Korean Writer Hwang Sok-yong

There’s an emotional stoicism to Hwang’s characters that might be misconstrued as flatness, but should be perceived as an idiosyncrasy of the author’s prose. The lives Hwang depicts are not easy ones, and could have been twisted into distasteful melodramas. The pain and suffering that Bari, Woohee, Minwoo, and the two brothers experience is more powerful for being muffled, filtered, as if their spirits and psyches were protected by layers of cotton wool. 

The above is a passage from my March review of three of Hwang Sok-yong’s novels for Guernica. I love these books. I love Sora Kim-Russell’s translations, the humanity of the characters, and the seamless way Hwang Sok-yong weaves the supernatural into the everyday. (It reminds me a bit of Cesar Aira, despite these two writers being nothing alike). The title of the essay, which I didn’t choose, is A Country on the Cusp of Change (Guernica, March 2020)… and, to be honest, I feel like this review got a little bit away from me. It became too much about the political and economic, maybe because the author has a history as a political activist that I felt I needed to talk about, and too little about the emotional way I connected with the characters. The two brothers in Familiar Things, Bari and her dog, Jung Woohee from At Dusk — I’m still thinking about them months later. We care about the ideas in the text because we care about the characters.

You can read the full review here.

Title: Familiar Things
Author: Hwang Sok-Yong
Translator: Sora Kim-Russell
Publisher: Scribe

Title: Princess Bari
Author: Hwang Sok-Yong
Translator: Sora Kim-Russell
Publisher: Scribe

Title: At Dusk
Author: Hwang Sok-Yong
Translator: Sora Kim-Russell
Publisher: Scribe

The Sentence Is Death by Anthony Horowitz

I do love a good mystery. And I’ve been a fan of Anthony Horowitz, sometimes without even realizing it, for years. I’ve enjoyed his television series — New Blood, Midsomer Murders, and Foyles’ War. And I truly love his Sherlock Holmes pastiches: The House of Silk and Moriarty. His latest series, featuring a detective named Hawthorne, is wonderfully cheeky. Horowitz puts himself in a starring role and it works because he’s already a larger-than-life character in the real world. On the page it’s absolute magic. Reviewers on both sides of the Atlantic are describing these meta-mysteries as great fun. I completely agree.

The Sentence Is Death is the second book featuring Private Investigator Daniel Hawthorne and his trusty side-kick Tony Horowitz. Click on the excerpt below to read my full review.

Part of Horowitz’s charm is that he, like his readers, is in love with books. It’s what makes him so appealing to literary estates. Page by page he builds a solid case against the murderer, using all the conventional methods and the occasional well-worn trope of the genre. His suspects are a well-drawn, motley bunch. The chapters are filled with reams of dialogue. There’s a bumbling, but conscientious, police detective in the first book who is replaced by a pair of equally bumbling, but this time openly hostile, police detectives in the second. Expect a barrel of red herrings and lots of corpses. Fans of Midsomer Murders will know that there’s never just one death. In fact, it’s often the cover-up murder that provides the clue that cracks the case.

Alix Ohlin’s Dual Citizens

My review of Dual Citizens, Alix Ohlin’s novel about mothers, daughters, and sisters, was my first review for Ron Slate’s On the Seawall. Plot- and character-driven novels can be difficult to write about when you’re trying to avoid a plot dump. It took more than one draft (or three) for me to figure out what I wanted to say about this particular book. Fortunately, I found Ohlin’s first-person narrator, a woman named Lark, problematic. I couldn’t decide whether the reader was expected to embrace or question her psychological motivations. Something which bothered me more than it should have. In the final review it didn’t matter. That complexity — of the character’s emotions, motivations and relationships, and their lack of resolution — are what ultimately made Dual Citizens a compelling read.

For my full review, click on the excerpt below.

Sometimes we forget that the opportunity to assert our own identities, outside of the traditional roles of wives and mothers, has been available to women for a relatively short time. And that the definition of motherhood, and all the expectations that cling to it, are only now subject to interpretation. The subsequent question of Lark’s suitability to be a mother is by far the most interesting element in what is otherwise a conventional novel. It is informed by all we know about Marianne and will learn about Robin. But, surprisingly, in a novel that reveals itself to be about the maternal bonds, it is a question nobody asks out loud.

