What do you think?
Rate this book
Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories
Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories brings together nineteen stories that span Hisaye Yamamoto's forty-year career. It was her first book to be published in the United States. Yamamoto's themes include the cultural conflicts between the first generation, the Issei, and their children, the Nisei; coping with prejudice; and the World War II internment of Japanese Americans.
In addition to the contents of the original volume, this edition brings back into print the following works:
- Death Rides the Rails to Poston
- Eucalyptus
- A Fire in Fontana
- Florentine Gardens
In addition to the contents of the original volume, this edition brings back into print the following works:
- Death Rides the Rails to Poston
- Eucalyptus
- A Fire in Fontana
- Florentine Gardens
178 pages, Paperback
First published August 31, 1988
62 people are currently reading
1743 people want to read
About the author
Hisaye Yamamoto
10 books28 followersHisaye Yamamoto (August 23, 1921 – January 30, 2011) was a Japanese American author. She is best known for the short story collection Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories, first published in 1988. Her work confronts issues of the Japanese immigrant experience in America, the disconnect between first and second generation immigrants, as well as the difficult role of women in society.
Hisaye Yamamoto received acclaim for her work almost from the very beginning of her career. She was, as King-Kok Cheung noted, “one of the first Japanese American writers to gain national recognition after the war, when anti-Japanese sentiment was still rampant.” Although she herself resisted being rigidly characterized as a voice for Japanese or Asian groups (“I don’t think you can write aiming at a specifically Asian-American audience if you want to write freely”), she was considered one of the premier Asian-American authors.
(from Wikipedia)
Hisaye Yamamoto received acclaim for her work almost from the very beginning of her career. She was, as King-Kok Cheung noted, “one of the first Japanese American writers to gain national recognition after the war, when anti-Japanese sentiment was still rampant.” Although she herself resisted being rigidly characterized as a voice for Japanese or Asian groups (“I don’t think you can write aiming at a specifically Asian-American audience if you want to write freely”), she was considered one of the premier Asian-American authors.
(from Wikipedia)
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 66 reviews
November 13, 2007
I liked this book so much I'm writing my dissertation on it. Because I'm currently thinking about these stories 24-7, its hard for me to distance myself enough to explain why they are fascinating.
Seventeen Syllables is a collection of her short stories. I don't usually like short stories, but I do like Yamamoto's short stories. Yamamoto is really concise with her word choice, and the stories are remarkably artistically structured. My favorites include "Seventeen Syllables" and "Yoneko's Earthquake." These stories are both told from the perspective of a young girl, although the story revolves as much if not more about the relationship between her parents that she only half-comprehends. The stories are usually read to a feminist perspective on domestic relationships, but they are equally about racial equality. Most of her stories date from the late 1940s and early 1950s, but she continues to write.
I can't wait for someone to write a really good really long biography of Hisaye Yamamato. She totally fascinates me. She was born in 1921 in Redondo Beach California (where I grew up with my grandparents). She was interned at Poston during WWII and her brother was killed fighting in Europe. Yamamoto was a pacifist by this point, and her politics got even more radical throughout the 1940s. She worked for the Black newspaper The Los Angeles Tribune. She spent several years on fellowship being a writer, and then moved out to a Catholic Worker farm in New York, where she got to know Dorothy Day. Yamamoto continues to call herself a "Catholic Anarchist" in interviews.
At some point I'll revise this review and do the short stories justice.
Seventeen Syllables is a collection of her short stories. I don't usually like short stories, but I do like Yamamoto's short stories. Yamamoto is really concise with her word choice, and the stories are remarkably artistically structured. My favorites include "Seventeen Syllables" and "Yoneko's Earthquake." These stories are both told from the perspective of a young girl, although the story revolves as much if not more about the relationship between her parents that she only half-comprehends. The stories are usually read to a feminist perspective on domestic relationships, but they are equally about racial equality. Most of her stories date from the late 1940s and early 1950s, but she continues to write.
I can't wait for someone to write a really good really long biography of Hisaye Yamamato. She totally fascinates me. She was born in 1921 in Redondo Beach California (where I grew up with my grandparents). She was interned at Poston during WWII and her brother was killed fighting in Europe. Yamamoto was a pacifist by this point, and her politics got even more radical throughout the 1940s. She worked for the Black newspaper The Los Angeles Tribune. She spent several years on fellowship being a writer, and then moved out to a Catholic Worker farm in New York, where she got to know Dorothy Day. Yamamoto continues to call herself a "Catholic Anarchist" in interviews.
At some point I'll revise this review and do the short stories justice.
February 17, 2022
Este libro es una pequeña joya. Lo que más me gustó fue la habilidad de la autora en presentar a sus personajes en toda su dimensión humana. Indefectiblemente, tarde o temprano, todos atraviesan un cambio en su vida, y la forma tan natural de contar este cambio, sus causas y consecuencias, es simplemente magistral.
Lo que definitivamente no me gusta, y lo vengo viendo en varias editoriales argentinas que traducen autores de origen japonés es el uso del voseo. Me parece un desacierto por parte de los editores. Como lectora, me saca el foco de la lectura y hace que los diálogos se sientan forzados.
Lo que definitivamente no me gusta, y lo vengo viendo en varias editoriales argentinas que traducen autores de origen japonés es el uso del voseo. Me parece un desacierto por parte de los editores. Como lectora, me saca el foco de la lectura y hace que los diálogos se sientan forzados.
December 12, 2021
Deliciosa traducción. Cuentos que te acurrucan. Y, a veces, también te sacuden un poco. Pero muy delicadamente.
March 6, 2022
«Su estilo se caracteriza por un humor ácido y mordaz, muchas veces autoirónico, y sus cuentos iluminan la vida cotidiana de mujeres de todas las edades, narraciones complejas que conectan el presente con el pasado y que evitan los absolutos morales» dice Martín Castagnet, traductor de Diecisiete sílabas.
Yamamoto explora en este conjunto de relatos un cotidiano particular, el de los inmigrantes japoneses pero también el de las mujeres del siglo XX.
