백의 그림자

by Hwang Jungeun, 황정은

‘There is an unforgettable, curious beauty to be found here.’ — Han Kang, Winner of the Man Booker International Prize

An oblique, hard-edged novel tinged with offbeat fantasy, One Hundred Shadows is set in a slum electronics market in central Seoul – an area earmarked for demolition in a city better known for its shiny skyscrapers and slick pop videos. Here, the awkward, tentative relationship between Eungyo and Mujae, who both dropped out of formal education to work as repair-shop assistants, is made yet more uncertain by their economic circumstances, while their matter-of-fact discussion of a strange recent development – the shadows of the slum’s inhabitants have started to ‘rise’ – leaves the reader to make up their own mind as to the nature of this shape-shifting tale.

Hwang’s spare prose is illuminated by arresting images, quirky dialogue and moments of great lyricism, crafting a deeply affecting novel of perfectly calibrated emotional restraint. Known for her interest in social minorities, Hwang eschews the dreary realism usually employed for such issues, without her social criticism being any less keen. As well as an important contribution to contemporary working-class literature, One Hundred Shadows depicts the little-known underside of a society which can be viciously superficial, complicating the shiny, ultra-modern face which South Korea presents to the world.

Genres: Fiction, Fantasy, Magical Realism, Contemporary, Literary Fiction, Asian Literature, Asia

196 pages, Hardcover

First published June 25, 2010

About the author

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

Reviews

[Alwynne · Rating 4 out of 5]

The inspiration behind Hwang Jungeun’s novel is the 2009 Yongsan apartment building incident. Protesting residents in a Seoul district earmarked for redevelopment were targeted for dispersal by riot police, whose actions left a number dead or seriously injured. Hwang Jungeun followed the ensuing court case and then set out to write a piece that would act as both memorial and tribute to the spirit of the people affected by these events. Her story’s set in an electronics market composed of shops and stalls, sited close together in central Seoul, inhabited by a longstanding group of shopkeepers, merchants, customers and workers. Together, they’re emblematic of a particular section of Seoul’s working poor; despite their labours they’re barely keeping their heads above water, increasingly out of step with the relentless pace of the wider city. In the midst of this community are two young people slowly forming a relationship, Hwang’s main characters, Eungyo, an assistant in a repair shop and Mujae who works in a small workshop. Their interactions provide an overview of their tight-knit community, the eccentric locals frequenting their respective workplaces, the homeless sheltering in the environs. Everyone interconnected, sharing a culture and a way of life.

Hwang foregoes conventional didactic or ultra-realist strategies to construct what’s essentially social critique, instead she introduces a fantastical element: shadows have somehow developed an ability to act independently. They suddenly separate from individuals, sometimes growing to monstrous proportions or acting like doppelgangers. In extreme circumstances they start to rise up, luring people towards a form of unknown, unnamed oblivion. The shadows seem to operate here as an expression of what’s otherwise inexpressible or silently endured. An uncontrolled response to unspoken trauma or anxiety, the product of fragile or tortured psyches, so that whenever a person’s overwhelmed, there’s a danger of their shadow rising, pulling them away from an increasingly troubled reality. Awareness of the shadows also opens up a space for characters to openly confront and discuss issues that might, in normal circumstances, be buried or viewed as culturally inappropriate.

This bizarre phenomenon seems less so within the society that’s depicted here, one where everything seems out of balance. Hwang conveys a sense of a world where the organic’s dwarfed by inorganic, external forces. She’s continually referencing dying or decaying wildlife, symbols of nature that’s become matter out of place, constantly under siege. The natural world’s been driven to the margins, as have the human residents at the centre of Hwang’s tale. The low status of people like Eungyo and Mujae in Seoul’s rigidly-stratified society’s deftly demonstrated, for example a scene where they’re at a restaurant that’s suddenly invaded by loud-mouthed businessmen who dominate the social space. The future of the market itself is shown to be uncertain: targeted by developers, whose aggressive tactics are designed to pressure inhabitants to sell up and move away, casualties of a corrupt, profit-driven system. And the market’s focus on repairing not replacing is itself undesirable, out of sync with the kind of consumerist, disposable society so fundamental to contemporary capitalism. Hwang’s story is simply told in sparse, uncluttered prose. It’s an impressively subtle work with a mournful grace and slightly elegiac tone. But it’s not entirely pessimistic, the bonds between characters, the gradual understanding between Eungyo and Mujae offers a possibility of hope, a ray of light to counter encroaching darkness.

[Henk · Rating 2 out of 5]

Bleak, disorienting and fragmented. The lives of people at the fringes of Korean society are mixed with magic realism, in the end left unexplained and under-utilised
So it’s not as though anything has ceased to exist because it broke; all we’ve done is confirmed that it never existed in the first place.

Firstly some aspects that disappointed me
One Hundred Shadows reads very easily but somewhere around the 50 page mark I started to feel this was partly due to the fact that the dialogue in this short book at least in the English translation is almost toddler like, with 6 repetitions and confirmations anytime anyone opens their mouth.
An example is included below:

And then, looking like a ghost, he died.
He died?
He died.
Just like that.
Sometimes, people do die just like that.

And I had a rather grating feeling I (and author Hwang Jungeun for that matter) had no idea what whorls are, otherwise the characters wouldn't have felt the need to discuss these ephemeral things, that serve no plot point whatsoever in the end, for over 3 pages.

Finally: why are there no footnotes, some context on Korean words in respect to food, new year or an approximate value of a won? All this would have aided a smoother and fuller understanding of the story.

Emotional heart and praise
I wonder if they call this kind of place a slum, because if you called it someone’s home or their livelihood that would make things awkward when it comes to tearing it down.
Still not all was bad. The themes touched in this story in relation to an electronic market being torn down in the name of progress, are interesting and seem to be genuinely in the interest of the author.
The new park, with benches made unfit for beggars, reminded me of Tokyo Ueno Station, while the blend of magic realism with ordinary life felt quite reminiscent to The Last Children of Tokyo, just with better pacing.

