What do you think?
Rate this book
Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea
Thousands of young adults pass through South Korea each year, teaching English in private schools that together make up one of the country's largest industries. Korea, long isolated by culture and geography, with a complex language and set of social mores, can be a difficult place to call home. Chris Tharp has begun to make a name for himself as a travel writer, and in this gruff but affectionate memoir, explains why Korea can be both hard to like and hard to leave. He navigates his way through the timeless alleys and neon streets of Korea’s cities, painting a picture of a society that is at once ancient and utterly modern; he serves in the trenches of the English teaching industry, working his way from the private, for-profit academy to the university; he treks through the peninsula’s mountain valleys and rides deep into the country’s rural soul on the back of his motorcycle; he also explores the internal geography of Korea, from nearly being deported over a comedy performance, getting caught in the middle of a street riot, to staring face-to-face with North Korean soldiers along the DMZ. During this six-year journey, Tharp must also deal with the death of his parents, which forces him to ask the question: Is home a place that we’re from, or is it something we take with us wherever we go?
- GenresTravel
290 pages, Nook
Published August 22, 2011
1 person is currently reading
57 people want to read
About the author
Chris Tharp
3 books12 followersOriginally hailing from Olympia, Washington, Chris Tharp has called Korea home since 2004. He's a regular contributor to National Geographic Traveller UK as well as Asia Times. His award-winning writing has also appeared at Matador Network, The San Diego Reader, Green Mountains Review, and Foreign Literary Journal.
Chris has written two books, "Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea" and "The Worst Motorcycle in Laos: Rough Travels in Asia," both of which are published by Signal 8 Press out of Hong Kong.
He lives in Busan with his wife and a fluctuating number of animals.
Chris has written two books, "Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea" and "The Worst Motorcycle in Laos: Rough Travels in Asia," both of which are published by Signal 8 Press out of Hong Kong.
He lives in Busan with his wife and a fluctuating number of animals.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews
August 24, 2015
I wrote this book and it's the duck's nuts.
June 18, 2025
Dispatches from the Peninsula contrasts with other memoirs about the English teaching scene in Korea I've read such as Island of Fantasy and One Year in a Hagwon.
In the latter two, 30 hours a week of trying to control unruly kids — doing things like sticking their fingers up the teacher's bum and sketching poops — are portrayed as hell. That would be my stance too, but I’m glad somebody i.e. Chris Tharp liked the job.
With a background in improvisational theatre and a natural showman, Tharp was more prepared than most. As such, he mostly enjoyed the English teaching grind. He says people who don’t like the gig are those whose life back in the West hasn't sucked enough. Fair point.
Arriving in 2004, Tharp found Korea so interesting and refreshing he had nightmares about being back in America and broke. I had a similar experience in China. He writes that moving to Asia to teach is like going into witness protection, as in voila, you get a new identity in a new environment complete with a new job and new friends.
Tharp mixes in primers on Korean politics, culture, and cuisine which, while informative, slow down the main narrative about his own trajectory in South Korea. There are also short travel passages about Vietnam, Thailand, and even New Zealand. You may think these irrelevant in a book about Korea, but they help fill out the picture of the life of an English teacher in Asia.
He writes honestly about his own failings, including getting into a drunken punch up in a casino. There are overtones of the worship of alcohol endemic in the teaching in the Asia scene (and other scenes too of course!). A lot of soju is drunk. This is a Korean spirit we also drank a lot of in China. Why? Because, while awful, it was better than the Chinese equivalent: baijiu.
The passages about his parents passing away while he was living in Korea I found the most gripping. His clear writing about his complicated feelings of guilt, anger, and grief impressed me.
In the latter two, 30 hours a week of trying to control unruly kids — doing things like sticking their fingers up the teacher's bum and sketching poops — are portrayed as hell. That would be my stance too, but I’m glad somebody i.e. Chris Tharp liked the job.
With a background in improvisational theatre and a natural showman, Tharp was more prepared than most. As such, he mostly enjoyed the English teaching grind. He says people who don’t like the gig are those whose life back in the West hasn't sucked enough. Fair point.
Arriving in 2004, Tharp found Korea so interesting and refreshing he had nightmares about being back in America and broke. I had a similar experience in China. He writes that moving to Asia to teach is like going into witness protection, as in voila, you get a new identity in a new environment complete with a new job and new friends.
