Books like The Floating World — picked by fans

Although this book has been around for a very long time, I only encountered it earlier this year.

It is a scientific fiction novel based on a supposed treatment given to a mentally handicapped young man (Charlie) that gave him great intelligence. This treatment had been tried earlier on mice (one being Algernon), enabling them to do cognitive tasks impossible for ordinary mice. The basis for much of the book was that the treatment was not permanent, and first, Algernon and then Charlie deteriorated back to where they were cognitively before the treatment.

The book beautifully describes what it was like (in Charlie’s own words) to be cognitively disabled before the treatment and how he was treated by people; then, when the treatment was effective, and finally, as he was deteriorating, which he recognized was happening. Although fictional, the descriptions of the cognitive changes in Charlie are compelling.

As a child of Japanese immigrants, I did well in school and led a pretty tidy existence. But I was an adventurous reader, curious about how other teenagers led their lives. This book – wow! The title alone drew me in.

The “hamburger” refers to the advice a young woman is given to distract a man who is “on the make.” But the woman —and the reader—quickly learn going out for a burger doesn’t neutralize a teenager’s lust. Certainly, issues surrounding sex, pregnancy, and societal expectations have changed significantly over the years, so some language and circumstances in this novel don’t age well.

What remains true is the empathy with which the author depicts his characters and the honesty in how he depicts the complexities of making choices and growing up.

I’m sure there’s a lot of research about how people decide what book to read. I picked up this one because the cover was inky black, and the author was only identified as “Anonymous,” a pre-Internet version of clickbait!

However, I wasn’t disappointed as this book starkly chronicled a young woman’s descent into drug use through her diary entries. By reading a book presented in such a personal format, I really felt scared for the writer as she continually put herself in dangerous situations while her life spiraled out of control. I was also fascinated by some of the period details she provided, like detangling her just-shampooed hair with mayonnaise. I even tried that once!

Although “Anonymous” ended up being an adult writer, this book made me understand more about resilience and the power of redemption rather than the dangers of drug addiction, which, frankly, I had already learned in… show more.

I would say this book, which delves into the complexities of mental illness, was way ahead of its time. Even as a teenager, I understood the deftness of using two simple words in the title to clearly illustrate the complexities of extreme moods.

The author sets this story in a suburban high school, which I could relate to, as a group of friends witness the increasingly erratic behavior of one of their classmates, Lisa. In deciding how to help, each friend must confront her own fears and prejudices.

Even though the girls often don’t know what to do, I loved how steadfastly supportive and loyal they remained. As a result, the book ends up being less about mental illness and more about how empathy and compassion can overcome the stigma surrounding it.

I loved this story about a Japanese-American boy who accidentally becomes pen pals with a French Jewish girl. Alex isn’t thrilled to find out Charlie is a girl, but as time passes, their friendship becomes an unshakeable bond—and then Charlie’s letters stop coming, and Alex’s family is forced into an internment camp by the US government. Alex siezes an opportunity to volunteer for a Japanese-American infantry regiment (the highly decorated 442nd), hoping all the while that he can somehow, miraculously, find Charlie.

This book is bittersweet and infuriating, cleverly juxtaposing the prejudice and mistreatment faced by Alex’s family with the ever increasing restrictions and cruelties faced by Charlie in German-occupied Paris, and it contains some of the best depictions of combat I’ve read in a YA novel.

Among fictional versions of the World War II camp experience, this one has been cited as, thus far, “the great camp novel.”

I consider it the “Apocalypse Now” of camp novels──a hallucinatory, abstract but visceral take on one family’s Berkeley to Topaz camp journey. Early in the story, as the Japanese American mother prepares to leave her home, and with families not allowed to take their pets with them, she kills their dog with a shovel and buries it in the backyard.

Written in short, clipped sentences, the novel continues with its highly original approach to this period in history.

Peter Irons, at attorney, investigated the incarceration of US citizens of Japanese descent during World War II. He became so upset that he devoted his own legal career to securing a rare Supreme Court reversal of its infamous Korematsu decision. This book tells that story.

I did not initially include this book until I took a class of middle school English students to the library and more than half of them went to the graphic novel shelves. Who better to tell the story of the U.S. version of concentration camps – internment camps for loyal U.S. citizens of Japanese descent – than George Takei of Star Trek fame (and more)?

Pictures really do tell more than a thousand words. Takei’s autobiographical novel offers moments of joy but paints an infuriating picture of the United States at its worst in the Twentieth Century. The loyalty of Takei’s father to the nation that imprisoned the family and so many others can seem like a contradiction, but it is perhaps the most rewarding component of the book. The illustrations are excellent.

Another powerful collection of photographs, this book shows us the images by the famous photographer Dorothea Lange.

The War Relocation Authority (a civilian agency that ran the 10 civilian incarceration camps) hired Lange to “document” life in the camps. They were expecting to receive material that would be useful as propaganda, that would prove to the outside world that the conditions were decent and inmates happy. What they got instead were depictions of harsh conditions and institutionalization. Therefore, many of Lange’s photos were never published until this volume.

Where Billy Manbo’s photos showed us an inmate’s perspective, Lange’s photos can be read as a wordless attempt to criticize the government.

This novel is the reason I became a writer, for it showed me that we Japanese/Asian Americans had stories to tell, and we could write them.

Its protagonist is one who was labeled a “No-No Boy” for his response to two questions on the “loyalty questionairre” required to be answered in the World War II camps as to whether the respondent would be willing to serve in the U.S. military. Those who refused were not only members of a reviled race after the war, but were also ostracized by their own Japanese American community.

The novel’s powerful writing, questioning one’s place in America, is often spoken aloud in stage readings and, like me, became a catalyst for members of my generation to follow creative pursuits.