Book Review: This Is Paradise by Kristiana Kahakauwila

When I travel, I particularly enjoy reading books set in the part of the world that I'm visiting, so it's a real pity that Kristiana Kahakauwila didn't write this book five years ago when I visited Hawai'i. Still, it's a good substitute read for the Caribbean, which is one reason the book ended up in my bag. It's not that I think all tropical places are interchangeable--I just like to read books that evoke the same kind of steamy heat when I'm between the Tropics of Cancer and Capricorn.  And as with any tourist destination, this book is a not-always-gentle reminder to readers that just because we may be on vacation, it doesn't mean the rest of the world, with all of its troubles, is.

Kahakauwila's collection of short stories is pretty fantastic. I was drawn in from the first one, which is arguably one of the darkest ones.  In the titular story, we get a group narrative that acts a little like a Greek chorus, where the working class women of Waikiki closely observe a tourist girl and debate whether to interfere with her poor, unsafe choices. They do too little, too late, to the detriment of all.

In another story called "Wanle," Kahakauwila explores the underworld of cockfighting, which makes this the second book I've read in recent years that deals with that bugaboo of subjects that the middle class would rather not talk about (the first one is this incredibly thought provoking and disturbing book).

In "Portrait of a Good Father," we get a girl dealing not only with her father's infidelity but her brother's  death. Both things change her understanding of the world and her parents in heartbreaking ways.

The life of privilege, of white (haole) culture, is in constant conflict in these stories with the non-white Hawaiians--there is talk of water rights, eminent domain, and the overall gentrification of the islands to the point where most people who were born in the islands can no longer afford to live there. This, if nothing else, remains pertinent to my Caribbean travels today.

Throughout all of them, though, Kahakauwila explores themes of belonging, displacement, family, and tradition. Her use of pidgin for much of the dialogue grounds her stories as much as anything, but still is easy to read. She gives us a backstage tour of a world that most tourist never get a glimpse of, and yet it was a world that was intensely familiar to me, both because of my obsessive research for my trip to Big Island in 2008 and because so much of what she wrote resonates with my research and more extensive experience in the Caribbean.  I recommend this book to anybody who values good short stories, but in particular to readers who live in or travel to tropical, tourist destinations.

NB: Hogarth publishes this book this month. I read an advance reading copy of it, provided at my request by my sales rep. 

Book Reviews: A Two-fer

MOLOKA’I by Alan Brennert. $13.95 in paperback

This compelling novel follows the life of Rachel Kalama from her girlhood on Oahu through her lifelong exile at the leper colony on Moloka’i, and consequently it follows the history of Hawai’i itself from the US’s unconstitutional overthrow of the monarchy through the attack on Pearl Harbor. The reader feels the same anguish, fear, and isolation as Rachel faces one hardship after another, with a heartwarming reunion with her lost family as a final reward for her hard-earned self-reliance.


HONOLULU by Alan Brennert $24.95 in hardcover

Like his previous book Moloka’i, Brennert’s new novel takes a sweeping and probing look at a little-known period of US history. Jin is a young Korean “picture bride” who, in 1915, risks everything to leave her homeland for Hawai’i in order to marry a man she has never met. When his bitterness and cruelty drive her to run away, she makes her way to Honolulu, finding support and friendship in the most unlikely sources. Brennert takes a hard look at the hardships of being a woman in the early 20th century and at the racism that almost destroyed what is now one of the most thriving multicultural metropolises in the world.

Both books are satisfying reads, but what sets them apart is Brennert’s ability to plumb the mysteries of the human heart, exploring the heights and the depths of our emotional spectrum. What I particularly love is the fine balance he creates between hope and despair without seeming melodramatic. Fans of The Secret Life of Bees, Ellen Foster, or The Kite Runner (or anybody who is drawn to stories of overcoming social, cultural, or religious constrictions) will find much to appreciate in his novels.