Love in the Library
"A powerful must-read."—Booklist (starred review)
Set in an incarceration camp where the United States cruelly detained Japanese Americans during WWII and based on true events, this moving love story finds hope in heartbreak.
To fall in love is already a gift. But to fall in love in a place like Minidoka, a place built to make people feel like they weren’t human—that was miraculous.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Tama is sent to live in a War Relocation Center in the desert. All Japanese Americans from the West Coast—elderly people, children, babies—now live in prison camps like Minidoka. To be who she is has become a crime, it seems, and Tama doesn’t know when or if she will ever leave. Trying not to think of the life she once had, she works in the camp’s tiny library, taking solace in pages bursting with color and light, love and fairness. And she isn’t the only one. George waits each morning by the door, his arms piled with books checked out the day before. As their friendship grows, Tama wonders: Can anyone possibly read so much? Is she the reason George comes to the library every day? Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s beautifully illustrated, elegant love story features a photo of the real Tama and George—the author’s grandparents—along with an afterword and other back matter for readers to learn more about a time in our history that continues to resonate.
Set in an incarceration camp where the United States cruelly detained Japanese Americans during WWII and based on true events, this moving love story finds hope in heartbreak.
To fall in love is already a gift. But to fall in love in a place like Minidoka, a place built to make people feel like they weren’t human—that was miraculous.
After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, Tama is sent to live in a War Relocation Center in the desert. All Japanese Americans from the West Coast—elderly people, children, babies—now live in prison camps like Minidoka. To be who she is has become a crime, it seems, and Tama doesn’t know when or if she will ever leave. Trying not to think of the life she once had, she works in the camp’s tiny library, taking solace in pages bursting with color and light, love and fairness. And she isn’t the only one. George waits each morning by the door, his arms piled with books checked out the day before. As their friendship grows, Tama wonders: Can anyone possibly read so much? Is she the reason George comes to the library every day? Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s beautifully illustrated, elegant love story features a photo of the real Tama and George—the author’s grandparents—along with an afterword and other back matter for readers to learn more about a time in our history that continues to resonate.
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Community Reviews
This is an eloquently beautiful story about a young girl named Tama, who is in an incarceration camp where she was imprisoned solely because she is a Japanese American. She found solace working in the library. It helped erase some of the ugliness that surrounded her daily life.
One day, George became a constant patron to her library. What developed inside the compounds of the incarceration camp during World War II is a beautiful tale of two people finding each other. In all the ugliness, a beautiful flower was able to grow and flourish. That flower is hope.
Iâve recently read that Scholasticâs offer to license Maggie Tokuda-Hallâs book on the condition that she edit her authorâs note to remove a description of past and present instances of racism. Maggie Tokuda-Hall refused and I applaud her. We need more feisty authors to stand up when courage is needed. Please find her authorâs note below.
Authorâs Note:
ââ¦The 120.000 Japanese Americans who were incarcerated lost their jobs, their homes, their educations, and their possessions. They had to go on short notice to relocation centers and then incarceration camps with only what they could carry. Family heirlooms, cherished belongings, pets- so much was left behind by necessity. They might need food, tools, clothes. They didn't know. They weren't told. And so they left their lives behind.
Robbed of their rights and their dignity, the Americans who found themselves in squalor and destitution made the best of their lives that they could in the camps. And that to me is the great wonder of this story. That even under those circumstances, that terrible injustice, Tama and George found love.
This is not to say that it was "worth it." Their improbable joy does not excuse virulent racism, nor does it minimize the pain, the trauma, and the deaths that resulted from it. But it is to situate it into the deeply American tradition of racism.
As much as I would hope this would be a story of a distant past, it is not. It's very much the story of America here and now. The racism that put my grandparents into Minidoka is the same hate that keeps children in cages on our border.
It's the myth of white supremacy that brought slavery to our past and allows the police to murder Black people in our present. It's the same fear that brings Muslim bans. It's the same contempt that creates voter suppression, medical apartheid, and food deserts. The same cruelty that carved reservations out of stolen, sovereign land, that paved the Trail of Tears. Hate is not a virus; it is an American tradition.
And yet. And yet so many of us find improbable joy. Our capacious hearts find the love that our nation has denied us. Just as Tama and George did. In the face of all that hate.
Though it is always easier to destroy than it is to build, reminding myself of stories like Tama and George's reminds me to hope. To let my heart seek out the beauty and the peace the marginalized miraculously create for themselves.
To let myself imagine a future where that love is not improbable, but easy. To force myself to fight for that future.
Because if we can fall in love, if we can find our joy, if we can find that miracle despite all of these truths-
What else can we do?â
~Maggie Tokuda-Hall
One day, George became a constant patron to her library. What developed inside the compounds of the incarceration camp during World War II is a beautiful tale of two people finding each other. In all the ugliness, a beautiful flower was able to grow and flourish. That flower is hope.
Iâve recently read that Scholasticâs offer to license Maggie Tokuda-Hallâs book on the condition that she edit her authorâs note to remove a description of past and present instances of racism. Maggie Tokuda-Hall refused and I applaud her. We need more feisty authors to stand up when courage is needed. Please find her authorâs note below.
Authorâs Note:
ââ¦The 120.000 Japanese Americans who were incarcerated lost their jobs, their homes, their educations, and their possessions. They had to go on short notice to relocation centers and then incarceration camps with only what they could carry. Family heirlooms, cherished belongings, pets- so much was left behind by necessity. They might need food, tools, clothes. They didn't know. They weren't told. And so they left their lives behind.
Robbed of their rights and their dignity, the Americans who found themselves in squalor and destitution made the best of their lives that they could in the camps. And that to me is the great wonder of this story. That even under those circumstances, that terrible injustice, Tama and George found love.
This is not to say that it was "worth it." Their improbable joy does not excuse virulent racism, nor does it minimize the pain, the trauma, and the deaths that resulted from it. But it is to situate it into the deeply American tradition of racism.
As much as I would hope this would be a story of a distant past, it is not. It's very much the story of America here and now. The racism that put my grandparents into Minidoka is the same hate that keeps children in cages on our border.
It's the myth of white supremacy that brought slavery to our past and allows the police to murder Black people in our present. It's the same fear that brings Muslim bans. It's the same contempt that creates voter suppression, medical apartheid, and food deserts. The same cruelty that carved reservations out of stolen, sovereign land, that paved the Trail of Tears. Hate is not a virus; it is an American tradition.
And yet. And yet so many of us find improbable joy. Our capacious hearts find the love that our nation has denied us. Just as Tama and George did. In the face of all that hate.
Though it is always easier to destroy than it is to build, reminding myself of stories like Tama and George's reminds me to hope. To let my heart seek out the beauty and the peace the marginalized miraculously create for themselves.
To let myself imagine a future where that love is not improbable, but easy. To force myself to fight for that future.
Because if we can fall in love, if we can find our joy, if we can find that miracle despite all of these truths-
What else can we do?â
~Maggie Tokuda-Hall
I picked this up after hearing the author speak about it.
This is a great way for children to begin learning about what happened to the Japanese Americans during WWII. It is touched upon, but not a lot of details were given. There is an explanation at the end about the author's family. The illustrations were perfect for this book.
I recommend this book.
This is a great way for children to begin learning about what happened to the Japanese Americans during WWII. It is touched upon, but not a lot of details were given. There is an explanation at the end about the author's family. The illustrations were perfect for this book.
I recommend this book.
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