The main characters are school drop outs, orphans, left behing in a derelict place where small businesses struggle on. They derive enjoyment from food mostly, and at the end of the book go out together to an island. Still this is far from a lovely tale, and there seems an immense distance between the boy and girl at the heart of the book, as evidenced by sentences like: Eungyo, I don’t really think there’s another world after death, and I thought it was inevitable for a person to feel more or less hollow, no matter their individual circumstances. The essence of human life, if there is such a thing, is futility, that’s the way it’s always been and the way it always will be, and so there’s no call to make a fuss about it.

Besides the undefined whorls, there are also shadows around the people within One Hundred Shadows. These shadows rise and gain agency, either leaving or clinging onto people. Anyone following them after such an event risks losing something. I felt this was an effective, if somewhat oblique metaphor for psychological anguish, a rendition of dreams of oneself and one's potential dissipating, or a sign of mental depression.

The lives of the main characters feel futile, empty at heart, like the Russian doll on the cover of the book: Futility is precisely why I’ve always thought that a matryoshka resembles human life.

In the end this is not a hopeful book and I think the various components of the story could have worked more effectively together to more resemble something with the power of for instance The Memory Police. Still there is real emotional force to be found here, and human emotion from the people we are not used to see truly in our shiny society that marches ever onwards to tomorrow:
But it’s so dark it doesn’t seem possible that we’ll make it to somewhere bright.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5 stars
My first foray into Korean literature, and a very positive one from tilted axis press (look them up). It is set in Seoul in a rundown electronics market which is scheduled for demolition. The book revolves around Eungyo and Mujae; who have both dropped out of school and are working as repair shop assistants. They develop a friendship which the novel follows. This is a novel about the underside of modern life and about the urban poor. The prose is spare and lyrical, but doesn’t fall into the trap of heavy realism that this type of tale can be prone to. As one reviewer says:
“Hwang perceptively portrays the pain of those living in a space that cannot possibly be represented by the word “slum,” a space always in danger of falling into ruin. She illustrates the fiery trace of lives that cannot be compensated for, and life’s suffering that cannot be converted into money.”
Eungyo and Mujae take centre stage and the dire social conditions are illustrated by their surroundings. Hwang often focuses on the minutiae of everyday life, little details which tell the reader a great deal. Added to this is a touch of what might be described as magic realism. The workers in the market have begun to notice that their shadows have started to rise and to act independently of their owners, tempting them to follow. This is generally seen as a bad thing and if you start to follow your shadow then things will not go well:
“If you spot someone who looks just like you, it’s your shadow, and once your shadow rises it’s over for you, because shadows are very persistent, because you can’t bear not to follow your shadow once it’s risen.”
The symbolism here seems to revolve around people being at the end of what they can endure. Some reviewers have noted a connection between the shadows and the merciless post-industrial society with its barrenness and fragility. It is set in a recognizable world and there is humour here as well; the description of the beaten up old care that Eungyo and Mujae go for a drive in and the descriptions of travelling in it are very funny and did remind me of some of the old wrecks I used to drive!
Hwang also describes the food being eaten with great care and precision and some of the run down cafes serving it. But we still come back to the shadows:
“I saw a shadow in the woods. I didn’t know it was a shadow at first. I saw it slip through a thicket and followed it in, wondering if there was a path there, and thinking how familiar it looked. The woods grew more dense the deeper I went in, but I kept on going deeper and deeper because the deeper I went, the more the shadow drew me in.”
Although there is an air of the fantastical about it, it is balanced by realism. Hwang resists various temptations; Eungyo and Mujae remain as friends and the book is the stronger for it. Hwang holds the reader’s attention and the whole is rather good with no easy answers or platitudes.

[PalmPages · Rating 3 out of 5]

One Hundred Shadows is a novel by Hwang Jungeon set in a rundown industrial complex in Seoul, South Korea. The story revolves around two young workers, Eungyo and Mujae, who work in a poorly lit electronics market. They face various challenges in their environment, including the mysterious shadows that seem to haunt them.

Jungeon employs surreal imagery to explore themes of resilience, identity, and the human condition, similar to Han Kang's writing style in The Vegetarian. Both authors delve into the psychological depths of their characters, revealing their struggles with societal pressures and personal demons.

In One Hundred Shadows, the characters must choose between overcoming or succumbing to the hardships of their circumstances. When a shadow detaches itself from human form in times of adversity, following it leads to suffering or death.

So, two things didn't make this a well-rounded read for me:
1. The lack of quotation marks made it difficult to follow dialogue. I believe this was part of Jungeun’s intention - to make us develop our own meaning.

2. The lack of depth in the characters - I didn't connect with them.

To close off, I wonder if the repetition of words in the book may symbolize the mundanity of Mujae and Eungyo's lives, or it may emphasize the need to be heard. Overall, an interesting read that had me analyzing the text as if I had a paper to write.

That’s what’s scary, you feel light somehow, carefree if you surrender to the shadow’s pulling at you…
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Thank you to Netgalley and Erewhon Books for the ARC in exchange for an honest review!

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 4 out of 5]

"Money is a powerful thing, Mr Yeo said that the government had made a show of digging up the first shovelful themselves, then quietly handed over the shovel: that was how they'd always been, and that nothing ever changes. Then he swore a couple of times, Lately he said, the shadows have been starting to dominate.

Some days when he came to work it was his shadow that went in front of him."

백의 그림자 by 황정은 (Hwang Jung-eun) has been translated into English as One Hundred Shadows by Jung Yewon.

This is the 2nd book from an exciting new non-for-profit independent press, Titled Axis, founded by Deborah Smith, the MBI award winning translator of Han Kang's The Vegetarian, and the novel comes with a brief introduction from Han Kang herself.

Tilted Axis states its mission as publishing "The books that might not otherwise make it into English, for the very reasons that make them exciting to us – artistic originality, radical vision, the sense that here is something new. Tilting the axis of world literature from the centre to the margins allows us to challenge that very division."

