Thursday, August 14, 2008
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
You don’t understand Korean culture
"I think foreigners do have a right to speak about problems in
In 2007 and 2008, in a span of 12 months, seven school children from Jeollanamdo died in traffic accidents. Suncheon-based teacher Brian Deutsch found it interesting how educators mobilized their students to protest American beef imports, but said little about traffic safety. So he wrote an opinion piece for The Korea Times titled “Rallies Have Little to Do with Food Safety.”
In the piece Deutsch, who is American, wrote: “Encouraging students to skip school to attend these candlelight vigils and rallies is not only inappropriate and outside the bounds of a teacher-student relationship, but it detracts attention from more pressing issues students are facing.
“Namely, they are far more likely to be killed on field trips or while walking home from school than by contracting mad cow disease, which as of yet has claimed no Korean or Korean-American lives.”
Add that to a previous piece about the use of Nazi imagery in a skin care ad, both of which were used in a modified version for the Gwangju News magazine, and Deutsch had attracted the attention of the netizens.
Who told you to talk, foreigner?
The internet campaign was led by a Gwangju man Kim Hong-su. He started two blogs to counter Deutsch’s stories and posted Deutsch’s name, blog url, and Facebook profile on Daum cafes along with an accompanying letter. He also posted the names of Deutsch’s schools and advised people to direct their complaints there. Deutsch went to the police but was told they were too busy.
Kim wrote: “What galls me the most is that these foreigners are growing fat and rich in
I emailed questions to Kim concerning Deutsch. He responded with, “Before you try to learn about
The Gwangju News is operated by the
The staffers told him the magazine was publishing stories that were too foreigner-intensive. On top of that, the publisher of the magazine told Deutsch that they might as well close down the magazine if it wasn’t going to be appreciated by foreigners.
Deutsch quit the magazine. But his troubles weren’t over.
'Generalizations are kind of fun'
Anyone can be a blogger. It takes minutes to sign-on to Blogger or Wordpress. Throw up a few pictures, spew some vitriol and start checking the site meter for hits. Living overseas it’s a good way to stay in touch with friends and family. The days of the mass email are over—check the blog for life-updates.
It’s common for teachers and other non-Koreans to start up a blog. But most of them die a slow death. It’s difficult to update often enough to keep readers; what seemed like a good idea at the time can easily turn into a bore.
Still, there a few prominent expatriate blogs in
The Marmot’s Hole is run by Robert Koehler. It is the most heavily trafficked blog of the foreigner-in-Korea set. Koehler, with the help of a handful of guest bloggers, posts news items, analysis, entertainment and pictures of old buildings. Koehler is American, the editor-in-chief of
“Our role is to offer commentary and criticism from a fresh, outside perspective,” Koehler said. “That being said, it’s easy to overthink these things – personally, I don’t think the ‘foreign observer’ has any special role beyond that of any observer, which is to say, relaying observations he or she has made.”
“All countries are open for criticism. The question that really needs to be asked is whether anyone should take what we write seriously. For the most part, the answer to that would be no.
“Most of us are guys with too much time on our hands who like to bitch about things we don’t really understand. Which, granted, would make our uneducated rants little different from much of what passes for commentary on
“I have a warning on my blog asking readers not to generalize from anything they read on my site, but still, many seem to do it anyway. Besides, generalizations are kind of fun -- nationalistically hysterical Koreans, pot-smoking over-sexed English teachers, condescending expats … who doesn’t love ‘em? It’s all a question of how seriously you take what you read.”
Do you see what I see?
Scribblings of the Metropolitician comes from Michael Hurt. The blog is a mishmash of social criticism, international politics, pop culture and comments on Korean media. Hurt first came to
Both Koehler and Hurt brought up Alexis de Tocqueville. De Tocqueville was a 19th century Frenchman who wrote “Democracy in
“The fact that we’re foreigners shouldn’t disqualify us. I look at American social commentary and social criticism and some of our sharpest and best social critics have been foreigners, people coming from a foreign perspective,” Hurt said.
“We have eyes, we have ears. We can read your newspapers. We read what you read. We have access to your information.
“I pay taxes, I buy (things) I live here, so why do I have any less say than you do?
“Why would I put all this effort, why would I even care, or put myself out there, why would I do this if I didn’t actually give a shit?”
