Secrets of the Sun: A Memoir: 21st Century Essays
Autor Mako Yoshikawaen Limba Engleză Paperback – 7 feb 2024
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9780814258934
ISBN-10: 081425893X
Pagini: 168
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 46 mm
Greutate: 0.2 kg
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria 21st Century Essays
ISBN-10: 081425893X
Pagini: 168
Dimensiuni: 140 x 216 x 46 mm
Greutate: 0.2 kg
Editura: Ohio State University Press
Colecția Mad Creek Books
Seria 21st Century Essays
Recenzii
“In her harrowing, deeply felt new memoir, Mako Yoshikawa creates a haunting portrait of her troubled father, Shoichi, a brilliant scientist who led a fusion research team at Princeton University. Secrets of the Sun is the story of her father’s efforts to ‘unravel the mysteries of the universe’ even as he grapples with the effects of severe bipolar disorder. It is also the story of the author’s efforts to assemble the jigsaw puzzle pieces of his life and come to terms with his erratic, sometimes violent behavior and the role that racism and cultural dislocation may have played in the unhappy trajectory of his life. Like Mary Gordon’s The Shadow Man and Geoffrey Wolff’s The Duke of Deception, this book is an eloquent account of a writer’s quest to understand an impossible, larger-than-life father—and her own conflicting feelings of love and fear, confusion and dismay and forgiveness.” —Michiko Kakutani
“After two lauded novels, Yoshikawa turns to memoir, revealing in 15 incandescent essays her struggles to understand the enigma that was her father. … Yoshikawa writes with gorgeous, unblinking lucidity through a morass of conflicting emotions and lingering shame to memorialize a father ‘elusive and capacious,’ yes, but also a man ‘intoxicated by stars . . . lit with the potential of science.’ Her closing acknowledgement to Shoichi will implode hearts.” — Terry Hong, Booklist (starred review)
“[A] deeply empathetic and human memoir-in-essays told with inquisitive subtlety.” —Kirkus
“Moving and beautifully written. This poignant memoir is about a daughter’s hunt for answers and understanding about her father, his battles, and the complexities of their relationship.” — David Keymer, Library Journal
“Mako Yoshikawa’s heartfelt memoir navigates the complexities of her brilliant yet abusive physicist father, Shoichi. …Yoshikawa explores her father’s enigma, weaving a compassionate family portrait that confronts both his intellectual faculties and his violence.” —Lisa Wallin, Tokyo Weekender
“Intense and kaleidoscopic … This memoir is particularly brilliant at capturing the grief, guilt and fear that adults who experienced childhood abuse face when deciding how or whether to maintain a relationship with their abusive parent. The love beneath these more difficult emotions animated Mako’s pursuit of her father’s mysterious inner world.” —Catherine Hollis, BookPage
“If [her father’s] mental illness is to blame, Yoshikawa has nowhere to direct the anger that has built up in her after years of his abuse. This leads to several beautiful truths about the complexity of communicating with the mentally ill. … Insights like these into human nature manifesting in familial relationships make this slim volume about more than just one woman and her relatives, focused on an enigmatic father. Indeed, by exploring his past Yoshikawa understands more about Shoichi the man, which helps her forgive—a tall order—Shoichi the father.” —Katya Cengel, River Teeth
“Heartfelt and beautifully written, Secrets of the Sun is a tale of two quests—a father’s to solve the mysteries of the universe and a daughter’s to solve the mysteries of the father. One of the most compelling memoirs I’ve read in some time.” —Jerald Walker, author of National Book Award finalist How to Make a Slave and Other Essays
“In this moving account of her brilliant and abusive physicist father, Mako Yoshikawa disentangles the twisted strands of racism, misogyny, and cultural displacement that complicate both his madness and her love. A fascinating exploration that expands the boundaries of what a family memoir can be.” —Ruth Ozeki, author of The Book of Form and Emptiness
“In this nuanced memoir, Mako Yoshikawa reckons with the enigma of her brilliant, terrifying father, creating a compassionate family portrait that does not minimize the complexity of his illness or the violence of his impact. The gaze is steady and the writing is beautiful. This book will haunt me.” —Joan Wickersham, author of National Book Award finalist The Suicide Index
