March 2, 2026
In this conversation, Densho’s Senior Development and Communications Manager Jen Noji speaks with Brian Niiya, Content Director, and Courtney Wai, Education and Public Programs Manager, about how to thoughtfully select and evaluate children’s books on Japanese American incarceration. Drawing on historical scholarship, community knowledge, and classroom experience, they provide guidelines for educators, librarians, families, and caregivers on how to critically assess these books, recognize common pitfalls, and use them in ways that support historical accuracy, student understanding, and meaningful engagement with this history.
Jen Noji: To start us off, why does it matter how we evaluate books about Japanese American incarceration? What’s at stake for classrooms and students?
Brian Niiya: To start with, there are an enormous number of children’s books on Japanese American incarceration and related topics that go back decades. The first such books, in fact, came out as the incarceration was taking place! So for an educator seeking to use these books in the classroom, the range of choices can be overwhelming without some guidelines. The books vary greatly in the way they handle the history, with many of the works riddled with errors or presenting the history in an outdated manner. So choosing the right book is important.
Courtney Wai: The story of Japanese American incarceration offers so many important lessons for students, such as understanding the impact of racism and xenophobia or depicting various ways that Japanese Americans resisted or dealt with the incarceration. When children’s books flatten these perspectives, sugarcoat what happened, or minimize Japanese American experiences, they limit students’ ability to understand how history shapes the present and how they might act against injustice. More broadly, I’d add that this history is currently being censored or silenced in public spaces, such as national parks—limiting students’ access to this history. And while the history of Japanese American incarceration is not being banned to the same extent as Black history, it is still essential to teach it as part of a broader, honest examination of race, racism, and power in U.S. history.
JN: How do omissions or outdated perspectives shape public understanding of this history?
BN: Inevitably, books on the incarceration tend to reflect the tenor of the times in which they were written. Books written before 2000, for instance, often reflect a “model minority” or accommodationist viewpoint, portraying a Japanese American community that persevered through the war years uncomplaining, and later rose to enjoy postwar “success” through hard work. While no doubt true for some, such a viewpoint has been criticized for ignoring Japanese Americans who resisted the incarceration or who had fundamentally different kinds of experiences, and it is also criticized for explicitly or implicitly being critical of other racial/ethnic minorities. Some more recent works go the other direction in exaggerating connections between Japanese Americans and other people of color or draw shaky comparisons with current events. Many books—especially but not exclusively older ones—also employ terminology that we now view as euphemistic. So it is important to understand the works within the context in which they were written.
CW: I completely agree with Brian. I want to add that we often talk about how a lack of perspective affects the public’s understanding, but one perspective that is frequently missing is the fact that Japanese Americans are also part of that public. I’ve heard from many Japanese Americans—and often from other Asian Americans as well, since this history is one of the few Asian American histories widely taught nationwide—-that the way incarceration is presented, especially when Japanese American resistance is omitted, shaped not only how they understood their community, but also how they understood themselves. This kind of historical distortion is its own form of violence, one that erases agency and leaves people unable to see themselves or their communities as actors in their own history.
JN: What myths, misconceptions, or omissions do you see repeated most often in children’s books on Japanese American incarceration?
BN: Beyond the broad thematic types of issues noted above, I find many of the non-fiction books guilty of making overly broad statements about the incarceration story, of repeating common misconceptions, or of simply getting the facts wrong. The exclusion/incarceration story is very complicated, and it is easy for someone not steeped in this history to get things wrong. Nearly all non-fiction children’s books are written by people who are not experts in this history. It is thus important to build in time and/or budget to have manuscripts reviewed by experts. Writers of fictional works often bend historical facts and timelines to fit their stories. While I certainly understand the need to do this sometimes, it is important to include an author’s note of some sort that addresses the historical liberties that were taken in crafting the story.
JN: When those issues show up in a book, how can educators help students identify and unpack them?
CW: In these instances, such issues can become powerful teaching moments if educators are prepared to name and unpack them with students. This starts with helping students learn to critically read and question texts rather than treating books as neutral or authoritative simply because they are published. Before engaging with a children’s book, it is essential to establish accurate historical context so students can recognize when narratives are oversimplified, misleading, or incomplete. At a minimum, educators should introduce key terminology, clarify timelines, and provide historical grounding. Incorporating primary sources, such as photographs, documents, and oral histories from the Densho Digital Repository, allows students to compare how the story is told in a book with how people experienced it in real life, helping them identify whose perspectives are centered, whose are missing, and how narrative choices shape the reader’s understanding.