We’re not that different
New Zealander James Turnbull runs The Grand Narrative. He calls it “An irreverent look at social issues.” Much of his work deals with Korean advertising and media as well as social commentary. In his eighth year in
“I find the notion that only Koreans are ‘permitted’ to speak about Korean problems simply absurd. That isn’t to say that all foreigners’ opinions on them are equally valid, but if the roles were reversed then I’d be quite happy to hear the opinions of, say, a Korean person who had spent some time in New Zealand and who made an active effort to study and know New Zealand society and learn the language. In fact, probably more so than someone who was merely born there.
“The majority of netizens aside, I’ve actually found a significant number of Koreans to feel much the same way about the opinions of non-Koreans.
“Koreans are not unique in readily dismissing the opinions of foreigners, but they do seem more defensive about foreign criticism than most. For that reason, it is very important to use Korean sources as much as possible.
“Another advantage to using and considering Korean-language sources as much as possible is that it makes you realize how much you may stereotype and generalize Koreans yourself without being aware of it.
“Without any Korean ability, foreigners are usually forced to rely on either the limited English language media or books for the bulk of their information, and both have problems: the former for often presenting a rose-tinted version of
"Do it in Korean, and in a major Korean newspaper," Koehler said.
Writing complaints in English may be "cathartic," he said, but it does no good.
Why do foreigners complain so much?
Another pair of bloggers, a Korean man living in
Ask a Korean! wrote, “many complaints from expats that the Korean has seen show a certain level of ignorance. This is not to say that complaining expats are dumb. It is only to say that were they more aware of certain things about themselves and about
“Expats rarely venture out of large cities in
About social critics, Roboseyo wrote, “Naming a problem is the first step to solving it, and maybe some of these critics are attempting to be a legitimate part of that process -- that is, they're writing because they want to see Korea become a better place . . . in which case, Koreans who are upset about non-Koreans criticizing Korea need to stop and take a careful look at why that upsets them, because the problem does not lie in the complainers or their intentions.
“To be fair, sometimes the social critics' intentions are good, but their methods are poor: the sometimes bitter and mean tone of certain critics can be hurtful, and as I've said to some of my friends who complain about Korea with a rude or condescending tone: "when you talk so harshly, even when you're right, you're wrong, and even if you win the argument, you still lose."
You don’t understand Korean culture
Deutsch plans to continue writing for the Korea Times and updating his blog.
“I like doing it and I like staying on top of current events and discussions. On the one hand I totally recognize that I’m being paid to teach, not to think, and I say that without being cynical at all. Most people couldn’t care less about the particular issues foreigners face, whether in the classroom or in society at large, and hearing a foreigner talk about them probably isn’t very interesting.
“I’ve also had to question how welcome those opinions are. My colleagues themselves told me that it was not my place to opine on what are called ‘sensitive issues,’ and a recent letter to the editor in the Gwangju News suggested that I, and foreigners, mind their own business and not worry about Korean internal affairs.
“But I think foreigners do have a right to speak about problems in
“Moreover these issues are so prickly because they’re not black and white. While it might be unpleasant for some Koreans to hear the other side of the story, I don’t think it’s inappropriate for it to be raised.
“Our opinions are often dismissed with a line about ‘you don’t understand Korean culture.’ Often this comes when something unpleasant happens to a foreigner, or when a foreigner expresses an opinion disagreeable to the Korean listener. It’s well beyond my abilities to explain why this happens, but it’s patronizing and inappropriate. I do believe that although foreigners can sometimes dwell on the negative when writing or talking about
“I realize that a greater measure of tact is necessary when addressing sensitive issues and when trying to foster conversations across cultural boundaries, but even with a lot of coddling I remain cynical that people are ready to hear what we have to say just yet.
“I would love to have Koreans who disagree with me take the time to point out their objections, rather than simply railing against a foreigner who dares to publish something against the grain. And I would love to have Koreans spend more time trying to educate us about their culture and their views, then, since so much energy is spent telling us how wrong and misinformed our opinions are.”
Deutsch was asked by his school to drop the case against Kim. His job was also placed in jeopardy because of what he has written.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Stomp your glasses, get eye surgery
My eyes went bad early. For most people, it’s the changing shape of our eyes that makes our vision worsen as we age, and mine started changing in elementary school. The correction was slight enough that I could do most things without wearing my glasses. But the older I got the more I had to wear them. When the doctor prescribed contacts at age 14 I thought I was saved. Glasses at night only. No more straps around my neck on the basketball court. No more four-eyes comments on the playground.
