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John Dominis Holt’s Waimea Summer is a coming of age story: Mark Hull, an adolescent boy, journeys from modern Honolulu to his cousin’s ranch in Waimea, where time is negligible and the people live in a state of limbo. Fred Andrews, whom Mark refers to as Uncle Fred, is the caretaker of his family’s remaining estate—an enormous mansion filled to the brim with European artifacts from the time of the hapa-haoles, the half-white aristocracy. Despite the abundant luxuries in his possession and the prestige behind his ancestral name, Fred must work under another rancher to support himself and his children. During Mark’s time in Waimea, he struggles to reconcile two opposing cultures—the bourgeois European society and the primitive Hawaiian traditions. He seeks a third culture, created by the hapa-haoles, that is distinct from either parent culture. However, this hybrid culture is quickly deteriorating, regardless of the attempts at its preservation by the surviving hapa-haole. Consequently, Mark fails to identify with any culture presented to him in Waimea and must connect himself with the new generation of mixed races, where aristocracy ceases to exist.
Uncle Fred’s estate serves as a physical representation of the hapa-haoles’ inevitable collapse and thus Mark’s failure to assimilate into that culture. Holt exposes the reader to the mansion’s decay through Mark’s point of view, from the vintage gun display that collects dust as “the waste of polyps collects to form coral reefs” to the stuffed corpses of birds, small animals, and two pet spider monkeys. The entirety of the house reeks of decomposition as well as the unsuccessful efforts of preservation, coinciding with the hapa-haoles’ attempts to endure during modern times. The hapa-haole culture unified European and Pacific heritage, allowing for the emergence of a new class of people who thrived in between the colonizers and the pure natives—essentially providing the best of both worlds. It allowed them the opportunities to receive a western education, evidenced by the scientific exhibits throughout the house, including “a large elaborately framed lithograph of...a hairy little creature called Kroa, The Ape Boy”. However, as chiefly blood became increasingly diluted and widespread, the influence of the hapa-haoles declined. The remainder of the half-white aristocracy—Mark’s relatives in Waimea and the other formerly esteemed families—linger in the “in-between” as the other social classes continue to absorb their identities. The Andrews’ estate now exists in limbo, where time halts and people are static, refusing to either progress forward into the modernized world of bustling cities or revert back to the primitive lifestyles of their native ancestors. Mark seemingly realizes this deterioration as he states, “déclassement...aptly describe[s], if not explain[s], what [is] happening to Fred and the disintegrating inherited empire” (22). However, this understanding does not stop him from seeking out this barely existent culture or to integrate himself into this dying class of people.
Uncle Fred’s estate serves as a physical representation of the hapa-haoles’ inevitable collapse and thus Mark’s failure to assimilate into that culture. Holt exposes the reader to the mansion’s decay through Mark’s point of view, from the vintage gun display that collects dust as “the waste of polyps collects to form coral reefs” to the stuffed corpses of birds, small animals, and two pet spider monkeys. The entirety of the house reeks of decomposition as well as the unsuccessful efforts of preservation, coinciding with the hapa-haoles’ attempts to endure during modern times. The hapa-haole culture unified European and Pacific heritage, allowing for the emergence of a new class of people who thrived in between the colonizers and the pure natives—essentially providing the best of both worlds. It allowed them the opportunities to receive a western education, evidenced by the scientific exhibits throughout the house, including “a large elaborately framed lithograph of...a hairy little creature called Kroa, The Ape Boy”. However, as chiefly blood became increasingly diluted and widespread, the influence of the hapa-haoles declined. The remainder of the half-white aristocracy—Mark’s relatives in Waimea and the other formerly esteemed families—linger in the “in-between” as the other social classes continue to absorb their identities. The Andrews’ estate now exists in limbo, where time halts and people are static, refusing to either progress forward into the modernized world of bustling cities or revert back to the primitive lifestyles of their native ancestors. Mark seemingly realizes this deterioration as he states, “déclassement...aptly describe[s], if not explain[s], what [is] happening to Fred and the disintegrating inherited empire” (22). However, this understanding does not stop him from seeking out this barely existent culture or to integrate himself into this dying class of people.
