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PROFILEKim Ryeoryeong

Kim’s work generally focuses on adolescent issues. Kim's characters are extremely typical, ordinary neighbors one might run into in any alley, but on taking a closer look they reveal hard-earned scars. The source of each character's wound is hidden behind their bittersweet smiles. Kim suggests that even the saddest life is not has its moments of sunshine. Kim also aims implicit criticism at people content with themselves, who achieve their success by trampling on others.[1] She has won multiple prizes for her writing including the Munhak Dongne Children's Literature Prize in 2007 for A Seahorse Lives in My Heart, Ma Hae-song Literary Award in 2007 for The Child Who Brought Memories, and Changbi Prize for Young Adult Fiction in 2007 for Wandeuk.[4] Wandeuk was immediately successful with readers,[5] and was declared the "best novel of the year" in an online poll conducted by bookstore Aladdin, Internet blog portal Egloos and Allblog.[6] The book went on to sell more than 700,000 copies, and was made into a successful film in 2011, titled Punch for its foreign release.[7] Another novel, Elegant Lies (2009), was adapted into the 2014 film Thread of Lies directed by Lee Han, the same director behind Punch.[8]

INTERVIEW

Catching Children When They Fall: Children’s Book Writer Kim Ryeo-ryeong

Kim Ryeo-ryeong began her career as a fiction writer, but it was in fact a course on children's literature that she took in college that led her to become a children's book writer. It was this, the last kind of literature she was exposed to, that propelled her career. She wrote children's books without knowing that they were books for children. It was only when she had written her book that people asked her if it was a children's book. She wondered if children's literary theory even existed. Or if a book could be defined as a children's book only by virtue of the fact that it has a child character in it. But theory is theory, and stories are spun according to their own logic. They have to reach for the child inside the reader and draw that child out into the open. Within a year of her debut, Kim won three major literary awards. She won the 2007 Ma Haesong award for Child with Memories; the Young Reader Munhakdongne award for There’s a Sea Horse Living in My Heart; and with the novel Wandeuk in 2008, she became a force to be reckoned with. Kim Ji-eun: It is so nice to meet you. It's amazing to think about the scope of our work—you write for children and young adults, and also for an adult audience. What would you say is the difference between the two audiences? Kim Ryeo-ryeong: I always begin with the question, "Why?" when I am faced with opposing forces, like good and evil, or victim and perpetrator. “Why the tears?” “Why the use of force?” “Why was this person beaten?” Whether writing for children or adults, it is this “why” question that is the most challenging to ask. Particularly in the case of literature for children, it is imperative to approach this question from the child's eye level. In fact, I often get asked whether children's books are dumbed down for children, but that is entirely wrong. On the contrary, books for children cannot compromise on their sophistication. There is nothing more difficult than writing at a child's eye-level. I have made a constant effort to approach the child's question of "Why?" Eventually the moment came when the child's view of the world was open before me. That is when I begin my first draft. A writer's job is to observe, question, and record. Neither children's literature nor fiction is a simplistic manifestation of good versus evil. The question “Why?” exists for us all. Children's book writer Kim Ryeo-ryeong and critic Kim Ji-eun KJE: That explains why you tell stories about situations in which there is not a clear object of criticism. There’s Sea Horse Living in My Heart exposes the way in which adoptive parents and their child see each other. And The Child Who Brought Memory examines the reappearance of forgotten memories. You seem to treat everyone fairly. Did you experience anything in our own life that influenced your view of people? KRR: I exist in every single one of my works. Even more so, I must say that the "I" that exists in these works is an intensified essential version of myself. I believe that only stories that invoke my essence have the potential to do so for others. I even set aside my best ideas until they move and stimulate me first. It is precisely my experiences that get reflected in my fiction. I remember one experience from high school. For example, we were a particularly whiny class that was constantly trying to get class to end early. Our homeroom teacher was young and was a pushover. One day he stood up with conviction and proclaimed that he was never going to let the class out early again. But that day I stuffed myself with snacks that someone had brought to school and got food poisoning. I went begging, my face red with hives, to my teacher, the same one who had sworn that even our parents' funeral would not serve an excuse. "I think I need to go home early," I said. And I'll never forget the hopeless look the teacher had on his face. It moved something inside me. I was honestly concerned for him, faced as he was with the possibility of the collapse of his principles all because of a student with food poisoning. I am certain that this new teacher found it to be a nerve-wracking moment. This is what I mean when I say that at times, the most uncomical moments have the power to stimulate our imagination. That is the essence of storytelling. KJE: Do you mean to imply that the characters that appear in your fiction are all embodiments of your own moments of “stimulation,” as you call it? KRR: People often wonder which of my characters is me. If my readers want to believe that the characters represent real people, I tell them to do so. My characters are both me and those with whom I have come into contact. I always use people who have brought me down. But when I feature these characters I do so not to accuse them but to capture their essence, to confess to them. “I didn't really know you” is what I want to say. "You were right." It is my way of thanking them. It is also a way of keeping their destiny a secret. As a writer, I deal with things not only on the surface but under it. My job is to dig up those places that have barely been discovered. I look not only to look into the eyes of my characters but to look beyond them into the unseen. KJE: Your works can often be read as confessionals; and the voices that are heard are alternatively those of male characters and surprising female voices as well. You seem like one of those writers who can comfortably navigate both viewpoints. KRR: I try hard to avoid being identified by