9 Books Like Fifty Years of Silence

The novel One Left begins when the elderly protagonist hears a TV report on the last surviving Korean “comfort woman.” She is in fact also a comfort station survivor, one who has remained silent and hence unknown to the public. At the age of thirteen, she was kidnapped into a Japanese military comfort station in northeast China. The protagonist's thoughts flash back and forth between her present-day life and the wartime horrors, the details of which are drawn from  real survivors’ testimonies. “Fifteen men a day was normal,” she recalls, “but on Sunday fifty men or more might come and go from a girl.” “If a girl got pregnant, her uterus was removed fetus and all as a preventive measure.” It is a difficult read, but necessary, moving, and profound. 

This book is essential reading on the “comfort women” issue. Originally published in Japanese in 1995, it has inspired many readers to look more deeply into the history of Imperial Japan's wartime “comfort women.” I consulted this book frequently in my own research and writing about the subject. The book provides a wealth of documentary evidence and first-person testimonies, convincingly proving the Japanese military’s direct involvement in setting up and administering the comfort stations. This English edition includes introductions by both the author and the translator, making the story accessible for English-speaking readers. 

“Lolas” is the Tagalog word for “grannies,” referring to the aged women who survived Japanese military sex slavery in WWII. Lolas’ House skillfully weaves the heartrending first-person accounts of sixteen Filipina “comfort women,” snatched away from their homes and repeatedly violated by Japanese soldiers, with the riveting narratives of M. Evelina Galang, an American writer and professor of Filipina descent, who traveled with the Lolas to the sites of their abduction, protested with them at the gates of the Japanese Embassy in Manila, and became their trusted friends in documenting their stories. Galang says she “cannot rest until the stories are told.” I feel the same way. This book gives a powerful voice to the Filipina “comfort women.” 

This is one of those graphic novels where the drawing style completely matches the harrowing events of being a comfort woman (cw rape) for the Japanese Imperial Army during World War II. Maybe I’m biased as a Korean-American who gets emotional watching Asian elders suffering before my eyes, but every five pages, I have to stop and take a deep breath.

I learned so much in this book than what we were ever taught in the American education system. It’s a gift to have the story of a real former comfort woman told like this. I’ll treasure this book forever.

Is God a genocidal maniac? Like many people, I have struggled for years with the dark and troublesome texts in the Old Testament that seem to approve of violence, killing, and even, on occasion, genocide. I’ve read a lot on the subject, and this is unquestionably the book I have found most helpful.

I really value the authors’ careful attention to detail, the insights gained when reading OT texts in their ancient Near Eastern context, and especially the intelligent and nuanced approach to reading the Bible.

It’s not a light read, and it is detailed in places, but it is not hard to follow. It’s hard to sum up the argument, so I won’t try. The upshot is that God isn’t a genocidal maniac. In brief: eye-opening, educational, and a blooming relief.

A remarkable and incredibly brave epic saga of a young woman struggling with the inheritance of her father who grew up in the colonial era of the Netherlands in the Dutch East Indies and who had been interned in a concentration camp by the Japanese as a child and her mother who had been abandoned as a little girl at the end of WWII because her parents were Nazi sympathizers and were therefore imprisoned. The author grew up in California, USA, with many questions about her family’s identity and secrets in the war. A courageous book breaking the taboo of shedding light on ‘the other side.’ The author is a personal friend of mine.

This book began to help me understand why my father was sent to New Guinea. It taught me a lot about how Japan saw herself in the world at that time and what she thought she could do about it. My conclusion is that Japan felt threatened and feared being colonized. The Europeans had been colonizing the Asian Pacific for centuries: France in Indo-China, Britain manipulating China; Germany held various Chinese ports; Russia pushing into Korea, the Dutch in Indonesia (The Dutch East Indies)… all milking those countries of their natural resources with oppressive control of indigenous peoples. Japan in turn sought to build her nation into an Empire along the British model. 

Written over 160 years ago, this book was one of the earliest works of literature that exposed the horrors of European colonialism. By using scathing wit, Multatuli weaved together a story that shamed a system that committed terrible crimes that, at that point in time, many Europeans were ignorant of.

Despite the book being written so long ago, not a shred of its incisiveness has been lost. I believe this book is a great example of how fearlessly written prose about a reality people don’t want to, or can’t, see can lead to direct changes in that reality in the short and long term (Pramoedya Ananta Toer, author of the powerful "Buru Quartet" was quoted as saying, "Max Havelaar was the book that killed colonialism"). I remain in awe of how the story so skillfully utilized controlled outrage to take on something as terrible as the colonization of Indonesia.

Perceptions of the first several months of World War II in the Pacific war usually focus on Douglas MacArthur’s actions in the Philippines. Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy and its British, Dutch, and Australian allies waged a largely unsung and losing battle against the Japanese onslaught to control the natural resources of the Netherlands East Indies.

Rising Sun, Falling Skies scrutinizes the learning curve of allied command, the hopelessness of facing numerical superiority, and the grim awakening that airpower plays a decisive role no matter how powerful the fleet. Cox’s portraits of admirals Thomas Hart and Karl Doorman beg a host of intriguing “what ifs.”