraincells.com/2012/05/24/review-take-what-you-can-
carry-by-kevin-c-pyle/>.
Ricoeur, Paul. “Narrative Identity.” Philosophy Today 35.1 (1991): 73-81. Print.
---. “Narrative Time.” Critical Inquiry 7.1 (1980): 169-190. Print.
“Righting a Wrong: Japanese Americans and World War II.” Smithsonian National Museum
250
of American History. Smithsonian National Museum of American History, n.d. Web.
06 Aug. 2018. <https://americanhistory.si.edu/righting-wrong-japanese-americans-
and-world-war-ii>.
Rippl, Gabriele, and Lukas Etter. “Intermediality, Transmediality, and Graphic Narrative.”
From Comic Strips to Graphic Novels: Contributions to the Theory and History of
Graphic Narrative. Ed. Daniel Stein and Jan-Noël Thon. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2013.
191-217. Print.
Roach, Julie. Rev. of Fish for Jimmy, by Katie Yamasaki. The Horn Book Magazine (2013):
119. Print.
Robertson, Marta. “Ballad for Incarcerated Americans: Second Generation Japanese
American Musicking in World War II Camps.” Journal of the Society for American
Music 11.3 (2017): 284-312. Print.
Robinson, Gerald H. Elusive Truth: Four Photographers at Manzanar (Ansel Adams, Clem
Albers, Dorothea Lange, Toyo Miyatake). 2nd ed. Nevada City: Carl Mautz
Publishing, 2007. Print.
Robinson, Greg. “A Critique of Michelle Malkin’s ‘In Defense of Internment’, Part 2.”
Modelminority.com, 08 Aug. 2004. Internet Archive Wayback Machine, 2014. Web.
08 Nov. 2018. <https://web.archive.org/web/20080919020738/http://modelminority.
com/article849.html>.
---. A Tragedy of Democracy: Japanese Confinement in North America. New York: Columbia
UP, 2009. Print.
---. By Order of the President: FDR and the Internment of Japanese Americans. Cambridge:
Harvard UP, 2001. Print.
---. “John Collier.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 24 Oct. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/John_Collier/>.
---. “War Relocation Authority.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 15 Mar. 2019.
<https://encyclopedia.densho.org/War_Relocation_Authority/>.
Robinson, Greg, and Elena Tajima Creef, eds. Mine Okubo: Following her Own Road. Seattle:
U of Washington P, 2008. Print.
Robson, David. The Internment of Japanese Americans. San Diego: ReferencePoint Press,
2014. Print.
Rodríguez, Noreen Nasam. “‘Caught Between Two Worlds’: Asian American Elementary
Teachers’ Enactment of Asian American History.” Educational Studies 55.2 (2019):
214-240. Print.
251
Rodríguez, Noreen Nasam, and Esther June Kim. “In Search of Mirrors: An Asian Critical
Race Theory Content Analysis of Asian American Picturebooks from 2007 to 2017.”
Journal of Children’s Literature 44.2 (2018): 17-30. Print.
Rogers, Katie, Lara Jakes, and Ana Swanson. “Trump Defends Using ‘Chinese Virus’ Label,
Ignoring Growing Criticism.” New York Times. New York Times, 18 Mar. 2020. Web.
15 Feb. 2021. <https://www.nytimes.com/2020/03/18/us/politics/china-virus.html>.
“Roger Shimomura An American Diary Series, 2002-2003.” 2002-2003. Paintings.
Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 26 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
“Roger Shimomura Editioned Prints.” N.d. Prints. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery,
Inc., n.d. Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <https://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_prints.htm>.
“Roger Shimomura Minidoka and Beyond.” 2017. Artworks. Flomenhaftgallery.com.
Flomenhaft Gallery, n.d. Web. 26 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.flomenhaftgallery.com/april-2017-minidoka-and-beyond-artwork.html>.
