Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet

First of all, how great is this title? Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet. It's the kind of title that jumps out at me, and makes me want to read before I even know the basic plot (aside from the obvious theme of the bittersweet dishes life usually serves). I'm glad to report that author Jamie Ford's debut didn't disappoint; his take on the U.S. internment of Japanese citizens during World War II (told from the point of view of a 12-year-old Chinese boy) is poignant and utterly unique.

The story begins with Old Henry Lee, a Chinese-American gentleman, standing at the entrance of the Panama Hotel, a formerly grand building that in its heyday stood at the juncture between Japantown and Chinatown. For Old Henry Lee, the hotel also stands at the juncture between his past and present, and the novel moves between boyhood flashbacks and present-day occurences that remind him of those turbulent, yet somehow incredibly sweet, days.

As a child Henry Lee's father makes him wear an "I am Chinese" button to his mostly-white school every day, but children mock him and call him "Jap" or "Jap-lover" regardless. When Keiko, a pretty young Japanese girl, enrolls in the same school, Henry is surprised to discover in her a true and beautiful friend. He hides the friendship from his father, who bitterly hates all people and things Japanese, and must also come to grips with the fact that Keiko and her family are to be taken without reason and sent to a "prison" camp far away. Henry struggles with questions of love and loyalty, hope and despair, reason and injustice; who is he, and who is Keiko? What draws them together, and what makes them different? Even more important, what makes them the same?

Ford's writing is succinct and clear, yet encompasses a level of depth and thoughtfulness rare in modern American fiction. Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet is more than a story, and will instill in readers the knowledge and sense of thoughtfulness that are hallmarks of a work of literature well-done.

An oak.

And You Know You Should Be Glad

Sometimes, when I'm at work and the mindless monotony becomes unbearable, I read every single article on CNN's homepage. Most simply reiterate the same stories I heard on the radio during my morning commute, and some offer snippy, sarcastic points of view about things that don't really matter. While the articles are well-written and informative, I seldom feel enriched after one of these news cram sessions, but feel rather bogged down and disgusted with the world. On occassion, however, I come across a rare golden nugget amidst the sludge. One afternoon as I was reading an article (I confess I no longer recall the actual topic), I was surprised to realize that I really liked the article. I liked the writer's style and his voice, and I liked his view of the world. I wondered if he'd ever written any books, and a quick Google search told me that he had--several, in fact. I stopped at the library on the way home, and this is what they had in stock.

And You Know You Should Be Glad tells the story of Bob Greene, the author, and his life-long best friend, Jack Roth. Both men are older at the story's beginning, and throughout the book Greene recounts various moments they shared during their lifetimes. Jack is dying, and it causes Greene to really ponder the ideas of friendship, love, and life in general. The book undoubtedly reminds readers of the friends in their own lives, which can be a bittersweet experience. Without any contrived or superfluous wording, the book highlights some of the sweetest aspects of the human condition.

It's one of the best works of non-fiction I've read in a long time, and I definitely recommend it. I think this one's an oak.