One Hundred Shadows certainly contributes to that aim. It is a short but beautifully written novel, with prose that is sparse but enigmatic, and at times fantastical. The narrative is, one suspects deliberately, a little confusing at times. It is not always clear who is narrating an anecdote until after it has finished or indeed who is speaking at times.

Murakami would be an obvious (perhaps too obvious) comparison, but there is a much harder social edge here underlying the almost dreamlike text.

The story itself is of two young people, Eungyo (은교) and Mujae (무재). Both work in a crowded, run down, electronic market in Seoul, full of tiny shops:

"Keeping the car park on your left and the shops selling lighting or tools on your right, turn into the first alley on the right and come across a blank-faced, middle-aged woman who has been doling out blood sausage in the same spot for twenty years, her 'stall' no more than a single oil drum. Further down the alley there'll be glass cases containing pocket watches, copper alarm clocks, and tarnished silver spoons, with elderly men parked in front of them, dozing off in front of their wares. There'll be a handful of tiny shops as well, one selling cigarettes, drinks and boiled eggs, one selling spare parts, and one where you can get old radios repaired, each one so cramped that there is only room for a standing counter."

But this is just the background to their budding, and rather sweetly innocent relationship:

"I like people with straight collarbones.
You do, do you?
Yes, I do
You like collarbones?
I like you, Eungyo.
But my collarbones aren't straight at all.
Yes, but with you it doesn't matter."

But they also discuss their fears that their shadows are starting to rise (seemingly a metaphor for people reaching their limit), as has also happened to other characters such as her boss Mr Yeo. Indeed the injunction "Don't follow your shadow!" is a common warning between them

"Once it had risen, I could feel it pull on me, and who knows what would've happened if I hadn't stood my ground ... The shadow didn't go far, just roamed around the house, and I wasn't sure if my family couldn't see it, or whether they were simply pretending. The shadow would sit among us at meal times you see ... Right now I can tell myself that it's no big deal, but there'll be a day when that doesn't work anymore, when it categorically is a big deal, and that'll be the end, Eungyo. My shadow will pull me after it, somewhere infinitely far away."

The underlying theme is that of the difficulties that the young and poor face in the booming South Korean economy - the so-called "Hell Joseon" phenomenon. On a personal note, I must admit to belonging to a rather different socio-economic demographic and having a rather different view of the success of South Korea, but there is no doubt that the Hell Joseon mindset makes for great literature.

In other K-lit, this subject is tackled head-on but here the treatment is much more subtle and, as a consequence more powerful. We do see some direct glimpses e.g. the planned demolition of the crowded market in which the protagonists work to make way for new development, is justified as slum clearance:

“Don’t they simply label the area “slum” because it’s an area to be leveled at some point, and things get too complicated if you think of it in terms of someone’s livelihood or living space?

This is the 3rd Korean-to-English translation by Jung Yewon I have read - see https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... and https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... - and I commended the others as "a nice balance of being rendered into clear English but retaining a lingering element of Korean culture" which she achieves again here. For example, the concept of 여우 비 (literally: fox rain), rain while the sun shines, is explained in a translator's note (NB the same association of such rain with a odd wedding is common in many countries' folklore) and is rendered in the novel phonetically as yeowoo-bi. The lunch-in-a-box 도시각 is rendered with the english phonetic equivalent followed by the translation, i.e. dosirak box lunch (actually doshirak would be closer), but the common Korean desert of red bean with shaved ice - 팥빙수 (phonetically pat bingsu) is translated into English as "shaved iced with red beans" with no Hangul.

Overall, a deceptively simple read that lingers in the mind. One particularly powerful paragraph comes when Mujae argues that it is inevitable to get in debt. Eungyo retorts that some people manage to avoid it, to which he replies:

"I think people who claim to be in no debt of any kind are shameless, unless they sprang up naked in the woods one day without having borrowed anyone's belly, and live without a single thread on their back, and without using any industrial products [...] even if you buy so much as a cheap pair of socks, that low price is only possible because a debt is incurred somewhere along the line."

[Stacia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I saw a reviewer on GR said that the author was partially propelled to write this book after the Yongsan Disaster in 2009.

This is a slim, quiet book that really packs a punch. It's one with heavy topics, dealing to a large extent with the marginalization of the poor, those who live & work in areas that often end up being gentrified. But the focus of the book is on two young people who work in the area, Eungyo and Mujae, and their friendship, perhaps a budding romance. It's a lovely little book, in spite of the heavy topics, looking at people who are so often overlooked & overrun in society, people who often have no voices. It's also an examination of sorts of a rapidly expanding, capitalistic economy and the debts incurred as a society, seen through the lens of the lives of a few characters. Understated & yet spot on, light but with heavy topics -- conveying all that beautifully in a short novel takes real skill.

I saw some references in reviews to magical realism, but that term doesn't feel quite right to me. It is referencing occurrences in the story (multiple times with various characters) where a person's shadow "rises" -- which seems to be when a person is teetering on the edge of giving in (to despair, depression, fear, etc.). The characters try to help each other, reminding them not to follow their shadows when that does happen. Again, this didn't feel quite like magical realism to me (even though the shadows almost detached from the people, lured them to darker places, etc.), maybe more like cultural/folklore references. It was an incredibly effective metaphor, imo.

Bittersweet & small with a powerful punch.

This book was published by Tilted Axis, a non-profit that publishes mostly Asian works in translation. So glad they translated this one. Great book.

[❁lilith❁ · Rating 3 out of 5]

✰ ✰ ✰

short and sweet; the vibes were immaculate and the descriptions were so so vivid
didn't care for any of the characters, but the slice-of-life goings on of their daily life was interesting

[Ashley Owens · Rating 2 out of 5]

Great writing style and and very odd & unique story... but I have no idea wtf I just read.

[Maria Hill AKA MH Books · Rating 4 out of 5]

"I thought to myself that even if my shadow had drawn me deep into the woods, so deep that I never returned, someone would still have stuck flyers on the door, and pizzas would still have been sold."

