1940s Vancouver. The Japanese have just bombed Pearl Harbour and racial tension is building in Vancouver. The RCMP are rounding up "suspicious" young men, and fishing boats and property are soon seized from Steveston fishers; internment camps in BC's interior are only months away.
Daniel Sugiura, a young reporter for the New Canadian, the only Japanese-Canadian newspaper allowed to keep publishing during the war, narrates The Three Pleasures. The story is told through three main characters in the Japanese community: Watanabe Etsuo, Morii Etsuji and Etsu Kaga, the Three Pleasures. Etsu in Japanese means "pleasure"; the term is well-suited to these three. Morii Etsuji, the Black Dragon boss, controls the kind of pleasure men pay for: gambling, drink and prostitution — the pleasures of the flesh.
Watanabe Etsuo, Secretary of the Steveston Fishermen's Association, makes a deal with the devil to save his loved ones. In the end, he suffers for it and never regains the pleasures of family. And there is Etsu Kaga, a Ganbariya of the Yamato Damashii Group, a real Emperor worshipper. His obsession becomes destructive to himself and all involved with him. He enjoys the pleasure of patriotism until that patriotism becomes a curse.
The Three Pleasures is an intimate and passionate novel concerning an unsightly and painful period in Canada's history.
Terry Watada is a Toronto poet, novelist, playwright and essayist, and historian, musician and composer, with numerous publications to his credit. Five of his plays have received mainstage production. He contributes a monthly column to The Bulletin, a national Japanese Canadian community paper. For his writing, music and community volunteerism, he was recently awarded the Queen Elizabeth II Diamond Jubilee Medal. His published works include The Sword, the Medal and the Rosary (manga, 2013); Kuroshio: The Blood of Foxes (novel, 2007), Obon: the Festival of the Dead (poetry, 2006); Ten Thousand Views of Rain (poetry, 2001); A Thousand Homes (poetry, 1995); and The TBC: the Toronto Buddhist Church, 1995 – 2010 (2010).
"Matsumiya was lucky to die now." "Why?" "He won't have to go through what's coming."
Terry Watada breathes life into the unspoken history of the expulsion of Japanese-Canadian citizens from the West Coast of Canada. It's easy to think that the events in this book happened long ago as part of our dark past but the "historical" figures in this novel were the same people who helped write it. The stories from the various internment camps are connected in a tapestry of humanity by a young reporter looking to find his role while his future disappears before his eyes. An excellent and compelling read about humankind's perseverance against racism, stigmatization, and xenophobia.
This book is written from the perspective of a Canadian of Japanese decent at the time of the bombing of Pearl Harbor and the internment of those of Japanese decent in the days, months that followed. As a white woman from the Midwest, I struggled with listening to the protagonists sympathy to the Japan mother country ... although I am glad that I read/listened to this book to have a better understanding and insight to the thoughts of those of Japanese decent.
But isn't that why we read? To take us to a different time, different place, different perspective.
Thank you Net Galley and the author/Terry Watada for the opportunity to listen to this ARC audio copy.
This book did not really work for me. I think it would have worked better on paper but I listened to the audiobook. And got confused at points. The subject is very interesting though. The treatment of the citizens with a Japanese background in Canada during WW2. We are talking about people who had Canadian citizenship but it was taken from them during that period making them aliens. What did impress me in the story was the description of how people reacted differently. The group that was compliant and felt that if they cooperated they may get treated well. And the angry group trying to fight the injustice. Also, the people telling on each other, there are always a few.