Song of the Exile

I first became acquainted with Kiana Davenport's work with "Shark Dialouges". The writing and imagery took me back to in time to when I was a little girl, sitting in my grandmother's kitchen in Makakilo, listen to her and my aunties "talk story" as they cooked, laughed and remembered. I loved that book, but I have to say I loved "Song of the Exile" even more. Kiana has managed to do what I have never seen before and what I wish that I could do: present the Hawaiian experience to a mainstream audience not as the "aloha-sterotype" that many people have, but life as it really is, with all of its struggles and its everyday conversations and rhythms. I only wish that her work would receive the recognition that it deserves. It truly is "He wahî pa`akai" ("Just a packet of salt"), an old Hawaiian saying that proves that gifts made by the giver are the best ones of all.

I heard of this book from a friend living in Hawaii who highly recommended it. Although I rarely read fiction, this book left me breathless and wanting to read more of Davenport's work. Each sentence is so well crafted, I could not put the book down, and often dreampt of leaving work early to go home and race through it. As I was pulled into the lives of the characters, I found myself constantly amazed at Davenport's poetic prose. I am recommending this book to all my friends and family.

I am not quite through this magnificent novel as I write this, and in fact am reluctant to reach the end, for it is a marvelous story, rich in imagery, vivid (very) in tales, and it reads like sensitive poetry. Any true fan of Hawaiiana should love this book.

Unlike many other readers, I am not reading this book because of any interest in Hawaii, or even in World War II. It was a Christmas gift to me from someone who heard the author on the radio, but hadn't read the book herself. When I first looked at it, I thought, "This is not something I want to read!" It is full of graphic violence and horror. However, as I read on, I was mesmerized by the writing itself. Because the book is too heavy for my daily commute, it's taking me a very long time to read, and I find that I'm actually trying to make it last longer. I've never come across any writing about music (and it's not just jazz) to compare with Davenport's. I would say to anyone who's afraid to read the book because of the terrible images of suffering: The writing is so beautiful and intense that reading it is a joyful experience in itself. (What's really depressing to me is something that's badly or slickly written.)