“Roger Shimomura Minidoka on My Mind.” 2010. Paintings. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera
Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 02 Oct. 2018.
<http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
“Roger Shimomura Paintings.” N.d. Paintings. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc.,
n.d. Web. 05 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura-american-
knockoff.htm>.
“Roger Shimomura Stereotypes and Admonitions, 2003.” 2003. Paintings. Gregkucera.com.
Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 05 Nov. 2018.
<http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_stereotypes.htm>.
Romano, Katherine. “Chris Soentpiet: Moving beyond Words.” Early Years 32.6 (2002):
n. pag. Web. 22 Oct. 2019. <http://www.soentpiet.com/teaching.htm>.
Rooney, Monique. “Visions of Blindness: Narrative Structures in The Great Gatsby and Snow
Falling on Cedars.” Sydney Studies in English 25 (1999): 116-132. Print.
Roosevelt, Franklin D. Speech by Franklin D. Roosevelt, New York Transcript. 08 Dec 1941.
Library of Congress. Library of Congress, n.d. Web. 04 Oct. 2018.
<https://cdn.loc.gov/service/afc/afc1986022/afc1986022_ms2201/afc1986022_ms2201.
pdf>.
Rothberg, Michael. Multidirectional Memory: Remembering the Holocaust in the Age of
Decolonization. Stanford: Stanford UP, 2009. Print.
Roxworthy, Emily. The Spectacle of Japanese American Trauma: Racial Performativity and
252
World War II. Honolulu: U of Hawai’i P, 2008. Print.
Rubin, J. Art Therapy: An Introduction. Philadelphia: Brunner/Mazel, 1999. Print.
Ryan, Marie-Laure. “Fact, Fiction and Media.” Narrative Factuality: A Handbook. Ed.
Monika Fludernik and Marie-Laure Ryan. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2020. 75-94. Print.
---. Introduction. Narrative across Media: The Languages of Storytelling. Ed. Marie-Laure
Ryan. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 2004. 1-40. Print.
---. “Narration in Various Media.” The Living Handbook of Narratology. Ed. Peter Hühn, et
al. Hamburg: Hamburg UP, 13 Jan. 2012. Web. 06 Apr. 2020. <http://www.lhn.uni-
hamburg.de/article/narration-various-media>.
Saccardi, Marianne. Creativity and Children’s Literature: New Ways to Encourage Divergent
Thinking. Santa Barbara: ABC-CLIO, 2014. Print.
Sanders, Joe Sutliff. “Chaperoning Words: Meaning-Making in Comics and Picture Books.”
Children’s Literature 41 (2013): 57–90. Print.
Say, Allan. Home of the Brave. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2002. Print.
“Scapegoat Cities.” Scapegoatcities.org. Eric Muller, n.d. Web. 17 Feb. 2021.
<https://scapegoatcities.org/>.
Schmidt, Siegfried J. “Memory and Remembrance: A Constructivist Approach.” Cultural
Memory Studies. An International and Interdisciplinary Handbook. Ed. Astrid Erll
and Ansgar Nünning. Berlin: De Gruyter, 2008. 191-202. Print.
Schodt, Frederik L. Introduction. The Four Immigrants Manga: A Japanese Experience in San
Francisco, 1904-1924. By Henry (Yoshitaka) Kiyama. Trans. Frederik L. Schodt.
Berkeley: Stone Bridge Press, 1999. Print.
Schudel, Matt. “Howard Coble, North Carolina Republican in U.S. House, dies at 84.”
Washington Post. Washington Post, 4 Nov. 2015. Web. 05 Nov. 2018.
<https://www.washingtonpost.com/politics/howard-coble-north-carolina-republican-
in-us-house-dies-at-84/2015/11/04/ceae9b64-8313-11e5-9afb-
0c971f713d0c_story.html?noredirect=on&utm_term=.efe1a1fd14d0>.
