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The Place

Onul Books: A curated bookstore

An ordinary residential area in Yangjae-dong. Where sunlight pours in through the large windows, and visitors feel as if they have traveled back in time. Hello. I’m Kim Sooji, the manager of Onul Books. Onul Books is a bookstore that opened in September 2018. Our curated collection covers humanities, literature, arts, and picture books. From a broader perspective, we curate books by author and category. Our curation can also be narrowed down to books under the theme of color or books suitable for the season. Q. There are sticky notes here and there in the bookstore. What do you write on them? I write down memorable lines, interviews with authors, and reasons behind book recommendations. I stick them throughout the bookstore to arouse the curiosity of potential readers. Q. Please reveal more about your secret book section. There’s a section called “Bundle of Secret Books” in the middle of the store. You can choose books based on the handwritten introduction, which leaves out typical information like the author. They are usually poetry, essays, and novels. These are the books you’d want to pick as a special gift for yourself or others. Q. Telephone booths are hard to find these days. Why do you have one in the bookstore? The “Secret Telephone Booth” is not meant to make phone calls, but allows you to listen to different sounds by pressing the numbers. For example, you can listen to the voice of James Joyce, the voice of Park Wansuh, the sound of waves, or the sound of a typewriter. I hope you will enjoy moments of peace and quiet in the booth. Q. Top 3 books recommended by the manager of Onul Books The first book I’d like to recommend is One Hundred Shadows, a novel by Hwang Jungeun. This novel was a hit from the time it was published. It’s interesting how it can be read as a romance, and also from a social perspective. I often recommend it to those who visit the store to get their first taste of Korean novels. The second book on my list is Dictionary of the Mind, a collection of essays by the poet Kim So Yeon. The book can be seen as footnotes explaining words in the poet’s mind. The essays are written based on the poet’s unique interpretation of words such as “darkness” and “scent.” It is highly recommended to those looking for gifts to express their feeling to friends or family. The third book I recommend is A Dream of Becoming Water, a picture book by Lucid Fall and Suzy Lee. The bookstore is focused on humanities and literature, but there’s a separate corner for picture books. The book presents the lyrics of Lucid Fall’s song of the same title, together with illustrations by Suzy Lee. Designed like a folding screen, it can be folded out for reading in a large area. As you read the book, put yourself in the shoes of the child, turning into a fish and then a bird. Q. Is there a good place for reading near the store? Some nearby spots are the Yangjae Citizen Forest and Yangjaecheon Stream. Yangjaecheon Stream is especially lovely in April, when it becomes pink with cherry blossoms. Reading outdoors is a worthwhile experience. There’s nothing quite like reading in nature. That’s why I recommend Yangjaecheon Stream and Yangjae Citizen Forest. Q. What are your plans for Onul Books? I hope for Onul Books to stay faithful to its role as a neighborhood bookstore. It will try to serve as a bridge between books and people, going a step further than simply buying and selling books. Onul Books plans to grow into a bookstore that actively communicates with diverse groups of people. Translated by Park Kyoung-lee

by Korean Literature Now
Overseas Angle

When the World's Biggest Band Ignites a Love of Reading

There is a saying that books are windows to knowledge. Books bring to us a whole new world curated by the author. From biographies to fiction, each book has a perspective that is unique to the author, which in turn provides a unique experience to the reader. Our Twitter account, Namjoon’s Library, aims to bring the spotlight to some of the books connected to RM, the leader of BTS, the biggest band in the world. The two-time Grammy-nominated septet have topped the Billboard charts and taken the world by storm, with a diverse fandom spanning several tens of millions of fans worldwide. Starting from humble beginnings, BTS have constructed a successful discography centered on growth, self-love, and introspection. RM (real name Kim Namjoon) is the primary lyricist for the group’s music. He finds inspiration for his writing through reading and art appreciation. Many of the books he has read connect to major themes and messages in BTS’s albums through the years, such as Herman Hesse’s “Demian”, which interweaves into the iconic WINGS album. He also strives to read socially conscious and informative works that drive his personal growth and self-reflection. In seeking further understanding into BTS’s self-made lyrics and messages, fans are naturally curious about RM’s bookshelf and reading picks. We started this account to build a common well-sourced archive of all the books RM has read or recommended along with a brief synopsis and lyrical context. Since we started in April 2021, we have written about ninety books that RM and other members of BTS have read. Our account has accrued twenty-two thousand followers, full of enthusiasm and curiosity for RM’s reading choices. Looking at the sheer scale of ARMY (the name of the BTS fandom), it is only natural that we have book lovers among our ranks. Hence, it is not surprising to see fans being interested in reading books read by BTS members. BTS have not only opened the doors to a new culture, but have also opened the world to a new library – one filled with Korean literature. Fans enjoy Korean literature just as much as English literature, after all a good book is a good book. Fans are not just discovering new literature but are also able to explore more of South Korea, both culturally and historically, through these books. The interest of fans in RM’s books are also actively reshaping the Korean literature landscape: fans sparked a Korean reprint of Early Death by Cho Yonghoon (조용훈『요절』)that was out of print for ten years, the English edition of Baek Sehee’s I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki (백세희『죽고 싶지만 떡볶이는 먹고 싶어』) just released last month, and the Korean publisher for Jessoo’s I Didn’t Know It Would Turn Out This Way(재수 『이렇게 될 줄 몰랐습니다』) to consider looking into English translations. RM’s reading picks have also increased the visibility of Korean art and artists, leading many fans to seek out museum exhibits and art books he has recommended, as RM recently discussed on Intersections: The Art Basel Podcast. There are many books translated to English that are seen at various bookstores and libraries under a special section titled “Namjoon’s Library” for easy access. It is very clear that Namjoon’s reading picks have opened up a new world of opportunities for readers to explore. Last year we started an on-going Twitter thread listing various libraries and bookstores where fans found a dedicated spot for the books read by RM. We have not just seen an increase in various bookstores and libraries adding a “Namjoon’s Library” corner, but more and more readers have been able to access these books now. Photo by @melarosee At times we hear stories of our followers becoming aware of a diverse list of books. RM has not just inspired people to read but also to find or renew their own taste and interest in books. We see more and more people finding the type of books they like through our Library. While some are more popular than others, each book has a valuable story to learn from and we strive to help everyone find the world into which they want to dive. Anonymous note from an ARMY at Christmas, sent to Namjoon’s Library

