Books like Tomorrow's Memories

I recommend this book because it is a no-holds-barred narrative of what it is like to be a male agricultural laborer in 1920s racially segregated America.

It is a gritty tale of how a mostly male migrant population survived racial discrimination and economic hardship, living in the labor camps and working for a dollar a day. It shows how these men found ways to cope and acquire dignity even while experiencing loneliness since it was difficult to find brides (due to anti-miscegenation laws). From dressing up in $100 tailor-made suits and smoking cigars to paying ten cents a dance at taxi dance halls to gambling, prostitution, and labor activism, it tells the story of the first generation of migrant laborers in the United States.

The author died of tuberculosis in 1956.

The standing men are the Filipino undocumented migrants to Japan who work as construction workers on a day-to-day basis. They stand on the Kotobuki sidewalk hoping to get selected by a sacho to get a job for the day. 

The book is an in-depth look at their lives—how the men who are considered the underclass in the host country struggle, find love (some of them have second families in Japan), experience leisure, and fulfill masculine ideals of breadwinner in a foreign country.

It is a rare glimpse at the life of an undocumented migrant. This book can be read with Rey Ventura’s Underground in Japan (Quezon City: Ateneo de Manila University Press, 1992).

This book is a collection of many life stories of Filipino migrant domestic workers, mostly in Singapore. Since the authors of the accounts use pseudonyms, they are all insightful revelations of how these women cope with the issues of loneliness and separation from families.

The most interesting revelation is that some of these women have affairs (which they call ‘one day stands’ since they only have a day off and not the whole 24 hours) with South Asian men. I was surprised by this radical act—radical because Filipino constructions of the feminine idealise the ‘chaste wife’, and while men’s infidelity is tolerated in the homeland, women’s infidelity is not.

Finally, the book also testifies to these migrants’ strength, hard work, courage, and survival skills. 

This is an autobiography of Peter Jamero, who is a second generation Filipino American capturing what life was like growing up in a Filipino American farmworkers camp in California in the 1940s.

I was particularly struck by his comment “before I went to school my world consisted of Filipinos. Everyone else was a foreigner “ (p. 19) since he did not speak English until he went to grade school. I was moved when he said: “I looked at my image in the mirror and tried to wash my brown color away. But no matter how hard I scrubbed, the color was still there.” (p. 91).

He joins the US Navy and the Civil Rights Movement. I interviewed him in 2012, and he passed away in 2024 at the age of 94.

Ratchet, the main character, goes against all the stereotypical norms: she doesn’t like fashion, she works on cars and understands mechanical concepts, and, by virtue of her dad, gravitates toward environmentalism.

There’s so much to love about this book: it blends poetry and prose, the supporting characters (including Ratchet’s dad) are often hilariously entertaining, and the story is one of Ratchet finding herself and learning to accept her own unique self.

I first met Anne Truitt when we were both guest artists at the Yaddo Colony in upstate NY. Later, we became good friends.

I admired not only her sculptures and paintings but also the three elegant and poignant published journals of an artist’s life. My favorite is the third published Journal, Turn.

Known as a superb artist and sculptor, Turn is Truitt’s third journal revealing the woman and journey of a true artist and unique individual. A husband’s suicide leaving the author and artist to raise three children and pursue her art, creates a unique memoir timeless in the chronicles of the resilience of single women artists.

Clark was a nasty man – not a lovable rogue but a real bastard with Nazi sympathies and a taste for young girls. The first volume of his diaries, however, are brilliant because they are so extraordinarily uninhibited. He reveals everything about himself including his own fraudulence.

I adored the simple set-up for this one.

Go clean out a relative’s house: simple, basic even. But that is the perfect trap to lull you into a sense of knowing what will come. The atmosphere here really nails the vibe of modern-day folk horror.

Mouse’s narration and humor hit perfectly for me, helping set off the building dread and making it all that much more effective when things got really spooky. And we can’t forget Bongo—I am a sucker for well-written animal sidekicks, and Bongo is top-notch!

Drawing from a year of entries in his running journal and writing beautiful, compressed prose, Gardner explores the relationship between the inner and the outer world of a runner. A veteran of the sport—he’s been at it for decades—and something like a disciple of its spiritual esoterica, he captures those running moments that so many of us struggle to articulate: “One of the reasons you slog through the summer is to be in shape when a day like this appears. A day when you step away from your body and take the body in, this gliding presence no longer yours, though once, you think, it might have been.” Poverty Creek Journal is a meditation on the profundities of a body in motion.

This book captured me from start to finish. Like my book, this story is told in a gripping journal format. A meteor knocks the moon off its orbit and this causes catastrophic consequences on earth. Summer turns to a bitterly cold winter and Miranda and her two brothers and mother must figure out how they will survive in such harsh conditions. Having enough food to survive is a constant concern. This book helps us realize that when things get really awful, all that matters is food, water, staying warm, and remaining together as a family. All other concerns fall away.