Schüwer, Martin. Wie Comics erzählen: Grundriss einer intermedialen Erzähltheorie der
grafischen Literatur. Trier: Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2008. Print.
Sciortino, Giuseppe, and Ron Eyerman. Introduction. The Cultural Trauma of
Decolonization: Colonial Returnees in the National Imagination. Ed. Ron Eyerman
and Giuseppe Sciortino. Cham: Palgrave Macmillan, 2020. 1-25. Print.
Seto, Thelma. “Multiculturalism is Not Halloween.” Stories Matter: The Complexity of
253
Cultural Authenticity in Children’s Literature. Ed. Dana L. Fox and Kathy G. Short.
93-100. Print.
Sewell, William H. Jr. “Introduction: Narratives and Social Identities.” Introduction. Social
Science History 16.3 (1992): 479-488. Print.
Shanes, Eric. Pop Art. New York: Parkstone International, 2009. Print.
Sheehi, Stephen. Islamophobia: The Ideological Campaign against Muslims. Atlanta: Clarity
Press, 2011. Print.
Shibuya, Mari. “Healing the Intergenerational Trauma of WWII Incarceration through Art.”
Densho Blog. Densho, 19 Dec. 2019. Web. 15 Feb. 2021. <https://densho.org/healing-
the-intergenerational-trauma-of-wwii-incarceration-through-art/>.
Shimomura, Roger. American Alien #4. 2006. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera
Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 02 Oct. 2018.
<http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. American Citizens. 2015. Painting. 4culture.org. 4culture, 02 Feb. 2017. Web. 13 Nov.
2018. <https://www.4culture.org/guest-post-the-wing-looks-back-to-move-forward/>.
---. American Guardian. 2008. Lithograph. Risdmuseum.org. RISD Museum, n.d. Web. 03
Dec. 2018. <https://risdmuseum.org/art-design/collection/american-guardian-201491>.
---. American Infamy #2. 2006. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. “American Infamy #3.” Missoulaartmuseum.org. Missoula Art Museum, 2009. Web. 03
Dec. 2018.
<https://www.missoulaartmuseum.org/files/documents/MP3/American_Infamy3_Shi
momura.mp3>.
---. “An American Diary: Artist Talk with Roger Shimomura.” Americanart.si.edu.
Smithsonian American Art Museum, Aug. 20, 2015. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<https://americanart.si.edu/videos/american-diary-artist-talk-roger-shimomura-
48225>.
---. April 8, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 26
Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. April 21, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 26
Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. April 28, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 26
Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. “Art Talk with Roger Shimomura.” Interview by Rebecca Sutton. Art Works Blog.
254
National Endowment for the Arts, 25 May 2017. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<https://www.arts.gov/art-works/2017/art-talk-roger-shimomura>.
---. August 14, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. August 17, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. Classmates #3. 2007. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. “Complete Career Resume.” Rshim.com. Roger Shimomura, n.d. Web. 22 Feb. 2021.
<https://www.rshim.com/pdf/RShim-Resume-0319.pdf>.
---. December 7, 1941. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. December 12, 1941. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. December 25, 1941. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. December 31, 1941. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. Diary: December 12, 1941. 1980. Painting. Americanart.si.edu. Smithsonian American
Art Museum, n.d. Web. 15 Sept. 2018. <https://americanart.si.edu/artwork/diary-
december-12-1941-32436>.
---. Enemy Alien #2. 2006. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. Infamy Repeated #2. 2016. Painting. Flomenhaftgallery.com. Flomenhaft Gallery, n.d.
Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.flomenhaftgallery.com/april-2017-minidoka-and-
beyond-artwork.html>.
---. June 16, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. June 26, 1943. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. Justified Internment. 2003. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 05 Nov. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_stereotypes.htm>.
---. Keep on Talkin’, Michelle Malkin. 2006. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera
255
Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web. 02 Oct. 2018.
<http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. May 16, 1942. 1997. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 26 Sept. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_diary.htm>.