by Namjoon's Library
Q&A

[Book for You] I'm not sure if I will be living long term in Korea

Jeong Ji Hye(Jeong): Hello. I am Jeong Ji Hye, and I will be giving book prescriptions under Book for You, KLN’s online program. You Hee-kyoung(You): I am You Hee-kyoung, and I hope to move your hearts with effective prescriptions. Before we proceed, we should briefly introduce the purpose behind Book for You. Jeong: Overseas readers have limited opportunities to get to know Korean literature. Every now and then, KLN is asked to recommend Korean books. Together with the poet You Hee-kyoung, I will introduce to overseas readers a diverse selection of Korean literature. Book for You <Taylor's letter> Hello,I am an American who has been living in Korea on and off since 2010. I have taught English for several years, I got a master’s degree in fine art painting at a university in Korea, and now am working as a translator. I am still not sure if I will be living long term in Korea. While I have read many short stories, lots of poetry,and a few full novels in Korean, I still am fairly new to Korean literature. I am very interested in stories that discuss race and nationality or foreignness. I haven't gotten to read much fiction that was specifically related to these topics, and I believe it could help me to decide if I will stay long term in Korea. You: Shall we begin by prescribing a novel? Jeong: There’s a novelist who came to mind as you read Taylor’s letter. You: Who would that be? Jeong: The writer Cho Hae-jin. Cho served as a Korean language instructor in Poland for a brief period after making her debut, when she was less busy with her writing. She experienced what it was like being a foreigner and a minority. Perhaps this is why the protagonists in her novels are often students studying abroad, migrants, or adoptees. The book I will be prescribing for Taylor is An Escort of Lights, which also has characters who are foreigners. Taylor mentioned in his letter that he is“still not sure,” and that’s what stuck in my mind. In An Escort of Lights, there is a short story titled “A Refusal of Time”. It contains a passage that would be the perfect prescription for Taylor. Let me read it to you. There’s nothing that stays in the body forever. Food, sensations and emotions, the worries that you staked your life over, and the time spent caught up in such worries. Seok-hui believed that the best consolation lay in being honest about how things that have passed would never return. Excerpt from “A Refusal of Time” That’s my prescription for Taylor. I chose it because even the deepest of concerns,circumstances at a certain time, and beliefs that we stood by tend to naturally change over time. The story’s last sentence is as follows. There would be a life to lead over there as well. You can live life anywhere, be it Korea or the United States. My advice for Taylor is to follow his heart, and watch how it plays out. I will cheer you on regardless of the path you choose. The life you will lead is right where you are. Which poem did you pick for today? You: I pondered over which poem would be most comforting for Taylor, and my choice might come across as unexpected. The poet is Saito Mariko. She was born in Niigata in 1960. She fell in love with Korean literature during her college days, especially Yun Dong-Ju’s poetry, and moved to Korea in 1991. Jeong: That’s really early on in time. You: Let me read you part of the poem titled “Photosynthesis”. I hope its underlying message will resonate with Taylor. Here goes. A tree is called “ki” in Japanese and “namu” in Korean. When I first learned the Korean language ten years ago, the word “tree” took root in my heart. For two months since I came to Korea, I wandered around with my head down. When I first looked up in June, the leaves were gently swaying above. I call them “namu,” and the “namu” within me sends its greeting. The leaves I had poured my heart and soul into over the past decade were glistening in the sun. Excerpt from “Photosynthesis” I believe that a seed called “Korea” has been planted in Taylor’s heart. It will grow into a healthy leaf before he even realizes it. Taylor will someday be able to take rest in its shade. That’s why I chose the poem by the translator Saito Mariko, who, in a way, has been in a position similar to Taylor. Now, try to find rest in the tree that has taken root in your heart. It’s already time to say goodbye. How do you feel about our first session? Jeong: I got to know a lovely poem, and it was a meaningful time. How about you? You: I felt a sense of responsibility in my role. Jeong: We will be giving book prescriptions to help resolve your problems, big and small. If you would like a book prescription, share your worries with us. Shall we wrap it up? Jeong & You: Book for You, Book for You. See you next time. Goodbye! Translated by Park Kyoung-lee

