Allen Say Details His Mother's Journey of Self-Discovery in Tea With Milk

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.

Allan Say Describes Having One Foot in Two Worlds in Grandfather's Journey

“Leavin’, it never is easy. There’s no place like home’s what they say…” So begins Ryan Kelly’s The Village That They Call the Moy, a wistful song about emigration and love of one’s hometown. Homesickness is a thread weaving its way through much of Irish folk music, but it’s certainly not unique to immigrants from the Emerald Isle. In the picture book Grandfather’s Journey, Allen Say poignantly describes his grandfather’s experience of exploring the world and making a home in two different countries, with the result that he always was yearning for one while he was in the other.

Say has written other books reflecting his Japanese-American heritage, including Tree of Cranes, which describes a Christmas celebration that incorporates Japanese traditions. In Grandfather’s Journey, Say presents his grandfather as an adventurous young man eager to experience all that America had to offer. With just a sentence or two per page, he conveys the exhilaration of discovery that his grandpa experienced. Eventually, that gives way to nostalgia, to longing for the land of his childhood. So throughout the book there is a gentle tug of war, with both Japan and the United States – particularly California – staking a claim on his heart.

Say’s paintings are realistic and rich in detail. In the first portion of the book, we feel as though we are making the thrilling journey along with his grandpa, with windswept fields, shadowy mountains and towering cliffs all capturing the imagination. America feels wild and unexplored, while there’s a sense of familiarity in the paintings set in Japan. Say does an excellent job of portraying the sense of returning to one’s roots. In addition to the beautiful landscapes, there is his grandfather himself, who we see grow older and whose face often betrays a sense of wistfulness.

This is a finely crafted book that is a bit on the tall side, so it might not fit easily on some shelves, but it would make an excellent addition to a classroom or school library. It has educational value as it provides a glimpse into the immigrant experience, and it does so by encouraging children to see the world through the eyes of Say’s grandfather. Additionally, the connection between the author/narrator and the main character might inspire young readers to talk to their grandparents or other elderly relatives and friends about their experiences.

In Grandfather’s Journey, Say has created a succinct but lovely tribute to his grandfather and, by extension, to all those who have loved more than one home and find themselves forever torn in two. No matter what your cultural background, this Caldecott Award-winning book is an excellent exploration of the ties one immigrant feels to each place he has lived.

Allan Say Brings Christmas to a Small Japanese Family in Tree of Cranes

As someone who has grown up with Christmas as far back as I can remember, it’s easy to take the holiday for granted. But imagine being a little bit older at the time of one’s first Christmas experience. That’s what Allen Say does in Tree of Cranes, a lovely picture book that offers a peek at a cross-cultural Christmas celebration.

The unnamed narrator recounts for us the first Christmas of his life, which occurred in Japan “when I was not yet old enough to wear long pants.” We never learn just who the boy is, because although this is primarily a story about a boy and his mother, and to a much lesser extent his father, neither parents calls the child by name. Indeed, there is a definite distance between child and adults; it seems that Papa is rarely home, while Mama longs for some alone time, though for safety’s sake she forbids the boy to wander to his favorite spot, the neighbor’s pond, where we see him playing in the first of the book’s paintings, and one of the loveliest. There is a luminous quality to the illustrations reflecting the peace that prevails throughout this little family.

The boy is a sweet, albeit overly curious, child. I can’t fault him much for his inquisitiveness because his mother is so tight-lipped. Eventually, she explains to him what she is up to, but before that, she seems to ignore him for long stretches of time, apparently not so much because she wants to surprise him but because she has become so caught up in nostalgia that she scarcely remembers he exists. Her reprobation regarding the pond would probably be unnecessary if she were more attentive to her son. This odd disconnect between parent and child is the one negative in this story, though there is a sense that perhaps this shared Christmas celebration will bring them closer together.

My favorite aspect of the story is the pine tree his mother brings into the house. It’s the boy’s, as his parents planted it when he was born in hopes that he, like the tree, would enjoy a long life. This seems like a beautiful tradition, and it reminds me of The Little Fir Tree, a wonderful Christmas story by Margaret Wise Brown. What is especially neat is the sight of this particular tree, which looks like an oversized bonsai, all covered with paper cranes and shining candles, making it very unusual-looking but thoroughly beautiful. The boy’s longed-for Christmas present and the snowman he builds also are indicative of Japanese culture, with his mother’s California upbringing creating an interesting hybrid.

I don’t know if this book is intended to be autobiographical or is merely a story that Say made up, but in any event, Tree of Cranes is a touching story of two cultures coming together.