Years and Years

by Hwang Jungeun, Janet Hong (translator)

Three women—the old mother and her two daughters—contemplate their family life and their bottled-up feelings through the novel’s placating yet oddly unnerving prose. 

Every Year is divided into four large chapters; the first unravels from the perspective of Sejin, younger daughter, the second from that of Youngjin, older daughter, the third from the mother’s, and the fourth, back to Sejin’s. Throughout the course of the novel, a number of themes are developed, including its discussion of interracial marriage, different forms of family, and sexual minorities. Circumstances and history forced the mother to the life of obedience, familial obligations and financial hardship forced Youngjin to give up her dream and support the family, and the reality of her culture forced Sejin to be in the closet. And all the while, these three women, while empathizing with each other, seem entrapped in the cycle of forcing each other to further succumb.

Genres: Fiction, LGBT, Lesbian

113 pages, Kindle Edition

Published June 18, 2024

About the author

Hwang Jung Eun is a South Korean writer and podcast celebrity.

Reviews

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

But you know you don't have to do everything she says, right?
What are you talking about?
Don't try so hard. No one expects you to be the perfect daughter.
Perfect?
Sejin said it wasn't that.
No, it wasn't that at all. She didn't tell her brother it would have broken anyone's heart to see their mom's face as she urged Sejin to say goodbye to Grandfather, to say goodbye for the last time. Sejin didn't say it had always been only that.

그래도 누나, 너무 엄마가 하자는 대로 하지는 마.
그런 거 아냐.
너무 효도하려고 무리할 필요는 없어.
효?
그것은 아니라고 한세진은 답했다.
그것은 아니라고 한세진은 생각했다. 할아버지한테 이제 인사하라고, 마지막으로 인사하라고 권하는 엄마의 웃는 얼굴을 보았다면 누구라도 마음이 아팠을 거라고, 언제나 다만 그거였다고 말하지는 않았다.

Years and Years is the translation by Janet Hong of 연년세세 by 황정은 (Hwang Jungeun).

The novel consists of four chapters: gravedig (파묘破墓), words to say (하고 싶은 말), nameless (무명無名) and things to come (다가오는 것들)- 23pp

gravedig opens with Sejin, the middle of three children, taking her mother Sunil from Seoul for her annual visit to Sunil's grandfather's ancestral grave close to the North Korean border. Sunil who is 72 needs knee surgery and finds it increasingly hard to walk up the hill to the grave, so they have determined this will be their last visit, instead dinsinterring the remains and cremating them.



Sunil's family consists of
- her husband Jungeon;
- Yeongjin, the oldest child, married to Wongsangm and with two children aged 5 and 7; she sells bed linen in a department store;
- Sejin, who writes plays;
- Mansu, the youngest and only son, who has emigrated to New Zealand in search of better prospects.

Sunil and Yeongjin and their families live together, while Sejin lives separately with some artistic friends (and we discovered, but unknown to her family, has a girlfriend):

Yeongjin hadn't taken off the stockings she’d worn all day and Sunil was still in her apron. Yeongjin knew the apron was the first thing Sunil put on after getting out of bed and the last thing she took off before going to sleep. At her daughter's home, Sunil washed dishes, tidied up the children's toys, did the laundry, mopped the floor, hung clothes to dry, and took charge of the cooking. Sunil looked after six people in total-her daughter Yeongjin, son-in-law Wonsang, their children Yeobeom and Yeobin, Sunil's husband Jungeon, and herself. She managed all the housework for two households single-handedly, making enough side dishes and soup for everyone. In exchange, Yeongjin allowed her elderly parents to live in one of the apartments downstairs and helped with their living expenses. Yeongjin also took care of her mom's affairs and put up with her grumbling.

The story moves between the perspectives of the three women Sunil, Sejin and Yeongjin, each seeing themselves as supporting the family - so e.g. Sejin rather resents how the ancestral rites duties fall on her, while Yeongjin is constantly urging her to join her in the store and do a proper job - but also appreciating the role the others' play. Wongsang seems to rather resent having his in-laws living with him, but at times can also fill a key role, this a trip to the wonderful island of Jeju:

Yeongjin recalled their trip to Jeju Island. She and Wonsang, the kids, and her side of the family, minus Mansu, had all gone on the trip. Wonsang rented a nine-passenger van and did the driving. If sales was Yeongjin's gift, driving was Won-sang's. He drove smoothly and confidently. As they made their way from Jeju City to Seongsan Ilchulbong Peak and then to Seogwipo, they stopped at a low volcanic cone. The cone was covered with silver grass, making it difficult to move through. The wind whipped the grass, turning it silvery one moment and gray the next. From the bottom of the knoll, the grass looked like waves or a giant furry beast hunched over, taking a nap. Sunil wanted to go to the top, but her knees were bad, and all she could do was pace back and forth, staring at the grass. Wonsang crouched down and offered to carry her on his back.