by Korean Literature Now
Overseas Angle

The Connection Between Hibiscus Flowers and Rum

I started translating Korean literature roughly a decade ago and continued to translate and interpret Korean while pregnant with my three children and throughout their early years. Sometimes I wonder what relationship they might have one day with the Korean language and literature that they have been absorbing even before birth. Well, the answer life brings is often much less poetic than our imagination. My two older boys came back from kindergarten the other day humming a rhyme which my philologist's ear identified as Mugunghwakkochi piotseumnida (i.e. "The hibiscus flower has bloomed"), popularized by the notorious Squid Game series. My portrait, "photo Ⓒ Andrea Černá" I was shocked that this content had become so ubiquitous as to reach the kindergarten playground. I seriously considered having a talk with the teachers. Eventually, it turned out that an older sibling(already in his teens) had taught the rhyme to the younger kids as a cool thing, after having been inspired by the series to play "Red Light, Green Light" using the Korean rather than the Czech words. Luckily, nobody saw the original scene. If I'm being perfectly honest, however, I was more concerned about the kids picking up an incoherent Korean pronunciation from a hearsay version of the rhyme rather than the slim chance of their being exposed to graphic violence at school. I must admit once again that I have never seen anything like the kind of attention aroused by Korean shows and dramas. Increasingly, I meet young people who have been inspired to study Korean by watching Korean content. Intrigued by the peculiar charm of these shows, they plunge into a sea of dazzling cultural otherness and become thirsty to know more. In my mind, this would be the opportune moment to introduce them to Korean literature. The leap from watching visual content to reading books is a big one to take, however, a gap that lacks a solid bridge. Perhaps this is one bridge that we translators might help to build. The Loneliness of Others by Jeong Yi Hyun, dramatic reading, Czech translation by Marek Zemánek, Avoid Gallery, 23. 7. 2020, "photo Ⓒ Tereza Čechová, Skandinávský dům" "Red Light, Green Light," for instance, plays a substantial role in the closing chapter of Seven Years of Darkness by Jeong You Jeong, which was published in Czech as Sedmlet temnoty a few months ago. While translating this novel, I was struggling to bring the Korean version of this children's game closer to its Czech cousin. Yes, the rules are more or less the same. But the rhyme was the problem. Korean kids jabber about blooming hibiscus, whereas the Czech ones shout out "Sugar, coffee, lemonade, tea, rum, boom!" In times before Squid Game, it was unthinkable to keep Korean words in a translation. No readers would relate. But today, after what I have seen with my kids, I would probably consider incorporating the phonetic transcription of the original, given the chance that some readers would be able to fill in the robot doll's intonation. In the Czech Republic, as in other European countries, Korean literature remained largely undiscovered by the general public until the 2010s. Only recently—and owing mainly to the efforts of LTI Korea—numerous translations of modern and contemporary literature are being published. Readership is increasing steadily, although it may still fall short of Netflix's figures. Out of two dozen titles published in the last twenty years, two have won domestic literary awards: Human Acts (Kde kvete trávain Czech) by internationally acclaimed author Han Kang, and graphic novel The Grass (Tráva in Czech) by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim. The former was nominated for the Magnesia Litera Award in the category of best translated book, the latter was awarded the Muriel Comics Award in the category of best translation. The White Book, theatre play based on Han Kang's novel, Czech translation by Petra Ben-Ari, Meet Factory, 20. 6. 2021, "photo Ⓒ Kristýna Šaarová" In Han Kang’s case, it has been interesting to see Human Acts receive much more attention than her first international success, The Vegetarian. The fight for democracy, portrayed in the painful search for the human stories behind the Gwangju massacre, has seemingly good potential to resonate in our post-socialist country, where (during socialism) dissenters of the totalitarian regime used to be harshly repressed. This is not to forget the female voice in contemporary Korean literature, however, which has also found a responsive audience. Long before The Grass, world literature magazine PLAV dedicated a special volume to Korean literature, issued under the title Illusions of Korean Women. In my opening essay, I tried to emphasize the common source of female activism and literature written by women in contemporary Korean history. Later, at the launch party for this special issue, selected translations were presented as short dramatic pieces (see attached photos). One featured short story, "The Loneliness of Others" by Jeong Yi Hyun, was so successful that, following the event, a radio programmer decided to create a radio session made up of Korean short stories. Han Kang’s books, for their part, are popular with Czech theatre directors —The Vegetarian and The White Book have been adapted as theatre plays. I like to interpret these adaptations as pillars of the bridge between literature and series like Squid Game, as mentioned in the beginning of this essay. A show happens at the present moment and entertains in real time. Literature lasts and requires good timing. A translator's insight facilitates smooth engineering. The bridge can eventually serve to help in both directions. When the kids were torturing me with their distorted Korean syllables, I tried to offer them examples of the proper accent by showing them children's videos of the actual game. I can't say they showed much enthusiasm. At least I can hope that one day, picking up a copy of Seven Years of Darkness (translated by their dearest mom), they will remember "Red Light, Green Light" as the exotic tune they used to tease me with as preschoolers. Petra Ben-Ari Petra Ben-Ari (1983) is a Czech orientalist and translator. She majored in Sinology at Charles University in Prague. During her studies, she spent three academic years abroad, first in Italy (Venice), later in China (Jinan and Shanghai). Between 2011-2015, she studied Comparative Literature at Seoul National University in the Republic of Korea. Besides translating Korean literature, she also publishes articles, reviews and essays. Edited by Yoonna Cho

