1960s Korea. A girl stands in the middle of the sunny cabbage patch with her mother. The air is full of butterflies (the souls of little children in afternoon naps) and secrets (though they were not secrets at the time). House of the Winds is a portrait of a family whose lives have been deeply affected by the tumultuous long years of Japanese rule and the Korean War. And it is the story of one mother and one daughter. Young Wife is a magic-wand mother who tells stories of the time when tigers smoked pipes. One day her white summer blouse runs deep red, mango-red and azalea pink. Who knows from where this sudden sadness sprouted? Her youngest daughter is our guide through this world in which an American electric iron is so powerful it sets off a coup d'état. The daughter begins to see "how Korean women, descendents of the she-bear woman and the son of the king of heaven, lived in the folds of history...laughing, wailing, spirit-cajoling, poetry-writing, tear-hiding, bosom-bracing, scheming, fire-breathing."
Mia Yun was born and raised in South Korea. She received her Master’s Degree in Creative Writing from City College of New York. She has lectured extensively at literary events and universities She has also worked as a reporter, translator and freelance writer, and is currently the Korea correspondent for the Evergreen Review.
I was given this book to read knowing absolutely nothing about the subject or the author. The books opened with a strange passage about memories and dreams... and confused me more than anything. I thought to myself: oh no, I'm not going to like this. I was incredibly wrong. The books is composed of snapshots of life in Korea, mostly from a female perspective. The narrator is the youngest daughter in a family that constantly struggled to make ends meet, and she relates her memories mostly through the eyes of an innocent child. The language is not the smoothest, nor the most eloquent, but it is incredibly beautiful in capturing the look, feel, sound, smell, and touch of Korea and the young girl's childhood. The book has no overarching message nor teaching, but it will show you the beauty and tragedy of Korea.
"I was told that one day when I reached a certain age, I would fly away from the next of childhood...I would leave the round and soft world of childhood and enter one that was jagged and irregular. Then many familiar objects, shapes, sounds and colors would take on sudden transfigurations. I would be confused and lost for a while. A soft ripe peach that had been nothing but a peach to sink my teeth into to swallow its sweet pulp would be no longer just a peach. It would stir a feeling inside me. It would become the object of poetry. Its color I would desire for a dress. Its softness I would compare to that of an orange pink cloud in the sky. I would imagine riding the cloud to a land of romantic love with a handsome knight."
This series of related short stories portray a very small Korean girl's growing up into a fearless and articulate young woman. Early stories are swirls of color and smell and light; later stories are, indeed, more forceful and defined.
These are the stories of women, the stories left out of histories that are rife with the derring-do and courage and efforts of men, the stories of "...those who died anonymously, those who paid with their lives each time a disaster struck, a tragedy occurred, an invasion upon the land..." These are the stories that transform the Eden that was Korea into a bloodied place "full of the voiceless souls of women."
Beautiful, poetic, sometimes heart wrenching stories of the strength that allows life to go on.
A charming, bittersweet coming of age novel set in the aftermath of the Korean War. Set in South Korea, it concerns the day to day of our young narrator, her relationships with her siblings, and most importantly her mother, along with other women in their lives.
There’s the neighbor Pumpkin Wife—who regales her with tales of her youth, marriage, escape from the north; grandmother in the mountains; her cousin Young-ok and her ascent from trouble-making teen to devoted wife and mother; her sister; and her mother. Each relationship is explored via anecdote and remembrances and each felt significant.
Throughout, we are tantalized with brief appearances from her father, a mostly absent and unsuccessful man who often spent time away from the family trying to get one inopportune venture off the ground after another. After a final, undisclosed failure, he returns home only to fall gravely ill with two years.