---. Minidoka Series #2: Exodus. 1978. Painting. Seattleartmuseum.org. Seattle Art Museum,
n.d. Web. 21 Apr. 2021. <https://art.seattleartmuseum.org/objects/4085/minidoka-
series-2--exodus?ctx=b6196fa0-c9a3-4616-8b87-399205f5529a&idx=1>.
---. Not Pearl Harbor. 2003. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 05 Nov. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_stereotypes.htm>.
---. Not Pearl Harbor. 2012. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d. Web.
02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. “Press Release Biography.” Rshim.com. Roger Shimomura, 2017. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.rshim.com/pdf/RogerShimomura-Bio-0617.pdf>.
---. “Roger Shimomura Interview.” Interview by Alice Ito and Mayumi Tsutakawa. Densho:
The Japanese America Legacy Project. Densho, 2003. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<http://ddr.densho.org/media/ddr-densho-1000/ddr-densho-1000-142-transcript-
6e3d832f04.htm>.
---. September 11. 2016. Painting. Flomenhaftgallery.com. Flomenhaft Gallery, n.d. Web. 26
Sept. 2018. <http://www.flomenhaftgallery.com/april-2017-minidoka-and-beyond-
artwork.html>.
---. Shadow of the Enemy. 2007. Painting. Gregkucera.com. Greg Kucera Gallery, Inc., n.d.
Web. 02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.gregkucera.com/shimomura_minidoka.htm>.
---. The Enemy. 2010. Lithograph. Lawrencelitho.com. The Lawrence Lithograph Workshop,
2018. Web. 02 Oct. 2018. <http://www.lawrencelitho.com/portfolio-item/minidoka-
snapshots-2010/>.
---. “The Paintings and Collections of Roger Shimomura Document America’s Shameful
Japanese Internment in World War II.” Interview by Lauren Yoshiko. Wweek.com.
Willamette Week, 10 May 2017. Web. 19 Sept. 2018.
<https://www.wweek.com/arts/visual-arts/2017/05/10/the-paintings-and-collections-
of-roger-shimomura-document-americas-shameful-japanese-internment-in-world-war-
ii/>.
---. Yellow No Same #10. 1992. Lithograph. Lawrencelitho.com. The Lawrence Lithograph
Workshop, 2018. Web. 26 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.lawrencelitho.com/portfolio-item/yellow-no-same-1992/>.
256
Sielke, Sabine. “Why ‘9/11 is [not] unique,’ or: Troping Trauma.” Amerikastudien/American
Studies 55.3 (2010): 385-408. Print.
Silverman, Kaja. The Threshold of the Visible World. New York: Routledge, 1996. Print.
Simon, Caroline. “There is a Stunning Gap between the Number of White and Black Inmates
in America’s Prisons.” The Business Insider. Insider Inc., 16 Jun. 2016. Web. 03 Feb.
2020. <https://www.businessinsider.com/study-finds-huge-racial-disparity-in-americas-
prisons-2016-6?r=DE&IR=T>.
Sipe, Lawrence R. “How Picture Books Work: A Semiotically Framed Theory of Text-Picture
Relationships.” Children’s Literature in Education 29.2 (1998): 97-108. Print.
Skare, Roswitha. “Paratext – a Useful Concept for the Analysis of Digital Documents?”
Proceedings from the Document Academy 6.1 (2019): 1-12. Print.
Small, David. Stitches: A Memoir. New York: W.W. Morton, 2009. Print.
Smelser, Neil J. “Epilogue: September 11, 2001, as Cultural Trauma.” Cultural Trauma and
Collective Identity. Jeffrey C. Alexander, et al. Berkeley: U of California P, 2004. 264-
282. Print.
---. “Psychological Trauma and Cultural Trauma.” Alexander/Eyerman/Giesen/Smelser/
Sztompka 32-59. Print.
Snow Falling on Cedars. Dir. Scott Hicks. Universal Pictures, 1999. DVD.