by Petra Ben-Ari
The Place

Spain Bookshop: A Spanish Haven in Seoul

A narrow alley leads to a small bookshop like a Spanish haven in Seoul. Hello, I'm Eva the bookseller who runs Spain Bookshop. I was in indie publishing and used to take my books around to a lot of bookshops. That's when I became interested in bookshops. It seemed like a fun way to get involved with nice people and projects, so I started my own bookshop. I decided I would need a theme if I wanted to keep the place running for a long time. So I thought about what I liked best, and that was Spain. It has a lot going for it, culturally and historically. I figured it would give me enough to fill the space, so I decided on Spain as my theme. Q. How did you become interested in Spain? It all started with Gaudí, the architect. I stumbled upon a book about him when I was in high school and that was the beginning of my interest in Spain. At first it was just wonder. 'I can't believe someone thought of buildings like that.' And so I became interested in Gaudí, who did a lot of his work in Barcelona. That got me interested in Barcelona, and then eventually all of Spain. Q. How do you decide on what books to stock at Spain Bookshop? Keeping to our theme, the first books we stock are related to Spain,and Spanish-speaking countries. They run the whole range of subjects. We stock literature, art, travel books. But it's not like so many books are published about Spain or Central and South America year-round, so we can't fill the shop with just those releases. So for the rest, I stock books that interest me on a case-by-case basis. (Spain Bookshop also stocks Spanish editions of Korean literature such as the Spanish translation of Sohn Won-Pyung’s novel, Almedra.) Q. What are your top three bestsellers at Spain Bookshop? First there's this essay collection, Barcelona, Living in the Now. It's a collection of essays from a two-year stay in Barcelona. Think sketches of everyday life, but set in Barcelona. There's just a whiff of a travel element but more than that, it's really about living in Barcelona. You can easily imagine yourself living there and get a vicarious sense of satisfaction. It's simply written but still manages to touch your heart which is why I'm very fond of it and recommend it to everyone. The next one is a Spanish phrasebook called AMOR365. The subtitle is, "A collection of Spanish phrases for lovers." As you may guess from the 365 in the title, It has one Spanish phrase about love for each day of the year. "No star shines as bright as your eyes." It's very popular with people studying Spanish, or people buy it as a gift for a friend or significant other that's studying Spanish. The third book is one we got fairly recently about the Camino de Santiago. It's about the French Way, the most popular route. The author went on the French Way many times before making this book. It's all done in watercolor. It's an accordion book. The entire Camino is about 800 km, from east to west. So this book is made to unfold from left to right,just like the Camino. Q. Are there any nice spots to read around here? In the spring or fall when the weather is nice, there's Namsangol Hanok Village right nearby. It's quite big, and they have lots of places to sit, so it could be a nice place to go with a book. Q. What are your plans for Spain Bookshop? I'd like to keep this place going as long as I can while still staying true to our theme. Spain really means a lot to me, so I'd like it if we could keep that focus. I think it would be great if it could become a lasting space for His panophiles. To build a community with like-minded people and to keep that interest going, that's the goal. Translated by Yoonna Cho

by Korean Literature Now
Q&A

[Delve: Answers to Readers’ Queries]

Copyright ⓒ BY.NONAME DELVE to examine in detail In this section, members of our editorial board answer questions about Korean literature culled from an open survey from our readers. Touching upon recent trends, historical antecedents, and literary devices, we hope you enjoy examining some deeper aspects of thoughts readers have had about Korean literature.—Ed. [Delve] How do Korean authors come up with character names? http://www.kln.or.kr/strings/columnsView.do?bbsIdx=719&searchCategory=QA [Delve] Why does Korean lit have a serious and heavy image? http://www.kln.or.kr/strings/columnsView.do?bbsIdx=723&searchCategory=QA [Delve] How do you interpret the growing demand for genre literature? http://www.kln.or.kr/strings/columnsView.do?bbsIdx=724&searchCategory=QA [Delve] Is the “villain” of classical literature really evil? http://www.kln.or.kr/strings/columnsView.do?bbsIdx=725&searchCategory=QA

by Kang Young-sook et al.
Q&A

[Delve] Is the “villain” of classical literature really evil?

In this section, members of our editorial board answer questions about Korean literature culled from an open survey from our readers. Touching upon recent trends, historical antecedents, and literary devices, we hope you enjoy examining some deeper aspects of thoughts readers have had about Korean literature.—Ed. Is the “villain” of classical literature really evil? The plots of the classic novels follow a narrative scheme very similar to that of fairy tales, where scholar Vladimir Propp showed the existence of a common structure to all the cultures of the world. According to this structure there is a “sender” and a “recipient,” a “subject” and an “object,” a “helper” and an “enemy.” This also applies to political and religious ideologies: in Christianity the sender is God and the recipient is humankind. The subject is Jesus Christ and the object is Heaven. The helper is the Church and the enemy is the devil. In Marxism, the sender is History, the receiver is humankind. The subject is the working class, the object is a classless society. The helper is the working class itself; the enemy is the bourgeoisie. A “bad character” (real or imaginary), therefore, is necessary (despite the true nature of the character himself) in order to have a complete plot. In this way, we could say that, in the Tale of Chunhyang (õðúÅîî), the sender is the King, the receiver is Korean society. The subject is Chunhyang, the object is the fulfillment of her love and a free marriage. The helper is Mongryong (Ù”×£) and the enemy is the evil Governor Byeon Hakto (Ü¦ùÊ‘³). Whether Byeon Hakto (if he really existed) was actually evil or not does not matter. The evil character is necessary in order to better bring out the virtues of the protagonist. To give a sensational example, in some versions of the novel Hong Gildong-jeon (ûóÑÎ‘Ûîî), where the protagonist even challenges the very state (and therefore the King), the quoted King (i.e., Hong Gildong’s opponent) is Sejong (á¦ðó), even if history evaluates Sejong to be an excellent king. Maurizio Riotto Philologist, KLN Editorial Board Member

by Maurizio Riotto
Q&A

[Delve] How to interpret the growing demand for genre literature?

