What a unique book.  Who? What? Why? Does this all really matter?  These questions popped up in my mind, one at a time, as I read this book and the more that I read, the more I felt these questions had a deeper meaning.  Perhaps, this book wasn’t just about this time, this place, and these characters but it was about life in general.

I found that the sentences in this book flowed yet sometimes they felt quirky as I read them.  They weren’t bothersome but they just felt chunky as the words bounced across the page.  I’ve never read anything from this author before so it took me a while to appreciate her writing style.  Julie walks you into her books whereas I am used to jumping into books where everything is introduced from the get-go. Julie slowly got me up to speed and then, she presented the information I needed to know and I wasn’t used to this pacing. 

It was interesting how this pool became such an important part of the lives of the individuals who used it.  There were those who used it for its health benefits while others used the pool for its recreation, social and entertainment values.  Whatever their reasons were for changing into their swim attire and heading to the pool hole, these individuals felt they were part of their own community.  This was one of their comforting spots. It becomes an automatic part of their routine.  This part of the book hit me hard. 

Perhaps because as I’m getting older and I see how a routine plays a major part in my life and in the lives of others around me. Whether that be: a weekly television series, a bedtime routine, a child’s routine, or a morning wake-up routine, we all become rooted in a routine somewhere down the line.  Depending upon that routine, we know that by following it, we can achieve success and completion of the actions.  What happens if you don’t follow the routine or if you skip a step in the routine?  What if you change jobs and the hours that you work? Suddenly life is out of balance and everything is in a state of disarray.  In Swimmers, the pool community like their routine, just like we all do.  Yet, a change is coming, a change some of them don’t want to acknowledge.

There’s also the story of Alice in this book.  Alice was a swimmer when I first met her but her medical condition put limits on her as the books progressed.  Alice’s story has a great tie-in with the pool and her relationship with her daughter provided some great emotional moments for me, as I read.  They were sweet and at times, those moments gave me those goosebump, ah moments.  Those times where you have to look away from the book, for all the letters have begun to blur together until it’s just a mass of black on white.  I really enjoyed this book, more than I thought I would.  I feel that I have missed out on Julie’s previous books and now, I plan on reading them as soon as I can.    

This is one of those novels you know the critics will adore. It's written in a different way, there is no main character, it's almost a book of linked sentences (though all books are that. I have no idea how to describe the writing.) Everything is a statement. Every sentence is structured the same way *for most of the book.* And that's where I dropped a star.

The group of Japanese women who narrate in a third-person "god's eye" sort of way for most of the book are the main characters of this book. They are young and naive when the book opens, all on the lower decks of a ship bringing them to America - these "picture brides." Idealistic, if conflicted, they believe their lives will be better in the US, despite their fears and concerns about loud, giant, hairy, smelly Americans. They're on the way to live with the Japanese men who have built the American dream in San Francisco early in the 20th century. When they get here, those men aren't all they represented themselves to be.

The women go from young brides to farm laborers to house maids to mothers, and then the tone shifts and we no longer hear the story from the group of Japanese women. Instead a nameless white woman (or women?) takes up their tale. She explains that they've disappeared, and for a while they think about these Japanese workers who were just here, until they don't anymore.

When the women become mothers, the structure starts to change. Sentences get longer and there are no more statement followed by statement lists. By the time the white women start to tell the story, it's no longer that tight, rigid and entrancing structure. Instead it becomes more like regular prose. I didn't like that change. And with our main "character" gone, I felt like a door had been slammed.

Now, all of that could mean that the author did exactly what she meant to do. These people were lost when they were imprisoned during the war. They couldn't speak for themselves, and apparently nobody cared to speak for them, plus white women don't speak like Japanese women in this book, this place or this era. Perhaps the nameless white women taking up the story or lack thereof represented exactly what it was supposed to. I don't know. I just know that it felt abrupt (like the move into the camps itself) and cold (again, like the actual history.) Then it ended, which isn't like history.

I am incredibly impressed with this sad tale. I just wish it had stayed in that format or given me more to hang onto through what was, in many ways, the most crucial point in the book: the end. Why could we no longer hear from the Japanese women? I know they disappeared, but we heard their private thoughts before that. Anyway, it's interesting and very short. Worth a read, if only so you can tell me why I'm wrong.

Just a reading list of historical fiction ebooks from my public library (uses overdrive).  More than books pictured.