En estos cuentos son protagonistas la violencia, la discriminación, el lenguaje, la soledad, los vínculos, lo no dicho, y también la sutileza. Hay un clima calmo y turbulento que en plena armonía transita las historias y logra conmover y atravesar desde una realidad lejana y a la vez propia.
«Zapatos de taco alto» fue el cuento que me generó más impacto, habla sobre mujeres que son violentadas en calles oscuras, sobre el silencio de los ojos que miran, sobre voces que deben hacer un esfuerzo sobrehumano para hacerse escuchar.
La escritura de Yamamoto te va a acorralando hasta que todo el entorno se vuelve vacío y solo existe esa realidad que ella cuenta, sufre e indaga. Leerla es una clase de historia y también de empatía.
Yamamoto explora en este conjunto de relatos un cotidiano particular, el de los inmigrantes japoneses pero también el de las mujeres del siglo XX.
En estos cuentos son protagonistas la violencia, la discriminación, el lenguaje, la soledad, los vínculos, lo no dicho, y también la sutileza. Hay un clima calmo y turbulento que en plena armonía transita las historias y logra conmover y atravesar desde una realidad lejana y a la vez propia.
«Zapatos de taco alto» fue el cuento que me generó más impacto, habla sobre mujeres que son violentadas en calles oscuras, sobre el silencio de los ojos que miran, sobre voces que deben hacer un esfuerzo sobrehumano para hacerse escuchar.
La escritura de Yamamoto te va a acorralando hasta que todo el entorno se vuelve vacío y solo existe esa realidad que ella cuenta, sufre e indaga. Leerla es una clase de historia y también de empatía.
Read
August 23, 2025The fact that it took me over a year to finish this collection of short stories is NOT indicative of quality. I was extremely impressed with all of these (as I often am with short stories) and the depth that can be achieved in such a small space
August 17, 2021
So much power in the words Hisaye Yamamoto chose to describe the Japanese American experience before and after the war. Especially these two, used frequently in her stories: “Concentration camp.”
September 24, 2022
Historias mínimas, precisas, audaces, melancólicas donde niñas, mujeres y ancianas japonesas, lejos de su país aunque a veces no de sus costumbres, encuentran su momento y su lugar en un mundo configurado por y para hombres. Silencios, omisiones, obsesiones y miradas furtivas se entrelazan en mitad de un siglo convulsionado por la guerra y conducen a los personajes engendrados por Hisaye Yamamoto hacia la posteridad que solo la buena literatura -aquella que busca la libertad de mostrar y decir por sobre todas las cosas- puede alcanzar.
May 16, 2020
Můj první kontakt s japonskoamerickou literaturou. Je nádhera pozorovat interakci japonských tradic v americkém kontextu. Opravdu lahodné povídky.
Je těžké vybrat, které se mi líbily nejvíc, ale kdybych musela, byly by to 17 syllables a The Eskimo connection (mindblowing).
Témata jako národní identita, vztahy s ostatními imigranty, rasismus, postavení žen, nešťastná manželství, potrat, sexuální napadení, náboženství, japanese internment camps, gambling, vztahy v rodině, mezigenerační konflikt (Issei x Nisei)
Jo, o tomhle zjevně psaly japonskoamerické autorky v druhé polovině 20. století.
Je těžké vybrat, které se mi líbily nejvíc, ale kdybych musela, byly by to 17 syllables a The Eskimo connection (mindblowing).
Témata jako národní identita, vztahy s ostatními imigranty, rasismus, postavení žen, nešťastná manželství, potrat, sexuální napadení, náboženství, japanese internment camps, gambling, vztahy v rodině, mezigenerační konflikt (Issei x Nisei)
Jo, o tomhle zjevně psaly japonskoamerické autorky v druhé polovině 20. století.
October 17, 2015
Hisaye’s stories
are dense little time capsules
full of things unsaid.
That's how I began my review for the amazing Uncovered Classics , where artists remake covers and writers review books by women authors of the 20th century.
are dense little time capsules
full of things unsaid.
That's how I began my review for the amazing Uncovered Classics , where artists remake covers and writers review books by women authors of the 20th century.
February 18, 2023
4,5-5 stars
Felt way too familiar and now I want to cry.
Felt way too familiar and now I want to cry.
April 29, 2022
There are certain works that seem to be almost completely supported by theoretical underpinnings, workshops and collectives and academic publishers coming together to assign/publish/otherwise include a text that, for one reason another, never latches onto the public fancy. Much as I am a fan of the underread text in general, especially along decidedly not apolitical lines, it does seem sometimes that these texts often grasp for underlying profundity without ever compromising the bond it has with its reader: a bond built not on devastating compassion or uplifting catharsis, but mutually assured politeness. In the case of this set of short stories, one that I first came across in 500 Great Books by Women and later on acquired under the influence of a university course, I see the conflicts and the circumstances and the revolutions, but under several layers of insulation, as if the internment of Japanese people in US concentration camps was the last time one could directly confront the skeleton of the world and refuse to accept its logic that, as it happened in the past, so to must it continue into the future. To put in more clearly, I enjoyed "Las Vegas Charley" for its holistic portrait, but found the others rather too neatly wrapped up in their everyday "fusion cuisine" workmanship, with a sprig of climactic conflict/tragedy often tying it all up in a conveniently unquestionable bow. Certainly readable, and likely very informative for anyone unfamiliar with Japanese Americans on the California coast, but not, in the long run, very singular, or otherwise likely to stand out in the crowd of accrued memory.
