(Some kind of) Peace on the Korean Peninsula… PEN World Voices hosts Korean writers Hwang and Ko
by 400Windmills on May 01, 2006
Saturday night PEN World Voices hosted conversations between Korean novelist, Hwang Sok-Yong, and Korean poet, Ko Un. I attended the event with my mother, relying on her perspective on all matters Korean to provide an additional layer of interest to the evening. As anticipated, I was not disappointed.
The writers
Hwang Sok-Yong and Ko Un are both well-known literary figures in South Korea, renown as much for their political activities as for their writing. Ko became prominent during the 1970s and 80s, as the leading spokesman for the artists and students speaking out against Korea’s military dictatorship. Prior to his career as poet and dissident, Ko was a Buddhist monk for ten years.
Hwang was imprisoned from 1993 to 1998 for an unauthorized trip to North Korea. His best-known novel The Guest was published in 2001 following his pardon.
Because I missed the first quarter-hour when Hwang’s novel excerpt was read: Ko Un, the dramatic (self) introduction.
The conversation picked up when moderator Janet Poole asked Ko Un to elaborate on his most recent project, Ten Thousand Lives, which purports to dedicate a poem to every person Ko met in his life. The moderator expertly contrasted Ko’s work--which focuses on the ordinary and mundane--to Hwang’s novels, featuring extreme human experience. Ko grasped the microphone in the minute silence following the translation of the question and declared to the audience
“Greetings to all. I have not yet introduced myself. What I would prefer to do is to read some poems first, but as that is not what is preferred for this event, I will obey the desire of the moderator. But I tell you, I am very happy to be here. It has taken me ten years to get to America. Ten years ago, I set out on a raft and sailed the Pacific Ocean. When I arrived in California, I set out walking across this great continent. And here I am, finally, ten years later, in New York in this wonderful room. And as I look around this space, I think it is a very familiar-kind of room, filled with books and poetry [as it was Poetry House in SoHo, indeed it was filled with books and poetry].”
“As I look at the ceiling, I notice the fan-- it is trembling. And this [he raised his water glass and shook it]-- it is trembling. My heart-- [here he touched his heart sincerely] it is trembling. And you-- it is my wish that you too are trembling.”
After that proclamation-- about twenty-five minutes into the program--the event was off and running. The rest felt like a runaway train, headed to a very rich and emotional place.
Introducing the poems and other works.
Ko Un was born during the Japanese occupation of Korea, in 1933. At seventy-three, he has the vitality of a young fifty-year-old. Said he of his life post-liberation: “taking back my mother tongue was the beginning of my destiny.”
Ko also shared that he is currently working on the Committee to create the first dictionary detailing the Korean language of both Koreas since armistice was signed in 1953.
[In aside: You don’t much hear this kind of nationalistic boasting in America-- I would say the closest contender is George W. Bush.--and it’s no coincidence that “W” is considered a kind of fanatic in some (many) circles. I bring this up because it is an interesting narrative element to both writers’ presentation of their work, themselves and their nation. The bravado of the developing country is a distinct characteristic--as distinct, say, as Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s familial fablizing in The One Hundred Years of Solitude or the Notorious B.I.G.’s rhymes about his sexual prowess in his multi-platinum album Ready to Die. Ko embodies the best and most pliant qualities of this trait-- the humor, the irony, the sheer play.]
Speaking of play, it doesn’t hurt that Ko reads himself like a veteran actor-- growling and hissing, shouting, whispering. The words seem to grow organically from his tongue. Californian poet, Richard Silberg, who co-translated his selected poems, read the English--also with admirable excellence--while Ko read the Korean. The two languages playing off each other for those of us in the audience who knew both was wonderful. I felt a bit like a child at storytime, just transfixed by the sound of the words. His poems are emotional, for better or worse (some critics have voted the latter), with a broad streak of the Buddhist koan.
One poem, called “Friend” in translation goes:
With the dirt you dug,
I made a Buddha.
It rained,
and Buddha turned to mud.
Now what good’s the clear sky?
The audience questions: Battling it out
There was no question that Ko dominated the program. Hwang could not get a word in edgewise, and when he did, his words became immediate fodder for Ko’s ongoing monologue. I’ll let you decide who won the battle of the writers: the novelist or the poet.
Question: How can we achieve peace on the Korean peninsula?
[univeral gulp overcomes the room]
After much mutual deferring, Hwang gives the answer.
Answer: I believe the U.S. must end the war to Iraq. In addition the country’s administration must change.
[gulp again]
Q: How would you characterize the current generation of Korean novelists and poets?
Hwang took this up: Korea since the 1990s has become a devouring consumer society. The young people are the driving force of the consumer mentality and as a result literature is drooping, dominated by film and other visual media. The young novelist today lacks epic sense or realism. I have noticed that it is difficult for the majority of young writers to sell even 10,000 copies of their book. This means that only small writing groups and interest groups are reading their novels. Readers have abandoned writers in Korea. My advice to young writers is that if they cannot make a living by their work, they should seek another occupation.
Ko disagreed: In every generation the young artists must create their own vision. Artistic vision is by nature and definition idiosyncratic. It must be so. No good art has been created from a junior writer taking advice from his seniors. We also rejected the advice of our seniors when we were young. My advice to you, Mr. Hwang, is to leave the youth alone because literature will win over the digital culture. I would have you remember that politicians are thieves and poets are beggars.
Hwang: That may be so, but novelists are survivors! They must make their living!
Both men then looked at the audience and each other and agreed to a truce on this topic so that they could move on to the next question.
Q: I read in your biographies online that you have both met with North Korean leader Kim Jung Il. I would like to know what your personal observations were of this man.
Hwang: How should I know?
Ko: I will give a more sincere answer to this question, since I believe it was posed in sincerity. I have observed that both Kim Il Sung and Kim Jung Il have become figures of some mockery in the west. While I would stress that I do not agree with Kim Jung Il’s politics or tactics, I would say that the West’s portrayal of this figure is a mockery not only of the man but of the region and vernacular from which he comes. This I do not agree with. As for the man, I would say that he is incredibly mentally brilliant and well-taught in the game of politics by his father. I also think that he is far more open now than he was in the past, but of course he is still very much guarded, as we know. Sometimes things change very quickly; and other times they change quite slowly. I think much will change in the next five years so I will have to revisit this question again in five years.
Q: Since I am American and we have difficulty speaking more than one language [ha ha] I am unable to read the original Korean. What must be done to have more Korean literature translated into English?
Hwang answered that he hopes more native speakers (here there was some confusion, as I believe he said native speakers of Korean, whereas the translator said native speakers of English) will dedicate themselves to the task. He noted that he had a far easier time finding a French translator for his novel than he has in finding an English translator. [The moderator added here that translation of Korean literature is experiencing a dramatic boom in recent years, which seemed to deflate Hwang’s somewhat pessimistic outlook on the situation.]
My mother and I left the event discussing the question of discussing North Korea. “He will get in trouble for saying what he did about Kim Jung Il,” she said. I was puzzled because I didn’t think he had said anything overly provocative. “He made it seem like we had to understand him [K.J.I.], and see where he was coming from. Almost like he had no choice to be but what he is,” she said. “They won’t like that back in Seoul.”
Interesting. Very interesting.
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