Tadaima! I Am Home unearths the five-generation history of a family that migrated from Hiroshima to Honolulu but never settled. In the telling, the common Japanese greeting “tadaima!” takes on a perplexing meaning. What is home? Where most immigrants either establish roots in a new place or return to their place of origin, the Miwa family became transnational. With one foot in Japan, the other in America, they attempted to build lives in both countries. In the process, they faced the challenges of internment, a civilian prisoner exchange, the atomic bomb, and the loss of their holdings on both sides of the Pacific. The story begins and ends with the fifth-generation figure, Stephen Miwa of Honolulu, who is trying to get to the bottom of a shadowed reference to his family name: “The Miwas are unlucky.” Tom Coffman’s research tracks back to the founding sojourner, Marujiro, a fallen samurai, and to the sons of subsequent generations—Senkichi, a field laborer turned storekeeper; James Seigo, a merchant prince; Lawrence Fumio, a heroically struggling “foreign” student; and, finally, the contemporary Stephen, whose nagging questions drive him to excavate his enigmatic past. Among the book’s unusual finds, the most extraordinary is the fourteen-year-old Fumio’s student diary, which he maintained in Hiroshima from July 4, 1945, through his survival of atomic bombing and into the following autumn. The Miwas climbed from poverty to wealth, and then fell precipitously from wealth into poverty. The most recent generations have regrouped by dint of intense determination and devotion to education, exercised against the strange transformation of Japanese Americans from despised “other” to model minority. Throughout, this resilient family has kept an outwardly facing cheerfulness, giving no clues as to what they have been through. Tadaima! I Am Home confronts history from a largely unexplored transnational viewpoint, suggesting new ways of looking and seeing. Although it does not explicitly beg the question of internal security in the present, it poses new perspectives on immigration, acculturation, commitment to nation, and the marginalization of distrusted minorities.

A “hauntingly beautiful memoir about family and identity” (NPR) and a young woman's journey to understanding her complicated parents—her mother an Okinawan war bride, her father a Vietnam veteran—and her own, fraught cultural heritage. Elizabeth's mother was working as a nightclub hostess on U.S.-occupied Okinawa when she met the American soldier who would become her husband. The language barrier and power imbalance that defined their early relationship followed them to the predominantly white, upstate New York suburb where they moved to raise their only daughter. There, Elizabeth grew up with the trappings of a typical American childhood and adolescence. Yet even though she felt almost no connection to her mother's distant home, she also felt out of place among her peers. Decades later, Elizabeth comes to recognize the shame and self-loathing that haunt both her and her mother, and attempts a form of reconciliation, not only to come to terms with the embattled dynamics of her family but also to reckon with the injustices that reverberate throughout the history of Okinawa and its people. Clear-eyed and profoundly humane, Speak, Okinawa is a startling accomplishment—a heartfelt exploration of identity, inheritance, forgiveness, and what it means to be an American.

Following December 7, 1941, the United States government interned 120,000 people of Japanese ancestry evicted from scattered settlements throughout the West Coast states, yet why was a much larger number concentrated in the Hawaiian Islands war zone not similarly incarcerated? At the root of the story is an inclusive community that worked from the ground up to protect an embattled segment of its population. While the onset of World War II surprised the American public, war with Japan arrived in Hawai‘i in slow motion. Responding to numerous signs of impending conflict, the Council for Interracial Unity mapped two goals: minimize internment and maximize inclusion in the war effort. The council’s aspirational work was expressed in a widely repeated saying: “How we get along during the war will determine how we get along when the war is over.” The Army Command of Hawai‘i, reassured by firsthand acquaintances, came to believe that “trust breeds trust.” Where most histories have shielded President Franklin D. Roosevelt from direct responsibility for the U.S. mainland internment, his relentless demands for a mass removal from Hawai‘i—ultimately thwarted—reveal him as author and actor. In making sense of the disparity between Island and mainland, Inclusion unravels the deep history of the U.S. “sabotage psychosis,” dissecting why many continental Americans still believe Japan succeeded at Pearl Harbor because of the unseen hand of Japanese saboteurs. Contrary to the explanation of hysteria as the cause of the internment, Inclusion documents how a high-level plan of mass removal actually was pitched to Hawai‘i prior to December 7, only to be rejected.

