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The Yokota Officers Club Hardcover – June 19, 2001


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Product Details

  • Hardcover: 384 pages
  • Publisher: Knopf; 1st edition (June 19, 2001)
  • Language: English
  • ISBN-10: 037541214X
  • ISBN-13: 978-0375412141
  • Product Dimensions: 8.7 x 6.1 x 1.4 inches
  • Shipping Weight: 1.5 pounds
  • Average Customer Review: 4.6 out of 5 stars  See all reviews (69 customer reviews)
  • Amazon Best Sellers Rank: #1,057,264 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)

Editorial Reviews

From Publishers Weekly

Stories nestle inside stories like a set of Russian dolls in Bird's (Virgin of the Rodeo) wonderful fifth novel. Set in the late 1960s, it is narrated by 18-year-old Bernie, the eldest of six children in the peripatetic Root family. After her freshman year in college, Bernie joins her nomadic kin at their current home, an Okinawan air force base. They have changed: her younger sister, Kit, is out of control and "now being played by Lolita"; her once glamorous mother, Moe, is overweight and depressed; her father, who was a heroic and swaggering fighter pilot, has become a distant, self-loathing "ground pounder." And Bernie can't stop thinking of Fumiko, the family's former maidservant, whom no one is allowed to mention. Before being sucked into the family's torpor, Bernie escapes by winning a dance contest that lands her in Tokyo as the stage partner of Bobby Moses, a third-rate borscht belt comedian. There she delves into the past to solve the mystery surrounding Fumiko's disappearance and her family's deterioration. Bernie sharp and snarky, yet severely introverted is a delightful heroine, and the large cast that swirls around her is equally endearing. Particularly fine are the wisecracking yet nurturing Moe and the oddly touching Bobby Moses, who's vulgar and mediocre, but insistent on professionalism. The dialogue is first-rate, and all the '60s brand-name dropping is amusing; the decade becomes fresh again when seen from the unusual perspective of a military family (especially this one) removed from mainland society. (June) Forecast: Bird has David Sedaris's gift for mining scathing wit from family dysfunction. Only one of her earlier novels is still in print, but hopefully her move to Knopf (and a slew of enthusiastic blurbs from the likes of Rick Bass) will help her to win the large readership she deserves.
Copyright 2001 Reed Business Information, Inc.

From School Library Journal

Adult/High School-Bird has created a deftly choreographed journey of the heart, delicate and nuanced in its disclosure of painful family secrets, yet liberally seasoned with robust humor. Readers travel with 18-year-old Bernie Root as she returns from her freshman year of college in the States to visit her military family, currently stationed on Okinawa. The "fresh eyes" with which she views her parents and five younger siblings will resonate with many teens. Beyond this, the complex range of emotions generated by her reentry into life on a military base, with all its familiar, yet insular and confining, characteristics is poignantly captured. Bernie's distress at her parents' deteriorating marriage and her continuing thorny relationship with her beautiful younger sister provide a sober backdrop that is nevertheless leavened by vignettes and hilarious reminiscences of life on the move and the pitfalls of always being the new kid in town. At the core of the story is the protagonist's attempt to unveil the mystery surrounding the disappearance of a beloved servant who lived with the family 10 years prior when they were stationed in Japan, while the father was assigned to a squadron flying surveillance missions shrouded in secrecy. Bernie intuitively senses that discovering Fumiko's fate is key to understanding the forces that are destabilizing her family. The revelations that ensue lead her along a path of self-discovery to a heartrending confrontation with the harsh consequences of one's actions, and to a new level of maturity. A beautifully paced story, especially recommended for (but not limited to) any locale with a military base nearby.

Lynn Nutwell, Fairfax City Regional Library, VA

Copyright 2001 Cahners Business Information, Inc.


More About the Author

My first interview about "Above the East China Sea" coming out next May. I loved chatting about this book with the insightful Mary Helen Specht:

Today I am so pleased to present an interview with the amazing Sarah Bird. She is a rare writer, one whose work is as popular as it is literary, as dark and insightful as it is laugh-out-loud funny. Find out more about her novels here: http://sarahbirdbooks.com.

