Juliet s kono books on tape

I clapped my hands, made wild-animal kicks, and scattered dirt into the air. Twirling in the dust like a frenzied death-spirit dancer and placing my hands toward the heel of the runaway flames, I lifted them up to circle the air and, like a child shaman, conducted the spirit forces around me. Fueled, the flames grew into a spindly tree, and the long pointy leaves brushed against my threadbare dress.

I was on fire. I ran out from under the house. I rolled on the ground and shielded my face. Tsunami Years. In the Company of Strangers. No Choice but to Follow. Expounding the Doubtful Points. Gender female. Anshu: Dark Sorrow by Juliet Kono. See More Reviews. Geraldine Kudaka.

Juliet s kono books on tape

Winson Trang Illustrator. Add to Favorites. Pictures Author Gallery. Author 6 books 13 followers. The title hints at the physical, emotional and moral turmoil Himiko endures. The story begins with beautiful young Himiko in Hawaii, resenting her older sister and being in love with a local boy. But with her move to Japan and forced to live with her Japanese relatives, Himiko matures and recognizes her own shortcomings.

Kono was especially skilled at depicting the personalities of Himiko's relatives and Japanese friends and lover. No one is completely evil and no one is completely innocent. Buddhist thought is interwoven through the story so that a sense of hope remains despite the horrors of war. Jasmine Mae. That is exactly what Hi-Chan experienced in this book: a life of misfortunes and dark sorrows.

Kono is such a great writer for making her characters relatable and lovable even during wartime Japan. My heart sinks at every chapter, yet it makes you want to continue reading and see what else Hi-Chan experience. You know when a book is good. When it makes you sad, mad, frustrated. This book made me crazy. It was too smart for its own good, that ugly sphinctered mouth.

It got his goat, cut his bait and hurled its turd like no Japanese girl should. He knuckled the head, connected to the angry face and the O ring of the mouth that was ready to snap-- mean with the teeth of disappointment. There was always the taste of something bitter, like melons and medicine, year after year. Now, my father's old. He cups his ears to hear, pees with bad aim and walks with a cane.

In his wallet he keeps a yellowed newspaper clipping of me. Wrapped in Saran Wrap, it looks like an old Shinto talisman. He shows it to his friends. The Sum of Breathing.