Advice regarding the reading of introductions tends to fall into the camps of consigning it to an afterword through roundabout reading or skipping it over entirely. While editions such as Last Words from Montmartre were wise enough to do the reordering for the reader (one of the few wise things that afterword achieved, in my personal opinion), most do not, but I find myself being able to roll through them and onto the less than unknown works afterward without too much regret. Here, though, for whatever reason, the writer of this edition's introduction has a bone to pick, largely with writers who are more "militant," or more likely to use "effusive rhetoric," or do not need to be read twice to deliver the "fully appreciated" meaning. That, coupled with the monomaniacal tendency to pick through the texts in a very New Criticism style of way, makes for some very arduous reading later on, considering one has already witnessed someone else picking out the freshest bits of meat and leaving only the bones and gristle to be mulled over. A good way of garnering tenure, judging from the writer's place at my old alma mater, but a very tedious first impression, and what with my being concurrently enraptured by Ellison's Invisible Man, I have little patience for those who insist everyone must be equally fascinated by the head of a pin without providing any angels to dance upon it. Had I skipped past such remarks and made my way back to it in the conclusion, I may have engaged more with plots that, for all their post-war trauma and blue color travails, were awfully uniformly suburban in their overarching tone, and characters who tended to show up as an occupation, an age group, or a gendered domestic waiting for some amatonormative paradise. Alas, we shall never know, so I'll keep my evenhanded pitch as best I can and leave it at that.
Reading this gave me a hankering for rereading I Hotel, or something else of that caliber and of that breadth and intensity in both subject matter and intent. You see, I've read a fair amount on either side of the Pacific Ocean when it comes to Japan and the US, and I have no doubt that there is literature out there that transcends anything the "model minority" attempts to promote in its synthesis of the potency of the writing of two countries, both wildly successful in their worldwide prominence and both in no small way susceptible to fascism and other myths of the capitalistic hegemony. I have a feeling Yamamoto would have been miffed by such towering expectations, so it's for the best I got through this work and will be passing it on when convenient. To be sure, I love mulling over the deeper meaning of artistic creations, but there is such a notion of 'trying too hard' when it comes to pushing something up, so to any who are interested in reading this, do yourself a favor and hold off on the introduction, lest you drown yourself with academic garble before the stories have even had a chance to actually introduce themselves. There's no harm in pieces that occupy themselves with a shorter skein of existence, but I personally prefer ones that wrap themselves up with everything else beyond the namedropped California city and the odd bit of romanized Japanese vocabulary, lest I spend the read half distracted by what I suspect lies behind the curtain of solo success, solo menace.
Advice regarding the reading of introductions tends to fall into the camps of consigning it to an afterword through roundabout reading or skipping it over entirely. While editions such as Last Words from Montmartre were wise enough to do the reordering for the reader (one of the few wise things that afterword achieved, in my personal opinion), most do not, but I find myself being able to roll through them and onto the less than unknown works afterward without too much regret. Here, though, for whatever reason, the writer of this edition's introduction has a bone to pick, largely with writers who are more "militant," or more likely to use "effusive rhetoric," or do not need to be read twice to deliver the "fully appreciated" meaning. That, coupled with the monomaniacal tendency to pick through the texts in a very New Criticism style of way, makes for some very arduous reading later on, considering one has already witnessed someone else picking out the freshest bits of meat and leaving only the bones and gristle to be mulled over. A good way of garnering tenure, judging from the writer's place at my old alma mater, but a very tedious first impression, and what with my being concurrently enraptured by Ellison's Invisible Man, I have little patience for those who insist everyone must be equally fascinated by the head of a pin without providing any angels to dance upon it. Had I skipped past such remarks and made my way back to it in the conclusion, I may have engaged more with plots that, for all their post-war trauma and blue color travails, were awfully uniformly suburban in their overarching tone, and characters who tended to show up as an occupation, an age group, or a gendered domestic waiting for some amatonormative paradise. Alas, we shall never know, so I'll keep my evenhanded pitch as best I can and leave it at that.
Reading this gave me a hankering for rereading I Hotel, or something else of that caliber and of that breadth and intensity in both subject matter and intent. You see, I've read a fair amount on either side of the Pacific Ocean when it comes to Japan and the US, and I have no doubt that there is literature out there that transcends anything the "model minority" attempts to promote in its synthesis of the potency of the writing of two countries, both wildly successful in their worldwide prominence and both in no small way susceptible to fascism and other myths of the capitalistic hegemony. I have a feeling Yamamoto would have been miffed by such towering expectations, so it's for the best I got through this work and will be passing it on when convenient. To be sure, I love mulling over the deeper meaning of artistic creations, but there is such a notion of 'trying too hard' when it comes to pushing something up, so to any who are interested in reading this, do yourself a favor and hold off on the introduction, lest you drown yourself with academic garble before the stories have even had a chance to actually introduce themselves. There's no harm in pieces that occupy themselves with a shorter skein of existence, but I personally prefer ones that wrap themselves up with everything else beyond the namedropped California city and the odd bit of romanized Japanese vocabulary, lest I spend the read half distracted by what I suspect lies behind the curtain of solo success, solo menace.
May 5, 2021
Great short stories by a little-known master of the form
Hisaye Yamamoto was born in Redondo Beach, California in 1921 to a family of first generation (Issei) Japanese American vegetable farmers. Like many Nisei children, Yamamoto grew up speaking Japanese at home and English at school. After Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order No. 9066 consigning both Japanese-born residents of the United States and American-born Japanese Americans living on the West Coast to internment camps in the high desert regions of the West. Yamamoto and her family were interned at the Colorado River Relocation Center in Poston, Arizona.
Toward the end of the war, Yamamoto was allowed to leave the camp, and after a brief stint working as a cook in Springfield, Massachusetts, she returned to Los Angeles and began working as a reporter for the Los Angeles Tribune, a weekly newspaper for the black community. Drawing on the journalism skills that she had learned while at Poston (Yamamoto had served on the staff of The Poston Chronicle, a camp newspaper), Yamamoto worked as a proofreader, a rewriter, and a columnist. Then in 1948, while still at the Tribune, Yamamoto adopted an infant child, an extraordinary thing for a single woman to do at the time. It was while raising her son that she wrote the prize-winning story "Seventeen Syllables" (1949). On the basis of this work, she was awarded a John Hay Whitney Foundation Fellowship for 1950-51. The grant allowed her to complete three other masterpieces of the short story form: "The Legend of Miss Sasagawara" (1950), "The Brown House" (1951), and "Yoneko's Earthquake" (1951).