I loved my contacts. I loved them too much. By the time I came to Korea the contacts had sucked out all the moisture in my eyes. Add that to the air quality, particularly during Yellow Dust season, and I abandoned them completely.
So I was back to full-time spectacles. My optometrist brother hooked me up with good, fashionable frames for cheap. They looked good enough, fit right, and I hated them. Wearing glasses distanced me from my environment. They made me feel less engaged somehow, less part of my surroundings -- more of an observer than a participant.
Eye surgery is not a revolutionary idea, I realize. But, for me, a person who has always had a strong aversion to doctors and operations, it meant something that I would willingly pay to have a doctor slice my eyes with lasers.
I have a great Korean friend who is also a doctor. For the initial tests, he took me to a clinic recommended by mutual friends. During the evaluation, the technician put in anesthetic eye drops and pressed against my cornea with a handheld tool. I asked him if he was touching my eye. Then the room got hot. The problem came from what I couldn’t feel; I knew he was touching the surface of my eye but I registered no sensation. My blood pressure dropped. I went pale. Droplets of sweat formed on my brow. I put my head in my hands, focused on my breathing, and fought off a feint.
Glasses, I told myself. It’s either this or endless glasses.
I took a few more breaths, sat up, and told him to finish.
After the tests the doctor told me I had thin corneas and would need Lasek, not the more common Lasik, surgery. Clinics here offer Lasik, but Lasek is also used. Lasek is a variation of Lasik. In Lasek the outer layer of the cornea is cut with a finer blade. Then the surgeon covers the eye with an alcohol solution for around 30 seconds. The solution loosens the edges of the epithelium. After sponging the alcohol solution from the eye, the surgeon uses a tiny hoe to lift the edge of the epithelial flap and gently fold it back out of the way. Then out comes the laser to sculpt the corneal tissue underneath. Afterward, the epithelial flap is placed back on the eye with a kind of spatula.
I made an appointment for a month later. Then I went home and thought it over. I loathe going to doctors, but if I could see without any aid! It would cost 2 million won ($1,900), which was a good amount of money. But considering that I spent hundreds of dollars each year on eye care -- glasses, contacts and contact solution -- the surgery would pay for itself in less than 10 years.
The morning of the surgery I asked myself if I couldn’t handle the simple preliminary tests, how could I make it through the procedure?
Glasses, I told myself. And Xanax. I made sure my friend brought plenty of Xanax.
I went into the clinic and they had me go upstairs. Most of this was in Korean, which I don’t speak, and only the essential parts were translated to me. There was a lot of sitting around confused. Then somehow I found myself staring down a phlebotomist. I do worse with blood than technicians prodding my eyes (feinted at the blood bank in 7th grade, went pale multiple times in high school biology.) After the translation the Vampire said he needed my blood to make serum for eye drops. It would help my eyes heal faster, he said.
He took out a strap, wrapped it around my arm, and drew out seven vials of blood. At about the sixth vial my blood pressure dropped again.
Glasses. Do you want to wear glasses? Do you?
Now the only thing left was the lasers. Before the surgery my brother had told me Lasek was a good option for my prescription. But he also said it wasn’t a common procedure in America. Patients find it too painful.
I was trying not to think about that when I lay down on the operating table. They kept the room cold. The doctor had a good, calm manner about him. He and his nurses administered anesthetic eye drops, a device to keep my eyes from blinking, and began the procedure. I looked up, down, and at the green light as per the doctor’s orders. In 20 minutes it was over.
I stood up and walked out of the room, smiling with relief, my eyes barely open but I could still see.
We stopped at the pharmacy and then my friend drove me to his house. The protective contacts made my eyes uncomfortable but I had eye drops for that. In fact, I had five bottles of drops, one made from my own blood. They gave me no additional pain medicine.
When I got to my friend’s home I took a pill and fell asleep. I incorrectly thought I’d wake up healing; hours later I sat up moaning, in severe pain. Nothing I had ever put in my eyes, not soap, not sand, not the wrong contact solution -- nothing had ever caused me more optic pain. I sat up and took two Tylenol ERs and put in the anesthetic eye drops. That didn’t dent it. I woke up my friend and like a good doctor he snapped into action, shooting me with a syringe full of painkillers. That did it.
