Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America

Nation of Nations: Immigrant History as American History

by Ji-Yeon Yuh

Explores the experiences of Korean military brides in the United States

Since the beginning of the Korean War in 1950, nearly 100,000 Korean women have immigrated to the United States as the wives of American soldiers. Based on extensive oral interviews and archival research, Beyond the Shadow of Camptown tells the stories of these women, from their presumed association with U.S. military camptowns and prostitution to their struggles within the intercultural families they create in the United States.

Historian Ji-Yeon Yuh argues that military brides are a unique prism through which to view cultural and social contact between Korea and the U.S. After placing these women within the context of Korean-U.S. relations and the legacies of both Japanese and U.S. colonialism vis � vis military prostitution, Yuh goes on to explore their lives, their coping strategies with their new families, and their relationships with their Korean families and homeland. Topics range from the personal--the role of food in their lives--to the communal--the efforts of military wives to form support groups that enable them to affirm Korean identity that both American and Koreans would deny them.

Relayed with warmth and compassion, this is the first in-depth study of Korean military brides, and is a groundbreaking contribution to Asian American, women's, and new immigrant studies, while also providing a unique approach to military history.

Genres: Nonfiction, Research, History, School, Asian American, Read For School, Feminism

283 pages, Paperback

First published July 1, 2002

Reviews

[Rebecca Crunden]

This book reminded me of The Feminine Mystique, although it took me a while to realise why. Both focus on women during and after the 1950s and the changes that impact them in their daily lives. But where The Feminine Mystique focuses on women unhappy with their lives in the domestic setting, Beyond the Shadow of Camptown traces the lives and experiences of Korean women who married US military men and then began their lives in the United States and are thus plunged into that setting.

Many of the women Yuh interviews were the first and, for a long time, only Korean in their new neighbourhoods in the US, and often their lives had to conform around their husbands’. Everything from their daily language to their friendship circles to their homemade meals changed. [The chapter where American meals and Korean meals are compared and examined was fascinating (and made me really hungry!).] But it was truly eye-opening and heartbreaking to read women often found that they could not cook freely in their own home, and so they cooked meals for each other and found ways to recreate their favourite Korean dishes in towns where there were few ingredients to find.

A deep loneliness resonates through the pages; I think that’s why it made me think of The Feminine Mystique. The women Yuh interviews describe being often utterly lonely in their homes, emotionally and linguistically unable to fully communicate with their husbands, and sometimes even unable to properly connect with their children as a result. Many of them describe being used and sneered at by their families despite sending money home or caring for their children due to how much stigma surrounded their marriages. Many were ostracised not only from their family, but their former friends and even other immigrants for their choice to marry a military man due of the assumptions made by others of the circumstances surrounding their marriages (assumptions which stemmed from the camptowns mentioned in the title).

But there is also a coming together of the women that is beautiful. Yuh also discusses the burgeoning women’s groups these women start and the cross-country connections they make to bring each other together and help future generations of military brides begin their new lives abroad. I found myself utterly amazed by their perseverance and courage.

This is a truly fascinating, heartfelt and ultimately kind book. Highly recommended.

⤑ research tag: in an effort to organise my shelves, I’m going to be labelling the books I’m using for study purposes as I tend to dip in and out of these. For further reading on the Korean War, check out this (incomplete list) of other reviews I’ve posted to Goodreads: The Korean War: A History, Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America, Let The Good Times Roll: Prostitution And The U.S. Military In Asia, Women Marines in the Korean War Era, The Bridge at No Gun Ri: A Hidden Nightmare from the Korean War, Sex Among Allies: Military Prostitution in U.S.-Korea Relations, Haunting the Korean Diaspora: Shame, Secrecy, and the Forgotten War, “A Defense Weapon Known to Be of Value”: Servicewomen of the Korean War Era, Name, Rank, and Serial Number: Exploiting Korean War POWs at Home and Abroad, The Korean War at Sixty: New Approaches to the Study of the Korean War, We Will Not Be Strangers: Korean War Letters between a M.A.S.H Surgeon and His Wife and When Hell Froze Over: The Memoir of a Korean War Combat Physician Who Spent 1010 Days in a Communist Prison Camp.