Although Yamamoto has been compared favorably to Flannery O'Connor, Grace Paley, and even Maupassant, her work is probably closest to Flannery in effect. Both O'Connor and Yamamoto utilize limited third person points of view to mask startling illuminations of great power. But with Flannery, the blows come in fairly regular beats of "One, two, three!" In Yamamoto's stories, the count is more like, "One ... two ... threeee ...." Some of the stories never get to "three." In "Yoneko's Earthquake," for example, the shoe never hits the floor. It is still falling when you look up to refocus your eyes on a midpoint at the end of the room. You've finished the story and it should be over but it isn't. And then it hits you with something analogous to the force of Somerset Maugham's "Rain."
The critic King-Kok Cheung, who wrote the "Introduction" to this edition, has commented about the power of what is not said in Yamamoto's stories and this is undoubtedly the most singular quality of her fiction. Sometimes, as in the case of "The Legend of Miss Sasagawara," the essence is so subtle that one is in danger of not getting it at all. But then you see the Buddhist ascetic father paired with his China-doll daughter in the wasteland of a high desert plywood shack during wartime and you know that for some people, culture and dignity are food and water.
"The Brown House" is less opaque but no less powerful. Here, Yamamoto has cast the net a little wider. In addition to the signature Issei and Nisei characters of the previous stories, she has added the incomparable Mrs. Wu, the Chinese American proprietress of a rural gambling den "under cover of asparagus." In the Wu establishment, all people "- white, yellow, brown, and black -" are free to lose their money. It is a democracy of sorts, but far from the one imagined.
The final story of the 1949-1951 period, written before Yamamoto put aside her writing to volunteer for a Catholic Worker organization on Staten Island, is "Yoneko's Earthquake." As with "Seventeen Syllables," it is told from the point of view of a young girl whose understanding of the principal events of the story is limited. Yoneko lives on an isolated family farm with her mother and father, her brother Seigo and the hired man Marpo, a talented and handsome Filipino jack-of-all-trades. After the earthquake comes, there is a realignment of sorts and we - along with Yoneko - are made to put the pieces back together. Again, it is not exactly clear what did or did not happen. Again, Yamamoto has created a kind of force field between characters who stand like silhouettes against a sky veined with lightning. Because we can see the lightning, we wait for the thunder. And when it doesn't come, it is even more present than it would be if it rattled the windows.
Although the term "masterpiece" is often used loosely these days, the four short stories that Hisaye Yamamoto wrote on her kitchen table in the years 1949-1951 are as good as they get. The back story - that they were written by a single mother who had spent two years in an internment camp during the war - only adds to their luster.
Hisaye Yamamoto was born in Redondo Beach, California in 1921 to a family of first generation (Issei) Japanese American vegetable farmers. Like many Nisei children, Yamamoto grew up speaking Japanese at home and English at school. After Japan's attack on Pearl Harbor, President Roosevelt issued Executive Order No. 9066 consigning both Japanese-born residents of the United States and American-born Japanese Americans living on the West Coast to internment camps in the high desert regions of the West. Yamamoto and her family were interned at the Colorado River Relocation Center in Poston, Arizona.
Toward the end of the war, Yamamoto was allowed to leave the camp, and after a brief stint working as a cook in Springfield, Massachusetts, she returned to Los Angeles and began working as a reporter for the Los Angeles Tribune, a weekly newspaper for the black community. Drawing on the journalism skills that she had learned while at Poston (Yamamoto had served on the staff of The Poston Chronicle, a camp newspaper), Yamamoto worked as a proofreader, a rewriter, and a columnist. Then in 1948, while still at the Tribune, Yamamoto adopted an infant child, an extraordinary thing for a single woman to do at the time. It was while raising her son that she wrote the prize-winning story "Seventeen Syllables" (1949). On the basis of this work, she was awarded a John Hay Whitney Foundation Fellowship for 1950-51. The grant allowed her to complete three other masterpieces of the short story form: "The Legend of Miss Sasagawara" (1950), "The Brown House" (1951), and "Yoneko's Earthquake" (1951).
Although Yamamoto has been compared favorably to Flannery O'Connor, Grace Paley, and even Maupassant, her work is probably closest to Flannery in effect. Both O'Connor and Yamamoto utilize limited third person points of view to mask startling illuminations of great power. But with Flannery, the blows come in fairly regular beats of "One, two, three!" In Yamamoto's stories, the count is more like, "One ... two ... threeee ...." Some of the stories never get to "three." In "Yoneko's Earthquake," for example, the shoe never hits the floor. It is still falling when you look up to refocus your eyes on a midpoint at the end of the room. You've finished the story and it should be over but it isn't. And then it hits you with something analogous to the force of Somerset Maugham's "Rain."
The critic King-Kok Cheung, who wrote the "Introduction" to this edition, has commented about the power of what is not said in Yamamoto's stories and this is undoubtedly the most singular quality of her fiction. Sometimes, as in the case of "The Legend of Miss Sasagawara," the essence is so subtle that one is in danger of not getting it at all. But then you see the Buddhist ascetic father paired with his China-doll daughter in the wasteland of a high desert plywood shack during wartime and you know that for some people, culture and dignity are food and water.
"The Brown House" is less opaque but no less powerful. Here, Yamamoto has cast the net a little wider. In addition to the signature Issei and Nisei characters of the previous stories, she has added the incomparable Mrs. Wu, the Chinese American proprietress of a rural gambling den "under cover of asparagus." In the Wu establishment, all people "- white, yellow, brown, and black -" are free to lose their money. It is a democracy of sorts, but far from the one imagined.
The final story of the 1949-1951 period, written before Yamamoto put aside her writing to volunteer for a Catholic Worker organization on Staten Island, is "Yoneko's Earthquake." As with "Seventeen Syllables," it is told from the point of view of a young girl whose understanding of the principal events of the story is limited. Yoneko lives on an isolated family farm with her mother and father, her brother Seigo and the hired man Marpo, a talented and handsome Filipino jack-of-all-trades. After the earthquake comes, there is a realignment of sorts and we - along with Yoneko - are made to put the pieces back together. Again, it is not exactly clear what did or did not happen. Again, Yamamoto has created a kind of force field between characters who stand like silhouettes against a sky veined with lightning. Because we can see the lightning, we wait for the thunder. And when it doesn't come, it is even more present than it would be if it rattled the windows.