Soentpiet, Chris. “Welcome to Soentpiet.com!” chrissoentpiet.com. Chris Soentpiet, 2018-
2020. Web. 14 Feb. 2019. <https://chrissoentpiet.com/>.
---. “Lesson Plan for So Far from the Sea.” chrissoentpiet.com. Chris Soentpiet, 2018-
2020. Web. 14 Feb. 2019. <https://chrissoentpiet.com/lesson-plan-so-far-from-the-
sea/>.
---. “So Far from the Sea.” chrissoentpiet.com. Chris Soentpiet, 2018-2020. Web. 14 Feb.
2019. <https://chrissoentpiet.com/books_so_far_from_the_sea/>.
Somers, Margaret R. “The Narrative Constitution of Identity: A Relational and Network
Approach.” Theory and Society 23 (1994): 605-649. Print.
Sontag, Susan. On Photography. Online-edition: Rosetta Books, 2005. Print.
Spickard, Paul. Japanese Americans: The Formation and Transformation of an Ethnic Group.
2nd ed. New Brunswick: Rutgers UP, 2009. Print.
---. “Injustice Compounded: Amerasians and Non-Japanese Americans in World War II
Concentration Camps.” Journal of American Ethnic History 5.2 (1986): 5-22. Print.
Spiegelman, Art. In the Shadow of No Towers. New York City: Pantheon Books, 2004. Print.
Stamey, Emily E. Pop, Place, and Personal Identity in the Art of Roger Shimomura. Diss.
257
University of Kansas, 2009. UMI, 2009. Print.
Stanton, Joseph. “The Important Books: Appreciating the Children’s Picture Book as a Form
of Art.” American Art 12.2 (1998): 2-5. Print.
Stein, Daniel, and Jan-Noël Thon. “Introduction: From Comic Strips to Graphic Novels.”
Introduction. From Comic Strips to Graphic Novels: Contributions to the Theory and
History of Graphic Narrative. Ed. Daniel Stein and Jan-Noël Thon. Berlin: De
Gruyter, 2013. 1-23. Print.
Steiner, Wendy. “Pictorial Narrativity.” Narrative across Media: The Languages of
Storytelling. Ed. Marie-Laure Ryan. Lincoln: U of Nebraska P, 2004. 145-177. Print.
Sturken, Marita. “Absent Images of Memory: Remembering and Reenacting the Japanese
Internment.” Positions 5.3 (1997): 687-707. Print.
---. “Narratives of Recovery: Repressed Memory as Cultural Memory.” Acts of Memory:
Cultural Recall in the Present. Ed. Mieke Bal, Jonathan Crewe and Leo Spitzer.
Hanover: UP of New England, 1999. 231-248. Print.
---. Tangled Memories: The Vietnam War, the AIDS Epidemic and the Politics of
Remembering. Berkeley: U of California P, 1997. Print.
Subramanian, Ram, Kristine Riley, and Chris Mai. Divided Justice: Trends in Black and White
Jail Incarceration, 1990-2013. New York: Vera Institute of Justice, 2018. Print.
Tackett, Mary E., and Lisa K. Pennington. “Using Children’s Books about Japanese-
American Incarceration to learn from the Past and frame the Future.” Iowa Journal for
the Social Studies 28.2 (2020): 88-106. Print.
Takei, George. “International Day of Peace.” Facebook. Facebook, 21 Sept. 2015. Web. 22
Sept. 2015.
---. “Why I Love a Country that Once Betrayed Me.” Video. Ted.com. TED, June 2014. Web.
18 July 2018. <http://www.ted.com/talks/george_takei_why_i_love_a_country_that_
once_betrayed_me>.
Takei, George, Justin Eisinger, and Steven Scott. They Called Us Enemy. San Diego: Top
Shelf Productions, 2019. Print.