That moment was the worst of it. I was back at work in five days and in a week I had nearly perfect vision. Two weeks later friends tell me my eyes look brighter. They do. And I already forgot where I banished my glasses.
Saturday, July 26, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Beat the Heat with Dog Meat, or Dogs are Not Delicious
When it’s hot outside nothing cools you down like a bowl of dog stew. On one of the hottest days of the year I checked my phone. I had a text message:
HAVING DOG SOUP IN HONGDAE IF U KEEN
ARE YOU KIDDING?
NOPE…YOU KNOW…WHEN IN KOREA…
For years locals have enjoyed summertime Bosintang. Bosintang literally translates to “invigorating soup” -- one of many foods known as Good For Man. According to Koreans, what’s good for man is dog meat boiled with soy paste, green onion, leek, stalk of taro and red pepper.
The soup is traditionally eaten on the hottest days of the year. As with the chicken soup samgyetang, Koreans believe eating the hot food when the outside temperature rises makes the heat less noticeable.
With the heat index over 40, I met eight friends -- two Korean, six from places where people eat questionable meat but not dog -- at exit #2 of Hongdae Station. Our group was quiet as we walked up the street. We walked slow, barely talking, looking at our feet. A few people made bad dog puns. We were travelers, adventurers -- of those who often said “I’ll try anything once.” Now we were forced to prove it and it felt grim, like being caged.
On the sign out front a smiling woman held a large, white cartoon bone. Typically you would see a cartoon drawing of the animal you’re about to eat. I half expected to see a fattened Goofy. But since the negative international attention Korea got for dog cuisine during the 1988 Seoul Olympics they have hidden their love of dog. Korea banned dog meat during the Games by invoking a law prohibiting the sale of "foods deemed unsightly." After the Olympics, the ban was not strictly enforced.
As we came to the doors of the restaurant somebody said, “Looks a bit dodgy.”
We walked in. The restaurant was empty with the faint smell of wet pooch. We took a table in the back and sat cross-legged on mats. The Korean man with us ordered dog for eight. (One of the group chickened-out, literally, and ordered samgyetang.)
We waited for the food by sharing stories of the strangest food we had eaten. It was like we were at the zoo -- people talking about kangaroos, crocodiles, testicles, buffalos, cats, etc.
“We’re going to get some soju before this, right?” I asked.
Despite the palpable dread, it was late in the evening and I was hungry. The first batch of meat came on plates in chunks wrapped loosely in steamed kale and seasoned with red pepper. We ordered beer and soju and I made sure I had a shot before we started.
I used my chopsticks to pick up a piece of meat. It was dark, thick and about three inches long.
“My mom used to run a dog restaurant,” the Korean man said. “I eat this many times.”
Nutritionally, 100 grams of dog meat has 20 grams of fat and 19 grams of protein. The meat is high in iron, phosphorous, niacin and riboflavin.
I put the piece in my mouth and chewed. It was tough and tasted slightly of lamb. I thought about spitting it out, but like a good traveler I swallowed it. Then I understood how a Third World country would find eating dogs economical -- after I ate a single piece I was no longer hungry.
For the second course, the woman brought out bowls of red, steaming Bosintang. The broth of the soup tasted like other Korean meat stews. But I stayed away from the meat. I ate my rice and that was enough.
The meal cost 14,000 won ($13) and I walked out feeling little cooler than when I walked in. Now, when I see dogs on the street I don’t think “you’re cute” or “you look ferocious” -- instead, I think “you’re not delicious.”
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Shine Your Candles on North Korea
Anti-demonstration protesters. The woman's sign reads "ShineYour Candles on North Korea", the man's says "No no demo."
South Koreans continue to turn out in the thousands to protest imports of American beef while 40 kilometers to the north, North Koreans struggle to eat.
On Saturday, about 300 protesters opposed to the on-going anti-Lee Myung Bak candlelight demonstrations rallied at the headwaters of the Cheonggye Stream. At City Hall, about 50,000 people protested
Eun Joo-Kim, a North Korean who defected to
“North Koreans don’t have food, and here in
Riot police divided the counter-protest group from the anti-President Lee Myung Bak protesters. At one point the two groups faced each other, both sides holding up signs. The anti-Lee protesters’ signs read “Lee Myung Back Out” while the counter-protesters’ read “Shine Your Candles On North Korea.” They yelled back and forth but no physical conflict arose.
