A couple months ago, I read Grandfather’s Journey,
a book Japanese-American author-illustrator Allen Say wrote about how
his grandfather’s love of both Japan and America meant that no matter
where he was, he was missing his other home. That sense of dual identity
also pervades Tea With Milk, which is primarily about Say’s
mother. The two make ideal companion books, since there is some overlap
between the two stories. While that book is largely about homesickness,
this one has more to do with the idea of a home revolving around other
elements instead of a certain place.
Masako, known by her
parents as Ma-chan and by her friends as May, is a Californian who
speaks Japanese at home but generally feels more in touch with American
culture. When her parents decide to move back to Japan, it turns her
world upside-down. She doesn’t want to be a proper young Japanese lady
who must wear a kimono all day and master the art of the tea ceremony.
She doesn’t even like green tea; she much prefers the tea with milk and
sugar that she drank at her friends’ houses. Her parents seem determined
for her to be someone who she isn’t, and when her mother begins to
consult with a matchmaker, it’s the last straw. She realizes that if she
is going to take control over her life, she will need to do something
drastic.
Masako’s story made me think of Disney’s Mulan,
in which a young Chinese woman feels smothered by the ladylike
expectations placed upon her and dreams of distinguishing herself in a
way that feels true to herself. Masako does not want to embrace the life
her parents have chosen for her, so she must strike out on her own,
trying to decide as she does whether the same sense of belonging that
she felt in America can still be achieved in Japan or whether she should
make it a priority to return to California. It’s mostly a story of
self-discovery, but there’s also a thread of romance that develops. The
two are entwined, since it’s important for Masako to choose her own
husband rather than having one forced upon her.
This is a wordier book than Grandfather’s Journey.
Aside from the final page, which features an illustration on the top
and text on the bottom, each left-hand page contains several paragraphs
of text, while each right-hand page features a full-page watercolor
painting. Instead of focusing on landscapes, Say zeroes in on Masako in
each detailed, realistic illustration. In only one painting is she less
than prominent, and that is so that he can convey how tiny she feels
when she moves to Osaka on her own. The primary focus is on her
character development, and we can read varying levels of comfort in her
face depending on where she is and to what extent she is in control of
the situation.
Multi-culturalism is just as integral a part of
this story, however. As she makes her way in the big city, she comes to
appreciate both her American and Japanese upbringing. In addition to
helping her secure a good job, this varied background helps her to bond
with a young man who also understands what it’s like to be a part of two
different cultures. Tea with milk (and honey) becomes a metaphor for
all that she wishes to preserve about her American heritage.
Say
has several books based upon his family that illustrate the beauty and
struggle inherent in being a part of two very different cultures. As a
stand-alone or a complement to those other stories, Tea With Milk
is an excellent tale of two people embracing the dichotomy and letting
it help them find a new outlook and ultimately a new life.
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