The Fantasy elements in this novella are surreal and open to interpretation. I enjoyed it, for an urban fantasy novel, it's very grounded in reality.
This is a story set in Seoul and follows two young people called Eungyo and Mujae. Both of them work in an electronics market that is compared to a slum and that is being pulled down building by building. However, in this world your shadow can get away from you land even attack you if you are stressed, depressed etc.


The prose is simple and sparse and perfect for this little tale.

[fatma · Rating 5 out of 5]

“So then what happens?
The parents of the boy Mujae probably get into
debt.
Probably?
Or inevitably, you could say.
How is it inevitable to get into debt?
Is it possible to live otherwise?”

Do you like:
- short stories like the ones in Bora Chung's Cursed Bunny?
- commentary on capitalism and the lives of working class characters?
- stories with lucid, sharp writing?
- novels that you can read in a day?

One Hundred Shadows by Hwang Jungeun (tr. Jung Yewon) is all of those things, a chilling story told in spare, sharp writing that is all the more chilling for its incisiveness. It reads like a modern fable, grounded in the everyday of real-world South Korea, and yet at the same time made unfamiliar by fantasy elements that intrude upon the characters and their lives. I love discombobulating and slightly off-kilter novels like this, ones that read as unsettling, but for a reason that you can't quite put your finger on. And more than just tone or ideas, this novel also does such an excellent job with its characters; there's a lovely dynamic between our two main characters, one that grounds the story and gives it real stakes.

One Hundred Shadows really is such an underrated novel; it manages to do a lot in a small number of pages, and with real finesse too. (Plus it comes cosigned by Han Kang, who wrote its foreword!) I picked it up with zero expectations a few years ago, and finished it knowing that it was 100% going to make it to my favourite of the year list.

[Gumble's Yard - Golden Reviewer · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is published by a small UK publisher Tilted Axis who publish “books that might not otherwise make it into English, for the very reasons that make them exciting to us – artistic originality, radical vision, the sense that here is something new.” Their name refers to their aim to tilt “the axis of world literature from the centre to the margins ...… where multiple traditions spark new forms and translation plays a crucial role.

It was founded by Deborah Smith, the English-Korean translator of Han Kang’s The Vegetarian and winner with her of the 2016 Man Booker International Prize – and now shortlisted with her for the 2018 Man Booker International Prize with the clear standout novel on that list The White Book.

This book is written by Hwang Jungeun and translated by Jung Yewon and was one of Tilted Axis’s first publications.

Paul’s review here, informed by his knowledge of Korean culture and language contains a very detailed discussion of this book which I could not hope to match.

https://www.goodreads.com/review/show...

I must admit though that where Paul calls the book “deceptively simple” I found it disappointingly simple (particularly having read reviews which perhaps over-emphasised the fantastical elements of the novel) – and while his review contains some of the deeper quotes in the novel, it omits some of the almost banal parts which perhaps culminates in a discussion of whorls (most of which consists of the word “whorl”) and which takes up nearly 3 pages of what is a less than 150 page book.

[Hà Linh · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just don't follow your shadow, he said. You have to be careful not to follow, even if it does rise.

One Hundred Shadows, tiểu thuyết đầu tay của Hwang Jungeun, kể về cuộc sống của những con người nhỏ bé làm việc tại các cửa hàng buôn bán/tu sửa thiết bị thuộc một khu trung tâm điện tử lâu đời nằm giữa lòng Seoul hiện đại. Khi môi trường sống bị đe dọa bởi những quyết định vô tình của tầng lớp giàu có hơn và nhiều quyền lực hơn, bóng của họ - những người gần như vô danh (chỉ được gọi bằng họ hoặc bằng tên không họ), luôn mấp mé ở rìa của một xã hội không quan tâm nhiều lắm đến những tồn tại ở rìa- dần dần tách khỏi họ, đứng dậy và lấn át sự sống.

Buồn và u ám - gợi nhớ đến khu công nghiệp thời những năm 80 trong Cô gái viết nỗi cô đơn của Shin Kyung Sook - nhưng qua một điểm nhìn hiện đại và nhiều trìu mến cùng một ngòi bút tiết chế hơn, những mảnh đời lẩn khuất trong năm tòa nhà cũ nát nối liền với nhau theo nhiều cách dị thường của Hwang Jungeun hiện lên cô đơn mà không thê lương, ấm áp mà không ủy mị, nhen nhóm hy vọng nhưng tinh tế chứ không dàn trải và quá lộ liễu khiến người đọc (hoặc ít nhất là tôi) mệt nhoài.
Mỗi con người ở đó đều có một chuyện đời riêng, siêu thực theo những cách ám ảnh khác nhau, nhưng đều chung nhau một điểm là, bóng của họ đã-đang-hay sắp "đứng dậy" đè nén họ thật sâu xuống tận cùng của sự sống. Bởi vậy họ thường dặn dò nhau không được đi theo cái bóng khi nó sống dậy khỏi mình, hoặc thậm chí họ đi tìm, cố gắng nắm tay kéo người đã lỡ chân đi theo bóng của mình trở về.
Như Eungyo và Mujae, hai người trẻ tuổi sống thầm lặng và không tương lai giữa sự lâu năm quen thuộc đang trên bờ vực đổ vỡ.
Eungyo và Mujae, một chuyện tình không một lần nhắc tới từ "yêu", không những cuộc hẹn hò chủ định, không hứa hẹn, không những cử chỉ thân mật
chỉ có những cuộc đối thoại như độc thoại khi mà lời người nọ liên tục lẩn vào lời người kia,
đôi ba bữa ăn bộc phát với những món bình dân được miêu tả đầy cẩn trọng,
một món quà gieo hy vọng, một cú điện thoại đến trễ nhiều ngày lại đúng vào hôm mất điện, một tối muộn cùng nhau đánh cầu lông để xua đi cơn mất ngủ ám ảnh,
và hai cái nắm tay.