Bird's ninth novel, Above The East China Sea (to be released by Knopf in spring of 2014), is a big serious novel about the price of empire, and a loving evocation of Okinawans and their culture. The novel presents the unexpectedly entwined story of two teenage girls -- one a contemporary U.S. Air Force brat, whose hard-ass, party-girl sergeant mom is stationed at Kadena Air Base on Okinawa; the other a gentle native of the island who is forced along with the other sheltered girls of the elite Princess Lily High School, to serve in the Japanese army's cave hospitals during the Battle of Okinawa.

+

MHS: Let's begin with the question that every reader loves to ask and every writer hates to answer: Since you also spent part of your youth living on Okinawa, how much of your own experiences inform the characters or the drama of this novel?

SB: No, I think that is an important and valid question and don't really understand why writers get testy about it. I'm fascinated by the intersections between fact and fiction. In the case of Above the East China Sea, the book absolutely wouldn't exist had I not been a military kid. (I disavow the term "military brat," since, as a group, children raised by soldiers who put The Mission above all else, including family, are some of the least bratty America produces.) While I was growing up, we were stationed in Japan and Okinawa, and I based a novel, Yokota Officers Club, on those experiences. In researching that book, I was astonished at what I did not know about Okinawa or our country's relationship with the chain of Ryukyu Islands that it is part of.

At the age of eighteen, I'd stood at the top of a popular destination, Suicide Cliff, and I'd toured yet another, the vast labyrinth of tunnels constructed by the Japanese army with native labor, and been absolutely unaware of their significance. I didn't learn for another thirty years that more lives had been lost during the Battle Okinawa than at Hiroshima and Nagasaki combined. That the invasion was the largest land-sea-air battle in history. That over one-quarter of the Okinawan population had died in agonizing ways, and virtually the entire cultural history of the islands had been lost.

The story of the Princess Lily Girls, the sheltered native girls from an elite private school who were conscripted by the Imperial Army to serve in their cave hospitals under the most horrific conditions imaginable, embodied this tragedy. I told the historical half of the novel from the perspective of two sisters who refuse to let anything, not the struggles of nations, not even death, tear them apart.

MHS: Your novel explores Okinawa in two different time periods. Can you tell us a little about your research process for this book? Was it different researching a country and culture that is not your own?

SB: I've actually done quite a few projects in foreign countries, both as a novelist and a screenwriter. For this one, I definitely did not want to write a purely historical novel. I wanted to show the continuing ramifications of our presence on that island. How seven decades after the war ended U.S. military installation still occupy a fifth of tiny Okinawa's precious 463 square miles. Having grown up within the barbed wire of the vast stretches of runways, housing areas, parade grounds, swimming pools, golf courses, and so on, it was a mind-bending exercise for me to put myself outside of the fence and ask questions like, How would an American would feel if, say, the entire eastern seaboard, were occupied by foreigners?

I re-entered the world of a military dependent stationed at one of the US's 700 plus overseas bases through the character of Luz James, only surviving child of a hard ass single mom sergeant in Security Forces. As the novel opens, we learn that mom is away on TDY, (temporary duty, one of the many acronyms that defined my early life), Luz's beloved older sister Codie, the emotional core of her rootless life, has just died in Afghanistan, and Luz is standing at the top of Suicide Cliffs looking down on the East China Sea where past and present are about to collide.

MHS: Did you decide to go back to Okinawa (in person) to write this book? If not, why not?

SB: Thank God for the Internet and that I live in a town with a world-class library university library system. The bulk of my research had to do with getting Okinawa's side of the story of the invasion and immersing myself in the history and the culture of the Ryukyu Islands. I was very fortunate early on to find the superb collections of Okinawan literature translated and collected by Steve Rabson, the pre-eminent expert in the field, who became a great source and sounding board.

As for research into the life of a contemporary military teen on Okinawa, the intimate side of that world certainly would have been closed to me had I shown up in all my old lady glory. But it was wide open and completely accessible on youtube. There I discovered an entire channel, Planet Oki, devoted to the hip hop scene on the island. I gathered tremendous insights from the many video diaries of young air force recruits going through basic and specialized training. Facebook was a wonderful source for teens and enlisted members currently stationed on Kadena Air Base.