Takezawa, Yasuko. Breaking the Silence: Redress and Japanese American Ethnicity. London:
Cornell UP, 1995. Print.
---. “Negotiating Categories and Transgressing (Mixed-) Race Identities: The Art and
Narratives of Roger Shimomura, Laura Kina, and Shizu Saldamando.” Trans-Pacific
Japanese American Studies: Conversations on Race and Racializations. Ed. Yasuko
Takezawa and Gary Y. Okihiro. Honolulu: U of Hawai’i P, 2016. 60-82. Print.
258
Tateishi, John Y. “Memories from Behind Barbed Wire.” Harth 129-138. Print.
Taylor, Charles. “The Politics of Recognition.” Multiculturalism: Examining the Politics of
Recognition. Ed. Charles Taylor and Amy Gutman. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1994.
25-74. Print.
---. Sources of the Self: The Making of the Modern Identity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1989.
Print.
Teorey, Matthew. “Untangling Barbed Wire Attitudes: Internment Literature for Young
Adults.” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 33.3 (2008): 227-245. Print.
“Terminology.” Densho: The Japanese America Legacy Project. Densho, 2017. Web. 01 Oct.
2019. <https://densho.org/terminology/>.
“Then They Came for Me: Incarceration of Japanese Americans during WWII and the Demise
of Civil Liberties.” Alphawoodgallery.org. Alphawood, 2021. Web. 24 Feb. 2021.
<http://www.alphawoodgallery.org/exhibition/>.
Thompson, Sarah. “The World of Japanese Prints.” Philadelphia Museum of Art Bulletin
82.349-350 (1986): 1-47. Print.
Toyo’s Camera: Japanese American History during WWII. Dir. Junichi Suzuki. Perf. Archie
Miyatake, Daniel Inouye, Steven Okazaki. Film Voice, 2009. DVD.
“Tule Lake Committee.” Tulelake.org. Tule Lake Committee, 2020. Web. 25 Mar. 2019.
<https://www.tulelake.org/>.
Tribunella, Eric L. Melancholia and Maturation: The Use of Trauma in American Children’s
Literature. Knoxville: U of Tennessee P, 2010. Print.
Uchida, Yoshiko. The Bracelet. Illus. Joanna Yardley. London: Puffin Books, 1996. Print.
Ulanowicz, Anastasia. Second-Generation Memory and Contemporary Children’s Literature:
Ghost Images. New York: Routledge, 2013. Print.
Unknown. Japs Keep Moving – This is a White Man’s Neighborhood. Ca. 1920. Photograph.
Smithsonian National Museum of American History. Smithsonian National Museum of
American History, n.d. Web. 30 July 2018.
<https://amhistory.si.edu/perfectunion/collection/image.asp?ID=411>.
Uradomo, Stacey Mitsue. Legacies: Family Memory, History, and Identity in the Art of Roger
Shimomura, Tomie Arai, and Lynne Yamamoto. Diss. University of Southern
California, 2005. Print.
Varner, Natasha. “Anti-Refugee Rhetoric and Justifications for WWII-era mass incarceration:
259
Is History repeating itself?” Densho Blog. Densho, 20 Nov. 2015. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://densho.org/5-alarming-similarties-between-anti-syrian-refugee-rhetoric-and-
justifications-for-world-war-ii-era-mass-incarceration/>.
---. “Intersections of Black and Japanese American History: From Bronzeville to Black Lives
Matter.” Densho Blog. Densho,17 Feb. 2016. Web. 15 Feb. 2021.
<https://densho.org/japaneseamericanandblackhistory/>.
Velicu, Adrian. “Cultural Memory between the National and the Transnational.” Journal of
Aesthetics & Culture 3 (2011): n. pag. Web. 3 May 2017.
<https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.3402/jac.v3i0.7246>.
Vickroy, Laurie. “Voices of Survivors in Contemporary Fiction.” Contemporary Approaches
in Literary Trauma Theory. Ed. Michelle Balaev. New York: Palgrave Macmillan,
2014. 130-151. Print.