The most moving - and tangled - account is that of Sunil in nameless (무명無名), who recalls, in a somewhat confusing fashion, the story of her troubled childhood caught up in the aftermath of WW2 and the Korean war; the loss of her parents, how she came to live first with her grandfather and later with a relative in Seoul. This includes some confusion as to whether her name is Sunil, or Sunja, which is what she was often called a child, and the author's brief afterword begins:

사는 동안 순자,라는 이름을 가진 사람을 자주 만났
순자가 왜 이렇게 많을까?
이 책은 그 질문에서 시작되었다

Through the years, I've met many women with the name unja
Why are there so many Sunjas?
This book began with that question.

and she explains that that part of the story, and the narrative style, are based on one she was told by a Sunja who was born in 1946 and fled south during the Korean war. Sunja's verbal story was particularly disjointed and the style of nameless partly (but only partly) reflects this.

Overall, this is an impressive and beautifully written novel of family obligations and inter-dependencies, rather more conventional than the other works by the author I've read, but equally effective.

Author's bibliography in English

This is the 5th of the author's works I've read in English

One Hundred Shadows, translated by Jung Yewon from 백의 그림자: my review

I'll Go On, translated by e. yaewon from 계속하겠습니다: my review

The story Kong's Garden, translated by Jeon Seung-Hee from 양의 미래: my review

dd's Umbrella, translated by e. yaewon from 디디의 우산: my review

and this
Years and Years, translated by Janet Hong from 연년세세; : my review

[miriam · Rating 5 out of 5]

unexpectedly moving, quietly fierce in its politics. i love women

[Karine · Rating 4 out of 5]

4,5*

[John · Rating 3 out of 5]

Translated by Janet Hong and published by Open Letter last year, Years and Years is a short novella by Hwang Jungeun. Following a Korean family, we get to explore different generation's trials and interactions. For how short this work is it does feature a lot in terms of building these characters and exploring how they interact with each other, as well as the world at large.

One of the most interesting aspects of this book for me was how interwoven the family narrative was with the history of Korea. Any nation affected by major shifts will imprint itself on its citizens and it was really interesting to see how that played out here, as I have not read any books from a Korean author.

While there are greater themes of mortality and family in this book, it is very much a slice of life narrative. The weightier elements to the story are definitely present but it often feels more grounded in a very relatable family dynamic.

I enjoyed elements of this book but overall felt limited in my investment. Some of that is my limited knowledge of Korean culture and history but I also felt the narrative progressed in a very aimless way. I enjoyed this book for what it was but didn't really find much of a grander takeaway after finishing it.

[Amélie · Rating 5 out of 5]

perfect length and a really nice translation. definitely my fav of hwang jungeun’s works. korean history and politics are once again incorporated in accounts of the personal lives of the characters, all related to each other. i think this one is especially strong because one of the chapters is based on the real life experience of a woman hwang interviewed. virginia woolf is also mentioned once which was funny.

[Matthew · Rating 4 out of 5]

A beautifully written and translated novel centering on three women in a Korean family - their worries, repressed desires, and the familial obligations society imposes upon them.

[Gaëtan Gaillard · Rating 3 out of 5]

Le contenu n'est pas mauvais. L'histoire et les secrets des différents membres de la famille ne manquent pas d'intérêt - surtout la mère Yi Sunil - mais j'ai un gros problème avec la langue de ce roman. Je ne sais pas s'il s'agit du style de l'autrice ou des choix de traduction mais le texte m'a été pénible à lire, la faute à une étrange syntaxe et plusieurs formulations alambiquées qui ont bien cassé (à mon avis) la fluidité du texte.

[♑︎♑︎♑︎ ♑︎♑︎♑︎ · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this quite a bit. It has a quiet forcefulness. It made me understand in a more intimate way how the partition of Korea has affected everyday people, their familial relationships, and their connections with their history and tradition. It was a difficult read in a way because the translator did nothing to make me feel more at home as a Western person who has no connection with Korean family life.

Han Kang blurbed this book. I find her books to be nearly transparent to read, where I feel no barrier to understanding when it comes to cultural differences. I began to think about what I've read about Han Kang's translator, and how the books in English are famously 'unfaithful' to the originals. Maybe that is the reason why Kang's work is also more 'accessible' and 'popular' in the English-speaking world than Hwang Jungeun's work is.

These thoughts need to remain frustratingly vague, because I don't have the language and I don't have the cultural background to reach a conclusion. I do feel like I learned more about Korea, and in very important ways, from this slim book vs. Han Kang's The Vegetarian, for example. But I enjoyed it less.

[Taina · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hwang Jungeun on yksi korealaisista suosikkikirjailijoistani. Hänen teoksissaan kohtaavat usein perhesuhteet, erilaiset vähemmistöt, huono-osaisuus sekä sukupuoliroolien sietämätön ahtaus. Tässä teoksessa äiti ja kaksi tytärtä joutuvat yhteiskunnan armoille eri tavoin - äidin lapsuus on ollut pelkkää alistumista ja työntekoa, vanhempi tytär on ajautunut perheen elättäjän rooliin ja nuorempi tytär joutuu piilottelemaan tyttöystäväänsä. Vaikka välit ovat lämpimät, kukaan kolmesta naisesta ei ole valmis kohtaamaan toista sellaisena kuin tämä on. Kuulaasti kirjoitettu, kaunis, traaginen ja ajatuksia herättävä kokonaisuus, jossa korealaisuutta käsitellään myös ulkokorealaisesta näkökulmasta.