Thus far all my sources have confirmed that I got it right, which is a gigantic relief as that was crucially important to me. So although I would have loved to have visited Okinawa, I also had loads of hesitations. First, I didn't think I could learn what I needed to in a short visit, couldn't penetrate any of the worlds that are so open to me in me other ways. Then there was the expense. Okinawa is a long way away. Finally, my time growing up on Okinawa was magical is so many ways. My parents were young and healthy, my brothers and sisters and I were this one, tight unit having an enchanted adventure. Though I now understand the dark side of that magic time, I've put those personal memories aside and don't really want too much reality to intrude upon them; I wanted my own private Okinawa to remain preserved in amber with its golden glow intact.

I will say that I did acquire a bottle of awamori, a sort of Okinawan rice brandy, with the requisite habu snake coiled at the bottom and toasted every time I felt I'd figured out a knotty problem. I can't compare it to viper-less awamori, but the stuff I have tastes like very strong sake. Oh, and it increased my virility tremendously.

MHS: Since many of your readers will likely be American, how did you approach the challenge of explaining Okinawan culture without bogging down the novel with exposition? Can you give us an example?

SB: This was a huge concern for me and the reason that I had to rewrite the novel several times from page one. For quite some time, I was at a loss about how to immerse an American reader into a culture with such fundamentally different ideas without turning the book into a sort of "Meet Okinawa and Its Weird Ways." I also, really, didn't want to write a ghost story which the book would have been for a reader who isn't steeped in the Okinawan ideas that the basic human unit is not the individual but the family. And that the dead live on in a literal way, influencing every aspect of life.

The two keys for me to unlocking this problem were the novels The Famished Road by Ben Okri and, of course, the book in whose shadow we all labor, 100 Years of Solitude by the author I named my only child after. I also admire the novels of John Burdett and how the beliefs of his Buddhist detective are implicit in the action.

Still, I did need a vehicle to articulate Okinawan history and her muddy relationship with both the US and Japan. My "mule" for carrying this narrative load was the character, Jake Furusato, a bilingual, bi-cultural Okinawan teen.

In this excerpt, Jake is helping Luz find a man in a photo she and her beloved sister Codie might be related to.

+
Excerpt from ABOVE THE EAST CHINA SEA

I hand Jake the photo, pointing to the corner of the sign above the guy's head where the word 'apLand' appears and theorize, "Probably a misspelling of App Land, right? Some tech store. I'll Google it."

"Don't bother." Jake's tone is weird. He flips the photo back onto my lap and pulls into traffic. "I know exactly where and what that is."

The rain has stopped by the time, we leave the broad boulevards lined with royal palms and shops spilling out their glittering merchandise and turn onto narrower and narrower streets until we're creeping along a nearly deserted back street. On either side are abandoned businesses with boarded-up windows and weeds growing through the concrete steps sporting signs so faded by the sun that I can barely make out the names: Club Kentucky. High Time Bar. The Manhattan. Girls Girls Girls. GI Welcome.

Suddenly, amidst all the gray buildings, we encounter one painted a vivid crimson. The shocking color frames a painting two stories high that depicts a beautiful woman in a red-and-lilac kimono sniffing a flower. A few blocks later there is another painted a shocking pink. A two-story poster depicts a pair of animé girls in French maid costumes, breasts overflowing laced bodices. An invisible fishing line hoists up the backs of ruffled skirts to reveal the clefts of their butts. With a weirdly sarcastic tone, Jake translates the caption beneath the girls: "'Welcome home, Mr. Married Man. Your wife is out shopping for the day. Is there anything we can do for you before she gets back?'"

"Check that one out." He points to a place and translates the sign, "The Girls Nursing Academy." The two-story building is covered in bathroom tile and features giant posters of young Japanese girls in sexy nurse uniforms and pink scrubs. There is another caption, and though Jake does this translation in a high, girly voice, it's obvious that he doesn't think any of it is funny. "'Please, come in! We need to check your pulse. Now, please remove all of your clothes. We'd like to check your blood pressure, too.'"

