Honestly, the writing is great. It's just too much for me to read. I don't see myself as a sensitive reader, but the rape camp is too much for me.

I really tried to enjoy this story but struggled to even finish it. Too much ball and forth and just didn't feel like it was written to best share this story.

This story had a lot of familiar story beats. It also had 2 point of view characters. And it went back and forth between WWII and more or less today. So, all of those things are not uncommon. The book failed to set itself apart for me.

The First viewpoint is that of Wang Di. At the start of the book, she is mourning her dead husband, who wanted to know her past but was patient with her when she didn't want to talk. Now he's dead, and she's sorry she didn't share more. So you know the book is going to be where she shares her horrible story of the Japanese occupation of Singapore during WWII and how she was forced to become a comfort woman.

Next, we have Kevin. Kevin has the worst childhood ever. He is very short-sighted, almost blind. His parents are poor so he has ugly cheap glasses. He is teased and spit on, his notebooks are filled with foul language and dick drawings by other students who tease him, in short his life is a misery.

I haven't gotten to how these two get together, and I'm going to set the book down. It is depressing, and I am not up for being edified on our horrible world by this book at this point. You may be in a different mind set.

A beautifully written heart wrenching novel.Atrocities committed against these young women known as comfort women.A book that enters your soul and keeps you turning the pages the pages in shock and horror.Historical fiction at its best.#netgalley#harlequinbooks.

A beautifully written historical fiction of the Japanese occupation in Singapore during WWII, and a parallel story in present time. Upsetting, brutal, horrible events told in a gentle voice. This was a powerful book. Thank you NetGalley for the e-copy for review. All opinions are my own.

During World War II in 1942 the Japanese invade the island of Singapore. Wang Di a teenage girl is ripped from her family and forced to become a sex slave for Japanese soldiers. Barely surviving to the Japanese retreat, sick and pregnant Wang Di is rejected by her family because of what she has gone through. Her illegitimate son is separated from her. The story is told from multiple viewpoints with flashbacks. Excellent writing and character development. This historical novel details some of the horrors the population of Singapore and other places experienced under the hands of the Japanese in that time.

I found this book fascinating. The storyline is set across two time periods, wish was engaging and ultimately came together in a clever surprise ending. This definitely opened my eyes to how World War II had a tremendous effect on the South Asian countries. I would recommend this to anyone interested in historical fiction or the modern history of Singapore.

How We Disappeared.
Wang Di was taken from her family, who lived on the Singapore peninsular,by Japanese soldiers in 1942 when they invaded her tiny village. She was seventeen, while some of the girls were only twelve when they rounded them up by gun point and took them to the black and white house to be “comfort girls” to the Japanese soldiers. Often servicing over 30 soldiers a day and living in appalling conditions with minimum food or clean water many of the girls got sick and we’re ‘disposed of’ some ran away and got shot. For 3 years Wang Di survived this brutal ordeal, trying to help others when she could. But when released, integration back into her former life was impossible. The story is told by two narrators. Wang Di and Kevin her grandson. Kevin found letters after his grandmother died in her 90’s, revealing some of the secrets she had kept to herself. Kevin was determined to find out more about her history. A devastating story of young girls being brutally raped and made to live in appalling conditions for men’s pleasure.. Unfortunately it is not only the Japanese soldiers in the war days that did this, it is still happening today in many countries in sex brothels.
A well written book, well worth the read.

The plot line of this book took a very long time to develop, which made it hard to start and get into the story. There could’ve been more character development in the beginning. Meanwhile the middle and penultimate chapters were so engrossing I stayed up late to finish the book. Sadly, the book ends neatly wrapped up, almost too neatly and unremarkable. Unfortunate, for such an unknown, tragic and fascinating historical topic. The story arc could’ve been built up better and closed with more impact. Instead, I feel that it was sanitized and watered down for the masses.

How We Disappeared is amazing and painful when it focuses on the plight of "comfort women" in Japanese occupied countries prior to and during WWII. However, the present day storyline, revolving around preteen Kevin, drags the novel down because Kevin isn't as complex or compelling as the author seems to think he is.

A moving and emotional telling of the experiences in Singapore during World War II as the Japanese invasion changes lives irrevocably. Wang Di is only 17 when she is taken from her family and forced to become a “comfort woman”. Years later, a young man finds out about secrets kept by his grandmother and attempts to get to the truth. The storylines will intersect, but not before the reader is deeply impacted by the horrors of war. Recommended. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC.