A week ago, 37,000 tons of wheat arrived in
At a stage set up the Cheonggye Stream, a North Korean defector spoke to the crowd about a man he met in prison who cannibalized a woman for lack of food. Next to the stage a big-screen television showed videos of recent protest violence.
The anti-Lee protests have grown increasingly more violent. Videos and photographs of assaults on protesters and police have circulated on the internet.
John Yim, a Korean who recently returned from living in
Nick Chiassoa, an American English teacher in
“(The anti-Lee groups) have a right to protest, but they don’t have a right to cripple the city’s infrastructure,” he said.
Separately, an international non-profit organization operating out of
Adrian Hong, director of the organization, said
Sunday, June 29, 2008
From Both Sides of the Closet Door
At the Gay Pride Parade on May 31, hundreds of homosexual Koreans and expats converged at the Cheonggye Stream in downtown Seoul. They came together for communion, community and camaraderie - to celebrate their sexuality healthily, out in the open, in the daytime.
For gay and lesbian expats living in Seoul, theirs is a life of relative openness. Many are far from family and friends who might otherwise disapprove - which makes them a little more fortunate than their Korean brothers and sisters.
As a country deeply rooted in Confucian tradition, in Korea there is a heavy focus on carrying on the familial genetic line. When it comes to homosexuality, this is not yet a tolerant society and far from accepting.
Cho Jeong-kwon, a 27-year-old university student, has been active in the gay community for five years but has not told his family he is gay.
"It is very hard to say," he said. "I can't imagine that they accept my sexuality.
"Several times I tried, but it was impossible. I don't like to lose my family because I love them."
Cho finds comfort in the gay community.
"We share a big same secret," he said. "So I think we can understand each other. I feel there is some kind of wall with straight people."
Then there is Hong Seung-chan, a 25-year-old university student, who has been openly gay for four and half years.
Hong said he knew he was gay when he was 13.
"Of course my parents, teachers, friends - nobody had any idea," he said.
He became more independent after high school and began using the internet to find other people like him. Once his mother discovered his on-line activity, their problems began.
Though she objected, he told her he would continue to try and meet other guys.
"She did literally anything to stop me," he said.
"I felt that my life was unreal. I didn't even have a single vague image of what I was going to be. I had to meet someone like who I was, talk about the issue, or have some dates and live a real life."
When Hong got out of the Army he went looking for a gay community. He found Chingusai - the human rights group for gay men. Though he was nervous, he went to their monthly meeting last November.
He felt better when he got home, but made the mistake of leaving fliers from the meeting in his room. His mother found the fliers, and, after he went to another meeting, she realized that he had become a member of the group. She told his father, and his parents threw him out of the house.
He found a place to stay with another Chingusai member and is still enrolled in school.
"There aren't too many things changed," he said. "First, I am in the gay community now, and second, I think I know better where I'm going in my life."
Cho's life is different. His parents are confused about his lack of a heterosexual relationship.
"Always they ask me, 'Why don't you have a girlfriend?' Then I say 'I don't know. I think I am not popular to girls."
Even his friends who know about his sexuality still misunderstand him, he said.
"They don't know what I'm suffering, but I have no choice because the gay community is just my secret life," Cho said, adding that there is a fear that his gay friends will "out" him.
"When I run into my gay friends on the street, if I am with my straight friends I don't say 'hi' to my gay friends."
In the past, gay and lesbian Koreans who have come out to their families have been disowned and forced into "medical treatment" or unwanted marriages.
In 2000, a famous television actor announced he was gay, becoming the first public figure to come out in Korea. The announcement cost him his job and subsequently made it difficult for him to find work. When he told his mother he was gay she suggested they drink poison together.
Eight years later, Hong Seung-chan thinks the older generation still views homosexuality as weird but the younger generation considers it fashionable.
"I still don't think people consider it a real issue," he said.
To him, the biggest problem for a gay man in Korea is staying in the closet.
"I think it's a matter of people living a healthier life," he said. "I want people to believe in themselves and not sacrifice their entire life for others. I know it's very hard to be 'out' in Korean society but if people are willing to push through, all the way out, I think it's absolutely worth it."
Cho disagrees.
"I think if I say I am gay, I fight the whole Korean society."