Tharp mixes in primers on Korean politics, culture, and cuisine which, while informative, slow down the main narrative about his own trajectory in South Korea. There are also short travel passages about Vietnam, Thailand, and even New Zealand. You may think these irrelevant in a book about Korea, but they help fill out the picture of the life of an English teacher in Asia.
He writes honestly about his own failings, including getting into a drunken punch up in a casino. There are overtones of the worship of alcohol endemic in the teaching in the Asia scene (and other scenes too of course!). A lot of soju is drunk. This is a Korean spirit we also drank a lot of in China. Why? Because, while awful, it was better than the Chinese equivalent: baijiu.
The passages about his parents passing away while he was living in Korea I found the most gripping. His clear writing about his complicated feelings of guilt, anger, and grief impressed me.
November 19, 2011
I enjoyed Dispatches very much, and appreciated Tharp’s growth over the period described in the book. In the sections covering his early days in the country, Tharp is condescending toward Koreans (in the tradition of Paul Theroux—a former Peace Corps Volunteer—who never met a local he couldn’t make fun of). But over time, it’s clear that Tharp’s affection for Korea and his understanding of the country have grown, so that in the later sections of the book the self-portrait is of a man who is much more in tune with his surroundings. I also was touched by Tharp’s account of the loss of both his mother and father while living abroad (which closely paralleled the deaths of both of my parents while I lived in Singapore in the ´80s and early ´90s), and the challenges of being so distant from family. I also could relate to Tharp’s experience in other ways, including his love of Korean food and his struggles with the Korean language.
See full review at Perpetual Folly: Dispatches
See full review at Perpetual Folly: Dispatches
October 23, 2011
There are lots of 20-somethings who head off to the great unknown and try their hand at teaching English in various areas of Asia. I have family members who have taken this path and I'm sure most of you at least know of the trend. Never had I heard, however, of one of these young adults teaching in South Korea. It's not even a country that registered on my radar for this kind of activity. But South Korea is where Chris Tharp ended up. I loved the beginning of the book. We start out exactly where Chris started out in Korea. We arrive with him and, if you are anything like me, share the same knowledge base of the country and what to expect. It all seems a little overwhelming at first as we (Chris + the reader) meet new people and a new culture and try to keep it all straight.
In 'Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea', the reader is introduced to this amazing culture through the eyes of an outsider. Chris explains what he sees, feels, learns, eats, etc. from the vantage point of an uninitiated citizen. The experiences for Chris start out new and wonderful and confusing just as they would be to the reader were he there. And we progress along with Chris to a point where it all becomes 'normal'. It is a journey of fun and not-so-fun experiences and not a few laughs.
Chris Tharp does an excellent job of describing his temporary country: the friends he makes, the people he meets and the experiences he has while there. The narrative is vivid and inspiring. Reading this memoir has given me a new place to add to my 'to visit' list. I fell in love with the country and the people as I read.
While I found the book to be interesting and easy to read, it needs to be said that it does read like a memoir and not like a novel. The writing flows well and the editing is fabulous but I did not ever get to the point where I thought I was reading fiction. This is not a criticism, just information. 'Dispatches from the Peninsula' reads like what it is. I appreciated that. It kept the reading real for me. The only time I wished the book were more novel-like was at the ending. It felt abrupt. The experience and the book were just over. I know I can't have it both ways but I was left feeling just slightly not done with the book even though the book was done with me.
I know I've read a quote somewhere about books allowing the reader to travel the world, and beyond, while sitting in his own armchair (or something like that). 'Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea' did that for me. I felt literally transported to a fantastic, new country and then put the book down and realized I was still comfortably settled in my own living room. It was a good feeling.
In 'Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea', the reader is introduced to this amazing culture through the eyes of an outsider. Chris explains what he sees, feels, learns, eats, etc. from the vantage point of an uninitiated citizen. The experiences for Chris start out new and wonderful and confusing just as they would be to the reader were he there. And we progress along with Chris to a point where it all becomes 'normal'. It is a journey of fun and not-so-fun experiences and not a few laughs.
Chris Tharp does an excellent job of describing his temporary country: the friends he makes, the people he meets and the experiences he has while there. The narrative is vivid and inspiring. Reading this memoir has given me a new place to add to my 'to visit' list. I fell in love with the country and the people as I read.