[John Armstrong · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've read a number of the author's works over the the years and never really connected with any of them. But I did with this book. I don't know why but there was something about it. The blurbs describe it as a multigenerational story about a woman and her two daughters (not mentioning a son, a husband, and a bunch of other relatives), but for me it was all about the woman. Her proper name is Sunil, but she has another name, Sunja, which she shared with other women in her life, dead and alive. I love this book and am not totally sure why, but I know Sunja is part of it.

[Elizabeth Chew · Rating 5 out of 5]

Powerful and thought provoking. The women in this family each shoulder their own emotional baggage which leaves them discontented, unfulfilled and on edge. They don't voice their true feelings and thoughts to avoid causing pain or further rifts. Beautifully written in straight forward prose that packs a punch. I'll be looking out for Hwang Jungeun's other titles.

[Sunny · Rating 4 out of 5]

Found from the library curation list 'Women in translation'
Original title is '연연세세'. Loosely interconnected short stories about three women (a mother and two daughters). The favorite piece for me was 'nameless' for me.

[Tamara · Rating 5 out of 5]

gosh i'm obsessed with this author and incredible writing, stories, mothers & daughters in south korea. this is really lovely and tragic and harrowing and honoring.

[Nathan Yu · Rating 5 out of 5]

reread

[Vivi Doleig · Rating 3 out of 5]

Avec la fracture éternelle entre les deux Corées comme toile de fond indélébile et traumatique, Hwang Jungeun nous immerge dans une vie de famille chaotique, chamboulée, meurtrie et comme en attente d’une forme de délivrance.

L’ouvrage est savamment fragmenté en quatre parties. Autant de points de vue, d’existences bouleversées, aux maux trop souvent tus.

Yi Sunil à aujourd’hui soixante-douze ans. Elle se sent vieillir, plus que jamais. Sa canne ne formant qu’une preuve supplémentaire de son affaiblissement. Elle sait que la mort ne se situe qu’à quelques années d’elle à présent.

Comme tant de coréens avant elle, son rapport à la famille est un pan entier de son existence et de son identité. C’est certainement l’élément le plus complexe, le plus important, voire même le plus sacré qui soit. Une succession, une union, une naissance, un héritage, des funérailles ; tout peut prendre des proportions gigantesque lorsqu’il s’agit de la famille.

Sunil se remémore les nombreux souvenirs qui ont parsemé sa vie, les moments les plus marquants de son existence. De ceux qui ont laissé une trace, une odeur, une sensation, une émotion, un traumatisme singulier par-delà les décennies. On partage ses questionnements, sa culpabilité parfois, son regard sur les événements qui ont jalonné son enfance, ses décisions, son inaction face à certaines des personnes les plus médiocres qui ont croisé son chemin. Tout est passé au crible.

Sunil a vécu un parcours de vie fade, servile, empli de corvées, de solitude, de fatigue… On ne peut pas oublier ces années perdues, ces années inutiles, ces années subies. Il était hors de question que ses propres enfants fassent l’expérience de cette servitude, de cet épuisement physique et psychologique.

Après avoir détruit la sépulture de son grand-père et enfin mis son passé derrière elle, elle espère avoir laissé la place pour que le bonheur entre dans la vie de ses enfants.

Sa fille aînée est une vendeuse émérite qui a généreusement sorti sa famille d’un grave écueil financier. Sa cadette est écrivaine et voyage à New-York, quand son benjamin s’est installé en Nouvelle-Zélande dans l’espoir d’un avenir meilleur. Au fil des différentes parties du livre, on découvre leur regard sur leur enfance, sur leur quotidien, sur l’héritage historique et familial qui leur est dévolu.

L’écriture extrêmement épurée est très déstabilisante. Il s’en dégage une certaine distance qui m’a quelque peu empêché de m’imprégner de cette famille. Passionnée par la culture et la langue coréennes, je m’attendais à être totalement emportée par cet ouvrage. Je suis déçue de ne pas avoir été comblée par cette lecture, mais ça n’enlève évidemment rien au talent exceptionnel de Hwang Jungeun. Beaucoup d’humilité et d’émotion se dégagent de ces pages. Une bonne fille est un très bel exemple de témoignage.

[Claire Bourhis · Rating 2 out of 5]

I love a good slice of life, reading for the vibes and not the plot and I also love a good family story. Somehow yet, I didn’t like this book. In fact, despite being very short I struggled to finish it

[Victor Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

너무 어둡다.

[Daniel Lee · Rating 4 out of 5]

황정은 연년세세. 공감가는 부분이 많은 소설. 이야기가 좀 더 길고 살짝 깊었으면 하는 아쉬움이 조금 있습니다. 한국 정서를 듬뿍 담고 있습니다.

[Keisha · Rating 4 out of 5]

파묘 ----- 4. 5 stars
하고 싶은 말 ---- 4 stars
무명 ---- 5 stars
다가오는 것들 ---- 4 stars

[Jessica R · Rating 3 out of 5]

3,5