A Great Movie, A Better Book
"No Country For Old Men"By Cormac McCarthy
Cormac McCarthy's books are good for Hollywood. The movies win awards and make actors famous. They also make some people a lot of money. McCarthy himself hasn't always had that much money, but that hasn't mattered much to him. He has written books for a long enough time that he has started to make money doing it.
In "No Country For Old Men" Llewelyn Moss learns a lesson about money. He learns that when there's a lot of it lying in the middle of the Texas prairie, it's hard to pass up. It doesn't matter that he stumbles across it after checking out a battlefield littered with dead Mexican drug runners. When you live in a trailer and your wife works at Wal-Mart you don't walk away from a satchel full of cash. No matter how much blood it might have cost. He also learns that big money leads to big trouble.
On the Texas-Mexico border that McCarthy writes about no one hides from the sun and the dust blows hard. There are people working deals in the middle of the night at a level of criminal activity that, as Sheriff Bell says, is "hard to even take its measure." Bell has been working the job in his county for decades and he's seen the intensity of crime climb. He narrates a passage at the beginning of each chapter full of learned experience, trying to explain how he has been able to crawl into his cruiser day after day.
If there is one thing that McCarthy knows, it's voice. Anyone who has spent time in the American West can apply the proper accent and inflection to his sparse character dialogue. The Coen Brothers received a lot of praise and money for their film. They found some good landscapes to shoot - old motels at sunset and the Texas prairie, and the scene where Chigurh kills Carson Wells is already on the syllabus for this semester at film school. But their artistic interpretation didn't require much alchemy. The meat of the story was already there. In fact, it's difficult to understand how they reconciled cutting what they did from an already tight, lean novel.
One of the most common complaints from people who watched the film came from the directors' use of ambiguity. People said they wanted to see how Llewelyn's story played out, or know exactly what Chigurh did with Carla Jean. It gave them a lot to talk about but they didn't want to have to guess. Viewers left the movie with questions that couldn't be answered. The solution to that is simple: Read the book and you won't have to. It's all in there plus some bonuses.
People who loved the movie will find the book by a large degree more enjoyable. There is more narration, more is explained, the characters are more developed - there is just more. We all should have read the novel before we watched the movie, but it doesn't always happen that way. It's not too late, though. There is still a lot of pleasure to be gained from reading. The scene where Llewelyn picks up the girl hitchhiker is worth it alone.
The good that comes from the film industry recognizing McCarthy's talent manifests itself in the form of exposure. Along with Phillip Roth, Don DeLillo and Thomas Pynchon, he has long been considered one of America's great living writers. Of the four, McCarthy is the most deserving of the Nobel Prize. Maybe if they keep making his books into Oscar-winning films, he'll get what he deserves.
Korean Dream Pop
At a club in Gangnam, pop singer Yozoh sauntered on stage wearing black pants, a white button-down shirt, a skinny black tie and a black fedora. Followed out by a violin player, she addressed a responsive crowd warmly and with a fair amount of stage presence. She let the audience sample her voice. She sounded sweet, cute, in line with much of the Korean pop music I have heard. Initially singing with Sogyumo Acacia Band, Yozoh has released an introductory solo album titled, naturally, "My Name is Yozoh." It is nine songs of soft pop, with Yozoh front and center. The verses are in Korean, the choruses in English. There are a lot of giggles and cutesy vocal tricks thrown in to keep it light. The young, playful spirit of the songs pairs well with Korean kidults. I imagine a young adult couple wearing matching pink sweaters, sharing the ear buds on a Mickey Mouse-shaped mp3 player, walking hand in hand through a Hyundai Department store, listening to Yozoh.
Then comes the blindside. On the song "Banana Party," Yozoh sings, in her breathy, sweet voice, "Give me your banana, let me taste your banana" in a repeated refrain. The double entendre shatters whatever sense of innocence you feel when you first meet her songs. Apparently, the song is on a television advertisement for a digital camera, but it might not get past American censors.
On April 27, as part of a Pastel Records showcase billed as "Mellow Songs About You," Yozoh's label-mates Lucite Tokki joined Han Hui Jeong and Dannawhale at Club SSAM in Hongdae.
The press release for Lucite Tokki begins with "Waiting for music that makes you feel like an innocent child and a mature grown-up at the same time?" Though not as successful as Yozoh (aside from "Banana Party") in that realm, that marketing strategy does fit the generic aesthetic of Lucite Tokki.
