Kirby Larson is the author of the 2007 Newbery Honor Book, Hattie Big Sky. She will be at Village Books on Saturday, September 10, 2:00pm for her latest book, The Friendship Doll.

I played with Barbies growing up (whatever happened to Midge?), and still have my Meg of Little Women Storybook Doll. But generally I was the kind of kid who preferred running around outside or reading. Dolls just weren’t – aren’t – my thing.
So how is it that I came to spend five years working on a book about a one? To steal a line from the movie Shakespeare in Love: “it’s a mystery.”
The mystery began in the basement of the Montana Historical Society. I was researching for Hattie Big Sky, rummaging around in a room full of odds and ends. Between some enameled coffee pots and kerosene lanterns I found a photograph, dated 1928:
(photo credit: Montana Historical Society)
I was fascinated. How did this little Montana farm girl and this exquisite doll find one another? They seemed such unlikely pals given dicey US/Japanese relationships at that time. I wrote myself a few notes about the photo and tried to put it out of my mind in order to finish my novel. But every once in awhile I would allow myself a few minutes to work on the puzzle of girl and doll. I eventually learned that these Friendship Dolls were gifted to the children of the United States by the children of Japan in thanks for some 13,000 blue-eyed baby dolls sent in 1927 as part of a church-based goodwill project. The man behind that project, Dr. Sidney Gulick, a missionary to Japan, was broken-hearted over the bad blood between the two countries he loved. He knew what a treasured place dolls held in Japanese culture, ergo, the doll drive. He also knew that Japanese people were reluctant to accept a gift without giving one in return so he did his best to assure that no thanks were needed for the baby dolls sent by American Camp Fire groups, Scout troops and Sunday school classes.
His words went unheeded. Every child in Japan contributed one sen, about half a cent, to pay for the Friendship Dolls. Master craftsmen competed for the honor of making one. About the size of a 4- or 5-year-old girl, they had gofun (ground oyster shell paste) faces and limbs and real human hair, styled in a dark bob. In all, 58 were created – one for each prefecture in Japan, as well as its territories and major cities. When completed, the dolls traveled by steamer to San Francisco and then were divided into smaller groups to tour the States. They visited big cities like New York and Washington, D.C., but visited small towns, too, like Pomeroy and Pullman. After a year of touring, the dolls were given homes in each of the 48 states (some states received more than one). Miss Tokushima, Washington state’s doll, now resides at the Northwest Museum of Art and Culture in Spokane.
Okay, okay: so the dolls are historically interesting. But why write a historical novel about them? Honestly, I had no intention of doing so until I “met” Miss Tokushima in about 2005. One look at her expressive face and pensive eyes and I was certain she was trying to tell me something. And I was certain that what she was saying was this: tell our story.
Discovering that story took me many years and many false starts. Eventually, I heard the tart voice of Miss Kanagawa, a doll who had as much use for a child as a dog did for a flea and I was hooked. I suspected that today’s readers could genuinely connect with kids living through the tough times of the Great Depression and so the story is set primarily between 1927 and 1941 and tells how one Japanese doll impacts the lives of four girls -- and one contemporary boy.
Of the original 58 Friendship Dolls sent to the states, 13 are missing today, including Miss Kanagawa. Maybe, just maybe, one reader of The Friendship Doll will help solve the mystery of those missing dolls. Wouldn’t that make a great ending to this story?
For more information about the Friendship Dolls, go to http://wgordon.web.wesleyan.edu
For more information about Kirby, go to www.kirbylarson.com or www.kirbyslane.blogspot.com