Before the war, they had names. Identities. They had neighbors, friends, teachers, classmates.  But as soon as Japan rained bombs down on Pearl Harbor, everything about these people was stripped away. Only their ethnicity remained. Japanese. Traitor. Other. Nameless, they were crowded onto trains, clutching their suitcases, trying to convince themselves they’d be home again soon. They were on their best behavior in the camps, trying to convince the guards they were “good Americans.” And they waited. Julie Otsuka’s When the Emperor was Divine follows […]