Mahalo

Honolulu is a fascinating look at a seldom explored facet of the American immigration experience at the turn of the 20th century. Like the main character, my own grandmother was a picture bride in Hawaii around the same time - albeit from Japan and not Korea, as in this story. Sadly, I'll never know how she coped, her fears, hopes and dreams, what her thoughts were upon arriving alone in Hawaii with nothing but a grainy picture in her pocket. She's been gone for over 25 years and I was only able to see her in Hawaii twice, but this book provided a brief glimpse into the mind of a similarly destined young woman, whose desperation to find a better life led her to marry a man she'd never met. This woman, whose diminished value as a human being was so accepted that her given name was "Regret," learns to rise above even her own expectations and succeed in ways she couldn't possibly have imagined. My own grandmother's story, the details of which I've never really known, are a mystery to me. What disappointments did she have? What triumphs? At least now I can imagine what might have been though this compelling novel. This is a fine second novel about Hawaii - the first was an equally wonderful Molok'ai - from author Alan Brennert, whose colorful portrayal of life in territorial Hawaii brings to light so much more of what the natives and immigrants alike went through to shape their home into what we now think of as Hawaii. Before it became a tourist mecca, Hawaii was a raw, unforgiving land of few opportunities and, since transportation to and from the mainland was costly, usually not much chance of "giving up and going home." The racial mix of native Hawaiians, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Portuguese and Filipino is reflected today in its Asian traditions seen where ever you look in Hawaii. What I didn't realize was how racially divisive attitudes were, from many different ethnicities - but mostly all Asian. My roots are there, and until I read this book, I never knew how much of my life drew sustenance from these women's stories. I wish I had more information on my own family's experience; a hard lesson learned that you should take the time to learn your own story before it's too late. Now, go find your grandmother and ask LOTS of questions! I wish I had.