In this section, members of our editorial board answer questions about Korean literature culled from an open survey from our readers. Touching upon recent trends, historical antecedents, and literary devices, we hope you enjoy examining some deeper aspects of thoughts readers have had about Korean literature.—Ed. How do you interpret the recent trend where demand for genre literature such as mystery, thrillers, fantasy, SF, and so forth, has been growing significantly? Has the character of the readership changed from the generation before? Has their palette of interests changed? There is certainly growing interest in so-called “genre literature” like mystery, thrillers, and fantasy, and is especially noticeable in SF. This “genre reboot,” if you will, of SF is different because while interest is expanding in writers who employ SF and fantasy-based imagination in their writing, such as Kim Junghyuk, Yun I-hyeong, Gu Byeong-mo, and Chung Serang, it is also shifting to SF-exclusive writers like Kim Choyeop and Kim Bo-young. In light of this phenomenon, one could speak of innovation taking shape in the field of Korean literature, where the hierarchy between “literary fiction” and “genre literature” has been so rigid. But to take this trend of SF becoming more popular as an unprecedented emergence is a groundless claim coming from the prejudice that SF has held little to no territory before. “Genre literature” steadily expanded both its creative and commercial territory throughout the ’90s when cyberspace became popularized and creative licenses became democratized. Instead of saying that “genre literature” had no territory, it would be more accurate to analyze that the boundaries between literary territories used to be much more defined, and more importantly, that there was an intentional critical indifference toward ¡°genre literature¡± for a long time. Interest in genre literature is not new, nor is it uncommon to find imaginative elements of SF in Korean literature. The notion that genre literature is foreign comes from the distorted bias that literature needs only one definition, a way of being that is exclusive and singular. Literature has evolved to democratize reading and writing. It has adapted its ways of manifestation to changes of the time. As it moved on from the era of poetry to the era of novel, literature has clearly made itself more democratic, divorcing itself from elitism. We have yet to see what kind of literature will emerge post-novel, as it answers to further literary democratization. The rising popularity of genre literature is often discussed along with writers who represent the genre, but the debuts of hot writers cannot be the only explanation for the phenomenon. Rather, changes in literary trends reflect fundamental changes in the interest of readers. Surveying the history of literature reveals that there has been a shift from author-focused literature to reader-focused literature. The reader, formerly overlooked, emerges in a privileged position. To narrow the focus even more, since the reboot of feminism and the renewed literary interest in gender issues, the female reader springs to the foreground ever more clearly. This too would be better understood as a more specified outfitting of the already existing readership, rather than an emergence of a completely new one. In this context, popularity for SF as well as popularity for fantasy and thrillers that rippled from it, begs not the question of “Why SF, fantasy, and thrillers,” but the question of “Why SF, fantasy, and thrillers here and now.” This is the only way we can draw accurate connection between the growing demand for SF, the kind of storytelling that predicts and anticipates the future, and the urgency for imaginative narratives that go beyond classist, sexist, racist discrimination and hatred that pervade the here and now. Korean literature now, through genre literatures cross-stitched with concern for feminist issues, suggests new ways of interpreting reality and dreams of possible changes in the present. Translated by Dasom Yang So Young-hyun Literary Critic, KLN Editorial Board Member

by So Young-Hyun
Q&A

[Delve] Why does Korean lit have a serious and heavy image?

In this section, members of our editorial board answer questions about Korean literature culled from an open survey from our readers. Touching upon recent trends, historical antecedents, and literary devices, we hope you enjoy examining some deeper aspects of thoughts readers have had about Korean literature.—Ed. The Korean literature I have come in contact with shows a wide thematic spectrum, but I am curious why it has such a serious and heavy image? Saito Mariko, the Japanese translator of the bestselling Korean novel Kim Ji-young, Born 1982, said that Korean literature once had the image of a “politically correct literature.” Korean literature’s “serious” and “heavy” image is probably related to this “politically correct” image. Obviously, literature is always closely related to the culture and history of its region and linguistic sphere and thus, Korean literature’s image is also inextricably linked to the history and culture of Korea. Any discussion of modern Korea up to the 1980s would be unthinkable without mention of its colonial history, the Korean War, or the fight for democracy. And throughout the course of these histories, Korean literature played a key role in guiding Korean society and its people. Even during times of great suppression of the media and freedom of speech, literature did its best to speak about society through various artistic devices. Of course, the Korean literature of today is incomparably more diverse in its themes and subject matter; it fuses different genres, attempts new experiments, and abounds in an imagination that stretches far beyond reality. But the image and role that has come to be expected of Korean literature cannot be wiped away so easily. Indeed, even now, Korean literature is especially insightful and detailed in its commentary on structural irrationalities and absurdities. The translated works of Korean literature that have found success beyond Korea’s borders also appear to belong to this tradition. On the other hand, the modern people of today are always connected to one another through “new media,” able to engage in light and fast communication. However, overwhelmed by the speed of daily life, people are increasingly fatigued and often do not have the time to reflect. Perhaps what we need then in this modern age is the time to think about serious and heavy things. In this world, we are swept along by a whirlwind of speed and superficiality. But there are still many problems in this world that require us to stop and think seriously. In this way, being serious and heavy might actually be an important virtue in this day and age. Translated by Sean Lin Halbert Kim Mi-jung Literary Critic, KLN Editorial Board Member

by Kim Mi-jung
Q&A

[Delve] How do Korean authors come up with character names?

