Country of Cherry Blossoms

Town of Evening Calm,
Country of Cherry Blossom by Fumiyo Kouno

My connection to politics is often found through literature, maybe more precisely: the graphic novel. In the wake of the earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan, I at first fell prey to what I believe is a very American ideology: that this is happening elsewhere. Not because it is happening elsewhere (it is), but because the immediate human connection and understanding of the catastrophe is lost in what becomes business as usual, and because Americans don't always do their best to portray what is actually lost, or what might possibly be needed. I don't think I am the only one, but it is also difficult for me to separate the tragedy that occurred in Japan this week from what happened in Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.

When the rise of international disaster and human need extends its way to the west, and video footage documents homes that have been swept away by flooding, I find myself searching for a way to help.

I looked at the American Red Cross' website and wondered if five or ten dollars is worth it, or if there might be a better way to fund a school, a hospital, a town. I am considering donating blood, too, but I also wonder if there is a more direct way to support.

For me, specificity is important. It allows me to connect. While browsing Women & Children First Bookstore in Chicago, I came across a graphic novel called Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms by Japanese writer and artist, Fumiyo Kouno. I read it last evening as the wind rustled through my apartment and as the days approach what will soon become spring. The manga in this graphic novel is astounding, and the voices resonate with those of Art Spiegelman and Marjane Satrapi. When I purchased the book from the independent bookstore, I wondered if this was my way of contributing to Japan, by supporting a woman who - more so than national and international news media has been able - achieves by placing her readers on the shores of a fishing village outside of Hiroshima, with a family and a history that is traceable. This is literature at its most visceral, at its most crucial, and at its best. In the Japanese-English translation, the book is also read from right to left.

Maybe more so than the political connectedness this graphic novel allows, it is also not without its sense of humor, which pairs well with a traditional bent of what becomes the hope of resilience in the graphic novel and in good fiction. I can, and will, take myself to the American Red Cross and donate blood this week, and maybe I will donate five dollars to Doctors Without Borders / Médecins Sans Frontières, because I like them.

Mostly, I want to do something. I want to do something that will bring food to where it is needed and medical attention to where it is due. I want to buy more books by Japanese artists and writers because I understand, then.

I want Japan to know that it is not forgotten. I want the world to be bigger than that.

Here are some good resources that might help posit that need:

• Doctors Without Borders / Médecins Sans Frontières
  
• American Red Cross (give blood)
  
• Poetry Foundation
  
• Town of Evening Calm, Country of Cherry Blossoms

"To all the people who love this 

world—in which lies Japan in 

which lies Hiroshima." 

-Fumiyo Kouno