Although the term "masterpiece" is often used loosely these days, the four short stories that Hisaye Yamamoto wrote on her kitchen table in the years 1949-1951 are as good as they get. The back story - that they were written by a single mother who had spent two years in an internment camp during the war - only adds to their luster.
February 22, 2022
Acabo de terminarlo y el último relato me estrujó el corazón. Son cuentos bellísimos; mi favorito: Diecisiete sílabas que me pareció extraordinario, bello y muy triste a la vez.
Cada historia te permite conocer un poco sobre la historia de las comunidades asiáticas en EEUU y los grandes problemas que enfrentaron particularmente durante la 2da Guerra Mundial. El racismo social (no solo dirigido hacia japoneses y chinos, sino también hacia los afrodescendientes), las diferencias culturales y las de clase y de género, la importancia de la escritura pero no solo literaria sino también periodística, son algunos de los temas que se pueden encontrar en este grandioso libro de Hisaye Yamamoto.
Se macera lentamente pero vale la pena.
Cada historia te permite conocer un poco sobre la historia de las comunidades asiáticas en EEUU y los grandes problemas que enfrentaron particularmente durante la 2da Guerra Mundial. El racismo social (no solo dirigido hacia japoneses y chinos, sino también hacia los afrodescendientes), las diferencias culturales y las de clase y de género, la importancia de la escritura pero no solo literaria sino también periodística, son algunos de los temas que se pueden encontrar en este grandioso libro de Hisaye Yamamoto.
Se macera lentamente pero vale la pena.
July 21, 2008
Favorite stories in this collection: Life Among the Oil Fields: A Memoir, Las Vegas Charley, and The Legend of Miss Sasegawara.
January 13, 2025
It seemed fitting to start the year (2025) off by completing the Mori/Okada/Yamamoto trifecta of classic mid-century Japanese American literature. If you've read No No Boy or Yokohama, California, then you'll recognize a lot of the same themes and patterns coming into play. These books and their respective authors complement each other a lot.
As this is an anthology, I thought I'd give mention to some of the stories that stuck out to me:
- Seventeen Syllables. Rosie's story and encounter with Jesus (not the Biblical figure) is so lovely in description, and the juxtaposition between it and her mother's haikus is so deeply sad. The racial and ethnic dynamics throughout all the stories are so layered and fascinating to read about. Yamamoto touches upon so many of these kinds of interactions, and reading this anthology I'm so surprised at just how many minority groups she mentions.
- Wilshire Bus. I'd read this a few years ago online, and rereading it again here in print form has solidified it as my all-time favorite Hisaye Yamamoto story. Not sure I can pinpoint exactly why I find it so compelling, but certainly the mention of Korean Americans (and the I AM KOREAN pin) plays a role. The subtle commentary involving the man who speaks up only after the perpetrator has left is also great.
- Yoneko's Earthquake. So many plot elements (notably the abortion subplot) and supposed (obscure) symbolism completely went over my head reading this, and were only made clear once I looked at the anthology's foreword. I'm realizing now that some of this hardcore literary analysis is just not my style. I'm glad the foreword was included so that I can read about other peoples' interpretation of the text, but I, personally, am mostly just approaching from an Asian American Studies perspective.
- Epithalamium. Yamamoto's approach towards religion, both here and in other stories (such as Yoneko's Earthquake), is very interesting. Not sure what to make of it, although I do feel mildly compelled to join such a Catholic Lay Community as the one described. I also liked the "Great Nisei Novel" conversation.
- Death Rides the Rails to Poston. A murder mystery set on an evacuee train - amazing. While the mystery itself is very elementary, I appreciate this story for its historical significance (originally published as a serial in the Poston camp newspaper) and the insight it yields on evacuation condition and impact on the prisoners. Also, I'm not sure if this was the intention, but I found the character of Shu to be really entertaining in a comedic way. I'm just imagining this random guy with no murder-solving credentials (other then being a self-proclaimed fan of detective stories) running around the train car trying to live out a Sherlock Holmes fantasy, interrogating passengers in a noir-film tone of voice, drawing obvious conclusions and then forcing everyone to hear his announcement of them. I love how he really just sees an opportunity and takes it.
Even though this book is relatively short (less than 200 pages), it still took me a substantial amount of time to get through.
As this is an anthology, I thought I'd give mention to some of the stories that stuck out to me:
- Seventeen Syllables. Rosie's story and encounter with Jesus (not the Biblical figure) is so lovely in description, and the juxtaposition between it and her mother's haikus is so deeply sad. The racial and ethnic dynamics throughout all the stories are so layered and fascinating to read about. Yamamoto touches upon so many of these kinds of interactions, and reading this anthology I'm so surprised at just how many minority groups she mentions.
- Wilshire Bus. I'd read this a few years ago online, and rereading it again here in print form has solidified it as my all-time favorite Hisaye Yamamoto story. Not sure I can pinpoint exactly why I find it so compelling, but certainly the mention of Korean Americans (and the I AM KOREAN pin) plays a role. The subtle commentary involving the man who speaks up only after the perpetrator has left is also great.
- Yoneko's Earthquake. So many plot elements (notably the abortion subplot) and supposed (obscure) symbolism completely went over my head reading this, and were only made clear once I looked at the anthology's foreword. I'm realizing now that some of this hardcore literary analysis is just not my style. I'm glad the foreword was included so that I can read about other peoples' interpretation of the text, but I, personally, am mostly just approaching from an Asian American Studies perspective.
- Epithalamium. Yamamoto's approach towards religion, both here and in other stories (such as Yoneko's Earthquake), is very interesting. Not sure what to make of it, although I do feel mildly compelled to join such a Catholic Lay Community as the one described. I also liked the "Great Nisei Novel" conversation.
