If this sloppy, misleading volume is anything to go by, the For Dummies series must be responsible for any number of quilting disasters, scrapbooking snafus and RV vacationing cock-ups. This book is not just for dummies, but by dummies: dummy writers, dummy editors, dummy interns, dummy bike couriers with dummy girlfriends.... I only exempt the house cartoonist, Rich Tennant, whose panels provide moments of rueful, Ziggy-esque whimsy.
As several disgruntled Amazon customers have pointed out, the fatal flaw in Korean For Dummies is the complete absence of Hangul, the Korean alphabet. I can guess what happened: somebody in the editorial brain trust at Wiley Publishing took the author aside and said, “Listen, Wang, we don’t want to scare off the rubes with a bunch of funny-looking Asian letters. They can barely read English, these people.” But seriously, even dummies can learn Hangul in a day or two; people of average intelligence can do so in the eleven hours it takes to fly from Sea-Tac to Incheon, with plenty of time left over for Kung Fu Panda 2.
The omission of Hangul forces the author to use a really clunky makeshift: he first provides the Romanized version of the Korean, and follows this with a second, phonetic rendering. So you end up with monstrous-looking entries like this one:
ireobeorisyeotgunyo (ee-ruh-buh-ree-syut-goon-yo) You are lost
Yeah, I sure am, asshole.
To make matters worse, the phonetic spellings are not always consistent: a word transliterated as hang-nyeon in one line will be given as hak-nyeon in the next. Just to mess with your mind.
The book comes with a CD, which is actually pretty good. The problem is, the recorded dialogues differ slightly but persistently from the transcripts. Several sentences have been omitted from the recordings—probably because they were considered too difficult—but carelessly allowed to stand in the book. So you’re listening intently and reading along, concentrating like a futhermucker, and then the conversation suddenly jumps ahead a line or two. That’s when you scream “Keseki!” (gae-saek-ee), which is best left untranslated. It’s the freaking Watergate tapes of language-learning kits.
Finally, the text is riddled with tiny, tell-tale grammatical errors. Like many Koreans, the author is, shall we say, rather sparing with his articles. I don’t want to be a prick about this, because he obviously knows English better than I’ll ever know Korean, but his proofreader really should have had his back.
Still, you can learn a lot even from a bad textbook. This one may be light on grammar (those rubes again) but lexically, it’s a goldmine. I have to admit it’s helped me out in all sorts of practical ways. Just this evening, I was in a bar where I noticed some musical instruments piled up in a corner. After taking a quick peek at chapter 8, I casually asked the bartender if there was going to be a concert later. She smiled and said yes. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so gratified! Then she said a bunch of other stuff that wasn’t in the textbook and looked at me quizzically. I nodded sagely and backed away, clutching my beer. And that was the end of that.