One version of the American dream

By Kevin McGue

The story of a young Japanese woman who finds herself lost — in all senses of the word — in San Francisco, “Midori by Moonlight” is Bay Area writer Wendy Nelson Tokunaga’s delightful debut novel.

Midori comes to the U.S. on a fiancee visa, having fallen head over heels for a good-looking American teacher at the English conversation school where she works as a secretary. Arriving at her fiance’s family’s home, she is taken aback to find them much wealthier than she ever imagined. But she is soon devastated when, at a party to announce their engagement, he instead announces that he is getting back together with an American ex-girlfriend. The breakup not only puts Midori in dire circumstances, but also destroys the last hope of fulfilling her childhood dream: to marry a handsome foreigner.

The previous paragraph is not a spoiler — the breakup occurs on page 3. Instead, “Midori by Moonlight” is really about what Midori, who will no longer be legal in the U.S. when her temporary visa expires, decides to do next. She can’t bring herself to tell her parents back in Japan that the wedding is off, and she’s unwilling to accept help from her ex’s rich family, who want to buy her off. So she makes do by finding lodgings with the only other Japanese person she knows and works illegally at a hostess bar that caters to Japanese salarymen on business trips in San Francisco. Her romantic vision of life in America is in shambles, but she marches on in her stylish-hostess bar slingbacks and blonde wig.

The novel has all the signs of being a prime example of chick lit: Midori spends her afternoons watching her favorite soap opera and baking cupcakes, hanging around the communal laundry room hoping to bump into her hunky neighbor, and gorging herself at the nearest cake shop when feeling depressed. So what did this male reviewer think of Midori? I loved it, and didn’t put it down until I reached the last page.

The story’s charm comes from Nelson Tokunaga’s use of Midori’s experiences to subtly draw our attention to cultural differences between the U.S. and Japan, without ever being preachy. Midori, who has hit the big three-oh, is wary of telling her parents about the canceled wedding because they think that women unmarried beyond the age of 25 are more or less without hope.

The author, who is married to a Japanese man and has been a professional singer in Japan, makes remarkably astute observations on the country’s gender roles. Midori’s father communicates to his wife mainly in grunts, and the couple’s obsession with getting their only daughter married centers more on the family image rather than concerns for Midori’s happiness. Other touchy topics, such as bullying in Japanese schools, are dealt with deftly and honestly.

“Midori” is also a funny book. Even though much of the humor derives from the title character’s earnest but failed attempts at speaking English, these passages never resort to cliched stereotypes. (Remember “Lip my stocking” from “Lost in Translation?“) Midori commits social faux-pas and at times underestimates how precarious of a situation she is actually in, but is revealed to be a clever and determined woman. Persevering in her efforts to make her own way in America, she charms us in the process.

This review originally appeared in Metropolis magazine (www.metropolis.co.jp).