Viladrich, Anahí. “Sinophobic Stigma Going Viral: Addressing the Social Impact of COVID-
19 in a Globalized World.” American Journal of Public Health. American Public
Health Association, 2021. Web. 26 Mar. 2021.
<https://ajph.aphapublications.org/doi/abs/10.2105/AJPH.2021.306201>.
“Visual History Program.” Densho: The Japanese American Legacy Project. Densho, 2017.
Web. 25 Sept. 2018. <https://densho.org/visual-history-program/>.
Wakatsuki, Hanako. “Minidoka.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho, 2018. Web. 02 Oct. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Minidoka/>.
Wakatsuki Houston, Jeanne, and James D. Houston. Farewell to Manzanar. New York:
Bantam Books, 1973. Print.
Walker, Rachael. “Gaijin: American Prisoner of War Discussion Guide.” Books.disney.com.
Disney Books, 2014. Web. 12 July 2018. <https://books.disney.com/content/uploads/
2014/04/Gaijin-DG %C2%A6%C3%86.pdf>.
Walmsley, Roy. “World Prison Population List – 12th edition.” Prisonstudies.org. World Prison
Brief, 2018. Web. 03 Feb. 2020.
<https://www.prisonstudies.org/sites/default/files/resources/downloads/wppl_12.pdf>.
Wang, Esther. “The Persistence of ‘Yellow Peril.’” Jezebel.com. G/O Media Inc., 09 Apr.
2020. Web. 15 Feb. 2021. <https://jezebel.com/the-persistence-of-yellow-peril-
1842705762>.
Waseda, Minako. “Extraordinary Circumstances, Exceptional Practices: Music in Japanese
American Concentration Camps.” Journal of Asian American Studies 8.2 (2005): 171-
209. Print.
260
Wee, Su-Jeong, et al. “Unpacking Japanese Culture in Children’s Picture Books: Culturally
Authentic Representation and Historical Events/Political Issues.” Reading Horizons 57
(2018): 35-55. Print.
Wehrey, Jane. Manzanar. Charleston: Arcadia, 2008. Print.
Wells, Christine, Catriona M. Morrison, and Martin A. Conway. “Adult Recollections of
Childhood Memories: What Details can be recalled?” The Quarterly Journal of
Experimental Psychology 2013: 1-13. Print.
Wertheim, David. “Remediation as a Moral Obligation: Authenticity, Memory, and Morality
in Representations of Anne Frank.” Erll/Rigney 157-172. Print.
White, Hayden. “The Narrativization of Real Events.” Critical Inquiry 7.4 (1981): 793-798.
Print.
---. “The Value of Narrativity in the Representation of Reality.” Critical Inquiry 7.1 (1980):
5-27. Print.
---. “The Question of Narrative in Contemporary Historical Theory.” History and Theory 23.1
(1984): 1-33. Print.
Whitehead, Anne. Trauma Fiction. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2004. Print.
Whiting, Cécile. “Pop Art.” Encyclopedia of American Studies. American Studies
Association, 2018. Web. 03 Dec. 2018. <https://eas-ref.press.jhu.edu/view?aid=29>.
“Who We Are.” Manzanarcommittee.org. Manzanar Committee, n.d. Web. 15 Mar. 2019.
<https://manzanarcommittee.org/who-we-are/>.
Winters, Kari-Lynn, Candace Figg, Kimberly Lenters, and Dave Potts. “Performing Picture
Books as Co-Authorship: Audiences Critically and Semiotically Interact with
Professional Authors during Author Visits.” More Words about Pictures: Current
Research on Picture Books and Visual/Verbal Texts for Young People. Ed. Naomi
Hamer, Perry Nodelman, and Mavis Reimer. New York: Routledge, 2017.100-115.
Print.