On the street, a couple of Japanese businessmen in black suits crane their necks to study the photos of the nurse girls. A thuggy-looking guy with slicked-back hair steps out and beckons the men to enter, holding the door open, and pointing to other photos posted on the signboard next to him.

"What are these, strip clubs? Whorehouses?"

Jakes gives a dry imitation of a laugh. "Whorehouse? Technically, no, since prostitution has been illegal in Japan since the mid-fifties. No these are 'bathhouses,' Sōpus. Which is why what you pay for in a Sōpu is just a bath. A very, very expensive bath where the girl washes you with her naked, soapy body. But if, during all the rub-a-dub-dub, the couple should just happen to realize that they are soul mates and fall deeply in love and can't keep themselves from having mad, passionate sex. Well, it happens. That's just two strangers who've fallen in love. The money is for the bath. Period. That's the Japanese way."

"You sure know a lot about all this," I say.

Jake shakes his head. "No one who grows up here doesn't know about Soaplands. This is where Japan, Okinawa, and, now that the dollar is so weak, to a much lesser degree, America, all, literally, rub up against each other."

I'm relieved that Jake's judgment and disgust are for murky political relationships. He drives on, pointing out the tiled, painted businesses as we pass them. "Okay, there you've got the Princess Heart, the Emerald, and Wave. And, look," Jake tilts his head toward a couple of soldiers," "the first customers of the day.

Though they're in civvies, I figure the guys to be marines, since everything about them--from their high and tight haircuts, to the weightlifter muscles, to the rolling gaits, like their balls are so enormous they have to straddle them with each step, is military on steroids. They're too big for the narrow street, too red-faced for the glaring sun. The marines pause in front of the Princess Heart and stare at the poster of a girl with a face like Betty Boop and breasts like a Jersey cow.

The soldiers shove each other as they study a price list that starts at 24,000 yen for an hour, more than they make in a week. A tough-looking Okinawan bouncer wearing sunglasses, his hair gelled into a spiky do, slouching against a wall, straightens up, flicks his cigarette into the street, and closes in on the marines. He waves the soldiers away with broad gestures. The marines fail to take the hint and start to go in anyway. The bouncer, arms folded in front of his chest, blocks their entrance, and, with one nod of his head, two guys appear to flank him. The marines start to force their way past, and the three men drop down into the Stance. The marines recognize the serious ass-kicking potential on display, flip the guys off, and leave.

Jake takes a left, turns down a street drabber and drearier than the others, and stops in front of the drabbest and dreariest building. The sign above the door is spelled out, not in Japanese characters but in straightforward English: SoapLand. "This the place you were looking for?"

"I didn't think it would be... You know." Just like I figured, the instant I let anything about my family out, humiliation follows.

"This is the only place around here that's so low-class they take foreigners, even the lowest of the gaijin, soldiers. US G.I.s were what originally built the businesses, but all that's changed. Most sōpus now won't even let one stand outside and ogle the photos of the girls because they'll scare away the customers with real money, Japanese businessmen."

The rain has stopped, and in the bright sunlight SoapLand looks even dingier. The aqua tile framing the frosted glass next to the front door is filigreed with mildew along the grout lines. The photos of girls sporting ratted-up hairstyles, pale lipstick, and heavy eyeliner from the sixties and seventies, posted in glass cases outside, are so old they have faded to a lifeless blue. They remind me of the photo of my grandmother. Too much.

"Actually," I say, "I've changed my mind. I don't even know why I thought that I'm related to..." I wave at the scene on the other side of the windshield, "...any of this. My grandfather was a farm boy from Missouri. My grandmother met him when he was stationed at Kadena."

As I speak, the marines rejected from the higher-class sōpu down the street appear. As soon as they move into view, there is motion on the on the other side of the frosted glass of Soapland. The shadow of a man wobbles across the glass as he nears the open door. My heart gives a violent stroke.