- Death Rides the Rails to Poston. A murder mystery set on an evacuee train - amazing. While the mystery itself is very elementary, I appreciate this story for its historical significance (originally published as a serial in the Poston camp newspaper) and the insight it yields on evacuation condition and impact on the prisoners. Also, I'm not sure if this was the intention, but I found the character of Shu to be really entertaining in a comedic way. I'm just imagining this random guy with no murder-solving credentials (other then being a self-proclaimed fan of detective stories) running around the train car trying to live out a Sherlock Holmes fantasy, interrogating passengers in a noir-film tone of voice, drawing obvious conclusions and then forcing everyone to hear his announcement of them. I love how he really just sees an opportunity and takes it.
Even though this book is relatively short (less than 200 pages), it still took me a substantial amount of time to get through.
August 15, 2020
So lovely. So subtly and sharply insightful, and with such wonderful details of west coast Nisei life in the years surrounding WWII.
April 1, 2022
!!! un crimen que no sea una autora leída más ampliamente. qué gran toque tiene.
October 19, 2016
Title: Seventeen Syllables and Other Stories
Author: Hisaye Yamamoto
Series: n/a
Publisher: Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press
Publication Date: 1988
Genre(s): Short stories, Asian-American, Realistic fiction
Rating: 3 stars
Opening Line:
-from “The High-Heeled Shoes”
Here is a collection of short stories written by Hisaye Yamamoto, first published in 1988 and containing stories written during a 40-year span. This book contains some of her most anthologized works, including “Yoneko’s Earthquake,” “The Legend of Miss Sasagawara,” “The Brown House,” and “Seventeen Syllables.” Though many of them are autobiographical, only two of them, “Life Among the Oil Fields” and “The High-Heeled Shoes,” are noted as memoirs.
Though I have not been a fan of the Asian-American lit I’ve been reading this semester, I have to say I was excited to read short stories rather than yet another novel or memoir. Seventeen Syllables was actually a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be. The stories were very relatable, even as an American, and some were interesting to read about. Yamamoto is a great storyteller and has a knack for short story writing. Though there were a few stories I could not get into, most of them were fairly enjoyable and easy to read. “Seventeen Syllables,” Yamamoto’s most famous story, was probably one of my favorites. The story is about a young Nisei girl (a person born in America whose parents were immigrants from Japan) and her growing relationship with a Mexican boy working in the fields. It’s also about the girl’s mother and her passion for haiku writing, as well as the father’s resentment towards her mother. It has a lot to due with inter-racial interaction and class separation, themes that reappear throughout the book. I also enjoyed “The Brown House,” a story about a gambling husband, and “Epithalamium,” a story about a Japanese-American woman’s troublesome relationship with her Italian-American husband. I definitely liked this collection of short stories, even though I doubt I’ll read it again. I think I just prefer it to the other works I’ve read this semester, which is why I liked it so much. It was a breath of fresh air to read about something other than simply mother-daughter relationships and the generation gap between Isei and Nisei.
Of course, I’d never heard of Yamamoto until taking this class, and it appears she recently died in 2011. Though this wasn’t my favorite short story collection, I did enjoy it and I truly liked Yamamoto’s writing. I think she had real talent with writing short stories, which is not something everyone has. I’m very particular about short stories, which sounds silly but they have to be written a certain way, and Yamamoto achieved that. She was no Neil Gaiman, but I liked her writing nevertheless.
Favorite Quote(s): “But, alas, most egos were covered with the thinnest of eggshells.”
Author: Hisaye Yamamoto
Series: n/a
Publisher: Kitchen Table: Women of Color Press
Publication Date: 1988
Genre(s): Short stories, Asian-American, Realistic fiction
Rating: 3 stars
Opening Line:
In the middle of the morning, the telephone rings.
-from “The High-Heeled Shoes”
Here is a collection of short stories written by Hisaye Yamamoto, first published in 1988 and containing stories written during a 40-year span. This book contains some of her most anthologized works, including “Yoneko’s Earthquake,” “The Legend of Miss Sasagawara,” “The Brown House,” and “Seventeen Syllables.” Though many of them are autobiographical, only two of them, “Life Among the Oil Fields” and “The High-Heeled Shoes,” are noted as memoirs.
Though I have not been a fan of the Asian-American lit I’ve been reading this semester, I have to say I was excited to read short stories rather than yet another novel or memoir. Seventeen Syllables was actually a lot more enjoyable than I thought it would be. The stories were very relatable, even as an American, and some were interesting to read about. Yamamoto is a great storyteller and has a knack for short story writing. Though there were a few stories I could not get into, most of them were fairly enjoyable and easy to read. “Seventeen Syllables,” Yamamoto’s most famous story, was probably one of my favorites. The story is about a young Nisei girl (a person born in America whose parents were immigrants from Japan) and her growing relationship with a Mexican boy working in the fields. It’s also about the girl’s mother and her passion for haiku writing, as well as the father’s resentment towards her mother. It has a lot to due with inter-racial interaction and class separation, themes that reappear throughout the book. I also enjoyed “The Brown House,” a story about a gambling husband, and “Epithalamium,” a story about a Japanese-American woman’s troublesome relationship with her Italian-American husband. I definitely liked this collection of short stories, even though I doubt I’ll read it again. I think I just prefer it to the other works I’ve read this semester, which is why I liked it so much. It was a breath of fresh air to read about something other than simply mother-daughter relationships and the generation gap between Isei and Nisei.
Of course, I’d never heard of Yamamoto until taking this class, and it appears she recently died in 2011. Though this wasn’t my favorite short story collection, I did enjoy it and I truly liked Yamamoto’s writing. I think she had real talent with writing short stories, which is not something everyone has. I’m very particular about short stories, which sounds silly but they have to be written a certain way, and Yamamoto achieved that. She was no Neil Gaiman, but I liked her writing nevertheless.
Favorite Quote(s): “But, alas, most egos were covered with the thinnest of eggshells.”
May 9, 2021
Thanks, Google doodle, for making me aware of Hisaye Yamamoto, her sympathetically complex flawed characters encountering other generations and others, and her deceptively simple and subtle style hiding worlds of regret, pain, and desire. This is great literature.