n this section, members of our editorial board answer questions about Korean literature culled from an open survey from our readers. Touching upon recent trends, historical antecedents, and literary devices, we hope you enjoy examining some deeper aspects of thoughts readers have had about Korean literature.—Ed. How do Korean authors come up with character names? Do they consider the meaning when naming the characters? Naming is a very significant factor in character creation. It is the most direct way to provide concreteness and vitality to a character. But creating character names is always a contemplative and hesitant process. In a story, the name of a character is never objective. No matter how common the name may be, there’s always a meaning behind it. And once it’s decided, the name becomes inseparable from the character and works subconsciously in the reader’s mind. Moreover, the name of a character can serve as a significant factor that reflects the time period of that particular work. For instance, in Kim Yujung’s “Wanderer” (“Sangol nageune”) from the 1930s, the female protagonist is referred to as nageune, “the wanderer.” This wanderer shows up at a village one day, and not much is told about the character. But unlike the common modern-day usage, nageune in this short story refers to a woman. In themid-1990s, the pronouns “geu” (he) and “geunyeo” (she) were frequently used in place of character names. The first person pronoun “uri” (we or us) was often used as well. As Korea became a highly industrialized society, the character names in works of fiction became more and more anonymous until only the last names—Kim, Lee, Park—were used. Recently, regular Korean names such as Park Jungchul, Kim Minji, and Lee Bokyung are being used as character names. The expansion of democracy and the development of civil society are reflected in character naming, providing greater significance to each individual, each character. One crucial thing to consider when naming a character is the rhythm. That lingering feeling after the name is called out—this must be taken into consideration. And more than anything else, the author must like it. It must sound friendly, too, and since it plays the role of notifying the reader that something important has happened, it must sound trustworthy. But oftentimes, in recent works, names are replaced by initials and written merely as P or A. The purpose of this is to eliminate any meaning or prejudice the name might hold. Similarly, there has been a tendency to not clarify where the story is taking place, deliberately avoiding any country or place names. In such cases, there must be an internal inevitability as to establishing the characters as “one-letter beings,” and the author must consider if such an attempt works well with the overall meaning of the story and effectively brings aesthetic changes. In the process of building a linguistic structure called fiction, naming a character is therefore a challenging but important task. Translated by Susan K Kang Young-sook Writer, KLN Editorial Board Member

