An Na,
A Step from Heaven
Front Street Books, 2001.

When Young Ju’s mother tells her they will fly through the sky to reach their new home in "Mi Gook," a name that always makes her parents smile and stop fighting, Young Ju assumes they are moving to heaven. Instead, "Mi Gook" is "Ah-me-ri-ka," a strange and confusing place far from her grandmother in Korea, definitely not in the clouds.

Through a vivid present-tense, first-person narrative, divided into powerful short chapters, readers experience Young Ju’s initial disorientation and her sense of isolation as she grows older without feeling much closer to fitting in. This is her family’s story as well as hers, and it is harrowing to witness her father, as his dreams disintegrate, inflict his rage on his wife and two children. A poignant collection of material objects indicates that Young Ju’s parents never achieve the kind of success they hoped for in The United States. A "not forever" dilapidated apartment takes the place of the house they can’t manage to save up for, even though both parents have more than one job. Their old station wagon, with its peeling faux panelling, ripped seats, and belching exhaust, embarrasses Young Ju, who makes her mother drop her off blocks from the beach so her friends won’t see it. While Young Ju can’t help feeling self-conscious about her family’s poverty, she has graver concerns as well. Her father’s physical abuse escalates throughout the novel, and his main victim, Young Ju’s mother, seems determined to endure it until it ends in death. In a wrenching climactic scene, this almost happens. Young Ju summons the courage to call 911, putting her family on an ultimately more positive, if painful, road.

Despite the suffering, Young Ju’s voice remains strong, her academic success and strength of spirit pointing her toward a brighter future made possible by her parents’ sacrifices. Her father’s hands permanently smell of ammonia and bleach from cleaning offices; her mother’s are callused by "years of abuse from physical labor." In an epilogue, Young Ju’s hands and her brother’s "turn pages of books, press fingertips to keyboard buttons, hold pencils and pens. They are lithe and tender." Young Ju’s mother has earned the satisfaction of providing not only for her children, but also for herself, having realized that she, too, can be brave and make her own choices.

Renée Victor
Fall 2001