Eventide by Therese Bohman, translated by Marlaine Delargy

Therese Bohman’s novels have fascinated me since I first read her English language debut, Drowned, in 2012. For a long time, I thought it was simply the ferocity of the stories that I admired. Her portrayals of love, and what passes for love, is intimidating. Reminiscent of Virginie Despentes, sex is a power struggle. There’s an undercurrent of violence and manipulation in all male/female interactions.

Eventide, her third book translated into English, maybe her breakthrough. It has received more attention than her two previous books combined, having arrived at the perfect intersection of the #MeToo movement and a demand for more books in translation by women. I always want to talk about Bohman during Women In Translation month… though I sadly didn’t manage to get this post done for WIT2019.

Karolina is Bohman’s first middle-aged heroine. She is an art historian and academic. Her last romantic relationship (which was characterized as having the longevity and monogamy of marriage) has just ended. Not because of infidelity, tragedy or abuse, but because Karolina decided she no longer loved her partner. She finds this new phase in her life both exciting and frightening — an emotional cocktail which leaves her vulnerable to the attention of a charismatic graduate student she’s been assigned to advise.

In many ways, Karolina is the logical evolution of Bohman’s previous female protagonists — all of whom are involved in some variation of a romantic triangle. In Drowned two sisters are seduced and ensnared by the elder’s husband. In The Other Woman, a twenty-something cafeteria worker begins a romantic relationship with an older, married man and, unknowingly, the man’s daughter. In Eventide it is Karolina, her student Anton, and Lennart Olsson (another professor in the art department), who form the novel’s emotional triumvirate.

Anton has made a fascinating — and possibly groundbreaking — discovery. He has uncovered a cache of work by a forgotten woman artist from the Mannerist period, which is Karolina’s particular area of expertise. Lennart Olsson has made his career on “discovering” overlooked and forgotten female artists. In Anton, he sees the possibility of advancement… should he become Anton’s advisor. But, of course, everything is not as it appears. Anton’s progress on his thesis is slow, his research haphazard, and Karolina quickly senses a problem.

Eventide is a type of quiet drama that centers around situations and challenges particular to the lives of women. The stakes might appear relatively low to us but, from Karolina’s perspective, they are everything. Is Anton a fraud? Will Karolina be helping him perpetuate an academic lie, thus endangering her own career and reputation? And, always, underlying everything is Karolina’s fears about being a single woman in her forties, childless and alone.

What would she be remembered for? She might end up with neither children nor a partner; what had she done to make an impression on the world? Her writing didn’t interest many people. Maybe she ought to write more, something really radical. Surely she ought to express her opinion when she had one, for example in the debate on the columns in the new subway station? If everything else was doomed to disappear into oblivion, the least she could do was to write what she really thought.

It’s difficult not to consider how different Karolina’s situation might be or appear if the character were a man. She has a reasonably successful career and is comfortable financially. Her work and social circle at the University remain unchanged after her separation. She is attractive, intelligent, and her life is very much her own. And, yet, Bohman understands how gender affects perception. Lennert is meant to function as Karolina’s male counterpart. He, too, is single and financially well-off. He is considered something of a ladies’ man, though Karolina doesn’t see it. The difference is that Lennert has been more successful professionally. He is an opportunist. He has benefitted from all the advantages of white, male privilege, and Karolina understands that, in contrast to her own sense of self, “Lennert thought he deserved the acclaim”.

Examinations of the lives of older women are becoming more common. The New York Times columnist, Gail Collins, even has a new book on that subject No Stopping Us Now: The Adventures of Older Women in American History (I’m buying multiple copies for Christmas this year). For those familiar with Minae Mitzumara’s, Inheritance From Mother — Karolina has more in common with Mitsuki, the book’s fifty-something heroine, than with the lost young women of Boehman’s previous two novels. Both characters, Karolina and Mitsuki, are used to explore what a fulfilling life looks like for a middle-aged woman existing outside of the societal expectations of lover, daughter, and mother. Karolina’s story, like Mitsuki’s, is one of persistence and continuity versus revolution and reinvention.

Because few people possess the courage to sell their belongings, cut off ties to their family and friends and move to an Ashram in India. Or have the luxury of spending three months hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. Or the financial resources to eat, pray and love their way around the world. But, more often than not, these are the stories we are told. Bohman writes different stories. She portrays a woman’s life without resorting to extremes in characterization and reaction. Her heroines are allowed to misstep, behave badly and make morally questionable decisions. They are transgressive. Karolina is a refreshing respite from characters like Emma Bovary, April Wheeler and the entire literary canon built around women disproportionately punished, and/or made ridiculous, for aspiring to more. And while the stories Boehman writes are not as rare as they once were, they are still very welcome.