[deniz eilmore · Rating 4 out of 5]

proof that all immigrant parents make a point to mention how food back home tastes a thousand times better, even if its just a simple tomato.

[Taylor W. · Rating 3 out of 5]

In her book, Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America, Ji-Yeon Yuh seeks to explore the cultural collision of South Korea and the United States through a thorough historical review and analysis of the intimate relationships between South Korean women and US military men. She utilizes an array of different sources to piece together her argument, including personal oral interviews with Korean military brides and a plethora of other academic papers, among other sources such as US military documents. Yuh uses the Korean women as the central focus of her study and commentary, effectively examining them outside the shadow of their American partners. Though her book draws upon a vast range of sources to offer a structured and well-researched review of the unique history of Korean military brides, I found that she only took the time to argue one opinion (one that wholly victimizes the military brides) and failed to provide a true comprehensive historical and cultural analysis.

Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America has a well-composed structure and flow, and also does a good job of synthesizing a wide variety of external sources to support her argument. She moves easily from discussion about the origins of the camptowns, which she claims arises from the US Army’s notion that “its soldiers “need[ed]” paid sexual companions for high morale” (25), to the materialistic appeal of marrying an American from the perspective of a Korean camptown woman (one Korean military bride states “I thought everyone in America was rich” (55)), to what life in America was actually like for these women, often rife with physical and sexual abuse. In addition to the fluidity in her book, Yuh is able to provide the reader with unique access to oral interviews with Korean military brides themselves through her “personal contacts throughout the Korean immigrant community” (4). Due to the combination of Yuh’s use of those oral interviews, US military archives, and other academic papers, it cannot be denied that she is more than qualified to author a book on this subject matter. Her thorough research is communicated throughout Beyond the Shadow of Camptown and lends her writing a degree of credibility, as she uses pieces of those various outside sources to supplement her own claims. An example of this can be seen when she uses a military chaplain’s quote - “in Korea, we just say, “Aw, it’s the culture” and wink at what goes on” (24) - to support her assertion that the US turned a blind eye when it came to prostitution.

Furthermore, her collection of oral interviews serves as a unique primary source not previously available. It was very useful and interesting to hear about life in America through the Korean military brides themselves; it provided a real glimpse of their lives and hardships in the United States and the clashing of Korean and American cultures. For instance, Mrs. Crispin, a military bride, bitterly comments that after years of helping out her American nieces and nephews, they no longer have use for her, stating “So now, I give up. I just give up. […] The ones with the large family should have holiday dinners and invite people like me who are alone. But they not call me. […] There’s no point” (170). The desperation and adversity felt by Mrs Crispin is clearly related to the reader and reveals the extreme difficulty of American assimilation on behalf of the Korean brides.

However, though she had the tools to produce a complete and accurate assessment and analysis of the relationships of Korean military brides and their husbands (in both the camptowns and in America), she used too narrow of a scope to do so. She argued that the blame for the prostitution of so many Korean women was due to pretty much every other party or circumstance besides the women. For instance, she states that the women were “doubly victimized: betrayed by their own government and […] exploited by a foreign government interested only in the women’s usefulness as sexual diversions” (25). This is just one of many examples of Yuh’s defense of Korean camptown women and blaming of the United States, the Korean government, etc. It seems as if Yuh wrote with the sole intention of supporting her own argument of the powerlessness inherent in Korean culture and the post-war environment, rather than addressing all possible viewpoints. Most notably, there is no mention of competent defenders of the camptown system or another explanation for prostitution that didn’t involve blaming of an outside institution. Ironically, Yuh undermines the very level of credibility inherent in her vast research through her narrow and selective analysis of those sources.

