Hitting Close to Home: On Cynthia Kadohata’s A Place to Belong
Upon the discovery that A Place to Belong by Cynthia Kadohata was set in a post-World War II Japan, I began preparing myself for a hard but valuable read, and I was not wrong to do so. A Place to Belong depicts the sufferings of people living in the aftermath of the atomic bomb in Hiroshima. Its narrative shows how life and the economy are affected in both small and large ways and how people have struggled because of that. Being that I had no personal experiences living through such circumstances, I approached the text from an outside perspective and ultimately found a new awareness and understanding for their many trials and injustices. However, something else I unexpectedly discovered was a kinship with some of the feelings and burdens of Hanako and her family.
Needless to say, I sobbed for a good amount of the book, which moved me in ways that I could not have imagined when I first started reading it. Kadohata does an incredible job at capturing minute and major experiences in one narrative. The aftermath of the war and the atomic bombs are hardships that I can only sympathize with, yet I am also able to empathize with some of the personal struggles of Hanako and her family. It is certainly a challenging read at times because of how desperate and depressing the situations can feel, but I genuinely appreciated reading such a well-crafted narrative that creates more awareness for struggles, issues, and events that have often been swept under the rug.
Amid the weighty aspects of the novel, I found vivid reflections of my own experiences in the novel’s discussion of culture and identity. Using an intimate and vulnerable perspective into Hanako’s mind, Kadohata does a great job at depicting the intersections between culture and identity. How does one affect the other? How do both exist in the same space/person? How does one find a balance between the two? Those are hard questions that Kadohata invites her readers to ponder. They are also the same questions that I have been wrestling with as a person of Chinese descent who has often been called “not Chinese enough,” and seeing Hanako’s struggles only made me feel seen but also widened my perspective.
Hanako spends most of the story walking the line between American and Japanese and attempting to figure out where she stands, yet her journey is made more complicated because in each country she is seen as the Other. It is notably a tough experience for a twelve-year-old in those times, but this issue is still prevalent in the present day as people of all ages endeavor to determine how their race, heritage, and background factor into who they are. While people have been discussing this issue more openly, there will always be more room for further personal exploration and discussion.
Another personal recognition that I came upon in the narrative was its depiction of the tough realities involved in acquiring a “better future,” which is best captured in Hanako and Akira’s unaccompanied return to the United States. The accumulation of circumstances including the economy of Japan and the long process of regaining American citizenship for the parents essentially forced the whole Tachibana family to reconcile with the fact that Hanako and Akira had to return to the United States on their own for a chance at a “better future.” The last few chapters reveal how they held onto the hopes of meeting again, even if it was unlikely, especially for the grandparents. The circumstances were truly heartbreaking because of how sadly realistic it was. I didn’t have to leave my country under the same circumstances as Hanako and Akira, but I can empathize with the feeling of leaving family behind for better opportunities ahead.
Although my own experiences cannot be measured to Hanako and her family, seeing reflections of my own struggles with identity, culture, and the future in the narrative still personalized the text for me and invited me to think more deeply about their existence in life. Kadohata’s novel A Place To Belong truly embodies the concept of bittersweet for a reader who recognizes the friction between culture and belonging and understands the effort used in trying to reconcile both in one life.
Carmen Lok
Student Representative, Southwestern Region, 2024-2025
Epsilon Theta Chapter, Secretary
Southern Arkansas University, Magnolia, AR
Cynthia Kadohata at the 2025 Convention
My parents were both born in California and had difficult, impoverished childhoods, and, later, difficult yet rewarding lives. I was born in Chicago in 1956, when my mother was newly 21 and my late father was 30. I have an older sister and a younger brother, born in Arkansas. I felt quite beloved as I grew up. There was a woman I interviewed for A Place to Belong. She spoke of being deported to Japan with her family after the war. She didn’t have enough food, but she didn’t think about that, because, she says, “I was surrounded by love.” I felt very safe as a young child because of the love of my parents and the presence of my siblings. I have attended quite a few schools and dropped out of a few as well. There is no single path forward. One of you might be a straight-A kid, and another might be a kid who drops out of high school as I did. And both of you might later attend an Ivy League graduate school, as I did. It was not easy to drop out—of Hollywood High School—but I don’t regret it and learned many things, the hard way for sure. I live in Southern California with my teenage son and longtime boyfriend.
Keynote Reading, followed by book signing
Friday, March 21, 3:45 p.m. | Ballroom 1-2, 2
Introduction:
Carmen Lok—Southern Arkansas University (AR)
LitFest Mini-Session 2: Writing for a YA Audience
Saturday, March 22, 11:00 a.m. | Heinz, 1
Introductions:
Shannin Schroeder—Southern Arkansas University (AR)
Carmen Lok—Southern Arkansas University (AR)