“After two lauded novels, Yoshikawa turns to memoir, revealing in 15 incandescent essays her struggles to understand the enigma that was her father. … Yoshikawa writes with gorgeous, unblinking lucidity through a morass of conflicting emotions and lingering shame to memorialize a father ‘elusive and capacious,’ yes, but also a man ‘intoxicated by stars . . . lit with the potential of science.’ Her closing acknowledgement to Shoichi will implode hearts.” — Terry Hong, Booklist (starred review)
“[A] deeply empathetic and human memoir-in-essays told with inquisitive subtlety.” —Kirkus
“Moving and beautifully written. This poignant memoir is about a daughter’s hunt for answers and understanding about her father, his battles, and the complexities of their relationship.” — David Keymer, Library Journal
“Mako Yoshikawa’s heartfelt memoir navigates the complexities of her brilliant yet abusive physicist father, Shoichi. …Yoshikawa explores her father’s enigma, weaving a compassionate family portrait that confronts both his intellectual faculties and his violence.” —Lisa Wallin, Tokyo Weekender
“Intense and kaleidoscopic … This memoir is particularly brilliant at capturing the grief, guilt and fear that adults who experienced childhood abuse face when deciding how or whether to maintain a relationship with their abusive parent. The love beneath these more difficult emotions animated Mako’s pursuit of her father’s mysterious inner world.” —Catherine Hollis, BookPage
“If [her father’s] mental illness is to blame, Yoshikawa has nowhere to direct the anger that has built up in her after years of his abuse. This leads to several beautiful truths about the complexity of communicating with the mentally ill. … Insights like these into human nature manifesting in familial relationships make this slim volume about more than just one woman and her relatives, focused on an enigmatic father. Indeed, by exploring his past Yoshikawa understands more about Shoichi the man, which helps her forgive—a tall order—Shoichi the father.” —Katya Cengel, River Teeth
“Heartfelt and beautifully written, Secrets of the Sun is a tale of two quests—a father’s to solve the mysteries of the universe and a daughter’s to solve the mysteries of the father. One of the most compelling memoirs I’ve read in some time.” —Jerald Walker, author of National Book Award finalist How to Make a Slave and Other Essays
“In this moving account of her brilliant and abusive physicist father, Mako Yoshikawa disentangles the twisted strands of racism, misogyny, and cultural displacement that complicate both his madness and her love. A fascinating exploration that expands the boundaries of what a family memoir can be.” —Ruth Ozeki, author of The Book of Form and Emptiness
“In this nuanced memoir, Mako Yoshikawa reckons with the enigma of her brilliant, terrifying father, creating a compassionate family portrait that does not minimize the complexity of his illness or the violence of his impact. The gaze is steady and the writing is beautiful. This book will haunt me.” —Joan Wickersham, author of National Book Award finalist The Suicide Index
Notă biografică
Mako Yoshikawa is the author of the novels Once Removed and One Hundred and One Ways. Her essays have been published in LitHub, Harvard Review, Southern Indiana Review, Missouri Review, and Best American Essays, among other places. She is a professor of creative writing and directs the MFA program at Emerson College. She lives in Boston and Baltimore.
Extras
For decades I thought it was a dream, and perhaps it was. I wake to the sound of people arguing outside. They’re grown-ups, men; some are speaking Japanese. I don’t recognize their voices. At last I hear my father, his voice raised. He’s talking so fast his words no longer sound like any language I know. When he’s finished, there’s silence.
I’m young enough that I have to stand on tiptoe to peer out the window. The edge of its frame digs into my forearms. The sun is just rising. There’s my mother, standing between the dogwood and the birch in the yard, her face in shadow. My father is getting into his long white Impala, and on the driveway behind his car is a row of men holding hands. They seem to flutter, a paper people chain in the breeze.
A few months after his death, my mother told me the story. My father had been manic for days, roaming the house naked and muttering about the CIA and KGB tapping his phones. In the middle of the night, he rose from their bed and began packing. He had to go to the casinos. God had said so. He’d been chosen. He was blessed. Unbeatable. God had promised he would make millions.
My mother pleaded. He wasn’t thinking straight. Princeton to Atlantic City was a two-hour drive, and my father was in no shape to make it. He hadn’t eaten or slept for days. Didn’t he remember that last accident? What if he had another one? Maybe they could take a trip to the hospital instead.
