In Plain View. Julie Shigekuni

In Plain View - Julie Shigekuni


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      PRAISE FOR JULIE SHIGEKUNI

      “Artfully evocative... The lesson one takes from [Shigekuni’s book] is time-honored in every culture.”

      —THE NEW YORK TIMES

      “This is an intense and introspective book... Shigekuni’s well-crafted first novel succeeds in engaging the reader in its exploration of a universal theme.”

      —SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE

      “A family saga on an intimate scale... Shigekuni evokes with skill and sensitivity the many colorations of unhappiness that tinge these interwoven lives.”

      —BOSTON GLOBE

      “An accomplished novelist, Shigekuni tells a powerful story of the strength of family and the creation of identity... A first novel that betokens a promising career indeed.”

      —ATLANTA JOURNAL-CONSTITUTION

      “Julie Shigekuni explores both the stories that connect us and the silences that keep us apart. This graceful and compassionate novel reminds us how we can never fully know the people in our lives, including (and maybe even especially) ourselves.”

      —GAYLE BRANDEIS, AUTHOR OF DELTA GIRLS

      “With delicate detail and cold-blooded precision, Julie Shigekuni tells this story of shattered family emotions that is at once disturbing and beautiful.”

      —DAVID WONG LOUIE, AUTHOR OF THE BARBARIANS ARE COMING

      The Unnamed Press

      P.O. Box 411272

      Los Angeles, CA 90041

      Published in North America by The Unnamed Press.

      1 3 5 7 9 10 8 6 4 2

      Copyright © 2016 by Julie Shigekuni

      ISBN: 978-1-944700-28-7

      Library of Congress Control Number: 2016917169

      This book is distributed by Publishers Group West

      Cover design & typeset by Jaya Nicely

      This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are wholly fictional or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. Permissions inquiries may be directed to [email protected].

      FOR VALERIE ROMEO & NAUGHTY CHULA

      I don’t understand how a woman can leave the house without fixing herself up a little—if only out of politeness. And then, you never know, maybe that’s the day she has a date with destiny. And it’s best to be as pretty as possible for destiny.

      —COCO CHANEL

      CONTENTS

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Part Two: The Grandeur of his Life in Mito

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Part Three: The Aftermath

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Chapter 24

      Chapter 25

      Chapter 26

      Part Four: Installations

      Chapter 27

      Chapter 28

      Chapter 29

      Chapter 30

      Chapter 31

      Chapter 32

      Chapter 33

      Chapter 34

      Chapter 35

      Part Five: Hard Evidence

      Chapter 36

      Chapter 37

      Chapter 38

      Chapter 39

      Chapter 40

      Chapter 41

      Part Six: Too Late to Look Back

      Chapter 42

      Chapter 43

      Chapter 44

      Chapter 45

      Chapter 46

      Chapter 47

      Chapter 48

      Chapter 49

      Epilogue: Think of Me

      Acknowledgments

      About the Author

       PROLOGUE

       IN PLAIN VIEW

      Early that morning she woke to the sound of her father’s stockinged feet brushing against the tatami mats as he hurried down the hall that led away from her mother’s room next door to where she slept. With her eyes closed she’d listened, visualizing his large hands as they collected his even larger-sized shoes from the cabinet. The streetlamp outside her window was the only source of light when the sliding door opened, then shut, indicating his departure. Later, with the sun cresting the sky and the familiar sound of the television announcing the return of her happy life, she joined her mother for breakfast. As usual, her mother served tea with the morning meal, which she sipped while her mother tended to her futon. From the other side of the wall, she could hear the thump the dusting stick made, which she knew meant Tuesday, the day the futon needed to air. Once the futon had been stored, her mother smiled at her from the doorframe, and she followed her to the main sitting room to pray.

      The small shrine held a beautiful and perfect miniature world, its black lacquered doors opening to a shining gold Buddha who sat peacefully against the back wall. As her mother prayed, she watched the steam rising off the bowl of rice placed before the Buddha. She’d eaten the same rice with fish for dinner the night before, and again for breakfast with egg and pickled vegetables.

      Nothing out of the ordinary had happened, nothing to signal danger. Her mother had lifted the gate latch, then turned back to secure it before taking her hand. She’d worn her winter gloves, which her mother had brought out again after having stored them away, because the cold weather had returned. A frost covered parts of the footpath, creating patterns of ice for them to sidestep. Her mother had used the word “disgrace” to describe the fallen petals that dotted the walkway, making it slippery. The plum blossoms had been ruined, but in their


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