by Kang Young-sook
The Place

Gwangjang Market: Where History Breathes

There are three famous gwangjang (squares) in South Korea: Choi In-hoon’s monumental novel, The Square; the Seoul Gwangjang in front of City Hall, the place of candlelight protests; and the Gwangjang traditional market that boasts a hundred year history. Originally, Gwangjang Market was a name exclusive to a 3,000 pyeong shopping establishment that was privately owned by the Gwangjang Corporation, and located in the center of the market. It now refers to some 60 commercial buildings that are clustered around the Gwangjang Shopping Center. The market has a 300-year history if one looks at it from a historical perspective, and at least a 108-year history if one considers its establishment from 1905 when the Gwangjang Corporation was founded. In the latter part of the Joseon era, there were three large open markets in Seoul: The I-hyeon Market, open from early dawn to morning located near Dongdaemun; the Chil-pae Market, around what is now Namdaemun; and the Jongno Market, which opened in the evening. Among the three, I-hyeon Market was more renowned for its morning Baeogae Market. Baeogae was a hill that connected the areas of Jongmyo, Dongdaemun, and Cheonggyecheon. There are many stories regarding the genealogy of its name: that there were many pear trees (bae means pear); that it was the last point where a large boat crossing the Han River could reach through to Cheonggye Stream (bae also means boat); and that because of the frequent appearance of tigers, a hundred people had to gather together in order to go up the hill. Baeogae was a morning market that developed around this region. In 1910, the Joseon empire was annexed by Japan. But even before that, Korea had been hopelessly subject to all kinds of invasions by Japan. The circumstances of the markets were also bleak. The merchants, who had a strong sense of nationalism, united and established the Gwangjang Corporation on July 5, 1905. Despite much interference, Dongdaemun Market, Korea’s first privately owned market, came about at last. Before the annexation, the Japanese merchants who had developed the Jingogae (Myeongdong) area into a busy commercial center, opened five department stores after 1920. The Hwashin Department Store was built in Jongno. A very small number of people were able to go to Japan and engage in a luxurious shopping spree or shop at the Hwashin Department Store in Jongno. The market for the majority of the people during the Joseon era was Dongdaemun Market. Just as life would have been impossible for most Joseon people if the five-day market had not been maintained, everyday living would not have been possible had there not been a traditional market such as Dongdaemun during the Japanese colonial period. That is the reason why Dongdaemun Market could neither be expanded nor demolished. Dongdaemun Market was like a fortress. When the sun rose, the four gates on the east, west, south, and north opened and all kinds of items from the entire country started to pour in. Dried fish from the East Coast, coal from mines throughout the peninsula, as well as an assortment of paraphernalia from Japan and the West arrived. But it was agricultural products that were sold in the largest quantity. Fresh vegetables, seasonal fruit, and five grains were transported by horses and cows. Dongdaemun Market was known to have the largest number of agro-fishery products in all of Korea. The shops were categorized into three tiers. Tier one shops were located in tile roof houses and were wealthy enough to be able to place advertisements in newspapers. Tier two shops were all under tin roofs, and offered mostly agro-fishery products. The tier three shops were vendors who sold things on a mat under a somewhat shabby plank roof; they sold mostly miscellaneous household objects. Around 200 merchants owned the tier one and two shops, and the tier three sellers changed constantly. On average, around 2,000 customers visited daily. Dongdaemun Market was completely destroyed during the Korean War. Only the site of the building remained, but after the war the market became more vibrant. Survivors had to continue to live and the market was a necessity in order for people to go on living. The people who arrived in Seoul in great numbers from all parts of the country settled in the Cheonggyecheon area and as a result, the market region became completely packed with people. After the recovery of Seoul, there was a presidential order from Rhee Syngman to reconstruct Dongdaemun Market. President Rhee ordered three international-sized markets to be built in Seoul. The construction of the Gwangjang Shopping Center took place swiftly. From 1957 to 1959 a massive construction project commenced and finally in 1959, it was completed as the building it is today. In other words, the three-story concrete Gwangjang Shopping Center was newly constructed and maintained for 50 years until now in its present form. At that time, most of the buildings around the Cheonggyecheon area were traditional Korean style houses and as these buildings were mostly destroyed during the Korean War, the newly built Gwangjang Shopping Center was the most modern structure between Jongno and Dongdaemun. The Gwangjang Shopping Center was the tallest building around at the time, and the watchtower mounted on the roof must have made people feel as if they were looking down from a mountaintop. Seoul was the most popular overnight school trip destination for students from the provinces. Gwangjang Market was always included on the itinerary. Students climbed to the top of the watchtower of the Gwangjang Shopping Center building and looked out at the Dongdaemun area. They took pride in the fact that there was such a big market in Korea, and bought gifts to bring back for their parents from the Gwangjang Shopping Center. In January 2011 the novelist Park Wansuh passed away. She was an integral part of the history of Gwangjang Market. Her novel His House, published in 2004, records in detail the sights of the Gwangjang Market during the 1950s. It delineates the period from after the Korean War when there were hardly any buildings intact up to the post-War construction of the department store era.One cannot find a more detailed depiction of Dongdaemun Market than in His House. Park’s novel provides a very thorough description of the market as it was then, and the commerce that revolved around it. What is astounding is that things remain pretty much the same to this day. “It was called a department store or a dry-goods store but in actuality, it was simply a long pathway like an alley; and on both sides the merchants were allotted a single pyeong where they put up a stall without a partition or divider. In the back they hung loose fabric and piled up folded or rolls of fabric by the pathway, and the owner did the business, standing on top of the stall. It looked like an enormous dry-goods store when one just walked into the department store but it was a fierce arena of competition for many one-pyeong business proprietors.” Of course, the present day Gwangjang Shopping Center is no longer a “fierce arena of competition.” The stores are at least four to five pyeong in size. There are some that are over 10 pyeong. But the absence of partitions or boundaries remains the same, and fabric still hangs loose on the rear wall with the rolled up fabric piled up in a display case by the pathway. On November 13, 1971 a 22-year-old young man by the name of Chun Tae-il set himself ablaze in the Peace Market across from the Gwangjang Market, shouting “Obey the Labor Law!” “Let my death not be in vain!” The Gwangjang Market has a deep relationship with Chun Tae-il. The prodigious personal records he left behind was compiled by Cho Young-rae, and published into a book, A Single Spark: The Biography of Chun Tae-il. The following is a passage from the book:“The young Tae-il, who had to take on the responsibility of taking care of his family of six, took his younger brother, Tae-sam to the Dongdaemun Market to sell kitchen objects. They got things like trivets, brushes, strainers, brooms, and grills from a consignment store, paid back the price of the items, and then kept the profit. The trivet was relatively easy to make and therefore the two brothers bought the material from Dongdaemun and made them themselves on the rice paddy of Yongdudong where they lived.” Tae-il was only 13-years old then. It wasn’t just Tae-il and his family who were destitute, because in those days there were many children who had to work to support their families.The Biography of Chun Tae-il is filled with heartrending stories of his youth and the young girl factory workers he met in the Peace Market. Chun Tae-il was born in 1948, the year the Republic of Korea was founded. Most of the people from that generation underwent as much hardship as Chun Tae-il. The older merchants of the Gwangjang Shopping Center experienced as difficult a childhood and youth as Chun. What they remember the most are those difficult years—horrific childhoods because of poverty and war, when they were inhumanely treated while working in factories and marketplaces. A Single Spark: The Biography of Chun Tae-il is not only a story of one person but about the entire generation that lived during a very difficult period. “Lament” is a short story by Choi Il-nam that was published in the monthly magazine, Hyundae Munhak, in 1976. The protagonists, a married couple who sell fish in the market, have a dream. “When the couple somehow managed to survive while running a small shop in a market that was on the outskirts of the city, the wife talked about moving to Dongdaemun Market after several years of hard work. The husband yelled at his wife for being a piker, instead of dreaming big and closing down their small store for a much bigger and more reputable business. Then his wife replied that it was her wish to make a fortune in the grandest market with the same business that they began.” Hence, the Dongdaemun Market before 1976 was grand enough to be the subject of one woman’s life’s dream. The elder merchants remember the 1970s as the heyday of Dongdaemun Market. “There were so many customers that we didn’t have enough time to count our money. In those days, we could provide for our children until after college from our one to two-pyeong store. There was such a stream of customers from dawn to late night that our doorsteps got worn out. We were so busy that we sometimes forgot to eat.” The comedian, Kang Ho-dong, came to Gwangjang Market only once, but it gained the place new renown. The Mayor of Seoul, National Assemblymen, Cabinet Ministers, and the presidents of banks and companies have all paid visits to Gwangjang Market as well. Yet even if the president came wearing a hanbok along with the first lady at the bequest of merchants on festive occasions, these visits didn’t have nearly the effect of Kang’s visit. When Kang Ho-dong carried out his assignment of “Eat 10 Different Kinds of Food and Show 10 Different Reactions” for a TV program, Gwangjang Market instantly became known as the mecca of food. The attitude of the media’s coverage of the Gwangjang Market has changed according to the times. During the Japanese colonial period, it was known as the “greatest agro-fishery market in Joseon.” From 1960 to 1980, it became the largest fabric market in Korea, and then during the 1990s, silk, satin, linen, and cotton were popular items. Since the Asian financial crisis in 1998 to the early 2000s, secondhand stores and custom-tailored clothes were common. Recently, it has become known as a place to stop off for inexpensive food after taking a walk around nearby Cheonggye Stream. The majority of the stores in the Gwangjang Market still do business in fabrics and dry goods. However, fabric sales have plummeted in the poor economy and the silk and satin stores that now specialize mostly in hanbok are not doing very well. Even though the hanbok shops are empty most of the time, the secondhand stores are always crowded. There have always been many stalls and eateries in the small alleys that surround the market, but after the restoration of Cheonggye Stream, the dining business in the surrounding area suddenly revived. This is a rather unwelcome phenomenon from the perspective of Gwangjang Market. In the first half of the 1960s when the construction of the Gwangjang Shopping Center was completed, it was the most modern market in Korea. But now, it has become the biggest and the most famous traditional market. Embracing the most energetic and passion-filled years of millions of humble people, the place has aged along with the people. While everyone is caught up in the most cutting-edge, massive-scale, and luxurious styles available, renovating their shops to make them bigger, trendier, and more distinctive, Gwangjang Market is a place that tries to change with the times even as it is known as an embodiment of the past. 1. His HousePark Wansuh, Segyesa Publishing Co., Ltd.2012, 308p, ISBN 9788933801956 2. A Single Spark: The Biography of Chun Tae-ilCho Young-rae, Chun Tae-il Memorial Foundation2009, 340p, ISBN 9788996187424