November 13, 2007
I didn't finish it. I started out liking the stories, but started to get bored and eventually felt like I was pushing through without really wanting to. It was coming close to its library due date when I read "Las Vegas Charley" and found that story so disappointing that I decided not to feel bad about taking it back without finishing it.
I enjoyed a few of the earlier stories, including the title one, and this author deserves some interest just for her contemporary depictions of life during and around the WWII/Internment era for Japanese-American Californians, especially girls and women. Her characters have a certain appealing frankness and lack of romanticism that I liked. However, most of these stories just did not feel very careful to me, like they were not yet complete. There was a sort of unfinished quality to them that made me feel sort of frustrated, like they weren't going far enough or doing the things that I wanted them to.
Actually, I'm just thinking of this now, but the subject matter reminds me a bit of the kids books by Yoshiko Uchida, who wrote The Jar of Dreams and The Best Bad Thing, children's fiction I enjoyed a lot at the time especially because it took place in California. I guess the fact that this comes to mind highlights how underrepresented Japanese Americans are in the books I've read... Well, unfortunately Yamamoto is not going to solve this problem by becoming my new favorite author. I'd recommend a few of these stories, but never got into her enough to read the whole book. I feel bad, because Sarah loves this book and I wanted to love it too, but it just didn't do much for me.
I enjoyed a few of the earlier stories, including the title one, and this author deserves some interest just for her contemporary depictions of life during and around the WWII/Internment era for Japanese-American Californians, especially girls and women. Her characters have a certain appealing frankness and lack of romanticism that I liked. However, most of these stories just did not feel very careful to me, like they were not yet complete. There was a sort of unfinished quality to them that made me feel sort of frustrated, like they weren't going far enough or doing the things that I wanted them to.
Actually, I'm just thinking of this now, but the subject matter reminds me a bit of the kids books by Yoshiko Uchida, who wrote The Jar of Dreams and The Best Bad Thing, children's fiction I enjoyed a lot at the time especially because it took place in California. I guess the fact that this comes to mind highlights how underrepresented Japanese Americans are in the books I've read... Well, unfortunately Yamamoto is not going to solve this problem by becoming my new favorite author. I'd recommend a few of these stories, but never got into her enough to read the whole book. I feel bad, because Sarah loves this book and I wanted to love it too, but it just didn't do much for me.
March 17, 2012
Well, I've only really read "Seventeen Syllables" here and I can't find just "Seventeen Syllables" so I had to add this whole thing.
Since my English literature classes started, we have yet to read a short story that the protagonist is a teenager. So finally, "Seventeen Syllables" came. And as far as the plot is concerned, I'm not really sure what I liked about it. I guess what I liked about this short story is the language (as always) Eng Lit. really opened my eyes to the beauty of words. I love the contrast between Mr. Hayashi and Mrs. Hayashi's relationship with Rosie and Jesus' relationship. Yet at the same time, there is also some connection. I love how this story story talks about the entrapment of women and a young girl (and I had to do an essay on that).
And yes, I love Japanese culture. So that is also a bonus for me. And I've come to understand haiku as well!
And once again, the open-ended endings. I love those endings because there's just so many possibilities that can be concluded.
Since my English literature classes started, we have yet to read a short story that the protagonist is a teenager. So finally, "Seventeen Syllables" came. And as far as the plot is concerned, I'm not really sure what I liked about it. I guess what I liked about this short story is the language (as always) Eng Lit. really opened my eyes to the beauty of words. I love the contrast between Mr. Hayashi and Mrs. Hayashi's relationship with Rosie and Jesus' relationship. Yet at the same time, there is also some connection. I love how this story story talks about the entrapment of women and a young girl (and I had to do an essay on that).
And yes, I love Japanese culture. So that is also a bonus for me. And I've come to understand haiku as well!
And once again, the open-ended endings. I love those endings because there's just so many possibilities that can be concluded.
January 1, 2015
Hisaye Yamamoto was not a prolific writer, but her output of fine short stories spans decades. Central themes include assimilation and the loss of traditional cultural values, troubled marriages, and, of course, the shameful internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. As a writer who was raised in the culture and who originally published many of these stories in Japanese American publications for a largely Japanese American audience, she produces uniquely authentic accounts of a lifestyle that has largely disappeared. Here are the farms, the oil fields, the New Year's celebrations, the dusty internment camps, the tragic generation gaps, the hopes, dreams, and loneliness of a people who are inclined to remain quiet about personal matters--these stories present a fully developed portrait of the Japanese experience in America and its consequences. Highly recommended.
June 20, 2019
Hisaye Yamamoto was not a prolific writer, but her output of fine short stories spans decades. Central themes include assimilation and the loss of traditional cultural values, troubled marraiges, and, of course, the shameful internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. As a writer who was raised in the culture and who originally published many of these stories in Japanese American publications for a largely Japanese American audience, she produces uniquely authentic accounts of a lifestyle that has largely disappeared. Here are the farms, the oil fields, the New Year's celebrations, the dusty internment camps, the tragic generation gaps, the hopes, dreams, and loneliness of a people who are inclined to remain quiet about personal matters--these stories present a fully developed portrait of the Japanese experience in American and its consequences. Highly recommended.
January 5, 2014
This is a really great example of a very well thoughtout short story collection. While I loved some, liked a lot and to be honest, could do without a couple, I felt overall it had enough range to appeal to a large audience. The tone of the revised/new stories is noticeably different from the earlier ones. I particularly was impressed with her use of humor, details, and variance in main protagonists voice.
November 28, 2019
I would have given this 5 stars, but the later stories didn't hold up to the beauty of the earlier ones. It's a marvelous read all the same though. I recommend the revised and expanded edition mostly for the excellent and illuminating introduction by King-Kok Cheung, which elucidates beautifully why these stories are so gripping and compelling.
Read
November 19, 2012I couldn't resist buying a collection of short stories by a masterful Japanese American storyteller. Yet another "clearance" book written by a prominent twentieth century female author. Makes me wonder...
October 22, 2024
Cuentos hermosos, que me recordaron mucho a los polacos de Bashevis Singer, que arrancaban de pequeñas historias con una forma para nada grandilocuente para de a poco evocar el mundo entero. Gran traducción de Martín Felipe Castagnet.
