Though it confounds our earthbound instincts, physics tells us that time and space are not separate properties of reality, but aspects of a single composite called “spacetime.” Within spacetime, perspective depends on one’s frame of reference, making observations possible and meaningful—yet subjective rather than universal. As in spacetime, so in life: though perspectives can be communicated, no two are identical, and powerful invisible forces shape not only what we perceive and think but also the trajectories of our lives. These oddly parallel truths shimmer at the heart of the latest of Bae Myung-hoon’s novels to be translated into English.

        The Proposal tells the story of an officer on a spaceship fighting in what seems to be an interstellar war against an enigmatic foe. The tale is set far enough in the future that the military fleet is manned by a large space-born population, among whom a book of prophecies about the space war has somehow attained widespread religious significance. Bae’s story, however, focuses on one soldier’s experience on the frontlines of the war—his work and professional struggles, and the challenges he faces maintaining a romantic relationship with an Earthborn sweetheart back home.

        Space war is an evergreen and familiar (though still fertile) territory within the SF genre. This presents a challenge for SF authors, who must find ways to distinguish their takes in a unique, compelling manner. Bae manages this task with cheerful aplomb and insight, rejecting cinematic models for a more thoughtful approach. His space battles, for example, are no densely crowded Hollywood spectacle, but instead reflect serious (though not ponderous) consideration of how the practicalities of physics and movement in zero gravity would impact military tactics and strategy. The fleet is a diffuse scattering of distantly separated warships, their hulls dwarfed by vast telescopes, their crews grinding away at technical solutions to a single problem: the fact that their mysterious enemy seems constantly one step ahead of them. As the tale progresses, several scientific concepts—such as the phenomenon of gravity lensing—are explained in ways that prove highly accessible and vividly compelling, even for readers unfamiliar with them.

        As is often the case with Bae’s work, the tale is rich in humor, from amusing interactions between the protagonist and assorted commanding officers to the bizarre provenance of the name of the “Buggler Maneuver” used by the fleet’s ships to foil their foes’ weapons targeting systems. Especially noteworthy is Bae’s light touch with characterization, complemented by his sure hand: even when they only appear for a few lines at a time, the protagonist’s superiors spring vividly to life through incisive first-person observation that makes them leap off the page. Such amusements are the brighter elements of the novel’s chiaroscuro, contrasting the more alarming enigmas that emerge about the identity and true motivations of the fleet’s enemy—enigmas that hinge upon an as-yet undiscovered aspect of the properties of spacetime.

        However, the story really shines in Bae’s deft intertwining of his protagonist’s romantic struggles with his professional responsibilities as a military officer, as he simultaneously targets his distant opponents and his faraway Earthborn lover’s heart. Likewise, the loneliness of separation from his lover parallels his isolation within a fleet where the next closest ship lies the full width of a planet away. Then there are the things left unsaid—or which are inexpressible—between the spacebound soldier and his lover, mirrored by the silences in the fleet’s communications. These resonances between the two storylines lend this short book a surprising and disarming depth that intensifies as the parallels crescendo toward the paradoxical conclusion of the story, which is less a resolution than the articulation of a potent question. In the weeks since I finished reading The Proposal, it has continued reverberating in my mind.

        Regarding the translation, I sensed that translator Stella Kim was particularly faithful to the original text, down to the sentence level. While those unfamiliar with Korean might need some time to get used to this approach, it shapes the narrator’s speaking voice while carrying the character’s rhetorical style into English in a way that offers unfamiliar readers a glimpse of the unique rhythms and flow of the Korean language.

Gordon A. Sellar

Writer and translator