In addition, I found fault with the few examples of what Yuh defines as resistance on behalf on the Korean military brides. She gives the example of Mrs. Pulaski, a Korean military bride, who did not want American citizenship, and was content with her permanent resident status; Mrs. Pulaski justified her decision saying, “It’s just, I’m Korean. […] Why should I, why should a Korean become an American citizen?” which Yuh then states “can be read as resistance” (123). To me, this is not really “resistance,” but rather an example of one woman stubbornly clinging to her roots. Contradictorily, Yuh had previously argued that Korean society rejected these women - so why would she then show a Korean woman clinging to a society that rejects her and present it as “resistance”? It seems to be more of a headstrong unwillingness of one woman to accept that fact that she now permanently lives in the United States; being an American citizen offers more benefits and opportunities than those available to permanent residents, and Mrs. Polaski’s aversion of American citizenship instead demonstrates her ignorance of the American government system rather than “resistance.”

Overall, I believe that Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America is a commentary that draws on extensive resources to offer insight on the lives of Korean military brides. However, Yuh analyzed her sources with too narrow of a scope, leading to a skewed narrative throughout Beyond the Shadow of Camptown. It’s almost as if she took the evidence too far in order to support her arguments (note her aforementioned example of “resistance”). Additionally, she so thoroughly victimizes the Korean women through her criticisms of the US government, the American men, and the Korean government that she almost conversely totally strips power away from the Korean military brides themselves. That being said, one aspect of her book that I did really enjoy was her oral interviews and backgrounds of the Korean military brides. These sections contained less analysis, for the oral interviews really spoke for themselves. I would recommend this book as something to read in conjunction with a less opinionated work to learn more about the difficulties and lives of Korean camptown women both in Korea and in America.

[Polly Callahan]

Erika Lee (The Making of Asian America)

[Lisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was fine, a straightforward documentation of Korean military spouses experiences in the US.

[Jason H · Rating 5 out of 5]

