Sisters Under the Rising Sun

These chapters establish the social and political dynamics of the Irenelaan camp, illustrating how the internees construct a resilient community in defiance of their captors. The central conflict over the “officers’ club” serves as a crucible for the theme of The Power of Female Solidarity in a Dehumanizing Environment, demonstrating unity’s centrality to resistance. The nurses’ unified march to the club, where they present themselves as dirty and unattractive, subverts the officers’ expectations of submission. They comply with the letter of the order but not its spirit, and they explain their behavior with reference to their shared identity as nurses; Nesta remarks, “Nurses don’t need to wear makeup” (105), asserting the professional identity that their captors have previously refused to acknowledge. When this fails, their feigned coughing weaponizes the very bodies that the soldiers want access to. The camp’s subsequent decision to endure starvation rather than see the nurses coerced represents the pinnacle of this solidarity, transforming the nurses’ particular crisis into a collective stand. Interspersed throughout this narrative action are stretches of dialogue in which the nurses consult with one another and their fellow internees, assessing where things stand and determining next steps. The sacrifice made by the four unnamed nurses underscores the cost of this resistance, but the novel frames this not as a defeat but as the ultimate expression of the communal responsibility demonstrated throughout this sequence.

Parallel to this solidarity, the narrative details the construction of cultural institutions, developing the theme of Art and Music as a Form of Spiritual Resistance. The establishment of Mrs. Hinch’s committees, the publication of the Camp Chronicle, and the organization of church services and concerts impose order, purpose, and a sense of shared identity upon an environment designed to induce chaos and despair. The composition and performance of “The Captives’ Hymn” embody this shift by turning the internees’ suffering into an artistic statement. The hymn’s effect on its audience—cathartic, collective weeping—demonstrates art’s capacity to help communities articulate and process trauma, giving the women “strength and hope” (121). This act of creation establishes a cultural space that exists beyond the captors’ control, a point emphasized by the symbolic singing of national anthems at the close of performances.

However, Captain Miachi’s decision to attend the concerts transforms these events from a private refuge into a contested public space. His attendance introduces a dynamic of surveillance, forcing the performers into a state of self-censorship; speaking out about their circumstances risks provoking a backlash that could jeopardize the concerts’ future. In much the same way that four of the nurses volunteer as “hostesses” to preserve the camp’s rations, the women protect the shared “resource” that the concerts symbolize by compromising on their content. This speaks to the precariousness of the women’s position and the ongoing calibration it demands. Even the officers’ applause and Miachi’s request for an encore of “Land of Hope and Glory,” ostensibly gestures of appreciation, are inseparable from the camp’s power dynamics, creating a dissonant tone—one that suggests the women’s resistance could be co-opted. The distress of the four “hostess” nurses, who must witness their abusers enjoying the camp’s artistic expression, further highlights the psychological complexity of their situation. Their solution—to watch from a hidden doorway—is another instance of the women navigating a treacherous landscape where resistance and survival demand constant compromise.

Part of what makes this difficult is the arbitrary and unpredictable violence of life in camp. The accidental shooting of a Japanese soldier by his own comrade injects a moment of pure, senseless chaos into the relatively ordered world the women have built. As Norah realizes, the incident is a stark reminder that their carefully constructed systems of support exist entirely at the mercy of their captors: “[A]ny one of their lives could be snuffed out by a poorly aimed bullet with few, if any, repercussions” (139). This episode reinforces The Indiscriminate Brutality of War, illustrating that no amount of internal order can insulate the prisoners from random violence.

In this environment, the book suggests, survival depends on a diverse and complementary set of skills. Nesta James emerges as a pragmatic and protective leader whose authority is rooted in moral courage. Margaret Dryburgh functions as the camp’s spiritual and artistic guide (a role she comes to share with Norah), channeling her faith and talent into expressions of hope like “The Captives’ Hymn.” Mrs. Hinch, in contrast, represents administrative leadership; her organization of committees provides structure for daily life. The narrative presents these three figures as pillars of a resilient leadership structure. Their distinct but collaborative efforts create the social, spiritual, and logistical framework that enables the broader community not only to endure but also to mount an organized resistance.