How We Disappeared is a beautifully written, heart-wrenching book set in Singapore during WWII as Japanese forces invade and occupy the island. The story revolves around one local family impacted for generations by the actions of the occupying Japanese soldiers. When the daughter, Wang Di is taken as a sexual slave, she already feels her life has little value because she is a girl - the first-born child - a disappointment. Each chapter takes readers deeper into the background story as well as the future impact of this one terrible event. Little by little the reader weaves together the story and yearns for a resolution that gives power, solace, resolution, peace. This is a magnificent book about a little told aspect of the Pacific War. Beautiful!

I am full of feelings right now, having just finished Jing-Jing Lee's How We Disappeared. I knew the moment I first read a description of this book, I had to read it.

The chapters alternate between the stories of twelve-year-old Kevin, as he uncovers his grandmother's long held secret, and Wang Di as she reflects and comes to terms with her past.

"'Listen. Do what helps you. If hoping helps you survive from day to day, then keep hoping that they're going to release you. The truth is, I've never seen them let anyone go. But if it helps you.'" [Excerpt from How We Disappeared]

Wang Di was the oldest child and only daughter of her family. When the Japanese marched into Singapore, they wielded their power cruelly and viciously, gunning down entire villages and kidnapping young girls and women, among other reprehensible actions. At sixteen, Wang Di was forced to be a sex slave for Japanese soldiers. She was one of many, trapped in a life she never asked for. Their living conditions were abysmal and their future uncertain. Despite everything, the shame she felt and the pain she endured, Wang Di found the strength to survive--to persevere.

The reception the "comfort women" received upon their return home after the war ended was anything but welcoming. While Wang Di was welcomed back into her parents' home, she was still an outcast. Other women were not so fortunate, being turned out and shunned. Shame and grief were carried on all sides. The families of these unfortunate women did not understand or want to acknowledge what the girls had suffered through. And the victims themselves felt ashamed and ruined, afraid to discuss what had happened to them. It just wasn't talked about--and still isn't in many circles. Just think of the stigma surrounding rape victims today.

Now a widow, Wang Di has many regrets, one of which is not listening to her husband's stories about his time during the war and in not sharing her own story with him while he was alive. For years she refused to listen or talk about the war, not wanting to relive it, at least not out loud. She suffered in silence.

"I realized then, what she meant to say, so for the rest of the time I was in her flat, I made sure not to look away from her so that she would know she didn't have anything to be ashamed about." [Excerpt from How We Disappeared]

Sometimes it was easy to forget Kevin is only twelve-years-old given how tenacious and thoughtful he could be. He loved his grandmother dearly and when she confesses to him a rather big secret on her deathbed, he knows he cannot just let it go. On his own, he sets out to discover the truth, hoping it will bring some solace to his grieving father.

I came to love both Kevin and Wang Di's through their stories. Often in dual narratives, one side is stronger than the other, but Jing-Jing Lee has found the perfect balance between the voices of her characters. Through Wang Di and Kevin, the reader is introduced to other significant characters, including Wang Di's husband and Kevin's parents. Also the amazingly strong women Wang Di was with during her captivity. I was sad to see the novel come to an end, wanting to spend more time with the characters, and yet also satisfied that their stories had come to a conclusion--at least as far as the author meant to take us.

I have read a lot of novels set during World War II, but so few that focus on the Pacific (my own fault, and I am trying to remedy that). How We Disappeared is a poignant novel, which focuses on a part of history that has too often been buried that we all need to remember. And not just for the horrors produced so we do not repeat them--although that is important--but also to remember the victims and survivors, of their strength and perseverance, and to give them a voice so they are no longer kept silent.

How We Disappeared is a beautiful and heart-wrenching novel that had me in tears more than once--in sadness and anger, but also in hope and joy; devastating and yet filled with heart. This is my absolute favorite book that I have read so far this year.

They were called “comfort women”, a soft description meant to make what was done by the Japanese soldiers to these young girls and women from Korea and this case Singapore, to make it sound less threatening, less horrific. But what they endured was horrific - the rapes and sexual abuse, slavery, locked in rooms, given little food. This is another story that’s difficult to read, but an important one as a theme of the novel reflects - the stories must be told. I didn’t really know anything about what happened in Singapore during WWII so I found here yet another piece of that historical time. It’s not just about the awful things that happened to young girls and women when they were taken away from their homes and families, but also about what happened to the people of Singapore as they were bombed and lost their homes, their families or their lives. It’s about keeping the story of the past a secret from every one, including your loved ones because of your shame for doing things that were not your choice, for fear of being disowned. It about the importance of telling those stories.