By detailing the ways in which the paternalistic relationship between the United States and South Korea has manifested itself in the domination of Korean women, Beyond the Shadows of Camptown, Ji-Yeon Yuh’s dissertation turned debut work, attempts to unearth the largely devastated existences of Korean military brides since the 1945 presence of the United States in the region. By establishing the role of South Korea as a “politically, militarily, and economically subordinated” (3) character in the conflict between the United States and the Soviet Union, Yuh argues that the American cultural hegemony under which generations of Koreans came of age not only informed their perceptions of America but resulted in the purgatorial existences of countless Korean women simultaneously marginalized by their American families and “left standing outside the bounds of both respectable Korean womanhood and authentic Koreanness” (4).
Offering social and historical context as well as firsthand accounts by Korean military brides, Yuh organizes her discussion of marriages between Korean women and American soldiers geographically. As Beyond the Shadows of Camptown progresses, the focus of Yuh’s examination transitions from the military bride’s ostracized life in South Korea to her struggle to gain acceptance in the United States. As Yuh begins her exploration of a military bride’s life in South Korea, she stresses the role of militarized prostitution in creating the context in which marriages to American soldiers occurred. Writing that “prostitution as an organized, commercial endeavor was first introduced to Korea” (17) under Japanese occupation, Yuh notes that prevalence of literature on the “comfort women” (16) of the Japanese military and the dearth of material acknowledging the victims of militarized prostitution by the United States. Yuh continues to make effective use of this kind of juxtaposition as she highlights the United States’s inconsistent, racially-driven foreign policy. Quoting a chaplain, Yuh writes, “In Korea, the guys are inundated with prostitutes. And the U.S. forces and American government [...] wink at what goes on” (24), but “in Germany [...] this kind of thing doesn’t go on” (24). Highlighting the difference in the American government’s treatment of South Korea and Germany as well as the American exceptionalism responsible for the absence of discourse on militarized prostitution in South Korea, Yuh makes a compelling case for a history of hegemonic domination by a neo-imperialist power capable of obscuring its injustices while projecting itself as a generous provider of “Oreo cookies, Ritz crackers, Jello pudding, potato chips, and of course Hershey’s chocolate” (34). This image of the United States as a generous protector is instrumental in leading camptown women to “naively seek out a camptown” (33) to fulfill a “longing to enter the luxurious America” (33). Yuh examines the implications of this distorted perception of America by drawing from the stories nine Korean women who married American military men.
Tracing the journey of Cho Soonyi, one of the earliest Korean military brides, Yuh suggests that Korean patriarchy was also an important factor in the migration of poor, often rural women to the camptowns. Seeking refuge from what Cho Soonyi refers to as a “‘everything is for men’” (45) culture, she was eager to marry an American soldier and begin a new life in her idea of America. By including extensive quotes from the women, Yuh allows for dynamic interaction between her academic rhetoric and the firsthand accounts of military brides. Though Cho Soonyi’s story suggests some element of self-determination, Yuh highlights the role of kidnapping and rape in supplying camptowns with women. Because of harsh patriarchal pressures, Korean women who were raped by American soldiers were shunned by their families and left with no other options than to serve as camptown prostitutes. As Yuh discusses the lives of Korean military brides in the United States, she underscores the loneliness of these women as they arrived in a country far less hospitable than they imagined. Yuh notes that in the American households “Korean food is marginalized, even stigmatized, while the American food [...] of the husband dominates” (143). Yuh reinforces the alienation and struggle of these women when she writes “physically unable to eat sufficient quantities of American food to keep up her weight [...] Mrs. Crispin slowly starved during her first years in America” (130).
Yuh’s compelling work deftly weaves narrative with historical analysis, illuminating the struggle of women entangled in a merciless of blend of patriarchy, neo-imperialist subjugation, and poverty. By offering extensive context and heartbreaking firsthand accounts, Yuh redeems the “pariahs” (5) she once noticed as a child in Korean church.

[Vernice · Rating 4 out of 5]

Through Beyond the Shadow of Camptown, Ji-Yeon Yuh presents a structured view of personal narrative of people placed on the margins - Korean military brides. Yuh frames the story of these women within the larger context and stigma of the camptowns which sprang up near the US military bases in South Korea. Essentially, Yuh brings together the lived experiences of the Korean women with her own analysis and base of theory to form a foundation of study for the larger perspectives of many Asian military brides trying to find their place in America.

Yuh places the narratives into different frames, the most prominent of which are the demonstration of scale, the dichotomy of these women’s existence and the close relationship between nationality and womanhood. In terms of the first, Yuh relates the story of the Korean military brides to larger scales of contexts going from Korea and America (national), countryside and Seoul (regional), peripheral camptown to military base (local) and then finally from women to Korean or American society (individual). Yuh seems to emphasize that each woman’s story cannot be fully understood without considering each layer of scale. In a sense, the story of a military bride and her American husband would also be a story of the poor rural population trying to make ends meet as urban migrants or of Korea as a “junior partner” to America.

As for dichotomy, the Korean military brides as Yuh presents exist on the border of two different societies, Korean and American, and are not able to thrive fully in either as each society keeps pushing them towards the other one. On one end, as they are deemed no longer pure just by mere association to the military bases and their peripheral camptowns, these women are exiled out of mainstream Korean society as they no longer fit the norms of being the virtuous women fit to marry Korean men. As for the other side, the Korean military brides are seen as forever foreigners who by history are seen as subjugated and inferior, so not on the same terms as American women, much less American men. These women seem to only exist on the border where the two societies are strongly juxtaposed against one another.

Yuh also strongly emphasizes the relationship of these military brides’ Korean background and their positions as women. Throughout the book, the identity of these women is not parsed out into nationality and gender as they cannot be for the perception of one is undeniably tied with the other. In the case of the Korean military brides, the notion of femininity as being inferior is connected to Korea’s unequal relationship with America. As “aliens” within the American context, the women, both wives and mothers, were expected to be subservient to their husbands in both mind and body.