Cho Ye-jin sings and Kim Seon-yeong plays guitar - what they don't play, they make up for with electronics. Cho sang with Humming Urban Stereo on two albums and her soft voice blends well with Kim's ethereal guitar parts. The use of electronics to expand the atmosphere of their songs gives Lucite Tokki a dream pop quality.
As far as it goes, there is a lack of singular identity in each of these albums. Both are well-produced and the singers have talent, but I am missing the distinct element that these musicians are advancing their tradition. It is as though they are trying to appeal to too many groups - kids, the young adults, and adults all in one. This might be a smart approach to land on radio and MTV.
However, I would like to see these gifted musicians taking their art form to a higher plane. If they narrow their scope, both Yozoh and Lucite Tokki should be able to carve out a niche and be an asset to the
The Sudanese Elephant in the Room
"What is the What: The Autobiography of Valentino Achak Deng" By Dave Eggers
When he was a young boy, armed Arab horsemen raided Valentino Achak Deng's village in southern
Without any knowledge of his family's safety, he ran until he found others. Hundreds of walking boys banded together, shuffling across the barren plains of southern
Allow a necessary comment on the title: "What is the What" comes from an old Sudanese proverb that said when God made
There is a timeliness to "What is the What." In the book's introduction, Deng states that between May 16, 1983 and Jan. 9, 2005, over 2.5 million people died of war and war-related causes in
Eggers deserves the reverence he is held in by literate youth. The memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius" is the kind of book that people rarely speak badly of, and in the rare instances they do, they are sharply rebuffed by its defenders. His collection of short stories, "How We Are Hungry," is the kind of book people send across oceans to surprise their friends with as a gift. "What is the What" is the kind of book that made a friend of mine start thinking about becoming an aid worker in
Together, Eggers and Deng traveled to
You can hear the lions roar in the night, feel the ache of thirst in the boys' throats, and sense the fear of crossing a river full of crocodiles while being shot at and unable to swim. If Deng had written the story himself, it would have been good material. If Eggers had constructed a similar story from his imagination, it would have been written well. But bringing together a great writer and a story so rich in substance makes it superior.
If you have a conscience, you will read Deng's story with guilt and sadness. But it is not the intention of the author or the subject to invoke pity. The story is not a heartbreaking work of tragedy. The story is not a heartbreaking work of staggering beauty. The story is not a heartbreaking work of the forces of good winning out over the forces of evil. There is no great moral or resolution. It is simply the story of a life that was not simple at all.
The Dark Side of the Road
"The Road"
By Cormac McCarthy
In Cormac McCarthy's masterpiece "The Road," the earth has undergone an unnamed disaster that has left the ground scorched and covered in ash. The rivers and oceans are ruined with contamination. When it snows, the trees, weakened by fire, splinter and fall to the ground.
There are survivors and they live in desperate terror. A father and his son are of the few left alive.
McCarthy never explains the cause of the condition of the world. In fact, there is little back-story given at all.
In a rare flashback sequence, the reader learns the wife and mother of the men survived the devastation but could not bear the aftermath. The fear of living in a world of civilization reverted to barbarian savagery proved too much. She took her own life rather than face what was left.
So then it is just the man and his son left on the road and they are headed to the coast.
McCarthy is one of the best American writers we have. His body of work owes much to William Faulkner. But where Faulkner wrote of the South, much of McCarthy's work is set in the American West.
Some have speculated that "The Road" happens in the southeastern
Regardless, McCarthy has become masterful in his writing. The narrative is a fragmented mosaic of well-wrought scenes. McCarthy said he wrote the book for his son, and that is where the essential value of the story lies.
Often the two have no food or shelter as they push a shopping cart full of their meager belongings across the wasteland. They encounter gruesome scenes of cannibalism that shake the boy's faith. He sometimes goes silent, but the father coaxes him back, reminding him that they are the good guys, that they "carry the fire."
As in Alfonso Cuaron's film "Children of Men," the story is of a dystopian future. Like those in the film chasing the last fertile woman on earth, gangs of men and women have banded together to prey on the remaining survivors.
To avoid becoming food the father and son sleep in the forest, under bridges, and in abandoned houses. They carry a pistol with two bullets left in the chamber, one for each of them lest they are caught.
Despite the bleak undertones they hold out hope that when they get to the coast there will be good people there. On their way they must be vigilant and always watch behind them.