Yếu tố huyền ảo trong tác phẩm này của Hwang Jungeun có thể không hoàn toàn mới mẻ, nhưng đem lại hiệu quả tối đa, ở đây đó là khiến hiện thực thật và sống động hết mức có thể, không phải lười nhác ảo chỉ để cho ảo.
Những đoạn hội thoại không rạch ròi ai là người đang nói/kể cũng tăng thêm "nồng độ" huyền ảo. Bất cứ nhân vật nào, khi kể chuyện đời mình sẽ được đột ngột mà khéo léo đôn lên trước nhất để người đọc, thường phải đến lúc nghe hết chuyện mới nhận ra người vừa kể cho mình nghe đó là ai và đôi khi cũng không tránh khỏi nhầm lẫn, nhưng đồng thời lại đặc biệt tập trung và quan tâm hơn đến nhân vật đang được giới thiệu với mình.

Cuốn sách mỏng, bảy chương như bảy bài thơ dài vẽ nên những quang cảnh đô thị chưa được bộc lộ nhiều của Hàn Quốc hiện đại qua các sản phẩm văn hóa đại chúng (và dù là cảnh đô thị nhưng lại cứ khiến nhớ tới Tales from Outer Suburbia của Shaun Tan là như nào!), chạm tới nhiều vấn đề cũng như mâu thuẫn của xã hội nhưng tuyệt đối chưa bao giờ có ý muốn gồng mình nhồi nhét chính trị, có chăng đó chỉ là cách Hwang Jeungeun bộc lộ sự quan tâm đến những số phận bên lề, ngoài rìa, bị bỏ lại phía sau của một xã hội phát triển quá vội. Đọc văn Hwang Jungeun, có thể cảm nhận rõ rệt tình cảm chị dành cho các nhân vật của mình, và có lẽ đây là điều ghi điểm nhiều nhất với tôi. Ở bản tiếng Hàn, Hwang Jungeun dành trọn phần lời tác giả để viết một bài thơ dành cho Eungyo và Mujae, mong rằng thế giới tàn nhẫn này sẽ bớt bạo tàn với họ và cầu cho trên con đường đêm đang đi họ sẽ gặp được một ai đó. (Ở phần lời tác giả một tác phẩm mà tôi rất thích khác, truyện vừa Kong's Garden, chị cũng bộc lộ sự trăn trở về nhân vật chính của mình, về những biến cố sẽ xảy đến tiếp với cô ấy sau khi tác phẩm đã kết thúc.)

What are you so worried about, Eungyo?
It's too dark.
Of course it's dark, it's nighttime.
But it's too dark it doesn't seem possible that we'll make it to somewhere bright.

It's so dark, you don't know who we might run into. Could be anyone.
Anyone would do, I said, that's why we're going. I'd happy to run into anyone right now. And if we do, won't they be just as startled, given that we could be anyone too?

Are we ghosts? we wonder. Who could tell, this late at night. We might be ghosts seeking others of our kind, walking under a pale moon.

[Katie Lumsden · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very enjoyable and interesting read - I loved the writing and the subtle magic realism, and the relationship between the two central character is very well done.

[Inderjit Sanghera · Rating 4 out of 5]

The dark, macabre fairy tale atmosphere which Jungeun creates is often interspersed with an almost bland sense of reality, thereby creating an atmosphere which is both surreal and at the same time strangely relatable; whilst there is no escaping the fact that the novel is set in the real world, the dreamlike prose style and the constant references to the supernatural, including the unexplained and sentient shadows which appear to haunt human beings, is constantly unsettling for the reader.

The novel follows the development of the relationship between Eungyo and Mujae, as they slowly begin to fall in love. This is captured in a series of short, almost parabalesque chapters, where Jungeun is able to interweave the emotional interplay between the two characters against a world of almost uncanny beauty;

"The sky was a subtle blend of blues, yellows and reds, merging hazily with the sea at the horizon. I could see the car park, much further away than I'd thought, and beyond that the mud flats and one remaining salt field. The tide hadn't yet come in, so the mud flats still stretched or into the distance. The abandoned salt field was red, though  I couldn't guess the reason. Each island, a sparse dream-like smattering on the vast sea, bore a tall electricity pylon. Like objects seen in a rear-view mirror, the islands and their towers seemed nearer than they were in reality, fading away little by little and leaving me utterly rapt..."

It is difficult to say what 'One Hundred Shadows' is about, or if it is about anything really, outside of Jungsun's desire to tell a story whose atmosphere leaves the reader enraptured, just as her vision of the towers left Eungyo enraptured and just like Eungyo, the reader feels overwhelmed by the strange sense of beauty which Jungsun is able to create. 

[Alice · Rating 3 out of 5]

Strange, atmospheric and slightly sad. Really enjoyed the themes and the magical realism.

[Zana · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't know that this novel was inspired by the 2009 Yongsan apartment disaster. Reading about it now added some context to the novel, although the story of forced evictions and public-private redevelopment rings familiar across national lines.

This was a heartfelt little novel that tells the story of working class and underprivileged characters, focusing on two young employees working at buildings slated for demolition and redevelopment.

The urban setting was written really well to the point where it was its own main character. Even though I've only been to Seoul once, it still felt very recognizable and written in a genuine way. Building A's fate is something that all of us might recognize, and sadly, be accustomed to, especially in cases of gentrification.

I loved how the shadows were a metaphor for the characters and the environment undergoing involuntary changes. The shadows acting out of their own free will and the characters' reactions to this unfamiliar and alarming situation speaks volumes for what's happening to the markets.

I'm not usually one for cute love stories, but the relationship buildup between Eungyo and Mujae felt realistic and organic. Two young people become friends and deepen that friendship by hanging out. What's not to like? Although Mujae tended to mansplain things and it was slightly irritating at times.

The dialogue is written without quotation marks, which was hard to grasp in the beginning (since there were lots of one-liners), but as you read on, it wasn't too difficult to figure out who was talking.

I'd definitely recommend this novel for those who like slowburn contemporary (and clean) romances with a tinge of dark magical realism.

