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A little-known fact about American history: at the time of World War II, the U.S. War Department required men of Japanese descent to answer two “loyalty�� questions: “Are you willing to serve in the armed forces of the United States? Will you swear unqualified allegiance to the United States of American and faithfully defend it?��

Most answered “yes��; those who answered “no�� were referred to as No-No Boys. Their reasons were complex; some had family living in Japan, others didn’t understand why they should give their lives to a country who had stripped them of all rights of citizenship (despite being born in America).

And that preamble brings us to this novel, written in J957 by John Okada (the Seattle-born author himself fought for America in the war). At the opening of the book, his No-No Boy, a disgraced Ichiro Yamada, has spent two years in prison at a time when war fever was at a peak pitch. He is universally despised by Americans (including those of Japanese descent) and his family �� a half-crazy mother who believes Japan has won the war, a passive father, and a younger brother who despises him �� makes him feel like a stranger in a strange land. In one particularly strong passage, Ichiro says “It is not enough to be only half an American and know that it is an empty half. I am not your son and I am not Japanese and I am not American.��

Who is Ichiro Yamada then, and where does he belong? That is the question at the crux of this novel. Riddled by shame, seething with anger, coping with mixed feelings about the only country he has known �� its horrific treatment of those of Japanese descent combined with its its generosity of heart �� Ichiro’s radicalized persona is a stand-in for second-generation Japanese men who were forced to confront this darkness.�� Upon meeting one kind man, Ichiro ponders, “What words would transmit the bigness of his feelings to match the bigness of the heart of this American who in the manner of his living, was continually nursing and worrying the infant America into the greatness of its inheritance?��

With his secondary characters—Ichiro’s brother, his draft resister pals, and those who took a different path (notably Kenji who is slowly dying of his wounds and Ralph, who reenlisted), John Okada provides a 360-degree look at the men of those times. As a literary book, it can be a bit rough around the edges; it’s not perfect. But it is still compelling and unique and courageous. Ruth Ozeki, herself a wonderful writer, pens a superb foreword that captures the book’s meaning for a whole new generation of writers of Japanese descent. The questions this book raises are timeless and universal.