Wolf, Werner. “Das Problem der Narrativität in Literatur, Bildender Kunst und Musik: Ein
Beitrag zu einer intermedialen Erzähltheorie.” Erzähltheorie transgenerisch,
intermedial, interdisziplinär. Ed. Vera Nünning and Ansgar Nünning. Trier:
Wissenschaftlicher Verlag Trier, 2002. 23-104. Print.
Womack, Autumn. “‘ABC’ List.” Okihiro, Encyclopedia 3-4. Print.
Wu, Ellen D. The Color of Success: Asian Americans and the Origins of the Model Minority.
Princeton: Princeton UP, 2013. Print.
Wyatt, Barbara. Japanese Americans in World War II: A National Historic Landmarks Theme
261
Study. Washington, DC: National Historic Landmarks Program, 2012. Print.
Yamada, Jeni. “Legacy of Silence (II).” Harth 47-60. Print.
Yamasaki, Katie. “About Katie.” Katieyamasaki.com. Katie Yamasaki, 2019. Web. 04 Mar.
2019. <http://katieyamasaki.com/about/>.
---. “Artist Statement.” Katieyamasaki.com. Katie Yamasaki, 2019. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://katieyamasaki.com/about/statement/>.
---. “Catching up!” Katieyamasaki.com. Katie Yamasaki, 25 Oct. 2013. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://katieyamasaki.com/blog/page/2/>.
---. Fish for Jimmy. New York: Holiday House, 2013. Print.
---. “‘Fish for Jimmy’ Book Signings and School Visits, 2013.” Katieyamasaki.com. Katie
Yamasaki, 2019. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://katieyamasaki.com/work/fish-for-jimmy-book-signings-and-school-visits-
2013/>.
---. “Katie Yamasaki wants your fourth grader to understand the Japanese American
Incarceration.” Interview by Kimi Robinson. HelloGiggles.com. Meredith
Corporation, 18 Dec. 2017. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<https://hellogiggles.com/lifestyle/katie-yamasaki-fish-for-jimmy-interview/>.
---. “Moon Beholders.” Katieyamasaki.com. Katie Yamasaki, 2019. Web. 04 Mar. 2019.
<http://katieyamasaki.com/work/moon-beholders-japanese-american-national-
museum-little-tokyo-los-angeles-ca-2014/>.
Yamato, Sharon. “Civil Liberties Public Education Fund.” Densho Encyclopedia. Densho,
2018. Web. 15 Sept. 2018.
<http://encyclopedia.densho.org/Civil_Liberties_Public_Education_Fund/>.
Yanagisako, Sylvia Junko. Transforming the Past: Tradition and Kinship among Japanese
Americans. Stanford: Stanford UP, 1985. Print.
Yates, Carleen, et al. “Image Making and Personal Narratives with Japanese-American
Survivors of World War II Internment Camps.” Art Therapy: Journal of the American
Art Therapy Association 24.3 (2007): 111-118. Print.
“Yellow No Same, 1992.” 1992. Lithographs. Lawrencelitho.com. The Lawrence Lithograph
Workshop, 2018. Web. 26 Sept. 2018.
<http://www.lawrencelitho.com/portfolio-item/yellow-no-same-1992/>.
Young, William H., and Nancy K. Young. Music of the World War II Era. Westport:
Greenwood, 2008. Print.
Youngs, Suzette. “Injustice and Irony: Students Respond to Japanese American Internment
262
Picturebooks.” Journal of Children’s Literature 38.2 (2012): 37-49. Print.
Yuval-Davis, Nira. “Belonging and the Politics of Belonging.” Patterns of Prejudice 40.3
(2006): 197-214. Print.
Zaretsky, Eli. “Identity Theory, Identity Politics: Psychoanalysis, Marxism, Post-
Structuralism.” Social Theory and the Politics of Identity. Ed. Craig Calhoun.
Cambridge: Blackwell Publishers, 1994. 198-215. Print.
Top Related