KIRA-KIRA

KiraKiraMiddle Grade Fiction
Age Range: 10-14 years
Grade Level: 5-9
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Text copyright © 2005 Cynthia Kadohata
Cover photo copyright ©  2004 Julia Kuskin
Book design by Ann Sullivan
Jacket design by Russel Gordon

 AWARDS

2005 John Newbery Medal
ALA Notable Children’s Books
Asian/Pacific American Award for Literature
Blue Spruce YA Book Award Nominee (CO) Booklinks Lasting Connections
Booklist Editors’ Choice
CCBC Choices (Cooperative Children’s Book Council)
California Collections Capitol Choices List (DC)
Charlotte Award Suggested Reading List (NY)
Dorothy Canfield Fisher Book Award Master List (VT)
Garden State Teen Book Award Nominee (NJ)
KSRC Middle School Titles – Top Pick
Kiriyama Prize Notable Book NYPL
“Books for the Teen Age” Nene Award Master List (HI)
Pacific Northwest Young Reader’s Choice Award
Master List Thumbs Up! Award Master List (MI)

WHY KIRA-KIRA IS A KEM GEM

KKRISTI’S TAKE
Cynthia Kadohata’s KIRA KIRA is a shining example of a contemporary book for young readers that delves into the prejudices Japanese American kids experienced post-WWII. The first person prose reads simplistically, pointedly and often contains vignettes that feel like they have been torn straight from a journal. A journal, much like Katie Takeshima’s sister’s diary. Kadohata accomplishes this authenticity through her details that always foreshadow, from the first line, all the way to the last line. There’s just enough, but not too much. This mastery of careful observation is also evident in Kadohata’s characters that leap from the page, both perfect and imperfect. I found myself wishing for a sister, just like Lynn, even if it meant experiencing illness and loss, because in the end, the glimmering gift of hope endured.

Favorite line
“I keep her diary in a drawer next to my bed.”

KEM Sapphire
EELISE’S TAKE
Katie Takeshima may struggle to find themes in her assigned readings for school, but the themes of persistence, sacrifice, and love clearly permeate her narration. Kira-Kira is described as the Japanese term for glittering or shining, and Kadohata’s writing truly shines when she slows down to reveal a conversation, a car ride, or a family meal. I found myself rushing through Kadohata’s frequent summarizations to get to her next fully realized scene. Kadohata doesn’t focus explicitly on discrimination in this mid-century novel, nor does she leave it out. This Japanese family is not called names or physically harmed, but neither are they included in regular society or given equal opportunities in their Deep South neighborhood. The topic is subtle (often the case with discrimination). In the end, however, familial love and service outshines the community’s prejudices.

Favorite line
It was as if the house were healing Lynn. That made me love the house even more than I would have anyway.

KEM Diamond
MGrayMARRAS’ TAKE
For me, a novelist hits a home run when their story makes my laughing tears co-mingle with my sad ones. Cynthia Kadohata hit a homer. Her first- person novel, KIRA-KIRA, seems so genuine, you’d swear she’d written a memoir as a youth. Kadohata welcomes readers into the intimate and difficult lives of the Japanese-American Takeshima family as their middle child, Katie, grows from a 5 year old in the 50s into an adolescent in the 60s. Kadahota covers the topics of family, work, reproduction, friendship, marginalization, and death with such naïve, thoughtful, and inquisitive candor, I came away feeling like Katie Takeshima truly lived and breathed as my quirky childhood friend.

Favorite line
When Uncle Katuhisa knocked on the door, I made him give me a password. He said with irritation, “Open up now, young lady, or bear my wrath.” That happened to be the password, so I opened the door.

GEMrub

At the 2014 Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators Summer Conference in Los Angeles, Kahodata shared that her Kira-Kira inspiration came from the life and death of her beloved dog. That must have been one delightful pet.

Please share your KIRA-KIRA comments, too!