The dual time line of Wand Di’s narrative is a story of her past, one that she was not been able to tell even her husband of many years before he dies and her present day struggling to deal with not having told him and wanting to know the secrets of his past as well. A second narrative in the present day is that of twelve year old Kevin who is visually impaired, bullied and trying to follow through with a promise to his grandmother on her deathbed. This was perhaps a little slow at times, but overall it was compelling as I waited to see how Kevin and Wand Di’s paths would cross. Heartbreaking in many ways, but a satisfying ending of to important story.

I received an advanced copy of this book from HARLEQUIN/Hanover Square Press through NetGalley.

4.5 stars

I haven’t read a ton of Asian literature but I was eager to read this one because of one thing—the time period. My venture into Asian literature has come down to two books, Memoirs of a Geisha and Snowflower and the Secret Fan…..that is it. So when I agreed to read this book, I had no idea what I was going to get.

I remember reading Memoirs of a Geisha and Snowflower and the Secret Fan and loving both of those. Especially Memoirs of a Geisha, mostly because it was set during WWII and the occupation of allied troops post war was very interesting to me.

When this book came up for review, I was hoping it would be something similar to Memoirs of a Geisha, as it is set in the same time period, but this book promised to be a lot more interesting, as it talks about the Japanese occupying Singapore during the war instead of a pots war world.

Plus that cover is to die for and I couldn’t pass on such a visually stunning cover!

Summary

Singapore, 1942. As Japanese troops sweep down Malaysia and into Singapore, a village is ransacked, leaving only two survivors and one tiny child.

In a neighboring village, seventeen-year-old Wang Di is strapped into the back of a troop carrier and shipped off to a Japanese military brothel where she is forced into sexual slavery as a “comfort woman.” After sixty years of silence, what she saw and experienced still haunts her.

In the year 2000, twelve-year-old Kevin is sitting beside his ailing grandmother when he overhears a mumbled confession. He sets out to discover the truth, wherever it might lead, setting in motion a chain of events he never could have foreseen.

Weaving together two time lines and two very big secrets, this stunning debut opens a window on a little-known period of history, revealing the strength and bravery shown by numerous women in the face of terrible cruelty. Drawing in part on her family’s experiences, Jing-Jing Lee has crafted a profoundly moving, unforgettable novel about human resilience, the bonds of family and the courage it takes to confront the past (summary from Goodreads).

Review

So it turns out, this book is nothing like Memoirs of a Geisha. It was so much darker and heavy and just not what I was expecting at all. The history in this book was absolutely brutal and heartbreaking. It was a tough book to read, not because it was poorly written or anything, but because it was just so sad!

I am glad that I read this book, but I just wasn’t prepared for how sad it would make me feel and how hard it would be to read. I feel like I need a total feel good book after this one, because the book hangover I am feeling is so so so real right now.

The historical research that went into this novel was fantastic. I loved reading all the rich history (albeit sad history) throughout this book. That made this book stand out. I loved the duel timelines and how they blended together so nicely. I thought it really kept the book on track and moving. It was also interesting to see the two gendered perspectives in this book. You don’t often get that with many novels and in this book I thought it worked really really well. The way the author incorporated the history of the time and the perspectives in the book really made it stand out. I felt like I was reading something genuine, authentic, and new.

Overall while I thought this book was well written, beautiful and exceptionally well researched, I was so sad after reading it that I had a hard time giving it 5 stars for that reason alone. I ended up going with 4.5 stars because the sadness was real and I just don’t want people reading this book and thinking it’s going to leave them uplifted and happy. While the ending and everything made sense and left me feeling satisfied, my heart was still broken.

I find it difficult to write about this book. A jumble of powerful feelings rises up. The story itself is wrenching and the sections depicting the girl’s experiences as a sex slave to Japanese soldiers during WWII are particularly harrowing.

However and importantly, the beauty of the writing and its intimate tone/”feel” make the reading all the more affecting and haunting. I felt as if I almost became her, especially during the most traumatic periods. I saw through her eyes. Other times, she was confiding her most private sorrows and regrets to me.