The white-clad wandering Japanese Yamabushi monks are mysterious, mystical figures, Known for their magical abilities and contact with supernatural spirits and deities. Far away from civilization they practice their methods of training called Shugendo (magical powers through trial). These secret methods of spiritual attainment involves meditation training, sutras, pilgrimage and hardships that most mortals couldn't bear. Standing under freezing waterfalls, walking on hot coals, fasting for days on end, learning to overcome the pain of chili and mustard smoke in confined spaces. The monks are known for amazing feats such as being able to sit in a cauldron of boiling water, run up ladders made of sword blades and being able to spend up to 7 days without food or water, or walk for 1000 days without a rest. They are said to be able to travel in the spirit to different realms. The Yamabushi live in total harmony with nature and with the spirits of nature called Kami.

Abe presents a comprehensive picture of the linguistic strategies employed by Japanese sexual minorities in various social contexts, from magazine advice columns to bars to text messaging on cell phones to private homes.

Post–World War II historical developments, including Japanese American resettlement, the U.S. occupation of Japan, the Cold War, and decolonization in an emerging “Third World,” created both a climate of uncertainty and possibility for the future of Japanese American Buddhism in the United States. As both a racial minority and as adherents of a non-Christian religious tradition with roots in Asia, Nikkei Buddhists faced distinct challenges in asserting their religion as part of their ethnic heritage. Adaptations associated with Nisei Buddhism sought to prioritize cultural assimilation as prescribed by U.S. government officials and other proponents of racial liberalism, while also seeking to maintain Shin Buddhist tradition, claiming it as integral to Nikkei heritage and part of a tradition of American religious freedom. Nisei also presented Buddhism as a world religion, which served as more than a rhetorical strategy, since many Nisei extended their vision of the sangha (community of Buddhists) to include connections with Buddhists in Japan and South and Southeast Asia. But Nisei Buddhism's emerging influence among American Shin Buddhist communities would be challenged by converts and a younger generation of more progressive Nikkei during the 1960s. Reorienting the Pure Land: Nisei Buddhism in the Transwar Years, 1943–1965, is the first historical study of Nisei Shin Buddhists in the United States during the tumultuous period between World War II and the early decades of the Cold War. This book examines Nisei-led adaptations to American Shin Buddhist institutions and organizations in an effort to reconstitute Nikkei Buddhist communities following the end of World War II and release from U.S. government sponsored concentration camps. Taking a transnational perspective, this text establishes the importance of Buddhism in shaping networks in the United States and across the globe, and is the first to highlight the centrality of ethnic Buddhism in building the terms of racial inclusion and the construction of Asian Americans as a model minority. In addressing themes of religious adaptation, cultural nationalism, and global connection, Reorienting the Pure Land makes new contributions to the fields of Japanese American history, the history of Buddhism in America, and the study of Cold War racial liberalism.

As he stumbles through an afterlife he never believed in, scientist Kenzaboro Tsuruda must make sense of his life and confront his family’s secrets in order to save his ancestors from becoming Hungry Ghosts—a Buddhist state of purgatory. Meanwhile, his daughter, wife, and sister-in-law struggle with their own loss and take turns sharing their point of view to gradually reveal their family’s shameful history—including when, during WWII, Kenzaboro sent his wife, Satsuki, to live with family near Hiroshima, where her rape by his brother resulted in the birth of their only child, Haruna. Spanning the years during WWII and its horrific ending after the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima up to Emperor Hirohito’s death in 1989, The Afterlife of Kenzaburo Tsuruda paints a beautiful and haunting portrait of ancient and modern Japan as seen through the eyes of one family as they reconcile loss, shame, honor, death, and, finally, redemption.