by Kim Chong-khwang
The Place

Forest of Wisdom

Just a few kilometers from the demilitarized zone that separates North and South Korea, Paju is a somewhat surprising location for what has become the center of publishing and book culture in Korea. Paju Book City is a city dedicated to books—their printing, publication, and promotion. It aims to become the “book-hub of Asia.” In this book city nestled among publishing offices, online bookstore warehouses, and printing presses sits the “Forest of Wisdom,” a huge concrete building with three massive sections. Forest of Wisdom is currently home to over 200,000 books and before too long it will accommodate another 100,000. The books are mostly donations from publishing companies and some of them gave copies of every book they had ever published. Organizations and notable individuals have contributed as well. Traditionally, buildings that house such a large number of books have either been libraries or bookshops, but Forest of Wisdom is neither. The books there are not for sale, they cannot be loaned out, and they are not catalogued. Forest of Wisdom is something else entirely. In the last few years there has been a book café craze throughout Korea, where the walls of a coffee shop are filled with bookshelves laden with interesting books. Some book cafés are operated by well-known publishing companies like Munhakdongne or Changbi Publishers, Inc., who use them as a space to display and sell their books. Others are simply decorated with books that create an atmosphere where customers can sit with their coffee, relax, and spend some time with a book that catches their eye. With a coffee shop in its central hall, on first impression Forest of Wisdom seems like it must be the biggest book café in Korea, perhaps even the world—but in fact it is more akin to a vast interactive artwork. Explaining the rationale behind this forest of books, Kim Eounho, the chairman of Bookcity Culture Foundation, begins by talking about the beauty of books as artifacts, and how that beauty has a cumulative power, so that when books are displayed together they create the harmony of a choir, and an indescribable fragrance that transforms a space. Thus when lectures are held in these halls the content sounds more inspiring, and when musicians perform among the books the melodies are more beautiful. Over 100 events have already been held in Forest of Wisdom this year alone, including a performance by the Russian Philharmonic Orchestra as well as evening classes and programs as part of the Book City’s Open University. The Paju Book Sori Festival, a meeting point for publishers, editors, and authors from all over Asia, is also held among the books in the Forest of Wisdom, creating the perfect hub for learning and exchange. Kim Eounho says that rather than being a mere library, Forest of Wisdom is a book utopia, creating a new way of approaching and enjoying books. We go to libraries to track down specific books, looking them up in a database and hunting them down in the stacks, ignoring all the books around them. In Forest of Wisdom you cannot help but explore, browse the spines of books from shelf to shelf—reading titles, experiencing colors and textures, and taking out and opening up the ones that pull at your imagination. In this book utopia all books are equal before the reader, and on every shelf a myriad of worlds sit ready to inspire, just waiting to be opened. In all three halls books line the walls from floor to lofty ceiling. Even on a weekday there are plenty of people around, some browsing books, some studying or working at one of the many desks while others chat with friends over a cup of tea. On weekends the place is filled with families, as children and their parents line the stairs to the second floor, reading books and sharing new stories. The first hall is filled with books donated by different scholars. The idea is that visitors can find out more about these great minds by browsing through their book collections, thus they are kept together and each section is labeled with the name of the person who donated them along with their area of study. Looking through these personal collections, amassed over the course of the donor’s career, it is easy to see that successful scholars do not stick to just one kind of book. Among the volumes donated by a professor of English literature you can find books on philosophy, geography, music, and translation. As Kim Eounho says, children who read books are our hope for the future. This does not mean children who just “study hard” as the Korean saying goes, but for children who read widely and enthusiastically; because while school textbooks teach us that everything relating to a subject can be found in one place, the book collections of talented scholars demonstrate that those who have a wide understanding and interest in many fields are the ones who create new wisdom and advance the knowledge of humanity. Books, things themselves that have been created, are the start of other forms of creation. They are the greatest inheritance left to humankind. In Forest of Wisdom they have been brought together to be read, to be enjoyed, and to make their presence felt in a space which creates a new way of interacting with books and is sure to inspire generations of readers, writers, and thinkers. Kim Eounho: Kim founded Hangilsa Publishing in 1976 and Hangil Art Publishing in 1998. He is also head organizer of Paju Booksori, director of Hangil Book Museum, and chairman of Bookcity Culture Foundation.

by Kim Eounho

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