Thank you to Erewhon Books and Edelweiss for this arc.

[Chi – cuddle.thereader · Rating 5 out of 5]

Đây là một cuốn sách mới đầu đọc tớ không thích lắm, nhưng càng đọc lại càng thấy ưng ý hơn hẳn.
Mọi thứ ban đầu có phần nặng nề và hơi khó hiểu, không gian truyện chìm trong một sắc màu u ám, cùng giọng kể lặng lẽ như một lời thì thầm vậy.
Càng về sau câu chuyện càng dễ chịu hơn, mọi thứ dần rõ nét và đem lại cái cảm giác như một cuộc đời thực. Lối dẫn dắt độc giả rất nhẹ nhàng nhưng sâu sắc của tác giả đã tạo nên một câu chuyện đẹp đẽ và rất giàu tình người.
Con người cần nhau đến như thế nào nhỉ? Thế giới này vốn khắc nghiệt, có khi con người ta chỉ muốn sống trong một góc bình lặng không bon chen, những căng thẳng áp lực vẫn len lỏi vào cuộc sống của họ, và họ cứ gắng gượng chiến đấu với chúng. Một ngày họ nhận ra rằng bản thân mệt mỏi quá, và rằng có một người ở bên cạnh thì tốt biết bao. Cái nắm tay khi lạc bước, một bữa cơm chung, cuộc điện thoại bâng quơ thôi cũng có thể trở thành phao cứu sinh cho một người trong một ngày tồi tệ vậy.
Hình ảnh cái bóng của mỗi người hiện lên trong câu chuyện như một vật thể kì lạ và đáng sợ, một thứ mà tất cả mọi người đều dặn dò nhau đừng đi theo nó. Ban đầu tớ cứ băn khoăn cái bóng ấy nghĩa là gì nhỉ, và theo suốt chiều dài cuốn sách tớ chợt nhận ra cái bóng ấy đại diện cho rất nhiều điều trong cuộc sống của con người hiện đại. Những thứ vốn thuộc về chúng ta, nhưng chính chúng lại là gánh nặng đè lên chúng ta, thứ mà nếu ta cứ mải miết theo đuổi, ta sẽ không còn được là chính mình nữa.
Có lẽ đây là sẽ là một trong những tác phẩm của văn học Hàn Quốc mà tớ yêu thích nhất, dù tớ vốn không thích văn học Hàn cho lắm, vì u sầu quá đi.

[Kate O'Shea · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5/4

A strange book that mixes reality and fantasy. Muzae and Eungyo have both dropped out of school to work in a repair shop. However the area they work in is being slowly re-developed and the shop keepers who seem to sell everything you could possibly wish for are constantly moving making their livelihoods even more precarious.

Add to this the strange phenomenon of the shadow of a person rising before they die. Both Muzae and Eungyo see their own shadows rise and know not to follow them but their lives seem to hang by the thinnest thread.

I enjoyed reading this book but I'm still not sure why. It seemed to be saying a lot more than I understood but I'm unfamiliar with Korean literature, lives and folklore so could not say whether any of the themes are based on traditional Korean tropes.

I would recommend this book for fans of strange and different literature. It certainly gives a flavour of the fleeting and insubstantial nature of our lives.

Thankyou to Netgalley and Kensington Books for the advance review copy.

[Nguyet Minh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Một tác phẩm hiện thực huyền ảo đã phơi bày một mặt rất khác của xã hội Hàn Quốc - nơi được xem là một xã hội mới nổi với những xa hoa phù phiếm. Sự thay đổi nhanh chóng của xã hội ấy khiến rất nhiều thứ bị bỏ lại bởi không theo kịp tốc độ của nó. Để rồi những con người trong đó, cụ thể là tầng lớp nghèo hèn trở nên cô độc và bế tắc, họ lạc ra khỏi dòng chảy của cuộc sống hiện đại, sống nhưng không thực sự tồn tại, họ đánh mất sự đầm ấm lạc quan khi xung quanh bị bao trùm bởi sự nhân tạo, họ vô định khi những phương hướng của cuộc đời bị xoay chuyển liên tục.

Eun Gyo - cô gái mồ côi cha mẹ và chàng trai Mu Jea tìm thấy nhau, khắng khít với nhau qua những câu chuyện phiếm nhưng thực chất họ đang bám víu vào nhau bởi sự hiện diện tối thiểu của kẻ khác có thể xoa dịu nỗi buồn và sự cô đơn nơi họ. Những cái bóng mà Eun Gyo nhìn thấy khắp mọi nơi của người này người nọ phải chăng là một hình thái khác của nỗi buồn, sự lạc lõng và cả những gánh nặng mà mỗi người họ phải mang vác. Bản ngã trong mỗi người được phân tách ra để bước vào một chiều không gian khác, một thế giới hư cấu để thực hiện những hành vi ngu ngốc, đôi khi là sự trốn chạy khỏi hiện thực. Lời cảnh báo đừng đi theo cái bóng của chính mình nếu nó sống dậy như một lời nhắc nhở về việc chúng ta không nên để những sầu lo đeo bám, ta phải học cách vượt thoát để tìm đường ra với ánh sáng.

“Một trăm cái bóng” có phần lạnh lẽo và u tối. Chỉ vỏn vẹn hơn 100 trang sách nhưng bóng tối khổng lồ vương mắc khắp nơi. Hai nhân vật duy nhất đại diện cho biết bao thân phận phải gánh chịu hệ quả của sự phát triển thần tốc, để rồi phải tụt lại đằng sau, lui vào bóng tối của lo toan và mong mỏi. Hwang Jungeun đã hư cấu một hiện thực quá đỗi tài tình. Chúng ta buộc phải nhìn lại sự băng giá của cái chất hiện đại để tìm cách nhìn xuống, sống chậm, học cách yêu thương và san sẻ nhiều hơn.

[Kitty G Books · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book was one of the ones sent out to me in the march Mothbox which is run by Mercedes. I was certainly drawn to the book becuase of the superb cover and peculiar-sounding tale within, and I quickly decided to read it as a good little break between the mammoth books I am currently reading for #TomeTopple.