JN: How can readers tell when a book presents the incarceration in an overly sanitized or patriotic frame?
BN: Unfortunately, there is no easy way to tell. Reviews are often of little help, since reviewers in mainstream publications that review children’s books tend to be educators with little knowledge of the history and thus are unable to identify historical issues in the books. Unfortunately, there are few if any reviews by reviewers who actually know the history. Densho’s Resource Guide to Media on the Japanese Removal and Incarceration is one source that might be helpful. While it doesn’t review books per se, it does include some background on books and authors, and it points out any historical inaccuracies or instances of over-generalization.
JN: In this situation, what strategies can help students analyze and challenge this frame?
CW: It’s always important for educators to begin by critically reading the text themselves. Some guiding questions teachers might ask include: How does this book define concepts like loyalty, citizenship, and belonging? Whose perspectives are centered, and whose are absent or minimized? What language is used to describe the camps, the government’s actions, and Japanese American responses, and does that language soften harm or obscure state power? Does the narrative emphasize patriotism or national unity without reckoning with racism, coercion, and civil rights violations? Finally, how does this book portray Japanese Americans, as passive recipients of history or as people who resisted, adapted, and made difficult choices under unjust conditions? These questions can help educators and students to identify when a story relies on sanitized or patriotic framing and to open space for more critical, historically-grounded analysis.
JN: What are some signs that a book has been created without meaningful input from the Japanese American community, historians and scholars who focus on the incarceration, or even primary sources relating to this history?
BN: There are different answers for different types of books. For whatever reason, a high percentage of young children’s picture books have been written by Japanese Americans and often draw on family stories, including such recent works as Maggie Tokuda-Hall’s Love in the Library or Sharon Fujimoto-Johnson’s Shell Song.
The story is different for chapter books and young adult novels, though there are now a fair number of titles by Japanese American authors and others who mention consultation of advice from Japanese Americans or Japanese American institutions.
Pickings get slim in the non-fiction arena. The few books that have been created with input from the Japanese American community and/or scholars will generally indicate that somewhere. There are also a few works that have been produced by Japanese American community organizations. But even looking for these titles isn’t foolproof. For instance, there is one children’s book on the incarceration that lists a noted Nisei scholar as a consultant. While the main text seems to have been vetted by this scholar, the timelines, maps, and captions are riddled with errors and were clearly not reviewed by him.
JN: From an educator’s perspective, how can you tell if a book truly centers community perspectives versus just gesturing toward them?
CW: One starting point is to ask questions about authorship and process. Who wrote this book, and what relationship do they have to this history? Does the book clearly describe how community members, historians, or organizations were consulted, and in what ways? As Brian notes, meaningful input is often named directly, and educators should also look closely at how community perspectives actually show up on the page. Are Japanese Americans presented as complex individuals and communities with agency, disagreement, and resistance, or primarily as passive victims within a larger national narrative?
JN: Which perspectives are often missing from children’s books about the incarceration? How might educators go about supplementing those missing stories?
Brian: With non-fiction books in particular, first-person Japanese American voices are oddly scarce. It would seem worthwhile to seek some of these titles out. I note a couple of these—as well as a couple of memoirs geared towards young readers here. Susan H. Kamei’s recent When Can We Go Back to America? also highlights Japanese American voices.
JN: When you notice gaps in the literature, how do you bring those missing perspectives into the classroom?
CW: That’s often a signal for educators to bring in additional sources rather than relying on a single book to carry the full story. Oral histories are especially powerful here. Additionally, other primary sources like photographs, letters, and other materials from the Densho Digital Repository allow students to hear directly from Japanese Americans whose stories are often missing. These firsthand accounts can help students understand that there was no single incarceration experience. Educators can also thoughtfully incorporate secondary sources to provide context and continuity. Using multiple sources not only fills in what books leave out, but also models for students how historians build a fuller understanding of the past.
JN: Some children may only have access to flawed and / or outdated books about Japanese American incarceration. Are there practical ways educators could use these texts?
