Something I found really interesting in A Fire in Fontana, that we've discussed with other Yamamoto works is what's not being said. I think in the case of this story, what isn't said is sometimes more interesting that what is. One example occurs at the beginning of the story when the narrator encounters segregated toilets. She doesn't know where she belongs in the white/colored dichotomy. I had never even thought about the Asian American response to segregation, but that section really raised a lot of questions for me. Where did Asian Americans stand in that white/colored dichotomy? The narrator goes into the white bathroom without conflict, but she ends up feeling guilty when she encoutners an African American cleaning woman in the white bathroom. The narrator doesn't say what she feels, instead she tells us what she tried to make herself feel. However, the reader can infer from what isn't said that the narrator's guilt most likely stems from the fact that she somehow was allowed to go into the white bathroom, even though she might not "belong" there-- in a way that the African American cleaning woman would never be able to. Also unsettling is the event on the bus just before this scene with the white woman who gets a lot of pleasure out of watching segregation and discrimination in action. Surely the narrator's silence is an attempt to distance herself from the type of discrimination that the African American boy is being subjected to--against his knowledge. Although most other characters in the story speak their minds freely, the narrator constantly holds back, preferring to tell us what everyone else is saying. I wonder why it's so hard for her to find her voice. But it is hard for me to completely understand the balancing act of her situation. She must appease both the white community and the black community. The fire described in the story is another instance where what's not said is the truth. "The official conclusion [to the investigation] was that probably the man had set the gasoline fire himself, and the case was closed," (154). Everyone knows this conslusion is completely false, that the family were victims of a hate crime, but no one actually says this. Yamamoto extends the silence of her narrator to the slience of the entire community. Instead of speaking out against these injustices, the narrator points out a university scholars' racism towards Babo in Benito Sereno which seems to me to be one of the oldest arguments of the literary community and a distraction from the issues of her own life. I do not really go where I am trying to go with the post, these are just a random stream ideas that came into my head while I was reading the story. While I understand the narrator's slience, I wonder if it is helping or hurting her. I also wonder what she could do to change the things in her community that she dislikes. I think the story ending with the screams of a man, woman, and children might be a parallel to the narrator's silent screams. I wonder how much of her silent has to do with guilt. I wonder if she is feeling guilt, none of the events in the story are her fault after all. I am going to the end the post by saying again that these are just ideas, not completely thought out arguments of any kind. I enjoyed the story and think Yamamoto does a wonderful job at capturing a pivotal moment in history from an entirely now point of view. --Rachel Berman