My nest of silence

Matt Faulkner

Book - 2022

A graphic novel/prose hybrid which tells the story of a young Japanese American man who leaves his family in the Manzanar internment camp to fight in the European theater during World War II, and of his ten-year-old sister who, frustrated over her brother risking his life for the government that imprisoned them, decides to stop talking until he returns.

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Subjects
Genres
Graphic novels
Published
New York : Atheneum Books for Young Readers [2022]
Language
English
Main Author
Matt Faulkner (author)
Edition
First edition
Physical Description
373 pages : illustrations ; 22 cm
Audience
Ages 8 to 12.
ISBN
9781534477629
Contents unavailable.
Review by Booklist Review

After learning of Europe's Nazi concentration camps as a child, Faulkner also discovered how Americans of Japanese descent were unjustly imprisoned during WWII, a revelation made more urgent because of family connections: his great-aunt Adeline; her daughter, Mary; and Mary's children were held at Manzanar Relocation Center because Mary's father was Japanese. Their experience of removal and incarceration inspired Faulkner's Gaijin (2014); his latest is an impressively fuller account of the Japanese American WWII experience, spotlighting the Asai family held at Manzanar. Ichiro and Aki (Ichiro was Adeline's husband's name) are the parents of Mak and Mari (clearly a nod to Mary). Despite Ichiro's protestations, Mak enlists and eventually serves on the "Go for Broke" battalion, the 100th/442nd that became the most decorated unit in U.S. military history. Until Mak returns, Mari takes a vow of silence, facing her own fearful battles in camp. Faulkner presents an ingenious hybrid format, assigning the prose chapters to Mari, who writes what she can't say, while the graphic panels belong to Mak. Faulkner stupendously draws Mak's experiences as a Japanese American soldier (much of the army's dismissive, racist behaviors are on full display), and the revealing panels make for a cutting contrast to Mak's protectively reassuring letters to Mari. Deftly combining the personal and historical, Faulkner alchemizes his extended family's past into magnificent, essential testimony.

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Faulkner (Gaijin: American Prisoner of War) employs stunningly realistic b&w comics spreads and aching prose to deliver a forthright account of one Japanese American family during WWII. Ten-year-old Mari Asai and her older brother Mak live in Manzanar, a Japanese internment camp in California. When Mak enlists in the U.S. Army against their father's wishes and is deployed, Mari, frustrated with her family's infighting, vows not to speak until Mak returns. She seeks solace in her art and in the letters that Mak sends home, which describe his experiences in basic training and during overseas conflict, though he attempts to mask the brutality of war through lighthearted anecdotes ("The food here is even worse than at Manzanar. Lots of beans and root veggies. And SPAM! Blech!"). During his absence, Mari buckles emotionally under Manzanar's increasingly squalid conditions. Faulkner's digital art mimics pencil sketches; delicate line work portrays intimate character close-ups while bolder strokes splay across full-spread battle scenes. Via Mari's earnest narration, her and Mak's stories interweave, showcasing with candid clarity the cruelty both siblings endure. A vividly wrought, necessary exploration of Japanese American history. Ages 10--up. (Oct.)

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 4--6--It's 1944, World War II is raging on, and in the wake of the attacks on Pearl Harbor, Mari and her family have been interned at Manzanar War Relocation Center for over a year because they are Japanese American. When Mari's brother and best friend Mak turns 18, he joins the U.S. Army, devastating Mari and infuriating his father. Frequently described as "abnormal," Mari takes a vow of silence until either the war ends, or Mak comes home. While her brother is away, Mari tells readers her story through a first-person narrative. She shares her thoughts on her neighbors like the Clucking Sisters and Oba-Chan Yuki and describes daily life in the camp, from art classes with other camp children to lending a helping hand at Manzanar's orphanage. The most important part of Mari's day is whenever she gets the chance to draw. Drawing is her passion, something she can do when the world doesn't make sense and it's a way to relate to others. While away, Mak writes often, regaling her with tales from bootcamp and later on the European front. However, readers catch a glimpse into the reality of Mak's life as a soldier through graphic novel interludes, where black-and-white comic panels bring his true experiences to life. Assigned to an all--Japanese American battalion, he finds every aspect of his enlisting informed by prejudice and discrimination. A combination of narrative fiction and graphic novel, this hybrid delivery of a brave story depicts the Japanese American experience during World War II and will be a hit with reluctant readers. VERDICT At times heartbreaking and other times hopeful, this story of the power of family and ugliness of hate is a first purchase for any library and a must-read for students who enjoy historical fiction or graphic novels.--Maryjean Riou