November 8, 2015
Sharp. Tight and clean writing in these stories. There is not a great deal of ornamentation, but the stories are beautiful nonetheless. Penetrating, engaging, and solid all around.
Read
June 2, 2022Menudo privilegio poder los relatos de esta autora. Estoy convencide que volveré a ellos. Asusta lo actuales que siguen siendo. Maravilloso trabajo de traducción!!!!
October 31, 2024
from The Legend of Miss Sasagawara
'The fruits of Miss Sasagawara's patient labor were put on show at the Block Christmas party, the second such observance in camp. Again, it was a gay, if odd, celebration. The mess hall was hung with red and green crepe-paper streamers and the greyish mistletoe that grew abundantly on the ancient mesquite surrounding the camp. There were even electric decorations on the token Christmas tree. The oldest occupant of the bachelors' dormitory gave a tremulous monologue in an exaggerated Hiroshima dialect, one of the young boys wore a bow-tie and whispered a popular song while the girls shrieked and pretended to be growing faint, my mother sang an old Japanese song, four of the girls wore similar blue dresses and harmonized on a sweet tune, a little girl in a grass skirt and superfluous brassiere did a hula, and the chief cook came out with an ample saucepan and, assisted by the waitresses, performed the familiar dojo-sukui, the comic dance about a man who is merely trying to scoop up a few loaches from an uncooperative lake. Then Miss Sasagawara shooed her eight little girls, including Michi, in front, and while they formed a stiff pattern and waited, self-conscious in the rustly crepe-paper dresses they had made themselves, she set up a portable phonograph on the floor and vigorously turned the crank. Something was past its prime, either the machine or the record or the needle, for what came out was a feeble rasp but distantly related to the Mozart minuet it was supposed to be.’ (29)
from Life Among the Oil Fields A Memoir
‘When I look back on that episode, the helpless anger of my father and my mother is my inheritance. But my anger is more intricate than theirs, warped by all that has transpired in between. For instance, I sometimes see the arrogant couple from down the road as young and beautiful, their speeding open roadster as definitely and stunningly red. They roar by; their tinkling laughter, like a long silken scarf, is borne back by the wind. I gaze after them from the side of the road, where I have darted to dodge the swirling dust and spitting gravel. And I know that their names are Scott and Zelda.’ (95)
from A Fire in Fontana
‘So it was that, in between putting another load of clothes into the automatic washer, ironing, maybe whipping up some tacos for supper, I watched the Watts riot on television. Back then I was still middle-aged, sitting safely in a house which was located on a street where panic would be the order of the day if a Black family should happen to move in—I had come there on sufferance myself, on the coattails of a pale husband.
Appalled, inwardly cowering, I watched the burning and looting on the screen and heard the reports of the dead and wounded. But beneath all my distress, I felt something else, a tiny trickle of warmth which I finally recognized as an undercurrent of exultation. To me, the tumult in the city was the long-awaited, gratifying next chapter of an old movie that had flickered about in the back of my mind for years. In the film, shot in the dark of about three o’clock in the morning, there was this modest house out in the country. Suddenly the house was in flames and there were the sound effects of the fire roaring and leaping skyward. Then there could be heard the voices of a man and woman screaming, and the voices of two small children as well.’ (157)
'The fruits of Miss Sasagawara's patient labor were put on show at the Block Christmas party, the second such observance in camp. Again, it was a gay, if odd, celebration. The mess hall was hung with red and green crepe-paper streamers and the greyish mistletoe that grew abundantly on the ancient mesquite surrounding the camp. There were even electric decorations on the token Christmas tree. The oldest occupant of the bachelors' dormitory gave a tremulous monologue in an exaggerated Hiroshima dialect, one of the young boys wore a bow-tie and whispered a popular song while the girls shrieked and pretended to be growing faint, my mother sang an old Japanese song, four of the girls wore similar blue dresses and harmonized on a sweet tune, a little girl in a grass skirt and superfluous brassiere did a hula, and the chief cook came out with an ample saucepan and, assisted by the waitresses, performed the familiar dojo-sukui, the comic dance about a man who is merely trying to scoop up a few loaches from an uncooperative lake. Then Miss Sasagawara shooed her eight little girls, including Michi, in front, and while they formed a stiff pattern and waited, self-conscious in the rustly crepe-paper dresses they had made themselves, she set up a portable phonograph on the floor and vigorously turned the crank. Something was past its prime, either the machine or the record or the needle, for what came out was a feeble rasp but distantly related to the Mozart minuet it was supposed to be.’ (29)
from Life Among the Oil Fields A Memoir
‘When I look back on that episode, the helpless anger of my father and my mother is my inheritance. But my anger is more intricate than theirs, warped by all that has transpired in between. For instance, I sometimes see the arrogant couple from down the road as young and beautiful, their speeding open roadster as definitely and stunningly red. They roar by; their tinkling laughter, like a long silken scarf, is borne back by the wind. I gaze after them from the side of the road, where I have darted to dodge the swirling dust and spitting gravel. And I know that their names are Scott and Zelda.’ (95)
from A Fire in Fontana
‘So it was that, in between putting another load of clothes into the automatic washer, ironing, maybe whipping up some tacos for supper, I watched the Watts riot on television. Back then I was still middle-aged, sitting safely in a house which was located on a street where panic would be the order of the day if a Black family should happen to move in—I had come there on sufferance myself, on the coattails of a pale husband.
Appalled, inwardly cowering, I watched the burning and looting on the screen and heard the reports of the dead and wounded. But beneath all my distress, I felt something else, a tiny trickle of warmth which I finally recognized as an undercurrent of exultation. To me, the tumult in the city was the long-awaited, gratifying next chapter of an old movie that had flickered about in the back of my mind for years. In the film, shot in the dark of about three o’clock in the morning, there was this modest house out in the country. Suddenly the house was in flames and there were the sound effects of the fire roaring and leaping skyward. Then there could be heard the voices of a man and woman screaming, and the voices of two small children as well.’ (157)
Displaying 1 - 30 of 66 reviews