While Ji-Yeon Yuh is to be commended on what could be described as a thorough approach to the lives of Korean military brides, it still seems that some dynamics are not fully warranted to be explained. Yuh put a vast amount of energy into emphasizing over and over the stigma against women from the camptowns but yet her research is largely based on women who do not come from that context. While Yuh points out the importance of the camptowns, the women she interviews do not seem to support the claim as strongly. The women do make references but seem to be prompted to do so as based on the structure of their interviews. On a similar note, while Yuh explains the history of the camptowns in detail, she does not necessarily do the same for the source of the camptowns - the military bases, especially considering that all the women somehow passed through one of these bases. Commenting first on Japanese and then American political relations with Korea, Yuh seems to skim over very quickly the fact of why US military bases remained after the war and why they continue to persist to today, except for presenting broad themes of neo-imperialism and national economic need. Lastly, it would seem that Yuh presents the women internalizing the “white savior complex”, leaving little to no agency on their part, although Yuh later presents this point not to be true. Yuh does not seem to present clearly whether the women see themselves as trapped and dependent within a cycle of racism and sexism or as agents who have decided (to a limited extent) and are wanting their stories to be heard.

At end, Ji-Yeon Yuh presents in Beyond the Shadow of Camptown a very detailed retrospective look into the lives of Korean military brides that would be very attractive to people wanting to study Asian military brides as a whole or the white savior complex, although it would seem her audience would primarily be within the Asian American academic field.

[David · Rating 4 out of 5]

In her book Beyond the Shadow of Camptown: Korean Military Brides in America, Ji-Yeon Yuh seeks to capture both the trials and tribulations faced by Korean military brides and the role that they had in shaping the American Korean community. In doing so, Yuh embarks on a discourse in which theoretical undertones are underscored by the poignant oral histories of 16 Korean-American military brides.
Given Yuh’s motives behind her book, it is hardly surprising that she has elected to organize its chapters by theme rather than by chronology. She first seeks to provide the reader with the context necessary to appreciate the social context in which the military brides found themselves. The reader is first exposed to Yuh’s extensive oral history work in chapter two, in which the tales of five military brides are introduced. The objective of this chapter was to provide insight into the decision making process that led these women to wed American servicemen. Throughout, Yuh employs the implied subservience of the brides as representative of American-Korean relations in the mid-20th century. Yuh then shifts focus to the women’s daily experiences upon immigrating to America, presenting a narrative of their trials and small acts of resistance is oddly reminiscent of the theoretical model present in James C. Scott’s Weapons of the Weak. This overarching theme is examined more closely in the fourth chapter with the case study of food. Indeed, the forced abandonment of Korean cuisine represented a systematic attempt to erase the cultural roots of Korean military brides. Yet this attempt to override Korean with American culture was not successful. Military brides continued to ‘cook Korean’ with friends, thus preserving their ties to Korean culture. These ties extended far beyond food preparation. Indeed, the Korean ideal of a daughter’s position within the family is one among many that persevered, and forms the central themes of chapter five. In it, Yuh explores the experiences within the oral histories that she conducted, paying special attention to how the women viewed their responsibilities as daughters, and the extent to which they felt that they had been dutiful daughters.
In this ambitious undertaking, Yuh has done an exemplary job weaving together theoretical themes and oral histories. Particularly noteworthy is the extent to which she is able to capture the experiences of Korean military brides by expressing their agency and voices. Equally as refreshing is her choice to abstain from simply treating her interviewees as victims, rather drawing attention to their important roles in establishing Korean communities in America (Korean military brides would often sponsor the immigration of a family member, who would then sponsor another member, and so on and so forth). One issue, however, is the lack of contributions made by Beyond the Shadow of Camptown to the theoretical models surrounding wartime marriages. While Yuh does provide a wealth of new information, especially valuable because it is taken from the perspective of the actual brides rather than social workers, she does not push the field forward because she stays safely within established theoretical frameworks.
All in all, Yuh provides a compelling insight into the lives led by Korean military brides and succeeds magnificently in capturing their voices and perspectives. Her decision to include both oral histories and some theoretical and historical background also allows for the creation of an effective narrative. Those interested in the long range implications of Korean/American relationships during the Cold War period would likely come away from Yuh’s book enriched.