CW: I think we’d want to be careful about how flawed and outdated they are. Anything that includes problematic portrayals or overt stereotypes are books we’d probably want to remove from our bookshelves or curriculum. That being said, if there are minor problems—like maybe some minor facts are wrong or some of the language in the book is outdated—I think that presents an opportunity for educators and librarians to help students engage that book critically. For instance, teachers could use primary sources to round out the facts or ask questions about the terminology to help students think critically about which language is the most accurate and appropriate.
JN: As a historian, how do you feel about using flawed works in the classroom? What are some risks or benefits you’d want educators to keep in mind?
BN: Since pretty much all of these books—even ones that are flawed in various ways—mean well in trying to tell the story of the incarceration, most can still be useful if the proper context is provided. Educators might raise questions about when the book was written, who wrote it, and who published it, exploring what was going on in society at that point in time and why the author or publisher might have written or published the book. Educators might also contrast that book with one written at a different time or in a different context, exploring the differences in what story is told or how the story is told.
JN: How might educators apply anti-bias selection principles when evaluating a book about Japanese American wartime incarceration. For example, how might educators check for stereotypes, problematic language, or one-dimensional portrayals?
CW: I’m going to recommend two great resources. The first is a Guide for Selecting Anti-Bias Children’s Books from Social Justice Books. This article has some helpful general guidelines that teachers can use to review children’s books through an anti-bias lens, such as identifying stereotypes, considering how the author and/or illustrator’s identity and experiences impact the text, and examining the portrayal of how people in the book work towards justice. The overall website is also a goldmine for teachers, librarians, and families because they have book reviews on different topics, including Japanese Americans!
The second resource is the APALA Rubric to Evaluate Asian American and Pacific Islander Youth Literature. Since we’re specifically looking at children’s literature about Japanese Americans, it’s helpful to have a specific resource about the Asian American and Pacific Islander American community. To me, this builds off the recommendations of the Guide for Selecting Anti-Bias Children’s Books by providing even more clear examples of what stereotypical writing or illustrations might look like for our community. It contends with the long, problematic history of how Asian Americans were (and are!) portrayed and provides some really clear examples of what educators, librarians, and family members could look for when selecting books.
JN: Over time, have you seen patterns or changes in how Japanese American incarceration is portrayed in children’s literature? What stands out to you about those shifts?
BN: I see two different kinds of shifts over time, with one set involving issues specific to the Japanese American community and changing views of the incarceration, and the other involving changes to society as a whole. An example of the former is the change in the language used to describe the exclusion and incarceration. Older works tend to use terminology that we would today consider to be euphemistic, e.g. “relocation” or “evacuation,” whereas many newer works (though certainly not all of them) use terms recommended by Japanese American community organizations such as Densho, e.g. “forced removal” or “concentration camps.” An example of the latter would be the inclusion of LGBTQ+ themes/characters, something that is common today in young adult novels but was unmentionable only a couple of decades ago.
JN: If you could imagine the ideal bookshelf of books on Japanese American wartime incarceration five years from now, what would it include? What stories and perspectives would you want to see represented—and how would you hope educators, students, and families would use them?
BN: I think one could put together a pretty good bookshelf of fiction now! There are some excellent books representing diverse viewpoints that are well-versed in the history, many of which include author’s notes that explain historical liberties taken and suggestions for further reading. Many of these books were written by Japanese American authors and based on family histories.
The situation is quite different for non-fiction books, unfortunately. An ideal bookshelf of the future would involve more books that engage with scholars and with the Japanese American community, as well as books that emanate from that community.
CW: My ideal bookshelf includes a strong mix of fiction and non-fiction that centers Japanese American perspectives, community knowledge, and historical rigor. Alongside the growing body of fiction Brian describes, I would want to see far more non-fiction books that are developed in genuine partnership with the Japanese American community and with scholars of the incarceration, and that draw meaningfully from primary sources such as oral histories, family collections, and archival records. I would also want to see books that reflect the diversity of experiences within the community, such as generational differences, resistance and refusal, Japanese Latin American incarceration, and the long-term legacies of incarceration after the camps closed. Ideally, educators, students, and families would use these books not as stand-alone texts, but as entry points for deeper inquiry, pairing them with primary sources and guided discussion to ask critical questions about power, citizenship, and civil liberties, and to understand how this history continues to shape the present.
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An interview with Densho’s Content Director Brian Niiya and Education & Public Programs Manager Courtney Wai.
To find more of Densho’s suggested books for children, teens, and even adults, explore our “Book Reviews” category on the Densho Catalyst Blog.