Lessons in the pages of The Ginger Tree

DEBBIE JACOB

AS THE school term draws to a close, I wonder how many students have read a book this year that they will never forget.

In 27 years of teaching over 300 books in my English and history classes, I have no problem choosing my most unforgettable ones. It stands out from many memorable reads including The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy, Strange Pilgrims and News of a Kidnapping by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad, Hopes and Impediments by Chinua Achebe and Thirst for Love by Yuko Mishima.

My students read magical realism, Caribbean and South African literature, short stories and essays, but the book that I am betting they will always remember is The Ginger Tree, an epistolary novel by Oswald Wynd. The Ginger Tree, set in 1903, is a character-driven novel about Mary MacKenzie, an adventuresome Scottish woman who travels to China to marry a Scottish soldier.

While he serves for some months far from their home, she has an affair with Kentaro, a Japanese nobleman. Mary becomes pregnant and her husband disowns her for adultery. Kentaro arranges for Mary to live in Japan; then steals their baby. Mary spends her life searching for her child. When World War II breaks out, Kentaro arranges for her to return to Scotland. I coaxed students to stick out the slow beginning about Mary’s dull trip to China.

The appeal of an epistolary novel lies in the thrill of reading someone’s personal letters or diary entries, which is not an automatic sell for teenagers. Still, the novel proved unconventional enough to spark interest in class discussions. It wasn’t an action-packed novel, but they identified with the novel’s themes of alienation in a foreign culture.

The Ginger Tree had a shocking, unexpected ending, which I rate as one of the five best endings of any book I've ever read. In the end, some students felt moved by Mary’s story. All my students hated Kentaro.

I shared the book with my Japanese friend Masako Chen, who was married to a Trinidadian and worked in the Japanese embassy. It turned out to be one of her favourite novels for reasons totally different from mine.

When Masako came to speak to my class about The Ginger Tree, students expressed utter disdain for Kentaro and told Masako he was unfair, cold-hearted, selfish and cruel. Masako listened, and then explained why The Ginger Tree was one of the greatest love stories she had ever read.

“Kentaro loved Mary,” she argued. That riled up students.

Carefully, Masako pointed out how everything they objected to showed Kentaro’s love for Mary and their baby. From our cultural perspective, we couldn’t recognise that at every turn, Kentaro had behaved as an honourable and loving Japanese man. He had saved Mary when her husband disowned her and risked his own dishonour by taking her to Japan to live. He had saved Mary and the baby from prejudice and scorn in a foreign culture that did not accept foreigners. Kentaro made it possible for Mary to work. He knew he could offer the baby a happy life and future success by placing him with a Japanese family where he would blend in. Students felt Kantaro stalked Mary and spied on her; Masako said he protected her.

When his wife died, Kentaro offered to make Mary his wife, but he could not meet Mary’s one condition. She wanted to know where her child was. Kentaro refused to give her that information because it would destroy the child’s life.

Eventually, students realised how our own cultural biases had tainted our interpretation of The Ginger Tree. This novel, based on a true story about the author’s grandmother, became my best lesson in English literature. Every year I allowed my students to read this novel and form their own opinions. Masako then changed their viewpoint.

Students confronted their own prejudices and cultural preconceptions. They learned to love a book in hindsight and appreciate a novel without dramatic action. The Ginger Tree made students reconsider their opinions, examine their prejudices and be more open to understanding different cultures.

Masako died in September 2019. At the celebration of her life, I sobbed uncontrollably at the loss of a dear friend and the loss of those invaluable lessons in fairness she taught my students. I remembered drinking green tea in her gallery and talking about The Ginger Tree with her.

I knew my students would never forget that novel. I challenge teachers to find that unforgettable novel for the next school year.