Our second literary work to be discussed in class was a compelling surpirse. Being new to Canada, I had no knowledge about Japanese-Canadian’s sufferings during the Second World War. Joy Kogawa’s Obasan, was then a very new text for me. When we had our CAP joint lecture, and we watched the documentary “A Degree of Injustice” I was shocked and moved by the testimonies of the UBC ex-alumni that were first-hand witnesses to discrimination, displacement, and were left in an uncomfortable uncertainty about their relatives, whom were taken away forcefully to work on camps, or were forced out of their homes. Joy Kogawa takes a different account on the subject, for she used a variety of similar testimonies as well as her memory to write a novel about it. Furthermore, going through Kogawa’s archives in the RBSC opened my eyes to the necessity of literature, and Kogawa’s commitment to convey history through it.

Literature is one fantastic way of expression that I have always valued, as it is an art made up of something as mundane as words on a paper. This nature allows it to become one the most powerful examples of humanity, in a variety of aspects. Kogawa transforms the narrative of injustice and segregation that is seen during the Japanese-Canadian interment, and creates a beautiful testimony through the voice of Naomi, whom we get to know throughout the book in different points of her life. Naomi portrays her experiences and traumas growing up as a Japanese-Canadian during a time of racial tension and war-driven paranoia. The portrayal of such a powerful subject is also a challenge for literature.

After visiting the RBSC and exploring through some of Joy Kogawa’s archives I felt connected to her writer persona at an angle much different than the novel provided. In Obasan, I am constantly compelled by the swiftness of her descriptions as I am introduced to the Nanake-Kato family. However, some of the archives we explored were letters of rejections from different Canadian publishers. This made me think of the magnitude of Kogwa’s project, and the challenges that literature faces to even be out there for the people. As a reader, one tends to forget the skewedness of the chance authors have to issue their work, and that dense and morose topics like Japanese-Canadian interment are not always “best seller” material in the eyes of publishers.

On the letter by Toronto publisher “McClelland and Stewart Limited”, Kogawa’s manuscript was said to be “full of drama… narrative lacks flow and color”. In my opinion, I do find Obasan’s tone to be morose and constantly nostalgic, but the theme of memory and remembrance is too, especially when recalling trauma. This theme is crucial to the story, as well as in the broader topic of historical reminiscence. The seemingly static narrative, in my opinion, does fulfill its purpose of standing stoically when remembering past traumas, when one is so shocked at some surreal circumstances that are part of a collective reality, and Kogawa’s words paint a sepia-filtered picture of the private testimonies of Naomi and so many other Japanese-Canadians that are represented through her.

The publisher “Oberon” also called out on Kogawa’s poetic prose (natural to her, being a poet before she took on the task of writing Obasan), with the argument that although it was “lovely… it deflects the reader from the movement of the story” and contributes to the “misty” characters and plot. However, to me, it is this precise mistiness, haziness, that comes with recalling one’s ghosts of old past, that portrays the story so well. A story like this is not one that is easy to read, or to remember, but it is even harder to live it through. Kogawa takes on the difficult task of turning this discourse of fear and segregation that was hindered to the public eye into literary art, perhaps easing the introduction of the topic into the mainstream society as well. This topic also relates to chapter seven on the book, where Aunt Emily highlights the importance of the “printing press” as she unravels her collection of historical documents that prove the thread of history that is often wanted to be cut by those who deny that it happened, and those who want to forget that it did. The release of the novel was one of the events that contributed to the issue of the Canadian government’s formal apology to Japanese-Canadians in 1988, as the literary piece addressed the urgency for this story to be addressed.

The reading of Obasan and the visit to the RBSC has allowed me to dive deeper into a topic I was initially ignorant about, and has allowed me to better understand and appreciate Joy Kogawa’s work, and her role not only as a writer but as a literary activist, inviting readers to join in an important although uncomfortable narrative as we get close to a private life that was converted into a public symbol of Japanese-Canadian’s resilience through the novel form, which can essentially be taken as word art.