This is a story set in South Korea which follows two young people: Eungyo and Mujae. Both of them work in a run down, sprawling and chaotic market which runs the risk of being shut down, but they are happy(ish) and they have started into the great unknown of new relationships.

It's described as an off-beat story and I would definitely say there's truth to that becuase often it felt a little broken or stilted to me, but I think that added to the charm. There are some magical realism elements to this story too, and that meant that the tiny novel had an allure and draw I wasn't necessarily expecting.

In the end, it was short, sweet and bitter for me. I liked the writing, the storytelling and even the plot kept me intrigued, but the ending and the resolution were slightly cut-off for me. I feel as though I wanted a little more closure, but I did like the reading experience a lot and I was immersed. I gave it a 3.5*s in the end :)

[Jen Burrows · Rating 5 out of 5]

One Hundred Shadows is a haunting read, a story that lingers with you long after the last word. It's possibly best described as a modern day allegory, with Hwang Jungeun's spare prose navigating the weighty themes of class, gentrification and belonging. That's not to say the story's heavy-going or overly didactic - far from it. Gritty, almost dystopian realism sits side by side with quirky fairytale imagery, centred round the arresting motif of rising shadows. Eloquent in its simplicity, One Hundred Shadows captures the beauty of burgeoning love in a world of loneliness.

*Thank you to ThePigeonhole.com for sharing this story!*

[Katherine Hoch · Rating 5 out of 5]

Profundamente amé esta novela. Hace rato no leía algo que me dejara tan abatida. Creo que este es un libro que uno puede leer en distintos periodos de la vida y fijarse en cosas diferentes en cada lectura. Me gustaron mucho los diálogos entre los personajes porque creo que son bien profundos e incluso, existencialistas.

Otra cosa que me gustó mucho es que todo el rato pensaba en las galerías que están cerca de Plaza de Armas en Santiago. Creo que vivimos en esa misma modernidad en decadencia que es arrasada por las inmobiliarias y los mall. Fue lindo entender la realidad de un país tan lejano como Corea del Sur.

Mi capítulo favorito fue Omusa💙

[Bên Phía Nhà Z · Rating 3 out of 5]

phần lời tác giả ở cuối hay =)))

[Iza Brekilien · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read the first half of this novella (courtesy of Netgalley) on a day I was really tired. I have to say the general bleak atmosphere made such a deep impression on me that I had to close it. I couldn't take it any more, I found some dialogues repetitive and the atmosphere was just too oppressive. The story felt weird.
This morning, freshly rested, I picked it back up and this changed my outlook. I read the second half with my heart bleeding for the characters.

Enjoyable this book is not, social criticism it is. The story is about the little people living in the slums of Seoul and what their life is. Practically born with debts (those of their parents), the way Korean society works, they have no choice but to make more debts and live only to pay the interests. The characters we meet work in a building about to be taken down, they are small shopkeepers, employees, old, young, in crowded workplaces, with rotten windows. The atmosphere is stuffy, decaying, there is no room for light or air, as much as there is no hope for every one of them. There is a sharp contrast between their world and that of businessmen, the modern world around them that's closing in, progress. The dialogues are few and mostly stuck in a circle, reinforcing the feeling of hopelessness, of them having abandoned their dreams - if they had any to begin with.

However, near the end, the two young lovers escape for a day of sunshine, sea, mountain, food, that give us a glimpse of what their life could be. Of course, it's not as simple as that...
I was struck by the relationships between all characters, it's not obvious, they are just aware of the humanity of those around them. Despite the bleakness, their interactions felt good and warm.

The whole story is told with a metaphor using a touch of magical realism. I don't think I'll read this book again, but I will follow this author. She was able, in a few pages, to paint despair with poetry and the more I read, the more I was sucked in by a tale full of darkness.

[Charlie · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 STARS

CW: death (of loved ones), suicidal ideation

Thank you to NetGalley for the free ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This book was quintessentially Korean and I really enjoyed that, but, at the same time, the serene and atmospheric writing style is not what I usually gravitate towards. Had I not had the expectation that it would be like this, I think I would have been very disappointed but, alas, I had expected a style that is not necessarily my favorite.

Generally, I thought the story was enchanting, you are dropped in when Mujae and Eungyo are walking through the woods and get pulled out at a later point in time at another location and every scene and chapter you read felt dream-like to me. In the beginning, I was constantly trying to figure out why the main characters were in the forest, how had they gotten there but a lot of questions never get answered.

One thing I have to mention is that none of the dialogue was marked with quotation marks which is usually something that drives me insane. I could work with it in this story because it fit this questionable reality / dreamscape where oftentimes I found myself asking who was even saying what and being relieved when a name was mentioned again so I definitely knew who was speaking. Maybe that was the formatting in the eBook though.

All in all, this was a very interesting book and even though I know magical realism is not really my favorite, I did enjoy the book and had many thoughts while reading. Therefore, I'd definitely recommend picking this up if the summary intrigues you in any way.

[Elena Linville-Abdo · Rating 3 out of 5]

Stars: 3 out of 5

This was a strangely lyrical novella about love and loss and the sense of not belonging in this world and not fitting into society. In a way, both protagonists are lonely individuals with no friends or family to speak of. They just float through life without making any ripples. Were they to disappear someday, nobody would even notice. It is nice that they found some semblance of kinship in each other.

I wouldn't call this magical realism or anything. It's more a slice-of-life kind of story. Yes, people's shadows "rise" from time to time, but apart from that description, nothing really happens. And those shadows are more of a metaphor for loneliness and absence of hope than anything else.

My biggest complaint is that the dialogues aren't well formatted, so half the time I got confused as to what was just description and what was an actual line of dialogue, or who was speaking. I don't know if this was a formatting issue or of that's how dialogues are written in the original Korean version, but they should have translated this into the English formatting.

