“Children see and hear what is there; adults see and hear what they are expected to and mainly remember what they think they ought to remember,” David Lowenthal wrote in The Past Is a Foreign Country. It is on this fraught foundation that Fred Lanzing builds this memoir of his childhood in a Japanese internment camp for Dutch colonialists in the East Indies during the World War II.

When published in the Netherlands in 2007, the book triggered controversy, if not vitriol, for Lanzing’s assertion that his time in the camp was not the compendium of horrors commonly associated with the Dutch internment experience. Despite the angry reception, Lanzing’s account corresponds more closely with the scant historical record than do most camp memoirs. In this way, Lanzing’s work is a substantial addition to ongoing discussions of the politics of memory and the powerful—if contentious—contributions that subjective accounts make to historiography and to the legacies of the past.

Lanzing relates an aspect of the war in the Pacific seldom discussed outside the Netherlands and, by focusing on the experiences of ordinary people, expands our understanding of World War II in general. His compact, beautifully detailed account will be accessible to undergraduate students and a general readership and, together with the introduction by William H. Frederick, is a significant contribution to literature on World War II, the Dutch colonial experience, the history of childhood, and Southeast Asian history.

Even though they are historically one of the smaller immigrant streams, nineteenth-century Dutch migrants and their descendants have made parts of West Michigan their own. The first Dutch in Michigan were religious dissenters whose commitment to Calvinism had long-reaching effects on their communities, even in the face of later waves of radicalized industrial immigrants and the challenges of modern life. From Calvin College to Meijer Thrifty Acres and the Tulip Festival, the Dutch presence has enriched and informed people throughout the state. Larry ten Harmsel skillfully weaves together the strands of history and modern culture to create a balanced and sensitive portrayal of this vibrant community.

Dutch is Beautiful tells the story of the fifty years of Dutch and Flemish Studies at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, Michigan, USA. It is an account of the efforts to promote Dutch and Flemish culture and language, as well as a description of how the teaching of Dutch language, literature, history and culture can be a tool to look at a world of diverse identities. It also offers a comprehensive overview of the beginnings of a successful program that included Dutch writers-in-residence, visiting Netherlands professors, cultural and educational events, arts, music, films, conferences and publications. Several alumni of  the program look back at their college years with appreciation. Articles and essays on history, Anne Frank, and conversations on colonialism discuss critical and educational views on Dutch and Flemish Studies in past, present and future, when diversity, equity and inclusion are important goals and objectives, and public scholarship and academic activism will be a larger part of the curriculum. This book will inform, entertain, stimulate and impress everyone who is interested in the culture of the Low Countries. The title says it all!

Examining how encounters produced by migration lead to intimacies-ranging from sexual, spiritual, and neighborly to hateful and violent, Jane Juffer considers the significant changes that have occurred in small towns following an influx of Latinos to the Midwest.

Intimacy across Borders situates the story of the Dutch Reformed Church in Iowa and South Africa within a larger analysis of race, religion, and globalization. Drawing on personal narrative, ethnography, and sociopolitical critique, Juffer shows how migration to rural areas can disrupt even the most thoroughly entrenched religious beliefs and transform the schools, churches, and businesses that form the heart of small-town America. Conversely, such face-to-face encounters can also generate hatred, as illustrated in the increasing number of hate crimes against Latinos and the passage of numerous anti-immigrant ordinances. 

Juffer demonstrates how Latino migration to new areas of the U.S. threatens certain groups because it creates the potential for new kinds of families—mixed race, mixed legal status, and transnational—that challenge the conservative definition of community based on the racially homogeneous, coupled, citizen family. 

Like a number of Netherlanders in the post–World War II era, Inez Hollander only gradually became aware of her family’s connections with its Dutch colonial past, including a Creole great-grandmother. For the most part, such personal stories have been, if not entirely silenced, at least only whispered about in Holland, where society has remained uncomfortable with many aspects of the country’s relationship with its colonial empire.

Unlike the majority of memoirs that are soaked in nostalgia for tempo dulu, Hollander’s story sets out to come to grips with her family’s past by weaving together personal records with historical and literary accounts of the period. She seeks not merely to locate and preserve family memories, but also to test them against a more disinterested historical record. Hers is a complicated and sometimes painful personal journey of realization, unusually mindful of the ways in which past memories and present considerations can be intermingled when we seek to understand a difficult past. Silenced Voices is an important contribution to the literature on how Dutch society has dealt with its recent colonial history.