The main deaths of the novel were handled expeditiously, but believably. I found the writing a little stiff but in the end I found the novel charming.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Raamatus kirjeldatud sündmused algavad 1960. aastate Koreas. Selleks ajaks oli inimestel juba selja taga 1910-1945 kestnud Jaapani okupatsioon ja 1950-1953 toimunud Põhja- ning Lõuna-Korea vaheline sõda. Peategelaseks on väike tüdruk, kelle kujunemist jälgime me lapsepõlvest täiskasvanueani. "House of the Winds" on omamoodi lühijuttude kogumik, milles erinevad naised oma lugu rääkida saavad, enamasti meenutavad nad sõja- ja näljaaastaid, üleelatud kaotusi ning raskusi. Meestegelased on kas eemalviibivad või ebaolulised, isegi peategelase isa on õnneotsija ja unistaja, kelle äriplaanid enamasti vettvedama läksid, kuid naised on tugevad. See on lehekülgede arvu poolest väike, aga sisult väga "suur" raamat. Aeglaselt kulgev, kuid hästi tiheda tekstiga, milles iga sõna näib olevat väga hoolikalt valitud ning kiiresti lugedes läheks osa ilust ja sisust kindlasti kaduma. Siinkohal mõtleb mõni mu postituse lugeja, et mis tähendab, et "sõnad on hoolikalt valitud", kas pole see siis iga raamatu puhul nii? Kuid ei ole ju, on neid, mis on nii meelelahutuslikud, et lasevad end kiiresti neelata. Mia Yuni raamat on aeglaselt lugemise raamat, mis mulle väga meeldis.
Mia Yun has writing skills that sometimes stumble and sometimes zip the reader along, showing them the life of a young girl growing up in post-war Korea. The culture and practices that make Korea distinct are all there, as are pungent descriptions of the people, the homes, the flora - especially the home gardens.I found that as Yun reached for distinctive imagery, she often came up with clangers that stopped me in my tracks. I appreciate her not wanting to use the easy phrases, and perhaps the words she used were a product of her first language, but still she seemed to show a tendency toward self-indulgence as she describes the world that her protaganist sees. Nevertheless, Yun shows a lot of talent and story-telling ability. This is her first novel, and perhaps her next one will be a bit smoother.
Wow! What a lovely book. Mia Yun has done a wonderful job capturing our imagination in this beautiful story set in rural Korea in the 50s and 60s after the Japanese occupation.
As seen through the eyes of a young farmgirl we get to see a world far away and so well described that you feel like you are actually there with the child. The story allows us to feel the sexual awakening and moments of happiness and despair of this beautiful child growing up in the dreamy landscape of a forgotten time. It is a sad and moving story depicting the struggle it was for Korean women and their families during and just after the occupation, but it is also a happy observation and is charming and very funny too.
One of the best books I have read for a long time, it is essential reading for anyone who likes Asian fiction.
Un excellent livre avec un texte à la fois réaliste et poétique, non dénué d'humour. Un réalisme aigre-doux retrouvé tout au long du livre rend l'histoire particulièrement émouvante. Ce roman est à la fois un voyage culturel par son décor coréen et une histoire universelle dans laquelle tout homo sapiens peut se reconnaître. Les traumatismes de l'enfance, le passage à l'adolescence, l'image corporelle, les conflits familiaux et enfin la déchirure du passage à l'âge adulte sont autant de thèmes personnels abordés dans le roman. D'autres sujets y sont également discutés ; notamment l'impact de la guerre sur la femme, de sa position à sa psychologie même, et sur tout le tissu social.
It took me a while to get into this novel, but I'm glad I read it. The author is Korean, but came here in her early twenties to become a writer. Sometimes you can tell that English is not her first language, but other times the imagery is lovely. She relies a little too much on weather cues, and she loves sentence fragments. I learned a little about Korean culture and history. I wish there were a stronger narrative arc; much of the novel feels like separate stories written for creative writing class and then stitched together.
Funny how sometimes without meaning to you go from one book to another which follow a thread you didn't intend to follow. Having finished Paddy Clark Ha Ha Ha I moved on to House of the Winds soley because it was Korean and I'm getting ready for our holiday there next year. The narrator of the novel is a child, beginning from about the age of five, in outer suburban Seoul in the 1960s. She lives with her mum, older brother and sister; the father is a wanderer and dreamer who comes and goes from their lives. Enjoyable read.
I woule give this 3.5 stars. for a fisrt novel it was pretty good. It goives an idea of life in Korea in the 60's- political turmoil, povertiy, women coping while husbands and sons are away at service. Dreams and traditions, myths and legends collide with the myriad of colours and flavours in city and country life.
What a wonderful book. A look for me into a world I have never seen before. What made the story for me is that there were never any names for the people involved, making it possible for the story to be about anyone. I would highly recommend this book!!!
One of those books that I enjoyed while I was reading, but didn't feel the inclination to get back to when I was away from it. A well-described, vivid world, but without a strong narrative thread. I did learn a lot about Korea, which was my goal.
Some parts of this I liked, some parts were too abstract for my taste. Korean cultural values seem very different than what I am accustomed to. The incredible emphasis on shame and honor and guilt and respecting one's elders is a little more extreme than I am accustomed to.