my readers as a female writer. I heard that it's hard to tell if my work was written by a man or a woman. I was relieved when my readers did not know after reading my novel Wandeuk that it was written by a woman. When I met another famous writer in Korea, he said he was shocked because he had been certain that the book had been written by a man. When was I high school I took kung fu lessons with some friends. I think that's what helped me. I came into close physical contact with both boys and girls. I learned how relieve my heart without constraints. Even through the experience of being knocked out. KJE: Your books always seem to feature an adult which offers the young and vulnerable child characters a source of profound trust. KRR: In my life I have always had friends who came to my side and helped me whenever I was in crisis. I grew up seeing a great deal of my maternal grandmother and great-grandmother who was over 100 years old. She had an amazing presence. Because of her age she was above trivialities. The local women also trusted and believed in me. They were always present, standing firmly in a position in which I was always protected and there to catch me when I fell. I grew up safely because there was always someone in my life that, even when I hit rock bottom, was able to say, "It's ok, I'm here." That is what adults can do for children. The main character in Have You Seen That Man? features precisely that kind of man. KJE: Your characters speak less about their stories of success and more about sharing experiences that enable them to laugh and move on in their lives. By sharing sincere thoughts, your text elicits great sympathy from the reader. At the same time, you seem to be telling children to never give up. It is almost as if your work teaches a kind of emotional self-defense technique. KRR: When I learned kung fu, I also learned self-defense. The character that speaks out in Wandeuk and says, "fighting is cowardly" is inspired by something I heard at the time. The world we live in is a rough one, one in which it is easy to get beaten and defeated. I feel that it is important to expose children to this reality sometimes. I want children to have real hope, but I do not wish to simply point them to a utopian vision. When I was growing up, there was a certain degree of integrity and communal laws that were respected. Today, though, it seems that even those that are doing well in the world have only their own personal interest in mind. In today's competitive world individuals are worried about "my law" rather than communal ones. But it is because of this that I want to show the “us,” the community, and not the individual. KJE: Your characters seem to have a real aversion for verbal ceremony. Wandeuk looks upon adult hypocrisy with disdain, and a character in Sublime Lies searches for the truth and pays for it with his life. KRR: I cannot tell you how many times I have witnessed people slandering others behind their backs, yet doing so through the hypocritical use of empty flattery and in submission to their interlocutor's social status and position. Those on the receiving end of flattery are usually in positions of power. KJE: Your children's books tend to expose the artificial quality of these power structures and isolate those exercising hypocritical power. Your works make power an object of ridicule. KRR: I went through some unbearable experiences when I was young, and the repetition of my mantra, "Just laugh it off" is what saved me. True laughter is the kind that brings tears streaming down our cheeks. The kind of laughter that doesn't stop, when the tears just keep coming. That kind of laughter and those kinds of tears are the essence of honesty, and they are the embodiment of strength and resilience. KJE: Do you think it was your grandmothers' influence that informed you of the strength of honesty and truth? You mentioned the grannies that granted you unconditional protection and care. And in your books it is not only blood relatives but neighbors who are a source of comfort. KRR: My great-grandmother died at the age of 108. My grandma told me back then that she surely turned into a Taoist spirit and flew to the heavens. So I thought it meant that we were now sharing our quarters with a spirit. I was five or six at the time, and I imagined myself grabbing on to her over 100-years-older-than-me great-grandmother's feet and peeling acorns together. In my mind's eye we refused to part. Grandma sang a song that went: "Go away shell! Let only the fruit remain!" and when I lost these magnificent women I felt as through the spirits had departed and nothing was left but the physical shell. To this day they are the most mature women to ever have lived. I felt as though I was now left to record the world in the place of their language. I also have a warm association with religion. My mother went to church, my grandmother to the Buddhist Temple, and I married into a Catholic family. When I was young I was often taken to the temple, and the monk usually had to wake me because I would fall asleep. I remember following our church minister and pestering him with childish questions. I thought that there may be lots of gods, but the rules of what is permissible and not seemed to be the same. It occurred to me that all these Gods may be one and the same. Perhaps that is what inspired my writing of The Child Who Brought Memory, a book that takes a spiritual look inside the heart of a child. KJE: If children's literature is like the stepping stones of the heart that connect this generation with the next, it seems that you have reached a deep understanding of these generations and have already achieved a kind of transcendent vision of wisdom. KRR: When I write I feel that I exude some of my grandmother's characteristics. Such figures as herself are remarkable in that they transcend the division between things. I think that somewhere inside I expect that I'll live until 103. And once I have passed 100 I want to leave it all after I write a fantastic book that will be impossible to define as either a work of adult fiction or a children's book. Because I think that they say that at 100 years of age, literature finally becomes visible. By Kim Ji-eun 1. There's Sea Horse Living in My Heart Kim Ryeo-ryeong; Illustrator: Noh Seok-mee, Munhakdongne Publishing Corp. 2007, 158p, ISBN 9788954604048 2. Wandeuk Kim Ryeo-ryeong, Changbi Publishers, Inc. 2008, 237p, ISBN 9788936433635 3. Have You Seen That Man? Kim Ryeo-ryeong; Illustrator: Chang Kyeong-hue, Munhakdongne Publishing Corp. 2011, 175p, ISBN 9788954614542 4. Sublimes Lies Kim Ryeo-ryeong, Changbi Publishers, Inc. 2009, 228p, ISBN 9788936456221

REVIEWS

The Darkness of School, The Darkness of Society: Sublime Lies by Kim Ryeoryeong Vol.38 Winter 2017

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