Lois-Ann Yamanaka’s novel, Blu’s Hanging, begins most appropriately with a description of hunger satisfied in meager portions – the narrator Ivah Ogata feeding herself and her little siblings, Blu and Maisie, only with bread covered in mayonnaise, while their father feeds his hunger for his dead wife by playing “Moon River” at the piano (3). The atmosphere of hunger and want, told and highlighted by Ivah’s lilting pidgin, appears in moments of sweet sorrow throughout the book even in its final chapters, reflecting the reality of a world where hunger never ceases, even in death.

Yamanaka’s story, a source of controversy for its depiction of sexuality and incest (primarily in the form of the Ogata family’s neighbor, Uncle Paolo - a depiction that later caused the rescinding of an award from the AAAS), is sometimes alienating and sometimes cringeworthy, but I cannot deny that it is well-written and that the characters are presented so vividly that they are often too real. Racism and poverty also have center stage here, as the family copes to deal with the death of their mother.

The children’s need for belonging is often heartbreaking. Ivah dreams of being Betty from the Archie comics, while Blu tries to place himself in every Clint Eastwood cowboy scene he can think of, despite his corpulence and his not being white. Within the family unit, the desire for acceptance is fueled by fear. As the children’s father slips deeper and deeper into his grief, the rare moments where he is at the house and not working multiple jobs are accented by his tiredness and his unwillingness to deal with the children except in the most practical of terms. Any emotion Bertram may have felt outside of this tiredness is as silenced, a reflection of his daughter Maisie, whose silence overtook her and rendered her mute upon their mother’s death. The relative absence of both of their parents causes the children, particularly Ivah, to grow up very quickly in order to mother each other.

Yamanaka’s novel is certainly not for everybody, and even I venture to think twice before reading it again. Still it is a well-written novel even when some of the characters are unlikable, and stories often too in touch with the reality of what they are depicting. ( )

-On the Hawaiian island of Moloka’i, life goes on for the three young Ogata children after the death of their mother and the emotional withdrawal of the grief-stricken Poppy. The eldest at thirteen “big sista” Ivah is now responsible for the safety and well being of her siblings: for little Maisie – electively mute since the Ogatas’ tragic loss- and for Blu, their uncontainable brother, whose desperate need to be loved has made him vulnerable to the most insidious of relationships. But shielding those she loves from harm is not Ivah’s most difficult struggle, when she knows in her heart that her only hope for a future depends on loosening the very ties that bind her family together. A good story of loss, redemption and family. The book is written in Pidgin English and in writing in the dialect of the characters, Yamanaka is able to convey her strong message through simple text. It is an unconventional book all around and that is the major part of its strength. The chapters are very loosely in chronology with direction changes as well as interspersed poetry and perspective shifts. The negative aspects of the book are the same as the strengths as the shifts and changes as well as the style of the dialogue can be confusing or difficult to wade through at time. A fine offering exploring a common theme through a different set of eyes. Original and well-written. ( )

Lois-Ann Yamanaka’s novel, Blu’s Hanging, begins most appropriately with a description of hunger satisfied in meager portions – the narrator Ivah Ogata feeding herself and her little siblings, Blu and Maisie, only with bread covered in mayonnaise, while their father feeds his hunger for his dead wife by playing “Moon River” at the piano (3). The atmosphere of hunger and want, told and highlighted by Ivah’s lilting pidgin, appears in moments of sweet sorrow throughout the book even in its final chapters, reflecting the reality of a world where hunger never ceases, even in death. Yamanaka’s story, a source of controversy for its depiction of sexuality and incest (primarily in the form of the Ogata family’s neighbor, Uncle Paolo - a depiction that later caused the rescinding of an award from the AAAS), is sometimes alienating and sometimes cringeworthy, but I cannot deny that it is well-written and that the characters are presented so vividly that they are often too real. Racism and poverty also have center stage here, as the family copes to deal with the death of their mother. The children’s need for belonging is often heartbreaking. Ivah dreams of being Betty from the Archie comics, while Blu tries to place himself in every Clint Eastwood cowboy scene he can think of, despite his corpulence and his not being white. Within the family unit, the desire for acceptance is fueled by fear. As the children’s father slips deeper and deeper into his grief, the rare moments where he is at the house and not working multiple jobs are accented by his tiredness and his unwillingness to deal with the children except in the most practical of terms. Any emotion Bertram may have felt outside of this tiredness is as silenced, a reflection of his daughter Maisie, whose silence overtook her and rendered her mute upon their mother’s death. The relative absence of both of their parents causes the children, particularly Ivah, to grow up very quickly in order to mother each other. Yamanaka’s novel is certainly not for everybody, and even I venture to think twice before reading it again. Still it is a well-written novel even when some of the characters are unlikable, and stories often too in touch with the reality of what they are depicting. ( )