When my father ignored her, rummaging through her purse and different drawers in the house to pull together a bundle of cash, she phoned one of his colleagues at his lab. It wasn’t long past four in the morning, but after speaking with her, the colleague, another physicist, must have made some calls himself. Within the hour he and three other physicists, one more colleague and two of my father’s grad students, had arrived at our house.
When my father came to the door, they began to wheedle. They needed my father, they said. They needed him healthy and well rested, back at work. They were so close to their goal. How would they get there without him? They’d be happy to shuttle him to Atlantic City and throw some dice down with him—if sensei would just hand over the keys? They offered to get a blackjack game up and running in another hour right here in Princeton, right here in Shoichi-san’s house.
My father barely seemed aware they were there. Wild-eyed, his face set, he pushed past them and ran to his car.
The physicists moved so quickly, my mother said, they must have planned it beforehand. Marshaling themselves on the driveway, they took each other’s hands, a human barricade.
My father jerked the car into reverse. He didn’t come at the physicists fast, but neither was he stopping. They were brave and loyal and they held their ground, with only a faint tremor to betray their fear, for a few seconds before they broke, releasing each other’s hands and scattering as they dove for the lawn, and then my father was gunning it to Atlantic City.
I’m young enough that I have to stand on tiptoe to peer out the window. The edge of its frame digs into my forearms. The sun is just rising. There’s my mother, standing between the dogwood and the birch in the yard, her face in shadow. My father is getting into his long white Impala, and on the driveway behind his car is a row of men holding hands. They seem to flutter, a paper people chain in the breeze.
A few months after his death, my mother told me the story. My father had been manic for days, roaming the house naked and muttering about the CIA and KGB tapping his phones. In the middle of the night, he rose from their bed and began packing. He had to go to the casinos. God had said so. He’d been chosen. He was blessed. Unbeatable. God had promised he would make millions.
My mother pleaded. He wasn’t thinking straight. Princeton to Atlantic City was a two-hour drive, and my father was in no shape to make it. He hadn’t eaten or slept for days. Didn’t he remember that last accident? What if he had another one? Maybe they could take a trip to the hospital instead.
When my father ignored her, rummaging through her purse and different drawers in the house to pull together a bundle of cash, she phoned one of his colleagues at his lab. It wasn’t long past four in the morning, but after speaking with her, the colleague, another physicist, must have made some calls himself. Within the hour he and three other physicists, one more colleague and two of my father’s grad students, had arrived at our house.
When my father came to the door, they began to wheedle. They needed my father, they said. They needed him healthy and well rested, back at work. They were so close to their goal. How would they get there without him? They’d be happy to shuttle him to Atlantic City and throw some dice down with him—if sensei would just hand over the keys? They offered to get a blackjack game up and running in another hour right here in Princeton, right here in Shoichi-san’s house.
My father barely seemed aware they were there. Wild-eyed, his face set, he pushed past them and ran to his car.
The physicists moved so quickly, my mother said, they must have planned it beforehand. Marshaling themselves on the driveway, they took each other’s hands, a human barricade.
My father jerked the car into reverse. He didn’t come at the physicists fast, but neither was he stopping. They were brave and loyal and they held their ground, with only a faint tremor to betray their fear, for a few seconds before they broke, releasing each other’s hands and scattering as they dove for the lawn, and then my father was gunning it to Atlantic City.
Cuprins
Dearly Beloved
Favorite Story
My Father’s Women
Unbeatable
Work Equals Force Times Displacement
Snapshot
American Fairytale
When Tojo Came to Visit
Clothes Make the Man
The Promise
Pressure Equals Force Divided by Area
Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration
Chess Superhero
Mandala
Tokyo Monsoon
Favorite Story
My Father’s Women
Unbeatable
Work Equals Force Times Displacement
Snapshot
American Fairytale
When Tojo Came to Visit
Clothes Make the Man
The Promise
Pressure Equals Force Divided by Area
Force Equals Mass Times Acceleration
Chess Superhero
Mandala
Tokyo Monsoon
Descriere
A memoir of an estranged daughter’s mission to understand her deceased Japanese physicist father and the effects of bipolar disorder, violence, and genius on his relationships and career.