Autism and Disney

“I am not the hero. I am the sidekick. I help others fulfill their destiny.'” ~ Owen Suskind

To those in the business of creating stories for children, your work has the power to impact lives in ways you’ve probably never imagined. In Life, Animated, a memoir, Pulitzer Prize-winning Ron Suskind shared how Disney movies provided the key that unlocked his autistic son from a prison of silence. Suskind’s book led CBS Sunday Morning to feature a report on this remarkable family by 60 Minutes journalist Leslie Stahl.

Watch “Breaking through autism with Disney movies“, produced by Sari Aviv and edited by David Ehagat. It’ll make your day.

Thank you, Ron and Cornelia Suskind, for raising the bar on parenting; to Owen Suskind, a hero in my book, for celebrating quality children’s stories with others; and to CBS Sunday Morning, for drawing attention to this positive and enlightening story!

Studies show that autism afflicts 1 out of 68 children in the U.S. – up 30 percent from 2013. Learn more about animation’s effect on this disorder through the official Life, Animated website.

I See Dead People

The last two weeks might have made a good movie. I celebrated two graduations, a wedding, a funeral, a birthday party, and Memorial Day. You’d think a title like FOUR WEDDINGS AND A FUNERAL would have come to mind, but instead, I found myself stuck in THE SIXTH SENSE movie, brooding, “I see dead people.”

What gives?

I See Dead People - THE SIXTH SENSE

I guess I need to cut myself some slack.  I’d hit a physical brick wall, driving 2,670 miles in ten days through Minnesota rain, South Dakota hail, Wyoming wind, and Montana snow — then back again. That coupled with the emotional fatigue of saying “good-bye” (for now) to my sister made me see the world temporarily shadowed by the dark cloud of negativity inside me.  I was hypersensitive to:

  • flat-emotioned parents watching their kids at the motel swimming pool,
  • zombie-looking youth shuffling down the sidewalk,
  • cranky waitresses watching the clock.

I wanted to shake these dead people to say, “Wake up!”, but I didn’t have the strength.

Behind this urge, I really wanted to shake my sister.  I wanted her to wake up.

As I analyze this cloud, I can shoo it away and recognize the dead person in the mirror — nose out of joint from that brick wall — too fatigued to interact — too jet lagged or self-absorbed to really “be there”.  Without the despair and self-pity of my dark cloud, I have the wherewithal to look outside of myself.  When I move my gaze from self to others, I see how positive conversation, a smile, or a big tip can bring the dead to life – in the giver and the receiver.

I can also reflect upon and appreciate the hospitality, love, and humor of my family and others.  There were so many shining examples of life lived well during this adventure:

  • My niece, “the cheerleader”, shared grief, love,and loss with me and her siblings over the telephone. Then she urged us to move forward and celebrate each other. Ta-Wanda!
  • A graduate’s father’s blue eyes twinkled in response to a compliment. “Clean livin’ — that’s why I look so good. Clean livin’.” Liars can be so charming.
  • A mourning Coast Guard master chief stepped out of his comfort zone to memorialize his mother/my deceased sister with the bronze star of motherhood. Aww. How she must cherish the honor.

In the sunshine of hope, I can hold to the promise of life after death.  My sister doesn’t need to be shook out of that urn full of dust.  She’s awake and more alive and beautiful than ever.

FishingWhen I lower memory’s gaze I see life lived extravagantly — in the joy, abandon, love, curiosity, and hope of children.  They’ve mastered the present — in freely given smiles, all-out tackling welcomes, birthday candles, garden tractor rides, messy bowls of salsa, and red fishing poles.

WaterslideIn the shiny, tan walls of a fiberglass water slide my own life-filled reflection pleasantly startled me — urged up winding stairs by the exuberant, shorter reflection of my grandson.  He showed me I could love better with green chlorine hair. The pleasure of holding him  close through the twists and turns of each exhilarating  plunge far overshadowed my anxiety over racoon/mascara eyes.

This is why I find so much satisfaction in writing and reading children’s books. The characters teach us how to look outside of ourselves and live.

If you see dead people today; give them your smile, an all-out tackling welcome, or a big tip. If those methods don’t bring life to them and you — I know of an invigorating water slide…