Huddled and black-cloaked men and women shuffle down the road. They are surrounded on all sides by white and gray trees. Gray-white hills roll under the path and trees. It is dark, stark and cold.
If it seems as though this review is heavy on the coloring of McCarthy's landscape, that is because the sense of place is remarkably well-crafted and artfully performed. He weaves the feeling of this ravaged world into the characters without long, descriptive exposition.
Rather, he writes in clean, stripped-down prose, knowing that the most effective writing is simple writing. What matters most is how fully-realized the novel is and "The Road" is rich in detail and character.
From the onset of the novel the world smolders and smokes. You can smell the oil and wood burning. You see it through the eyes of the son and hear it in the warnings from the father.
The love the father has for his son peers dimly out into all this darkness. The boy, who might be around 8 years old, starves sometimes, growing so thin his skin becomes translucent.
Even in the grip of their desperation the father continues to instruct him, as well as protect him from the horrors they see on the road.
In the beginning of the book he reminds him that you forget the things you want to remember and cannot forget the things you wish you could. They encounter a lot they wish they could forget.
But somehow, and this is the great feat of the novel, McCarthy leaves the reader hopeful. There is not a clean resolution -- a story like this would be cheapened by one -- but in the end there is a little good in the vast sea of evil.
Tuesday, May 06, 2008
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
The English Teacher
Some time ago he had found himself. He had found himself in Europe or Australia or North America. He had found himself in debt, or without a job, or working for a corporation, or without ever having been anywhere, really. He had found himself with exceedingly fewer outs. If “himself” was a place, then he wanted to move.
It was then he remembered: he knew someone who had taught in Korea. The person he knew of took vacations in exotic places and told good stories about those places.
So he took an airplane a long way trusting e-mails rife with bad English. He landed in Seoul in the dark and the first images he noticed were the red neon crosses. From the window he watched them float in the night as he took a bus to Jeonju or Cheonju, or Gwangju or Gyeongju.
He started work the next day and the work was good. They did things differently, that’s for sure, but they were nice to him even if they didn’t always pay him on time. The children made him feel happy in the morning and then feel tired in the afternoon.
His apartment was small. It had bugs. But he didn’t mind. He wouldn’t spend that much time in it anyway. There were a lot of things to do in his new place. He wanted to find friends, the good restaurants, good places to see music. A friend told him before he came to “carve out his niche.” He wanted to do that.
He knew of web sites dedicated to foreigners living in his city. At first that didn’t interest him much—he said he wasn’t in Korea for the foreigners. But after a few months of singing the alphabet song he went looking for a place to have a good talk.
When he got to the bar they were playing the best songs from three years ago. It was easy to meet people—most of the crowd liked talking about themselves. “Why in God’s name did you come to Korea?” they asked him. They asked him because they had come with as much reason as he did. It had seemed as good of a place as any.
The people he met were what they were or what they aren’t. They were not in Korea for the air. They were not in Korea for the beaches. They were not in Korea for the architecture. They came from places with great natural beauty. They came from places where a person can be alone in that great natural beauty. He wasn’t sure why they were there.
Some seemed to make more sense than others. They were the teachers in their homeland that thought teaching in Asia sounded exotic. Or they wanted to be teachers when they returned but were prolonging that commitment. Most said they were not teachers.
Some thought of themselves as travelers. They took weeklong vacations to Southeast Asia and brought back a t-shirt from each country. They went to Japan and China and talked about the magic they had witnessed.
Some had been there too long. They had been running from a life that was chasing them with a morbid inevitability and they had run too far. They were lonely; they made new friends but those friends didn’t stay. Most were something else in their homeland that either hadn’t happened or wouldn’t. They felt detached from their old scene and their old friends and their old culture. But they didn’t want that back, or this, exactly—they somehow wanted both and neither.
In time, he quit the bar. He had met people and learned about the world, but still they were not his people. He knew his time in Korea was meant to be short, and even though he had stayed longer than he thought he would, it seemed futile to develop short-term friendships. His time was almost up and he didn’t think he would ever come back.
Once again he found himself. He found himself alone in a country of an ancient race. He found himself at the end of a year (or was it two?) in a foreign country. He found himself with no desire to go home, yet without desire to stay and attempt to assimilate into an impenetrable culture. He was leaving; it was time. He was going somewhere. But he didn’t know where.
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