"So, you want to leave?" Jake asks.

The shadow is inches away from being exposed at the open door. "Yes, we should leave. Now."

Jake starts the engine and pulls forward. He is about to turn onto the street when the shadow man appears in the open door.

Jake stops. "Isn't that the guy in the picture you showed me?"

He is even gaunter than he'd looked in the photo taken three months ago. The high knobs of his shoulders tent up his suit on either side of his head. A rim of white hair outlines his face where the roots of his frizzy dyed curls are growing out. Though he could pass for Latino, even white, in person his loose-jointed ease with a hint of swagger is all African-American.

I want to say "no" so much it hurts. I don't want to be related to some skeevy guy working at a sudsy whorehouse. I am cutting this loser out, excising him like a malignant growth, I'm saying the word, I'm denying that he has any relation to me when the old guy throws his shoulders back, stands up straight, and greets the marines with a smile that is Codie's dazzling smile. The years fall off of him and Codie is there radiating the same quick, but scattered intelligence.

The marines try to wave him off, but he gets out in front, cutting them off. They step around him, but he stays on their heels, a whippet herding buffalo. When they continue rebuffing him, moving farther down the block away from SoapLand, he grabs one of the marines' sleeves. Instantly, two massive clubs of arms shoot skyward, throwing off the unwelcome touch, and both soldiers whirl on the pest and go ghetto on him with aggressive head bobs and eye pops.

The skinny man with Codie's smile backs away, both hands up, declaring total surrender. The marines leave, fist-bumping each other, bonded again in semper fi brotherhood.

"What do you want to do?" Jake asks.

What I want is to tell Jake that I was mistaken, that my life has nothing to do with a broken-down old pimp dogging customers. I really want that. The only thing I want more is the tiniest scrap of my sister back. A flash of her smile. The name of the man who might be our grandfather. I pull the handle back, the car door cracks open. "I have to talk to him."

I get out and head toward SoapLand.

+

MHS: Were there any common stereotypes / simplifications / misconceptions about Okinawa culture that you consciously tried to avoid or correct while working on the manuscript?

SB: The biggest misconception is that Okinawa is Japan. Hopefully without being didactic, I wanted to show how the island has been betrayed and exploited by both the US and Japan, usually in collaboration. How they have paid for decades for a war they had no part in starting and never stood to benefit from.

Mostly, I wanted to highlight how viscerally the Okinawans understand the tragic, incalculable costs of empire, whether Japanese or American, and how those costs are always borne, mostly, by the young.

+++

posted by Mary Helen Specht
Mary Helen Specht is our July 2013 Writer In Residence. Her fiction and nonfiction has appeared in numerous publications, including The New York Times, The Colorado Review, Michigan Quarterly Review, The Southwest Review, Florida Review, Southwestern American Literature, The Texas Observer, and Night Train, where she won the Richard Yates Short Story Award. A former Fulbright Scholar to Nigeria and Dobie-Paisano Writing Fellow, Specht currently teaches creative writing at St. Edward's University in Austin, Texas.

Customer Reviews

From the very first page I knew the book was going to be excellent.
Laura A. Corrigan
I found the story to be brilliantly funny and beautifully poignant at the same time.
MaryJane
She worries that the changes she's made will alienate her from her family.
mirope

