When was the last time you picked up a story that was as much about friendship as it was about the severity of war's aftermath? 'This Light Between Us' by Andrew Fukuda is one such book. It's a historical fiction that delves into the unlikely connection between Alex Maki, a Japanese American boy from Bainbridge Island, Washington, and Charlie Lévy, a Jewish girl in Paris, during the turbulent times of World War II. What's initially introduced as a school pen-pal assignment quickly turns into a riveting tale that journeys through internment camps, wartime Europe, and the resilience of human spirit, challenging our emotions and beliefs at every turn.
Let’s cut right to the chase and say this: Fukuda has skillfully entered the delicate territory of World War II, a pivotal era that's all too often hijacked by Hollywood-esque dramatizations. Those have a tendency to gloss over the lived truth with flashy scenes and over-dramatized dialogue. But here, the narrative is meticulously sewn into the torn fabric of history, offering a fresh, unvarnished perspective—one that speaks to the fortitude of humanity and the chaos of a world divided by war.
You might normally expect historical fiction to be bogged down with lengthy descriptions and emotionless footnotes, but Andrew Fukuda paves a different path. While liberals might squirm at the absence of the typical guilt-laden narrative, he boldly addresses internment camps—without turning it into a casual blame fest about America’s past choices. Instead, he focuses on personal stories and the sanctity of friendship amid the mass hysteria unleashed by war.
Alex's and Charlie's bond grows deeper through letters exchanged over the years. Their friendship is an illuminated thread cutting across a world going dark. It’s a testament that even when nations fail us, humanity can still flicker brightly. Critics might argue that such friendships rarely existed given the era’s racial bias, but these letters paint a picture we all could learn from—a picture of steadfast loyalty.
Survival is a theme where Fukuda doesn't shy away. Alex and his family are swept away to the Manzanar internment camp. Yet, the portrayal here is far from the liberal discourse of victimhood. Instead, the emphasis is on resilience, which is comforting to anyone who believes in the strength of the individual. It's a declaration that even in the deepest of adversities, the human will stands undefeated.
Now let’s talk about world-building. Fukuda does not teleport you instantly to Paris or Bainbridge Island with your mundane overworked historical prompts. Instead, he immerses you in the time and space with painstaking accuracy. You almost smell the salty sea air of Bainbridge, hear Paris’s cobblestones clatter underfoot, and sense the tension humming inside Manzanar. Every setting is purposeful, layered to unravel the deep-seated intensity of the characters' experiences and connections.
Naturally, when you dabble in the realm of World War II, suspense becomes your constant companion. For Alex, suspense is whether he'll ever see Charlie or understand her reality as she faces the shadow of Nazi occupation. Every page lurches forward with anticipation that locates the reader at the precipice of discovery. It's edge-of-the-seat reading without ever traipsing into sensationalism.
And yes, amidst all the grit and grime of war, there’s hope. Fukuda sprinkles intimacy and warmth sparingly but effectively, offering a salve to the rawness of war's unforgiving scourge. He asks us questions about cultural identity, love, and the meaning of peace—all woven into the dialogue, the letters, and the unfolding events as Alex begins noting the dismal truth transpiring around him.
Yet what elevates 'This Light Between Us' is its ability to make you question but not dictate what you should feel. It's the kind of book you finish and find yourself silent, dwelling on the impact of what was just consumed. There's a whisper calling for introspection, a reminder that friendship and unity can transcend the most damning divides.
The overarching narrative serves as an allegory in today’s world, yearning for light amid today's cacophony of division. How Fukuda balances a narrative of young lives against the backdrop of expansive wars and systemic challenges is nothing short of art. It isn't a book that holds you by the hand showing shades of black and white but one that lets you find a spectrum of colors.
Conservatives like myself relish the clear-eyed, honest depiction Fukuda offers. 'This Light Between Us' is proof against the tired formulas and routine scapegoating so evident in today's tales. It's a story that doesn't just ask to be read—it questions our understanding of resilience, courage, and the ties that bind humanity—a light all the more significant today.