St. Martin’s Griffin, 2004
This richly imagined novel, set in Hawai’i more than a century ago, is an extraordinary epic of a little-known time and place—and a deeply moving testament to the resiliency of the human spirit. Rachel Kalama, a spirited seven-year-old Hawaiian girl, dreams of traveling to the far-off lands her merchant seaman father visits. When a rose-colored mark appears on her skin, Rachel is taken from her home and family and sent to Kalaupapa, the quarantined leprosy settlement on the island of Moloka’i. Here her life is supposed to end—but she discovers it is only just beginning.
It has been suggested that reading makes us more empathetic, more sensitive to others’ needs, and more in tune with our shared joys and struggles. I’d like to think that reading Moloka’i had this effect on me.
Before I read Moloka’i, the Bible was my only acquaintance with the devastating physical effects of and cultural response to leprosy. In the New Testament, Jesus Christ responds to outcasts with compassion and acceptance. And in this book, when seven-year-old Rachel is diagnosed with leprosy and exiled, the characters around her react based on their varying religious beliefs. Alan Brennert’s portrayal of human nature is unexpectedly raw, complex, and gratifying.
Caretakers at the Kalaupapa settlement who risk their own health to serve the sick are also presented honestly. Love, loss, rejection, and acceptance are supported by crisp clarity.
I hope this story will always shape me. I want to remember it when I read familiar Biblical passages about lepers. I want to recall its message when I interact with anyone on the fringe of acceptance.
I recommend reading Moloka’i when you’re ready to be immersed in the beauty and anguish of one of the world’s most untouchable communities.
Reader, who comes to your mind as a social outcast today?
(Interested in reading the sequel to Moloka’i? Click here to read my review of Daughter of Moloka’i.)
