PUTTING TOGETHER this issue of the Asia Literary Review has been an exciting adventure and an exploration of contrasts. Korea was long known as the ‘Hermit Kingdom’, detached and mysterious, and in many ways North Korea retains that isolation and mystique. South Korea, on the other hand, is the origin of the vibrant Korean Wave that has broken cultural barriers around the world: Korean TV dramas top the rankings from Iran to Mongolia, while young Japanese and Chinese idolise the stars of K-pop and Korean cinema. It is now the turn of Korean literature to ride this wave. Novels and short stories in translation are attracting a great deal of attention: novelist Shin Kyung-sook won the recent Man Asian Literary Prize and publishers and readers are taking note. We can expect more outstanding writers to be available in translation.

     Young writers and translators from South Korea and the expanding Korean diaspora are distinguished by the confidence and daring of their work: playful, inventive and complex, it articulates a fresh and exciting new perspective. Modernity has redefined South Korean identity and widened the gap between the young artists of today and their predecessors, who tended to dwell on the scars left by the occupation and partition of the Korean peninsula, and later the struggle for democracy under an authoritarian regime. The new generation of writers, in contrast, spares little thought for the turmoil of the past. They are moving forward, quietly revising perceptions of their place in the world. It would be a mistake, though, to think these writers are unaffected by their legacy. A lingering sense of alienation and loss pervades their work; lost children – and adults is a recurring theme. The writers ask: How does one belong? What has happened to certainty? As they explore complex, unsettling issues, their voices are influencing the way the nation sees itself and its future.

 

They are also distinguished by a new internationalism, which is dissolv­ing the barriers that have made Korea such an insular peninsula. The notion of bloodline has been inherent to national identity for generations of Koreans. However, increasing numbers of young Koreans are of mixed race and others have grown up in foreign countries where Korean was not their mother tongue.

     While these changes have been transforming the South, a completely different reality has prevailed in North Korea. More than half a century of partition has bred two markedly different identities: the two nations have grown apart and turned their backs on each other, looking over their shoulders in anger, fear and incomprehension. While Southerners have become more vocal and outward-looking, the Northerners have remained silent and withdrawn. Most people in the North have only a shadowy awareness of life outside their country. This awareness is gaining clarity as radios, TVs and DVD players make their way across the border with China, opening the door to programmes broadcast from Seoul or recorded, cheaply reproduced and smuggled in.

     For the authentic voices of North Koreans, we are forced to rely on those who have escaped. Most are angry and outraged when they discover the extent of the deceit that had entrapped them, and they are fierce in their opposition to the oppressive DPRK regime. Jang Jin-sung, a former state poet in Pyongyang who defected to the South, described his work in praise of North Korean leaders as a ‘betrayal and distortion of true poetic feelings’. Only after arriving in the South could he be honest and sincere in his work, he said. Some of his poems are published in this issue for the first time in English. Alongside his South Korean counterpart, Kim Hyesoon, Jang will represent his country at the Cultural Olympiad in London this summer.

     Another notable defector is Shin Dong-hyuk, the only person known to have been born in a North Korean prison camp and to have escaped to tell his harrowing story. This issue includes an interview with Blaine Harden, whose recent Escape from Camp 14 has brought Shin’s dramatic story to the attention of the world. Jim Hoare, who established the first British Embassy in Pyongyang, reviews the book. Apart from defectors, we look for insight to outsiders who have studied North Korea. These include academics, journalists and a tour guide who conducts holiday trips to the enigmatic North.

 

The Korean language has a distinguished history, and I would like to add a few words about our cover. Up to the reign of King Sejong the Great (r.1418-50), generations of Koreans had struggled to use Chinese characters to record and express their own language, which is fundamentally different from those spoken in neighbouring China. King Sejong and his scholars devised Hangul, an alphabet that matched the vowel and consonant sounds of Korean. Our cover is a page from the Hunminjeongeum, used to promulgate the new writing system, and one of Korea’s defining artefacts. The page on our front cover declares, ‘This is our language.’ The one on the back says, ‘Our language is different from Chinese. ’

     We would not have been able to share with our readers the richness of Korean literary creativity without the work of highly skilful, discerning and dedicated translators. We are grateful for the assistance and generosity of the Korean Literature Translation Institute (KLTI) in Seoul, which funds and publicises the translation of noteworthy literary works. In addition to the writers we have discovered through the KLTI, we are pleased to introduce other modern Korean writers previously unpublished in English. We would especially like to thank Heinz Insu Fenkl and Charles Montgomery for their suggestions and expertise. It has been an honour to work with them, and with all our contributors, who have made this issue a pleasure to compile and edit.