[gmg86 · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ji-Yeon Yuh’s “Beyond the Shadow of Camptown” uses a synthesis of personally collected oral histories to attempt the debunking of popular myths and stereotypes surrounding Korean war brides. Yuh charts the experience of the women through exploring the permeation of America’s political dominance over Korea into human relationships, the rejection the women felt from both American and Korean communities, the role of food as both culture shock and cultural expression, and the turn towards organizations for unity. In characterizing the women’s experiences, Yuh seems unable to decide whether these women were victims of their situation, or proactive agents seeking to tackle the obstacles in their path. Using the anecdotes and context provided by Yuh herself, I conclude that they are not the “doubly victimized” women that Yuh frequently paints them to be (25).
Yuh leaves no doubt as to the tragedy of the situation faced by the women she calls “military brides.” Many were tricked into prostitution at American Camptowns in Korea, later to end up in America married to soldiers and excluded from both American and Korean society due to the stigma both cultures assigned them. Challenged by everything from abusive husbands to disrespectful children, language barriers to new foods, any “victim” of this “cruelty and irresponsibility” would have given up (35). In the face of such extreme challenges, however, these women found strength in numbers. They created organizations that provided a respite from the sudden adjustment to American lives, went out of their way to assist each other, took vacations together, and fundraised for others who struggled. These are determined actions of individuals with agency.
Yuh does not seem ready to make such a declaration. Her critique of a program called “Producer’s Diary” is that “the women are figured as pathetic victims who chased the American Dream only to be abandoned and ruined” (178), but she also criticizes similar media for turning “the responsibility for success or failure onto the women themselves” (180). If they are not “pathetic victims,” it seems they must therefore hold a certain level of responsibility for their situation. Further, she takes issue with the term “war bride” because it robs the women of their individuality. The term she assigns them instead, “military brides,” continues to define them as nothing but “brides,” a word that implies both a stagnant condition and definition relative to a man.
It seems possible that Yuh’s contradictions parallel a similar indecision among the “military brides” themselves. Yuh explains that “disguised resistance was their only viable option” (85), due to both Korean cultural norms and the severity of their situation. That they fought the obstacles they faced to any extent within such a context, however, only points to their agency.
The word ‘victim,’ used frequently in "Beyond the Shadow of Camptown," implies a level of passivity that has no place in the history of Korean “military brides.” Yuh herself describes women who failed to accept adversity without a fight. Through this book, Yuh successfully frees the “military brides” from the stereotypes and assumptions that have followed them everywhere. This freedom, however, comes not from the agency Yuh definitively awards the women, but from the reader’s ability to sift through broad generalizations about both the “hollowness of American multiculturalism” (8) and the victimization of the women, to spot it himself.

[Jensen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Beyond the Shadow of Camptown is a book that sheds light on an unrepresented community in the United States: Korean military brides. Ji-Yeon Yuh provides her analysis of the community through interviews with many different military brides. While the brides are separated by geography, social status, economic wealth, and education, they are share one common trait. All of them have been married to an American service member at some point in their lives. Yuh argues that the life of Korean military brides in America is hard and often lonely. However, the life they have in America still trumps the life they would have had in Korea.

