Sophie and the Rising

Rating:
Summary: Good book
Review: This novel is ok - worth the read but only for entertainment. It is about a women from the South and her love for a Japanese-American and what they endure during WWII.

Rating:
Summary: Very good
Review: Understated, elegant and poetic, Augusta Trobaugh's "Sophie and the Rising Sun" traces the evolution of forbidden love between a white woman and a Japanese-American man immediately after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Other novelists have used the backdrop of racism and wartime hysteria as a means of exploring the consequences of debilitating prejudice and the restorative hopes generated by love; Trobaugh, however, gives the theme a compelling wrinkle. The setting is not the west coast, but a small, isolated Georgia community near the Atlantic Ocean. The two protagonists are also far from typical. Sophie, middle-aged and resigned to a loveless existence, has lived an emotionally-stunted life, accented by a repressive home and town whose adherence to racism symbolizes not only ignorance, but spiritual dysfunction. Mr. Oto, an adult Nisei, bears his own shame and disgrace; disguising himself as a "Chinese gardener," his only hope of human attachment revolves around a myth of a crane-wife.

"The Rising Sun" is at once slow-paced and emotionally compelling. Trobaugh's command of language is impressive, and her evocative use of metaphor transforms both place and person. Sophie's voice, for instance, "was soft and melodic, like the faint lapping of ripples at the edge of a beautiful marsh deep inside him." Decent people, struggling for a sense of authenticity during a period of racist hysteria, discover themselves in a well-intentioned but potentially disastrous lattice of lies. Sophie's only friend in town, Miss Anne (whose voice assists in providing a subjective view of Sophie's experiences), quietly rebels against the prevalent, quiet evil of Salty Creek. Yet her resistance and friendship comes with costs; even Miss Anne must confront conscience against friendship, love against safety, pride against pragmatism.

As Sophie and Mr. Oto initiate a relationship which slowly, quietly and surely develops its own definition and dimension, they must wrestle not only with their own needs and hopes, but how those aspirations and desires enmesh their beloved in physical and emotional danger. Trobaugh is nothing less than exceptional in her deft handling of quiet terror and spiritual isolation. It is that central tension between love (and its attendant optimistic hope) and betrayal (of decency, of honor, of interdependence) that gives this slender novel its enormous power.

"Sophie and the Rising Sun" is that kind of unassuming, subtle novel that reminds readers how and why the ability to love may be our most noble human achievement. When it occurs amidst ignorance and prejudice, love is even a more impressive achievement. Augusta Trobaugh, as surely as the symbolic crane which reappears mystically throghout her writing, interprets this terrain beautifully. This novel is cause for celebration.

Rating:
Summary: elegant, poignant tale of secret love amidst wartime racism
Review: Understated, elegant and poetic, Augusta Trobaugh's "Sophie and the Rising Sun" traces the evolution of forbidden love between a white woman and a Japanese-American man immediately after the bombing of Pearl Harbor. Other novelists have used the backdrop of racism and wartime hysteria as a means of exploring the consequences of debilitating prejudice and the restorative hopes generated by love; Trobaugh, however, gives the theme a compelling wrinkle. The setting is not the west coast, but a small, isolated Georgia community near the Atlantic Ocean. The two protagonists are also far from typical. Sophie, middle-aged and resigned to a loveless existence, has lived an emotionally-stunted life, accented by a repressive home and town whose adherence to racism symbolizes not only ignorance, but spiritual dysfunction. Mr. Oto, an adult Nisei, bears his own shame and disgrace; disguising himself as a "Chinese gardener," his only hope of human attachment revolves around a myth of a crane-wife.

"The Rising Sun" is at once slow-paced and emotionally compelling. Trobaugh's command of language is impressive, and her evocative use of metaphor transforms both place and person. Sophie's voice, for instance, "was soft and melodic, like the faint lapping of ripples at the edge of a beautiful marsh deep inside him." Decent people, struggling for a sense of authenticity during a period of racist hysteria, discover themselves in a well-intentioned but potentially disastrous lattice of lies. Sophie's only friend in town, Miss Anne (whose voice assists in providing a subjective view of Sophie's experiences), quietly rebels against the prevalent, quiet evil of Salty Creek. Yet her resistance and friendship comes with costs; even Miss Anne must confront conscience against friendship, love against safety, pride against pragmatism.

As Sophie and Mr. Oto initiate a relationship which slowly, quietly and surely develops its own definition and dimension, they must wrestle not only with their own needs and hopes, but how those aspirations and desires enmesh their beloved in physical and emotional danger. Trobaugh is nothing less than exceptional in her deft handling of quiet terror and spiritual isolation. It is that central tension between love (and its attendant optimistic hope) and betrayal (of decency, of honor, of interdependence) that gives this slender novel its enormous power.

"Sophie and the Rising Sun" is that kind of unassuming, subtle novel that reminds readers how and why the ability to love may be our most noble human achievement. When it occurs amidst ignorance and prejudice, love is even a more impressive achievement. Augusta Trobaugh, as surely as the symbolic crane which reappears mystically throghout her writing, interprets this terrain beautifully. This novel is cause for celebration.