Nostalgic Novel of Japanese expat children (1) An Imagined Homeland
“ Ema, that’s not right. Put your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Again.” Mum’s sharp voice rang through the living room. Me and my little sisters were all born and grew up in Tokyo, under Japanese parents. It was 1977. From the age of seven, we had English lessons at home every single day. My sister was four, and the youngest was only one year old. Mum was our English teacher, and she was tough. She showed no mercy, even with my sisters. Mum had spent large part of her childhood in America. She often told us about those days. Wide roads. Big houses. Kind teachers. A sense of freedom. And she always ended with the same words. “ America is our homeland. One day, we’re going back. If you can’t speak proper English, people will think you’re a foreigner and look down on you.” I was too young to understand what “look down on” really meant. But the word left me with the impression that...