Before I begin my analysis on the text, I want to comment on a few troubling aspects of the book itself. One is how she addresses the interviewees. I disagree with how she refers to the woman by their American last name. In Korean culture, the wife rarely takes on the last name of her husband. When I read “Mrs. Weinberg” or “Mrs. Brennen”, I was thoroughly confused on who they were. Yuh does point out that many Korean women consider themselves Americanized and accepted the new culture: including changing their last name. Ultimately, the decision on how to call the women is Yuh’s choice. However, if I wanted to portray the women, some who have been divorced and independent, and some who still consider themselves Korean, I would have referred to them by their Korean names.

The book is divided into several themes such as Camptown life, the American dream, transitioning to America, and changing cuisines. Each theme hit me differently. Camptown life was a very one sided look at the relationship between the US military and Korean women. I agree with many of Yuh’s points about the unequal and oppressive relationship between the two parties. However, Yuh generalized the entire armed forces are in such a relationship. For some people, such as Mrs. Weinberg, life did in fact become better. In many cases, the US military did have amenities that anyone in Korea would have liked such as “as much electricity or water”. (41) The US military “leads to an opportunity”. (40) Sometimes the opportunities were tremendous for the women. However, Yuh represents the women as helpless and the military as arrogant. This was definitely not the overall case.

Her analysis on the Korean brides’ life in America did a lot of justice for the women. For many women, they accept “the containment of her Koreaness but refuses its erasure, maintaining an “American” home for her husband while defining the home as “Korean” when he is away”. (197) I enjoyed Yuh’s constant analysis on how Korean women struggled to continue being Korean while “Americanizing”. One such aspect is cuisine. Korean women use food as a way to assert their identity and language. Even if the household does not have Korean food, Korean women still find a way to be Korean and feel Korean. They find it through networks of other brides.

Overall, the book produced very mixed reactions. I give a lot of credit to Yuh for her research and interviews. Her analyses were usually very interesting. However, I feel that the book lacks structure, organization, and even emotions. The book is a terrific read for academics and those who want to learn about Korean military brides. However, it does little to represent the women more.

[Shannon · Rating 5 out of 5]

Provided an excellent case study centering around Korean military brides and their emigration to America from post-Korean War onward, and how they were key to the influx of Korean international emigration in general from hence onward. What was most interesting was the author's discussions regarding attributing international relationships and political dealings with symbolism hearkening back to how the most unhealthy of human power dynamic relationships are carried out. It also, as a whole, provided amazing in-depth analytical context concerning how, with just this one specific case study, war refugees and asylum seekers are socially, culturally, personally, emotionally, and physically affected by the act of war itself. Transgenerational memory, as well, is another factor in why the succeeding generations of Korean Americans and international Koreans seem to personally feel as if they have memories of things that didn't happen to them, but rather, to their family members. Trauma and memory passes itself down through the genes to the offspring, a very interesting concept that has recently come out of science work as supported. What I also enjoyed was the discussion regarding nationalism, national identity, racism, ethnocentrism, exoticism, Orientalism, and other major topics ever-present in anthropological (and other) discourse.

[Hotavio · Rating 4 out of 5]

An eye opening book regarding the unsavory arrangements made between foreign governments and the US military in establishing servicing "camp towns" and their blemishing of the reputations of Korean military brides who emigrate to the US. The author examines the. Lives of these women which involve struggles to maintain Korean identity, fighting a harsh undeserved reputation, dealing with abuse and the realities of the American Dream. The oral history reveals a lot of nice surprises, including the creation of a new identity, that of the Korean military bride and unlikely undertones of empowerment despite the lot cast against them.

[L · Rating 5 out of 5]

An important work not just in thinking about the geopolitical dynamics of intimacy with inter-racial and inter-national marriages specific to the U.S. military, but also in thinking about the contributions these women made to Korean immigration to the U.S.

[Katie Schell · Rating 5 out of 5]

An amazing factual book. My mother was one of the first Korean War Brides to come to the US. Her memoirs Love Beyond Measure, Memoirs of a Korean War Bride was released and has made a mark on many women.