When a living person looks at a dead person, mightn’t the person’s soul also be there by its body’s side, looking down at its own face?
As someone who has been exploring Asian Literature for a few years, and has a massive TBR physical collection, I knew of Han Kang. The Vegetarian was infamous and she became a Nobel Prize Winner. I knew I wanted to pick up one of her books. But which one? The Vegetarian is a series of short stories which will never be the first thing I pick up. Not that I’ve never read a collection of short stories because I have, and some I’ve seriously enjoyed, but it will never be a priority read for me. The White Book is supposedly high concept and probably not the best book to buy. We Do Not Part was not yet released (I now have a sprayed edged edition of that book), so that left me with Greek Lessons and Human Acts. So I went book shopping. I am a browser, and enjoyed my time in Waterstones whilst deciding on which book to pick up first (along with perhaps a few more that I didn’t go for!). I approached it the same way as I approach any decision making when it comes to deciding what I want to read next, and that is read the first paragraph or page and see whether I unconsciously keep reading.
As though the raindrops suspended in the air, held breath before the plunge, are on the cusp of trembling down, flittering like jewels.
Human Acts is a historical, political and literary piece of fiction. It uses multiple points of view throughout, following different but interlinked characters to tell a version of the historical event that took the lives of many young people during a student uprising in Gwangju, South Korea, in 1980. This is not in any way a nice book, yet it is a masterpiece. Unfortunately, I have found that the most tragic narratives which are often cemented in fact, are the most phenomenal of books, maintaining the intrigue whilst blanketed in the horror of humanity.
The protagonist is Dong-ho. A young boy whose life becomes intertwined with others in order for Han to present an intimate picture of the impact the 1980’s uprising had on the youth, and families of Gwangju. Most of the characters we experience are well established by the time we reach their story, bar a couple who perhaps could have been fleshed out a little more to heighten empathy (don’t get me wrong, the empathy was there, just noticeably different to the characters we had met time and time again). Through all the horror, Han manages to include complex relationships and the realities of class and gender in South Korea.
The atmosphere is tense, sickening, shocking, horrifying – it’s a page turner. I wanted it to stop, but I couldn’t put it down. I was hopeful, I was championing them, I was devastated and heartbroken. The emotions were raw. Han has done an incredible job of capturing something that only a Gwangju resident could tell, and for good reason.
I cannot comment on Han’s written style from a Korean point of view, simply through translation. I feel, to the most, Deborah Smith, who translated Human Acts and most of Han’s other works, has translated very well. Han is known for her intellect and writing abilities, so with that in mind I feel this is an incredible piece. I have one complaint, and for me it’s a pretty big one. Smith had the audacity to ‘smuggle in the tiniest bit of Yorkshire…’. Though she argues that for her, ‘faithfulness’ to the translation process is vital and that in context of translating a language that does not use language in the same way, when she needed to be more creative in that translation she always attempted to maintain Han’s original sentiment. And yet, with full admittance, she did indeed squeeze in a bit of Yorkshire towards the end, and it stuck out so hard it made me furious. To me it screamed disrespect. Han couldn’t be further from the Yorkshire culture if she tried. As someone born literally around the corner from Yorkshire, I did not find it quaint. For this reason, when I saw Smith did not translate We Do Not Part, I can’t say I was disappointed – though I haven’t read it yet.
Overall, this book is a must read. Don’t let the political aspect of it put you off as it’s not buried under political garb, more that it is connected to the political landscape and figures of the time. The narrative follows the lives of a group of students who got caught up in the events of 1980, rather than an in depth political discourse. It is a sad one. Trigger warnings listed below. I have included very little plot or storyline because to feel the impact you just need to read the book. I now own all previous titles mentioned. I have read the short story, The Vegetarian but I have yet to finish the book, so do pop back for a review of that one later on.
