More than a Chilling Thriller about Assassins
‘The Plotters’
By Un-su Kim, Translated by Sora Kim-Russell, 304 pages, $25.95, New York: Doubleday [2019]
Kim Un-su’s “The Plotters” plunges the reader into a shadow world of assassins and hit men, where beneath the veneer of civilization the high and powerful wage a war of surgical strikes against their opponents. It is a world populated with colorful and fascinating characters: Old Raccoon, who runs a ring of assassins from a library that he calls “The Doghouse”; Bear, a crematorium owner who ostensibly makes a living cremating pets but in fact regularly handles much larger jobs; Hanja, an assassin who has seen which way the wind is blowing and is determined to come out on top; the mysterious and deadly knife man known only as the Barber; a tracker named Jeongan whose goal in life is to be ordinary; and the unlikely plotter Mito, who is planning something so momentous that it will turn the world upside down.
In the middle of all this is our protagonist, the assassin Reseng (whose unusual name literally means “next life”). Raised in the library from a young age, he has risen to become Old Raccoon’s trusted right-hand man. Our introduction to him comes through the scope of a sniper’s rifle, and how he interacts with his target tells us much about him: he is a skilled professional, but he also exhibits a deep humanity. It is this job, or at least the way it is concluded, that sets the wheels of the story in motion and puts Reseng and Old Raccoon on a collision course with Hanja. Little does Reseng know, however, that a small group of women are threatening to throw a wrench into the works and bring his world grinding to a halt. Always the assassin taking orders from others, a pawn in a much larger game, Reseng will now have to choose his own path and decide how the endgame will play out.
The idea of a vast, thriving underground of plotters and assassins, trackers and trainers in modern Korean society might at first seem rather fantastical, but Kim’s story feels completely believable. This is in part because the premise builds convincingly on South Korea’s modern history, but it is also due to the skill with which each of the many colorful characters and their world is depicted. The novel feels less like far-fetched fantasy and more like a window into a world that we never realized existed right beneath our noses.
In a book that takes its title from characters that we rarely ever see — we follow the pawns, not the hands that move them — ultimately the most skillful plotter is the author himself. He weaves a tightly knit plot that builds tension and mystery right up until the end, as he draws us deep into the characters and their stories. As Mito explains, the problem with the world isn’t that people are evil, it’s that “everyone has their own stories and excuses for doing bad things.” And we realize that “The Plotters” is about much more than assassins; it is about what it means to be human in modern society. Each of the characters has to come to terms with who they are and how they should live their lives.
A New Rendition of Classical Korean Fiction
‘The Nine Cloud Dream’
By Kim Man-jung; Translated by Heinz Insu Fenkl, 288 pages, $17.00, London: Penguin Books [2019]
Kim Man-jung’s “The Nine Cloud Dream” is a key work in classical Korean literature, part of a long tradition that nonetheless has its own unique significance and flavor that has helped it stand the test of time.
As translator Heinz Insu Fenkl notes, the novel has been translated into English before — the most well-known translations were done by James Scarth Gale in 1922 and Richard Rutt in 1974. But it has been nearly half a century since Rutt’s translation, and the latest translation is a more than welcome new introduction for readers who might find the previous versions less accessible.
It may at first strike modern readers as odd that a 17th century Korean novel would be set in ninth century Tang China and written in Chinese, but this was not unusual for the time. However, the story rises above simply being an imitation of what came before it, functioning as a referential work, a political satire and a meditation on Buddhism, among other things. It is crucial reading for anyone interested in the roots of Korean literature, and indeed Korean culture today.
This new translation addresses some of the issues in the previous translations, presenting the story in more accessible language while still maintaining the archaic tone and mood, and adding plentiful notes to provide readers insight into deep s of meaning that would otherwise be lost. It joins a long and distinguished tradition of translation itself, much like the classic work it brings to a modern readership.
Indie Rock Tracks from the Busan Beachside
‘Where We Were Together’
By Say Sue Me, MP3 Album $8.99, London: Damnably [2018]
The band Say Sue Me was formed in 2012 by four musicians — Choi Su-mi (vocals and rhythm guitar), Kim Byung-kyu (lead guitar), Ha Jae-young (bass) and Kim Chang-won (drums) — over beers at a café in Busan. They practiced in a small studio near the beach and performed at neighborhood bars. As the empty cans and bottles piled up and the smell of sour beer filled the air, their music left traces in more and more people’s hearts.
Their music is often categorized as “surf rock,” like that of the Beach Boys, and as far as that goes their sound certainly suits the beach. For this local band that practices near Gwangalli Beach to become known to the world, Elton John played a role. In his “Rocket Hour” show on Apple Music’s Beats 1 radio, he introduced Say Sue Me’s “Old Town,” calling it fabulous.
The band’s second album, “Where We Were Together,” starts with “Let It Begin,” which takes us to a pastel-toned beach, calmly conveying its romanticism, neither excited nor depressed.
“But I Like You” presents Choi Su-mi’s fuzzy voice mingling with the jangly guitar sound tinged with sadness. The song “Old Town,” the highlight of the album, certainly deserves its fame. The sense of speed, constantly controlled, invites repeated listening. The pain and emotional resonance in the last piece, “Coming to the End,” gives the album a touch of gravity.
Summer and beach romances don’t last forever. At the beginning of autumn, when it has been abandoned, the beach looks forlorn. Conveying warmth with cool forlornness, Say Sue Me’s songs take us to the seaside in summer, and at times the seaside in fall.
한국국제교류재단