I place this title with others that have so eloquently told the stories of Asian sex slaves, termed “comfort women” by the Japanese who abused them in WWII. The Garden of Evening Mists by Tan Twan Eng and Comfort Woman by Nora Okja Keller depicted the horrors these women endured. These books show the tragedy of war certainly but they also reveal the longterm human impact and the struggle to survive. I hope that reading about these women serve as a reminder and a lesson about the inhumanity of war, patriarchy and colonialism.

I highly recommend this book and look forward to this author’s future works.

Thanks to Hanover Square Press for providing this ARC via NetGalley.

Here are several quotes:

After that night, my father disappeared a little more. That was when I learned that it was possible to disappear and still be there, that it was possible to disappear even further than he had. To be emptier than empty. Blacker than black.

She felt light. As if what had been keeping her whole was being hollowed out of her. She had a sense of the familiar, and knew at once, what this was. This was what it was like to lose hope, little by little.

The ones who frightened me the most were the men who pretended to treat me as if I were human, at least at first, on the surface. The first time it happened, I found myself looking at someone my age—he couldn’t have been more than eighteen or nineteen, with a face so nondescript, so familiar, he could have been a shopkeeper in our village or the son of a neighbor. I understood little Japanese but it was his voice, soft and reasonable, a sharp contrast to the barks and cries and spat commands, that drew me out of myself and made me look at him. He was clean-shaven and his eyes were warm, laughing. When he took his cap off, thick black hair fell forward, making him look even younger. He spoke again, and I listened this time.

I thanked her. If she had stayed on, I might have told her that I hadn’t seen my family in years. That I had been put away for a long time, and it was the time spent away that made me this way, made me speak as if each word was a cold stone in my mouth, and my thoughts rough-cut gems that I was reluctant to spit out. I might have told her I was afraid my family wouldn’t want me back. That too much had happened. I would have told her, but the look in her eyes, careful and searching, suggested that she’d arrived at the truth on her own…

Home. I was just over the threshold when I froze and took a step backward, fighting to keep acid from rising out of my throat. I’d forgotten when it smelled like—home, a thing that used to be a bitter but steady comfort.

Wondering at the carved emptiness to my stomach even though I couldn’t eat another bite. A feeling like homesickness. And I realized that it was gone: home. My idea of it. My place in it.

For the rest of the time I lived with my family, my mother and I spoke no more about Yang. All of them, Meng, my mother, and my father, avoided being alone with me, as if they were afraid any intimacy in number would encourage an outpouring on my part. I was, for most practical purposes, a person in quarantine; my sickness was without cure and kept eating away at me until I could hardly see anything of myself.

Comfort women, one story!

I have read quite a few novels and attended at least one heart wrenching play over the past few years about Comfort Women. Basically women taken and forced to be sex slaves in brothels set up by the Japanese Imperial Army during World War II to service their occupation troops. These women were treated as little more than animals. Their circumstances, their treatment and their violation was horrific. Disease and brutality with no quarter given marched hand in hand.
The problem of reintegration was real for most of these women. The notion of someone from the younger generation, in this instance Kevin, discovering or questioning the life of an elder (parent, grandparent) is a frequently used trope. JIng-Jing Lee has used this method to advantage. Kevin becomes the agent for healing.
The story of Wang Di, taken from her village at gun point on the Singapore Peninsula by Japanese invaders and interred as a sex slave is atrocious. It was August 1942. Wang Di was seventeen, some were only girls of twelve.
The emotional and physical trauma Wang Di experienced played as a self destroying loop throughout her life. She was convinced that what she had become during the war was because she was, "as unworthy as [her] parents had always suggested. That [she] would have been better born as a boy."
What she really was, was a war crimes survivor, who had come out the other side of an horrific and inhumane experience. She was not the criminal!
I must say that I felt somewhat disconnected in the moving between the characters' perspectives. For me it was not a smooth interweaving.
Nevertheless for those interested, this is a very worthwhile read.
There is still conflict around Japanese apologies to Comfort Women, and this is now nearly 75 years after the end of the war. Many of the women survivors have died, in shame and poverty without family, without support, without restitution. There have been some apologies, but for many of the survivors that was not enough.
This declining battle (declining due to the current age of the women) is noted in the following press release from the South China Morning Post, August 17, 2017
"Huang Youliang, a former "comfort woman", died at the age of 90 on August 12. [2017] A total of 24 Chinese comfort women, including Huang, have attempted to sue the Japanese government in four cases since 1995, all have failed."
Work's like Jing-Jing Lee's are important to keep the issue alive.
I can't leave without mentioning the book's cover. It calls out to you! The girl almost disappears into the foliage, as though disappearing into a dream state, disappeared perhaps from a family's memory. And it begs the point, how does anyone survive what Wang Di was subjected to? As an aesthetic response to the story it's outstanding. As a starting point for reflective discussion it's more than interesting. The sublime blue-green colors bring to mind The Green Lady, by Vladimir Tretchikoff, overlaid with motifs reminiscent of Henri Rousseau. Nicely done!