Title: Eventide
Author: Therese Bohman
Translator: Marlaine Delargy
Publisher: Other Press, New York (2017)
ISBN: 978 159051 893 9

Women In Translation Up To No Good

So here we are again. Another August and my Twitter and Instagram feeds are filling up with photos, lists and reviews of books by women in translation. Five years in and #WITMonth is bigger than ever. All thanks to Meytal, who founded and continues to grow what has become an international event. (If you want to learn more about Meytal, click the link to see last year’s thank you post or visit her blog to get the latest news, updates, and links to WITMonth content).

This month, like everyone else in the translation community, I’ll be posting reviews — new and old — of books by women in translation. One thing I’ve noticed, possibly because so few books in translation are published in general and even fewer of those are by women, is that we all seem to be reading the same books. It’s unavoidable, of course, but there it is. You can’t even say we’re all just reading new releases because that’s not the case either. It really reinforces how small the pool to choose from actually is. (Two examples of what I’m talking about occurred in the last week or so: Meytal mentioned she plans to post a review of Suzanne Dracius’ The Dancing Other and someone else, I can’t remember who, posted on Twitter that they were reading Memoirs of Hadrian by Marguerite Yourcenar. Both books are sitting on my TBR&R pile. This happens all the time). It also highlights how small presses are carrying the load in publishing translations. And how so many of the reviewers I follow, and I myself am guilty of this, seem to focus on literary fiction in translation and overlook genre in our coverage.


In other news: I’m always on the lookout for novels that feature interesting, middle-aged and above female protagonists. I’ve had some success, but I wouldn’t call it a huge category. Betty Boo by Claudia Pineiro, Eventide by Therese Bohman (which I’ll be reviewing later this month) and Minae Mizumara’s novels immediately come to mind. Last year the Best Translated Book Award judges received a little book titled An Elderly Lady Is Up to No Good: Stories by the Swedish writer Helene Tursten, translated by Marlaine Delargy. The only word for it is DELIGHTFUL. It was a favorite among the judges, even though it didn’t make the longlist. Tursten is best known for her Detective Inspectors Irene Huss and Embla Nystrom series, which I need to read. Both Hus and Nystrom make an appearance in the last of the five stories, but it’s the elderly lady who steals the book.

My favorite in the collection is An Elderly Lady Has An Accommodation Problem. Maud, who is 88-years-old, has been living in her rent-controlled apartment (rent-controlled = free) in a now gentrified (gentrified = expensive) section of Sweden since she was a child. The building’s housing association wants rid of her to no avail, her contract is ironclad. Her family is all dead, she never married, and she mostly keeps to herself. So when her young neighbor, a flighty artist named Jasmin, becomes extremely — even intrusively — friendly Maud can’t quite figure out why. Is the girl looking for a friend? A mother figure? A project?

It wasn’t until she read a new entry in Jasmin’s blog one day that things started to become clear. I’m so excited! I might soon be moving into a bigger apartment! Which means a bigger studio, of course!!!! I really need more space. And when I say bigger, I mean BIGGER! MUCH BIGGER!!!

…That little bitch was after her apartment.

Obviously, something will need to be done.

All the stories are Maud’s and each one is more deliciously wicked than the last. Tursten injects just the right amount of joie de vivre into the old biddy’s activities. It comes as a surprise to learn, in a brief note at the end, that Maud was a character born out of necessity. Her creator needed a short story for a Christmas anthology and had no idea what to write. Until she hit upon the idea that a frail old lady would make the perfect criminal. No one would suspect her. She could get away with murder! And so she does, quite literally, to all our amusement.

Which sounds a bit twisted when said out loud. It goes without saying that nobody likes a serial killer, even a clever one. And yet… there’s something truly endearing about Maud and her antics. Read the book and you’ll see what I mean. Honestly… all her victims had it coming. *side eye*

Title: An Elderly Lady Up To No Good
Author: Helene Tursten
Translator: Marlaine Delargy
Publisher: Soho Press, New York (2018)
ISBN: 978 1 64129 011 1