Hapa Girl

A heavy dose of bitterness keeps Chai's memoir of growing up in South Dakota with a Chinese-American father and a Caucasian mother from registering deeply. The Chai family, used to liberal, progressive California and New York City, suffered terribly when Chai's father took a post at a rural university: prejudice ran deeply in the little town where they settled. Shots were fired close to their house, their pets were killed and the author and her brother were the victims of racist verbal assaults. The author still seems angry, and her frustration comes across like angsty teenage impudence. She's angry that her naïve father made the rash decision to move at all (""My father had the more pressing issue of his destiny to attend to""). Years later, still trapped in South Dakota, she mentions, ""I... couldn't believe my father had made us leave our home to live in this place."" And she's angry that she had to attend what she calls ""Stephen King High."" But it's not all gloom: Chai's mother, a canny woman who smiled in the face of prejudice and amassed her own group of friends, is the book's star. Her courage, recounted by her daughter, saves this otherwise one-note memoir. Illustrations.