A Hanover Square Press ARC via NetGalley

REVIEW
This is a profoundly moving work of historical fiction that explores an aspect of history that is not as widely know as some other aspects of WWII. Japan brutally occupied Singapore from 1942 to 1945, and many women were abducted and forced into servitude as "comfort women" for soldiers. Told across two timelines, this book is about the traumas we carry and the secrets we keep, even from those we love the most. It'll be a great companion read for White Chrysanthemum.

PRAISE
"A heartbreaking story told with such humanity and grace. The details of How We Disappeared are so vivid they return to me in dreams."—Marti Leimbach, bestselling author of Daniel Isn't Talking

“This is a brilliant, heart-breaking story with an unforgettable image of how women were silenced and disappeared by both war and culture.”—Xinran, author of The Good Women of China

AUTHOR
Jing-Jing Lee was born and raised in Singapore. She earned a master's degree in creative writing from Oxford in 2011 and has since seen her poetry and short stories published in various journals and anthologies. How We Disappeared is her first novel. She currently lives in Amsterdam.

How We Disappeared by Jing-Jing Lee
This is a story about family. It’s a story about war. It’s a story about surviving. A story about living after loss. It’s a story of healing and a story about the passing of time. It’s a story of teenage girl taken from her family during World War II and forced to live for years in a brothel as a comfort woman. It’s the story of a women married to a man for decades, who both suffering from the pains of war, never really knew each other or shared their past. It’s the story of a boy whose grandmother left him with a truth that he doesn’t know how to share.

This novel takes place in Singapore during both World War II and the early 21st century. It focuses heavily on the atrocities committed by the Japanese during the war and the affect that had on the Chinese communities during and after the war for generations to come. Lee did a beautiful job weaving these stories together and creating these characters. She created such interesting family dynamics that really defined the way generations reacted with each other. The way she described the cultural aspect shaped not only the characters but the world building as well. Times of war felt desolate and scarce. The tone of her writing would reflect the world building in a way that you could feel the emotional weight of each moment and each action.

I thought I had certain elements and plot points figured out, only for more parts of the truth to be unveiled and for things to shift. The blending of the past and the present lent itself beautifully to this novel. It leaves you exploring so many questions about how we cope with love and loss and traumatic experiences. Lee did such a great job exploring all of those themes. Definitely a novel I could recommend for not only her writing but her ability flesh out characters and moments to have the most emotional impact.

Title: How We Disappeared
Author: Jing-Jing Lee
Genre: Fiction/historical fiction
Rating: 4.2 out of 5

In 1942 Singapore, the world is at war, but it becomes personal when soldiers ransack a village and murder everyone, leaving only two survivors. In a nearby village, girls are taken captive and forced to become “comfort women”—prostitutes—earning them the shame and disdain of their families—if they are fortunate enough to survive and escape. Wang Di was one of these women, and after sixty years of silence, she is finally ready to talk about the horrors she experienced.

In the year 2000, twelve-year-old Kevin is going blind, so he records everything he hears. Including the dying confession of his beloved grandmother…who isn’t really his grandmother at all. Kevin knows this secret is bigger than he is, but he’s determined to find out the truth—and share it.

How We Disappeared isn’t an easy book to read. It’s full of the sometimes-horrific experiences of these characters, but there are glimpses of hope as well. The settings are realistic—good and bad—and, though the book gets off to a slow start, it is well-worth reading.

Jing-Jing Lee is an author and a poet. How We Disappeared is her debut novel.

(Galley courtesy of Harlequin/Hanover Square Press via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.)