PS: I received an advanced copy of this book via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Bbrown · Rating 4 out of 5]

The opening comparison of this work to a sunshower (“fox rain” is the phrase in Korean) captures One Hundred Shadows perfectly, it’s a book about finding the good in the bad. It’s the joy you can find in driving a beat up used car that you got on the cheap because it’s on its last legs. It’s living in poverty but liking your life, and the people you live it with. A neighborhood that outsiders call a slum, to you can be home, and a home you don’t want to change.

Not that Hwang Jungeun depicts living in poverty as all coziness and camaraderie, One Hundred Shadows is also about people scrounging to get by, people trapped under debt that they can’t get out from under, people thinking that their lives are futile. Overall, though, I think the book is more encouraging than depressing, and it ends on a hopeful note, the main character expressing that she is without fear even in a situation that would warrant it.

Hwang Jungeun setting this book in the poor side of Seoul makes it stand out, as it’s a side of Seoul that I’ve hardly ever seen depicted before, and she depicts it through minimalist prose that I found quite effective, even beautiful at times. There aren’t many characters in this short work (that goes by even faster than what the page count would suggest) and a couple are merely sketches, but even the characters that are only depicted briefly feel real, like you could actually run into one of them in some back alley in Seoul. The relationship between the main characters Eungyo and Mujae likewise felt realistic and relatable, and is well developed even though the book is so short.

I did have two problems with the book, however. One is its opening, where we are dropped into the middle of a situation without knowing anything about the characters or this world. It struck me as too much of a hook, trying to get people interested even though the scenes depicted would have been more effective if the book had set down more of a foundation first. My second problem is that, having finished the book, I still don’t really understand the purpose of people’s shadows rising. It wasn’t necessary for the book, and the significance of a character’s shadow rising is unclear: does it represent depression, anxiety, a general dissatisfaction with life, all of the above? Despite being frequently referenced in the book, the peculiar shadows of One Hundred Shadows seemed like mere window dressing.

After a strange start I ended up liking One Hundred Shadows quite a bit, with Hwang Jungeun’s ability to write believable characters and relationships at the heart of that enjoyment. The fact that she chose to add an element of the fantastic to the poor side of Seoul that she depicted is not something I minded, even though I didn’t think it added anything to the story (though I might just not have grasped its significance). If she has more books translated into English I’ll be sure to pick one up in the future. 3.5/5, rounding up.

[Claire · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ethereal, dream-like, accepting of their fate. South Korean working class literature.

Two young people work in an electronics market and slowly develop a friendship.

We meet Eungyo as she is following her shadow, causing her to become separated from the group she is with. Mujae follows her and stops her. Shadows rise and seem to lure one to follow it, something that others try to prevent, for it feels death-like.

Although it is never explained the constant mention of human shadows and their various behaviours provoke the readers imagination to ascribe meaning. Ill heath and approaching death cause it to rise, and perhaps thoughts, reaching the limit of what one is able to endure. One shouldn't follow it.

Their bond is formed as the environment within which they work is threatened with demolition. There is a subtle interdependency between the market traders, repairing and selling electronics, so when people who have worked there for years suddenly disappear, it unsettles the tenants.

Rumours and false media reports hasten their demise. They hold onto rituals, sharing soup, drinking rice wine, telling stories.

Do you know what a slum is, Eungo?
Something to do with being poor?
I looked it up in a dictionary.
What did it say?
An area in a ity where poor people live. Mujae looked at me. They say the area around here is a slum.
Who?
The papers, and people.
Slum?
It's a little odd, isn't it?
It is odd.
Slum.
Slum.
We sat there repeating the word for a while, and then I said, I've heard the word, of course, but I'd never thought of this place as a slum.

This short novella witnesses the various encounters between these two, the stories they recount which often include shadows they've witnessed, the simple soups they consume, the songs they sing. Shadows, soup, songs, survival.

My home was described in the news as 'a slum'. This was an outside view; I wrote my novel to show it from the inside

The novel was inspired by the effect on ordinary working class people affected by Korea's eviction-centered-redevelopment policies, where the government removed residents and vendors by intimidation and force. Redevelopment involved a complex web of often obscure relationships between corporations and government, wealthy landowners and hired thugs, low-income tenants and the police.

Hwang Jungeun's debut novel, translated by Jung Yewon was a critical and commercial success in South Korea with its mix of oblique fantasy, hard-edge social critique, and offbeat romance. Won the prestigious Hankook Ilbo Literary Award and the Korean Booksellers’ Award. Mentioned by Han Kang as South Korea's rising literary star.

[ณัฐกานต์ อมาตยกุล · Rating 4 out of 5]

คู่ชายหญิงทำงานในตลาดเครื่องใช้ไฟฟ้าที่แบ่งเป็นอาคารติดๆ กัน (คงเป็นอารมณ์ฟอร์จูน พันทิพย์) นางเอกทำงานเป็นผู้ช่วยช่างซ่อมเครื่องใช้ไฟฟ้า พระเอกเป็นลูกมือช่างเชื่อม ความแฟนตาซีของเรื่องที่ดูเรียลลิสติกนี้คือ คนทุกคนจะมีโอกาสประสบเหตุการณ์ที่เงาของตัวเองมีชีวิตขึ้นมา แรกเริ่มจะรู้สึกหวาดกลัว แต่ก็อยากตามมันไป แล้วมันจะเริ่มมีชีวิตกลืนกินตัวจริงไปเรื่อยๆ จนตาย นึกแล้วก็เหมือนอาการป่วยไข้ทางจิต ที่ถูกหยิบมาเล่าในบริบทสังคมแบ่งชนชั้นแบบหนังเรื่องปรสิต อ่านเพลินๆ แปลอังกฤษแบบใช้ภาษาง่ายดี ลื่นไหล (อ่านรีวิวเต็มๆ ที่ https://koreanlit.home.blog/2020/03/1...)

[Marie-Therese · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 stars.

An odd and lovely little book. Its straightforward narrative style contrasts well with subtle uses of fantasy and a fresh and delicate presentation of new love. I would like to read more by this author.