While I found the book to be interesting and easy to read, it needs to be said that it does read like a memoir and not like a novel. The writing flows well and the editing is fabulous but I did not ever get to the point where I thought I was reading fiction. This is not a criticism, just information. 'Dispatches from the Peninsula' reads like what it is. I appreciated that. It kept the reading real for me. The only time I wished the book were more novel-like was at the ending. It felt abrupt. The experience and the book were just over. I know I can't have it both ways but I was left feeling just slightly not done with the book even though the book was done with me.
I know I've read a quote somewhere about books allowing the reader to travel the world, and beyond, while sitting in his own armchair (or something like that). 'Dispatches from the Peninsula: Six Years in South Korea' did that for me. I felt literally transported to a fantastic, new country and then put the book down and realized I was still comfortably settled in my own living room. It was a good feeling.
March 9, 2021
Lovely readable flow. You're in Busan with the author
If you like travel memoirs that aren't so much tourist travels but instead they're a western perspective on living somewhere else,this is it. A mix of Steinbeck and Charley, a bit Andrew McCarthy soul-searching (it is genX, my own heart), this travel-life-living memoir is a blast. A very personable, personal, personalized journey through Busan, the world of ESL education, exploration, soul searching and soul-finding. Humorous, thoughtful, critical, smart.
If you like travel memoirs that aren't so much tourist travels but instead they're a western perspective on living somewhere else,this is it. A mix of Steinbeck and Charley, a bit Andrew McCarthy soul-searching (it is genX, my own heart), this travel-life-living memoir is a blast. A very personable, personal, personalized journey through Busan, the world of ESL education, exploration, soul searching and soul-finding. Humorous, thoughtful, critical, smart.
June 10, 2016
Dispatches from the Peninsula is about an American’s indoctrination into work, life, and leisure as an expatriate English teacher in South Korea. Author Christ Tharp, a native of the Pacific Northwest, recounts his first impressions, observations, and challenges that come with life in a foreign culture. He writes with honesty and truthfulness as illustrated in the following excerpt that reports on his first experience at the Busan Fish Market:
“At one point I saw a crafty fellow escape his prison and make a break for it, correctly heading in the direction of the sea. He made it about fifteen feet before his minder–another rubber-and-visor-adorned grandmother–noticed his attempt. She rose from her stool and tromped over to the octopus, grabbed it firmly by its head, and flung it back into the bucket. No gentle keeper, she punctuated this move with a barrage of verbal abuse delivered from the depths of her throat. There is no room for sentimentality at the fish market.” (location 847 on Kindel).
This excerpt shows Tharp is the kind of author who chooses his words with evident skill. Tharp separates himself from other expatriate authors who have written on Korea in the way he writes openly and candidly about the loss of both his parents during his time abroad and spares no expense in explaining the fallout from babopalloza, a satire comedy sketch that went awry and nearly got him deported. Reflecting on these adversities with such candor, the reader is not only bare witness to the author’s growth and maturity as a person but also to some of the more grim realities of living in a country that is not too far removed from a military dictatorship.
For a person who arrived in Korea with no requisite knowledge of the country’s history or language, Tharp sure learned and experienced a lot within the space of six years. Tharp’s travels to all parts of the peninsula and his willingness to cling soju shots with random bystanders along the way showcases his adventurous spirit. The book is replete with vivid, often humorous observations. But at the same time, Tharp includes references to Korean phrases and cultural norms, which speaks to the reality that he is not the type of author with ethnocentric views (e.g. see Jackie Bolen’s How to get a job at a Korean University), but rather one who is invested in the merits of ethnography. Fittingly, towards the end of the book, Tharp explains, “This is my home now. This is where my life is. My parents are gone. My girl is here, as are many friends, my house, most of my possessions, and two adorable, naughty cats” (location 3853 on Kindel).
“At one point I saw a crafty fellow escape his prison and make a break for it, correctly heading in the direction of the sea. He made it about fifteen feet before his minder–another rubber-and-visor-adorned grandmother–noticed his attempt. She rose from her stool and tromped over to the octopus, grabbed it firmly by its head, and flung it back into the bucket. No gentle keeper, she punctuated this move with a barrage of verbal abuse delivered from the depths of her throat. There is no room for sentimentality at the fish market.” (location 847 on Kindel).
