My Brother, My Sister and I

by Yoko Kawashima Watkins

Overview

The author of the critically acclaimed SO FAR FROM THE BAMBOO GROVE continues her autobiography, describing the hardships, poverty, tragedies, and struggles of life for her and her two older siblings, living as refugees in post-World War II Japan.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780689806568
Publisher:	Simon & Schuster Books For Young Readers
Publication date:	04/01/1996
Pages:	224
Product dimensions:	4.19(w) x 7.00(h) x 0.70(d)
Lexile:	750L (what's this?)
Age Range:	12 - 18 Years

About the Author

Yoko Kawashima Watkins received The Courage of Conscience Award from the Peace Abbey in Sherborn, Massachusetts, which cited her as an "inspiration to young people throughout America and the world.

Editorial Reviews

In the fictionalized autobiography "So Far from the Bamboo Grove" (1986), Yoko and her Japanese family escape from the Communist takeover in North Korea at the end of World War II and finally reach Kyoto, Japan, only to find themselves unwelcome there. This sequel has the same quiet honesty about ordinary people caught up in terrible times. Yoko's first-person narrative tells of a once secure middle-class child now homeless, hungry, and in danger. Mother is dead; 13-year-old Yoko and her older brother and sister struggle together to survive in Kyoto, scavenging for scraps, working at anything they can find, even cleaning toilets. Father is a prisoner somewhere; the hope of his return is like a heartbeat in everything they do. Driven from their warehouse home by fire, they find themselves accused of arson and murder, and they help the police solve the murder mystery. However, the core of the story is not the big events, but the family drama and the home the young people make together, whether in a shack or a hospital room. Their loving bonds are strong, but they're also irritable and nervy. Yoko hates her sister's bossiness, especially the insistence that Yoko go to school. The school scenes are brutal: the rich students torment Yoko as an outsider; even when she graduates with top honors, they don't want her in the class photo. Yet Watkins doesn't indulge in self-pity. Except for some occasional overwriting ("I sighed sadly"), the violent suffering is treated with restraint, as in the unforgettable vignette of a scarred atom-bomb survivor who dies an outcast. The climax builds to Father's return, and his homecoming is described with the intense understatement that characterizes the best parts of this compelling story.

Hazel Rochman