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review

Like many Japanese Americans, the Asai family has been sent to Manzanar during World War II. Mari has always enjoyed a special bond with her older brother, Mak -- he alone seems to appreciate and nurture her gift for drawing -- but when he decides to enlist in the army, it divides the family. Their father, Ichiro, refuses to speak to Mak, and Mari takes a vow of silence, pledging to remain mute until her brother returns. The story is told from Mari's first-person perspective, but when letters from Mak arrive, the narrative segues into graphic-novel panels that vividly capture his experiences in the 442nd infantry regiment, the most decorated in U.S. military history. Mak and his comrades exhibit heroism and bravery, even in the face of prejudice. In contrast, Mari chronicles daily life in Manzanar, particularly the community's response to her silence; the evolving dynamics among her father, mother, and absent brother; and the sense of optimism that permeates the story's end as Mak is spared the worst violence of the war and the Asai family makes plans for the next chapter in their lives beyond Manzanar. Mari's reflective internal narrative, coupled with Mak's action-packed sequences, marks this unique contribution to the growing body of work in children's literature around Japanese American internment. Jonathan Hunt November/December 2022 p.82(c) Copyright 2022. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review

A Japanese American family is split between an incarceration camp and the battlefront. It's 1944, and Mak, Mari's 18-year-old brother, has gone away to fight in World War II. Mari has vowed not to speak again until he comes back, no matter how strange her father or anyone else at Manzanar finds it. Mari spends her time drawing and waiting for letters from her brother, who experiences first basic training and then combat. Mak is forced to face the fact that the same government that locked his family up for being Japanese is happy enough to send him to the front--and racism from White fellow Americans continues overseas, of course. As Mak tries to protect his family from the uglier side of war, Mari contends with her quarreling parents, dismal life at camp, and her own volatile moods. Told through prose and black-and-white comic panels, Mari's and Mak's stories come to life. Mari's sections are sometimes hampered by a disjointed narrative style that leaves her age and perception of events unclear and that is a mismatch for the relatively more brutal sections detailing Mak's wartime experiences. Even so, the stark inequities that Japanese Americans faced as well as the quieter struggle of parents and children trying to understand each other and grow together both shine through. A Japanese American incarceration narrative told through an original and effective blend of prose and illustration. (author's note, bibliography) (Historical fiction. 10-15) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Chapter 1: That'll Teach Them 1. THAT'LL TEACH THEM It was a greyhound, my father said, a kind of dog, painted on the side of the bus. It didn't look like a dog. Not in the least. Trust me. If I were going to draw a dog, it wouldn't look like that thing. I was trying to figure out what this "dog" thing actually looked like when the bus pulled away, taking my brother off to the army. I waved to him. The windows were so dirty, I couldn't tell if he was waving back. So I waved harder. While I was waving, I noticed a suspicious-looking dust cloud rising up behind the bus. It loomed over my parents and me and took on the appearance of a hammer. I was sure it was up to no good. Luckily, a breeze grabbed ahold of it and tossed the dust hammer onto the side of the road. I wish I hadn't been so concerned about the dust-cloud hammer, because by the time I'd confirmed that it wasn't going to clobber us, I realized that the bus was very, very far away. A moment later it and Mak were gone, disappearing behind a distant hill. I kept waving anyway. If he'd been there, Mak would've laughed at me. Hey, kabocha-head! I could hear him say. Get a load of you worrying about a dust cloud. You and your crazy imagination! I rubbed my head where I imagined Mak would've applied his noogies. Funny thing was, I'd always hollered and squealed in the past when he rubbed my head with his knuckles. But now I actually missed them, Mak and his noogies. I pictured Mak's face, his eyes and eyebrows and the silly-looking glasses he wore, the way the little scar over his lip would tilt upward when he smiled. I jumped when Mama called my name. "Come along, Mari," said Mama as she and Father started the long walk back to the barracks. (Like all the other grown-ups at the camp, they always spoke in Japanese. They had emigrated from Japan and didn't learn English when they were growing up, the way Mak and I did. We spoke in Japanese too when we talked with them, though when it was just Mak and me, we spoke English like the other kids. So as you read, just imagine our conversations are all in Japanese.) "Mari!" said Father. "It's dinnertime! Come along." Dinner? Honestly, Father! Mak is going to war on a dirty bus with a stupid dog thing painted on the side of it, and all you care about is dinner. I stood there for a moment, furious, thinking about dust clouds that looked like hammers, about my selfish big brother who'd made a stupid decision to go to war without discussing it with me first, and about my father needing to go eat another piece of boiled SPAM in the mess hall. It was right then that I decided I wouldn't talk anymore. I remember saying to myself, I know what'll teach them. I'm not going to talk anymore. Later on I added, Or at least until Mak comes home. But I didn't add that part till I'd spent a few days not talking. Take it from me, not talking is not easy. "Mari! Please," hollered Father. I spun about, stomped after my parents, and caught up to them. As we passed the guard post by the front gate, the sentry smiled at me. I stuck out my tongue. That'll teach him, too. Excerpted from My Nest of Silence by Matt Faulkner All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.