This excerpt shows Tharp is the kind of author who chooses his words with evident skill. Tharp separates himself from other expatriate authors who have written on Korea in the way he writes openly and candidly about the loss of both his parents during his time abroad and spares no expense in explaining the fallout from babopalloza, a satire comedy sketch that went awry and nearly got him deported. Reflecting on these adversities with such candor, the reader is not only bare witness to the author’s growth and maturity as a person but also to some of the more grim realities of living in a country that is not too far removed from a military dictatorship.
For a person who arrived in Korea with no requisite knowledge of the country’s history or language, Tharp sure learned and experienced a lot within the space of six years. Tharp’s travels to all parts of the peninsula and his willingness to cling soju shots with random bystanders along the way showcases his adventurous spirit. The book is replete with vivid, often humorous observations. But at the same time, Tharp includes references to Korean phrases and cultural norms, which speaks to the reality that he is not the type of author with ethnocentric views (e.g. see Jackie Bolen’s How to get a job at a Korean University), but rather one who is invested in the merits of ethnography. Fittingly, towards the end of the book, Tharp explains, “This is my home now. This is where my life is. My parents are gone. My girl is here, as are many friends, my house, most of my possessions, and two adorable, naughty cats” (location 3853 on Kindel).
August 13, 2012
One of the previous reviewers erroneously gives this book a 1-star rating because it's less about Korea and more of a travelogue. As though there aren't enough Lonely Planet/Fodor's/Frommer's guide books out there, as well as books stroking the achingly fragile ego of this little beleaguered country that we don't feel the need to add another one to the list?
Having lived in the country for almost 12 years, I would have welcomed a little dissent-inspired tome amongst the shelves of my local bookstore. Korea is a mass of contradictions and hypocrisy, of insane friendliness and xenophobia, and a country that is confusing to figure out at the best of times.
My only beef with the book--if it can be called that--is that I would have omitted the China/Vietnam/New Zealand, etc. travel breaks from the book and simply focused on Korea. Not that these mini-chapters detracted from the book, but I would have welcomed a much more detailed focus on those places in another book completely. Here they seem slightly out of place. Incidentally, it's because I don't have OCD that the typos in the book didn't bother me.
Tharp's voice is loud and clear throughout the entire book, and he pulls no punches in describing whatever situation he's in at any moment. Nor is he exempt from his own self-judgement, eviscerating himself just as quickly and succinctly as any of his subjects. The book is at times poignant, illuminating, and familiar. Anybody about to make Korea their home, even if it's only for a year, should read this.
Were I not friends with the author, my review would look the same. I look forward to the next one, malaka!
Having lived in the country for almost 12 years, I would have welcomed a little dissent-inspired tome amongst the shelves of my local bookstore. Korea is a mass of contradictions and hypocrisy, of insane friendliness and xenophobia, and a country that is confusing to figure out at the best of times.
My only beef with the book--if it can be called that--is that I would have omitted the China/Vietnam/New Zealand, etc. travel breaks from the book and simply focused on Korea. Not that these mini-chapters detracted from the book, but I would have welcomed a much more detailed focus on those places in another book completely. Here they seem slightly out of place. Incidentally, it's because I don't have OCD that the typos in the book didn't bother me.
Tharp's voice is loud and clear throughout the entire book, and he pulls no punches in describing whatever situation he's in at any moment. Nor is he exempt from his own self-judgement, eviscerating himself just as quickly and succinctly as any of his subjects. The book is at times poignant, illuminating, and familiar. Anybody about to make Korea their home, even if it's only for a year, should read this.
Were I not friends with the author, my review would look the same. I look forward to the next one, malaka!
August 19, 2012
Excellent narrative. I was drawn into Tharp's adventures from chapter one. Read this nonstop, pausing only to wipe my tears after reading about the passing of his parents (an eerily similar thing happened to me almost two years ago). If Mr. Tharp writes any more books I'll be sure to read them. I recommend this book to newcomers and old-timers alike.
August 13, 2012
I stumbled across this guy's writings on Asia and now with this book (and a new one one the way?) it's good news for fans of warts-and-all travel writing. Also, I think the author might be on ludes or something.
Displaying 1 - 9 of 9 reviews