Barbara Jefferson, a young teacher from America, teaches at a Japanese college in the late 1960s. Her friend, colleague and practically surrogate mother Michi dies unexpectedly of what is assumed to be cancer, but possibly is suicide. Michi has left Barbara a tansu chest filled with several bottles of homemade plum wine wrapped in rice paper.
“Plum Wine,” Angela Davis-Gardner’s third novel (“Felice,” “Forms of Shelter”), begins with this mystery. Barbara believes Michi has killed herself and wants to uncover the reason. The rice paper surrounding the wine Michi has left her has Japanese calligraphy on the insides. Barbara imagines that these papers will help her uncover the truth, but actually they complicate things even more.
Each bottle is dated according to when the wine was made. Barbara’s Japanese is rudimentary so she needs a tutor but can’t use anyone she knows since her colleagues are already suspicious of her and wonder why Michi would leave such a personal belonging to someone they consider a perfect stranger, and an outsider.
Enter Okada Seiji, a young and, of course, handsome, pottery artist, to whom Barbara is immediately attracted. She asks for his help and, of course, he is more than ready to help.
They meet secretly so Barbara doesn’t tarnish her already fragile reputation at the college.
Barbara and Seiji meet, translate and flirt over tea ceremonies that Seiji prepares. Soon the relationship escalates into making love, drinking plum wine and betrayal.
Michi’s life unfolds year by year but as it does more questions come to fruit. As Barbara gets more attached to Michi and her past, her attachment to Seiji also gets stronger.
Through Michi’s stories, Barbara learns of “hibakusha,” the survivors of Hiroshima. She learns the devastation of napalm and war and realizes that the wounds of the afflicted have not healed. In many cases, wounds linger deep inside a person; sometimes psychologically, and in many cases physically as cancer. Michi’s daughter was born mentally retarded, which tormented Michi until her death.
Although not yet born when the blast came, Michi’s daughter entered a world she couldn’t comprehend because of radiation poisoning.
Michi’s writings also open up wounds of war, loss, love and pain for Seiji unbeknownst to Barbara until she learns that Seiji is also a hibakusha. He acts suspicious at times and Barbara begins thinking he is betraying her with his translations. Already in love, she wants to trust him, but her loyalty to Michi, she reminds herself, must come first. She believes Michi was trying to relay some important message to her and she has to discover what it is.
Once the “secret” is out, we wonder why it’s such a big deal. It’s also too convenient that Seiji just so happens to be the one helping her and personally knew Michi while being very involved in the whole triangle of truth. We’re willing to overlook these things for the sake of the story because the love story is enjoyable.
Common images of Hiroshima are burned and charcoaled faces, children running in fear and a huge mushroom cloud looming over a once serene city. Davis gives us a reminder of this controversial piece of American history but she keeps it light regardless.
“Plum Wine” is a love story first and foremost. There’s no enlightment about war and it takes itself too seriously in this way. It does, however, give a human face to those who suffered. It’s a touching story with languid prose describing the scenic beauty of Japan and tidbits of Japanese culture, which are thoroughly enjoyable. “Plum Wine” is perfect escapist fiction, just right for spring reading.
Renee Warner is a freelance writer in Atlanta.
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FICTION
Plum Wine
Angela Davis-Gardner
$13
