Honolulu by Alan Brennert

Title: Honolulu
Author: Alan Brennert
Genre: Historical Fiction, Hawaiiana
URL: Amazon
Price: US$24.95 (hardcover list price)
Warnings: Some violence

Summary (from the publisher): Honolulu is the rich, unforgettable story of a young “picture bride” who journeys to Hawai’i in 1914 in search of a better life. Instead of the affluent young husband and chance at an education that she has been promised, she is quickly married off to a poor, embittered laborer who takes his frustrations out on his new wife. Renaming herself Jin, she makes her own way in this strange land, finding both opportunity and prejudice. With the help of three of her fellow picture brides, Jin prospers along with her adopted city, which is growing from a small territorial capital into the great multicultural city it is today. But paradise has its dark side, whether it’s the daily struggle for survival in Honolulu’s tenements, or a crime that will become the most infamous in the island’s history.
With its passionate knowledge of people and places in Hawai’i far off the tourist track, Honolulu is most of all the spellbinding tale of four women in a new world, united by dreams, disappointment, sacrifices and friendship. 

My Review:  Generally, historical fiction is not a genre I actively seek out unless the subject matter is something that intrigues me or about which I have a particular passion.  My brief forays into historicals have led me to discover some amazing books and some which, regrettably, read like nothing more than the history textbooks I so despised when I was in school.  I stumbled onto Alan Brennert through my passion for Hawaiian history and that led me to his prior novel, Moloka’i, an exquisite example of historical fiction that is moving and full of wonderful characterization. When I learned that his next novel was entitled Honolulu, I was both excited and cautious.  I was excited because Brennert was revisiting Hawaiian history which he had done so well in Moloka’i, and cautious because I knew that follow-up novels (one can’t call this a sophomore outing as Brennert has a nice literary back-list) can often be disappointing and because Honolulu had some pretty big shoes to fill in my eyes.  Well, I am happy to say that Brennert did not in any way let me down with this novel.  From both a fiction and a historical fiction perspective, this novel has everything I crave in a good book:  dynamic characters, an easy storytelling style, emotional resonance and that wonderful feeling I am left with when a novel transports me to a different locale.  While I can’t say that Honolulu exceeds its predecessor, I can say that it absolutely equals it in just about every respect.


The story in Honolulu is a simple one, but don’t let this lull you into believing that this is merely a domestic relationship story.  Told from the first-person perspective of a young girl whose Korean name means Regret (her father’s sentiments when she did not turn out to be a boy), our journey begins in 1912 Korea as we meet Regret and discover her to be a dutiful Korean woman with an independent streak just waiting to blossom.  Through a series of events (and with the help of a knowing relative), Regret’s longing for an education is somewhat fulfilled when she is taught to read and write Hangul, skills forbidden to women in Korea at the time.  These moments where she is secretly schooled serve as the spark for her to find her own destiny, to see beyond the walls of her acestral home and village.  As she grows older, she and a friend who is likewise determined to strike out on her own, hear of Hawai’i — a place that is romantic and warm — and of the Korean women who go there as “picture brides,” so named because the Korean men in Hawai’i chose their wives solely from photographs sent to Hawai’i from “matchmakers” in Korea.  Although Regret is convinced no fine Korean man would choose her, a girl so plain and unassuming, the promise of an education and a life that consists of more than walking 3 steps behind, she and her friend set out to become picture brides and move to that island in the South Pacific where the streets are paved with gold.

And move Regret does.  However, when she arrives in Honolulu she is shocked to find that her new husband is not the young, handsome man whose picture she had seen back home, but an old, slightly broken laborer with a distasteful temper.  But, being the dutiful wife, she goes through with the marriage and spends he first night in the arms of an uncaring man as the two honeymoon in the Hotel of Sorrows, a seedy hotel where nearly all picture brides spend their first nights as new wives.  But, as Regret discovers, the hotel’s nickname is no accident as she hears the tears of other picture brides through the walls that first night.

