This beautiful novel by Gail Tsukiyama chronicles the life of two brotheres, Kenji and Hiroshi, who become teenagers in Tokyo during the 1940s. Orphaned and raised by their grandparents, they live through the war, the occupation, and the years of Westernization that follow.

While more and more Japanese women start wearing Western dress and many old customs are put aside by the younger generations, both brothers end up choosing careers steeped in tradition: Kenji becomes a maker of masks for the Noh theater and Hiroshi becomes one of the nation’s top sumo wrestlers.

Though this book is definitely a historical novel, the historical facts aren’t the meat of the text–they simply comprise the cocoon in which her characters develop, struggle and grow. The portraits Tsukiyama paints are many: the boys’ grandmother Fumiko, who silently endures the grief of the occupation, losing her closest friend and trying to stretch their meager supplies of food; the boys’ grandfather who is slowly becoming blind; the owner of the sumo stable where Hiroshi trains, who loses his wife during the fire bombhing of Tokyo; the master mask-maker Akira who becomes Kenji’s sensei and teaches him the art of carving the wood and bringing the faces of the Noh theater to life, a man who is tempted by the comforts of marriage to a young widow he cares for, knowing all the while that his true love lies elsewhere.

(Side note: “Bow to you sensei!“)

(Sorry guys–Napoleon Dynamite moment. Don’t mean to ruin the mood, but it had to come out.)

As Kenji and Hiroshi’s careers bloom, their lives become a balancing act between tradition and change. They both lose women they love–through accident and through neglect–they both struggle to find happiness and meaning–in short, they both live.

Gail Tsukiyama’s writing style is clear and direct, making her novels almost effortless to read. And yet no richness is lost because of this–through her straightforward narration, all the subtleties of each character emerge nonetheless. Midway through the novel, Hiroshi’s grandmother says “Don’t you think every face tells its own story?” Hiroshi answers “Like a book?” His grandmother responds “More like a poem. If you study it long enough, you’ll soon find its meaning.” That’s exactly what Gail Tsukiyama does–she paints simple portraits of people, brushing traits here and there like a painter on a canvas–and as the book progresses and you gaze at these characters as they move through the story, the meaning behind the painting emerges in all its layers and complexity.

Pick up this book at your library, on your e-reader, or whatever your method may be–I think you guys will really enjoy this one. And if you like it, Gail Tsukiyama has written a ton of other great novels as well–“Women of the Silk” and “The Language of Threads” (both of which I loved), “The Samurai’s Garden” (awesome), etc. She’s worth checking out!

Have any of you read the Emily books?

I have. And not just once–probably a dozen times through, starting at approximately age 9, and continuing to this very moment. At this exact minute, I have the last book (“Emily’s Quest”) on my desk, bookmarked with a receipt from Starbucks, with only about 100 pages left before I sadly have to close the doors on this magical world. Authored by L.M. Montgomery (most beloved for “Anne of Green Gables”), this trilogy is one of my lifelong companions. Know what I mean? Some books just walk through life with you.

Yes, they are a little sentimental. Maybe a lot. If you didn’t grow up with this writing, you might find it a little too saccarine. Even I wondered if I had grown out of them for the first dozen pages . . . and then quickly adapted again to the style. But its faults aside, if you have that girlishly romantic streak in you, you might just love them as much as I do, and be swept up in the torrent of the story. However much the plot may end up in satisfying places, there is also real heartbreak strewn throughout the story. Twists that make my heart clench even now, especially as I know the moments in question are approaching.

Emily, a native of Canada born some time in the early 20th century (or late 19th?), is orphaned at age 11, and taken to live with her relatives the Murrays, a clan of people known for their pride, traditions, and general hoity-toitiness. Tradition has it that in the days of Noah, there was a special ark just for the Murrays.

Emily moves to a a farm called New Moon to live with her two spinster aunts and “simple” cousin Jimmy. New Moon is a place of tradition and beauty, a place where only candles are burned–gas lamps being too modern–, where the parlor is meant for company, and where Emily must wear buttoned boots instead of running barefoot. Emily, with (of course) pale skin, thick black hair and violet-grey eyes, is a dreamy and imaginative girl who is always caught up in one flight of fancy or another. She’s an aspiring poetess, a loyal friend, and, having one foot in fairyland, not always as well-mannered and proper as her stiff-spined family might desire. The trilogy begins when she’s 11 and ends when she’s 24, covering all those important years of growth, maturity, awakening, and the beginnings of romantic love. Through narration (with just enough omnipresence of the author) and Emily’s journal entries, we watch Emily evolve and grow from a girl to a woman, pursuing her unconventional dream of making a living for herself through her pen, gaining her independence, and (of couse) finding love.

While L.M. Montgomery’s trademarks are all over the books (an orphan, a stiff and proper older woman whose love this orphan earns over time, a woman who aspires to support herself and be independent, etc.), Emily is a very different character than Anne of Green Gables, and most definitely has her own voice. In another life, she and I are fast friends, and never doubt it.

Your library is bound to have these books, so look them up and check them out! And then you will sink into this lovely world where the sea is moaning, the fires are rustling, the cats are prowling, and the wind is moving in the evergreens.