Most Helpful Customer Reviews

32 of 32 people found the following review helpful By Glenn Greenwood on June 21, 2001
Format: Hardcover
As a military brat who grew up on a number of air force bases all over the United States and abroad I found this book to be a non-stop, cover to cover read.
Although I knew this book was a fictional work, the characters became absolutely real to me. The brothers and sisters in this book were my brothers and sisters and my friends in the military base Capehart housing down the street. One of the book's locales, Kadena AFB on Okinawa, "the rock" was much the same as one of the bases I grew up on, Ramey AFB in Puerto Rico, "the rock" on the other side of the world. The pilot father as a maniac behind the wheel, racing a large family packed into a car almost non-stop to his next duty station was my B-52 crewman father doing the same thing with my family.
The forever concerns I had while growing up of getting into trouble and ruining my father's career, walked up behind me and once again breathed heavily down my neck as I read this book.
More importantly, I was reminded of friends who were removed from military bases and my life the very day after their fathers didn't come back from "training and weather missions." At age 46 this book finally brought home to me the fact that I was not allowed, as a friend, to share their grief and offer support over the loss of their fathers. A tragedy for all concerned, but shared and shouldered by very few.
Sarah Bird's first person fictional narrative of the personal one on one relationship between the the main character, Bernie, and the family maid Fumiko and the family secrets surrounding her; speaks volumes on the impact we, in a smaller sense as military children growing up overseas and we, in a larger sense as a country, had on people in the countries occupied by America's military after World War II.
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23 of 24 people found the following review helpful By Jan Service on July 16, 2001
Format: Hardcover
Having lived at Yokota AFB from 1957-59 seeing this book really took me by surprise so I ran out and read it immediately. I couldn't put it down. It is hard to find a book that reminds us brats of our childhood, but reading "Yokota" did it for me! It brought back so many fond memories of Japan, the Teen Club, the Father and Daughter Brownie Banquet and especially of our maid Iseko. This book left me in a very reflective mood. I wish my Dad were still around to talk to him adult to adult about our military life. All those long forgotten memories and feelings... thanks to Sarah Bird for bringing them to the surface again. Thanks too for trying to explain the complex chemistry of the military life, its people, and burdens that the government expects from all of them. I'm proud to be an American, I'm proud to be an USAF brat and I'm glad I read The Yokota Officers Club.
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27 of 29 people found the following review helpful By Candace Siegle, Greedy Reader on June 28, 2001
Format: Hardcover
Just when you think you've had enough of novels about disintegrating families, there comes a book as appealing as "The Yokota Officers' Club." Author Sarah Bird whisks you away to the military world of Okinawa in 1968, where Peter, Paul & Mary's "I Dig Rock and Roll Music" passes for real rock 'n roll; where military families fear breaking an unspoken code of behavior and being RIFed, and where Vietnam is still a flicker in the background.
After her first year of college, Bernie Root comes home to Okinawa, the place her family happens to be that summer. Her dad's in the Air Force, and they move around a lot. But things have changed shockingly in her year away from the family. Her parents' marriage has turned ugly, and her off-beat tribe of brothers and sisters are almost too quirky to fit in anywhere. Being back in Asia reminds Bernie of the four happy years in Tokyo, a time made special by the family's closeness and the presence of their Japanese maid Fumiko, whom Bernie and her mother loved very much. Fumiko's name is never spoken now, and Bernie wonders why.
She gets the chance to find out when she wins a dance contest to tour air bases in Japan with Far East Funnyman Bobby Moses, a comic whose creaking act provides pained yucks for entertainment-starved officers clubs. His sidekick doesn't add much. Not with Bernie squeezed into tiny go-go boots halfheartedly jiving to whatever piece of cornball music a local band can come up with. She soldiers on for the chance to find Fumiko.
Her discovery is surprising and disconcerting, and even more so is the role Bernie finds she played in it. Sarah Bird's portrait of Americans in 1950s and 60s Japan makes for excellent reading. Intelligent and funny, "The Yokota Officers' Club" will not disappoint readers who set high standards for their summer reading.
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10 of 10 people found the following review helpful By Jack Canavan on June 24, 2001
Format: Hardcover
I just finished reading "The Yokota Officers Club." It reminded me of my lost military brat past. I'm feeling strangely out of place at this moment in time as I look around my civilian world, which though I've known it for half my life now, suddenly seems foreign all over again. I suddenly have an urge to go down to a military base and surround myself with the familiar.
It is this effect I find most powerful about Sarah's story. She includes lots of the details of life on Okinawa, something else with which I identify. Around that she weaves all the stuff that is familiar to anyone who has grown up in or married into the military. The social circles and wearing of the husband's rank, the frequent moves into all too familiar housing, and the fear that maybe dad wouldn't come home this time are all in the book.
The story has a bit of a bittersweet ending. This is entirely appropriate though. That's what the military life is like.
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