Regret follows her husband into the cane plantation on which he works, but as weeks become months, become a year, her new husband’s temper and alcoholism lead her into a life of walking on eggshells.  One night, however, everything changes when Regret’s husband, embittered, drunk and having gambled away all his wages, strikes out at his wife and beats her mercilessly.  Not long after, Regret makes a decision that will forever alter her life. She runs away from her abusive husband, and into the arms of Honolulu, a city that allows herself to reinvent her life.  She re-christens herself Jin and starts over in the tenements of a city whose streets are barely paved, let alone in gold.  And here is where the true breadth of the story begins.  What will become of Jin?  And will the husband she has left behind let her live a life without him?  It’s a fascinating journey that I will not spoil for you.

As I read this novel–which follows Jin up to her 60th birthday–I was swept up in the story, the events and characters playing out in a comfortable and easy style, the sights and sounds of turn-of-the-century Honolulu washing over me.  The result is a tale that is remarkably full, the easy style masking the emotional depth of the life I had just lived through Jin.  Each character is drawn expertly, small details woven in that not only define them, but subtly adds to their characters, moving them along as the years pass.  Even the minor characters are rich and full; yet none is drawn with a heavy hand.  Mannerisms are implied, the dialog slowly creates each character, and even those we meet only briefly are far from the cardboard cutouts one can find in any genre of fiction.

Likewise, Brennert’s research is exquisite but never overwhelming.  For anyone with a passing knowledge of Hawaiian history, it is evident how “right” Brennert got it, whether he is describing the rough tenement around the city or the price of a tin of sardines.  Never once does Brennert “show off” his research skill, and each detail of the city and its surrounds are quietly woven in, each piece of information building that character of the city, a character as strong as any of the living people in this book.  It is handled deftly, lightly, expertly.

Now, some of the reviews I have read of this novel complain of the focus on racism and prejudice, as if it is overwhelming.  Knowing a little something about the time and place, I can say quite confidently that with respect to this issue, the author got every little detail.  While it may be hard to read at times, the fact of the matter is that Honolulu of the time very much was a place where the Native Hawaiians (and, in fact, all people of color) were highly marginalized and subject to much discrimination (if not outright violence).  Hawai’i of that time was ruled by rich, white foreigners, haole, who thought nothing of taking everything the land had to offer, and thought even less of the native peoples or ethnic laborers.  It was a fact and Brennert depicts it well.  He never (despite what other reviews might imply) bashes the reader over the head with it.  But it was a fact of everyday life for the Hawaiians and other ethnic groups that rings true on every level.

One of the trickiest aspects of historical fiction can be the inclusion of actual historical figures.  One of the potential pitfalls of this is that a story can become a bit like “Forrest Gump,” the hero involved with so many historical figures that it becomes nothing more than a literary device that strains credibility.  Brennert never stoops to that level.  Yes, the author does integrate historical figures into the story:  Queen Lili’uokalani, May Thompson (the inspiration for Somerset Maugham’s Sadie Thompson), Chang Apana (the slight inspiration for Charlie Chan), Duke Kahanamoku and, perhaps most importantly, Joseph Kahahawai, whose moments in the story provide for some of the most emotional aspects.  But inclusion of these people is no parlor trick, no “hook” in order to sell a book.  Each character is believably integrated.  We can easily see how Jin would have met each one considering the life she led. And that is very telling about the kind of author Brennert is.  He never exploits his characters, never takes them beyond the life they actually lead.  The people that come in and out of Jin’s life are not placed there out of capriciousness. They are there because they would have been and they would have easily encountered Jin. It is completely believable in all respects.

In the end, Honolulu appears to be a story about a strong,  young, dynamic woman.  And it is.  But it is also the portrait of a time and place expertly drawn without the haze of rose-colored glasses.  And perhaps most importantly, it is a story about life and family, the ‘ohana we build out of necessity and love and the need for a family when our blood relatives are far away.  And like any family, it has its ups and down.  But it is a family I was glad to be a part of, if only for a brief while.