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Rust
- GenresFiction
92 pages, Paperback
Published November 1, 2002
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Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews
December 12, 2025
“𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘳𝘶𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘴 𝘐 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘰𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵.”
Stern in ambitions, man is just another cog in the machine meant to rust and brittle off into something lesser, to remain as remnants of humanity and not fully be human itself. Mere idea. Mechanical. Sufficing to everything, to very little affect.
Here, the metaphors are laid down a bit heavy, too obvious for their own good, and I’ve noticed this throughout Korean literature. Why must the signs be so obvious? Why must things be spelled out for us? It dulls out the story, makes it lukewarm and ineffective with its obsession in the hyperbole.
Enjoyed the companion story, 𝘚𝘸𝘢𝘮𝘱, a lot more where it feels more ecstatic and richer in dialogue, chasing after a kinship to human relationship and speech. It’s people’d and rich and I think best captures the rat race of Korean working society as it’s still quite relevant.
Fine overall. Not good, not great, but I enjoy these pocket series by 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘒𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.
Stern in ambitions, man is just another cog in the machine meant to rust and brittle off into something lesser, to remain as remnants of humanity and not fully be human itself. Mere idea. Mechanical. Sufficing to everything, to very little affect.
Here, the metaphors are laid down a bit heavy, too obvious for their own good, and I’ve noticed this throughout Korean literature. Why must the signs be so obvious? Why must things be spelled out for us? It dulls out the story, makes it lukewarm and ineffective with its obsession in the hyperbole.
Enjoyed the companion story, 𝘚𝘸𝘢𝘮𝘱, a lot more where it feels more ecstatic and richer in dialogue, chasing after a kinship to human relationship and speech. It’s people’d and rich and I think best captures the rat race of Korean working society as it’s still quite relevant.
Fine overall. Not good, not great, but I enjoy these pocket series by 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘗𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘓𝘪𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘒𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦.
October 17, 2021
2.5/5
I'm aware of how fatuous a statement this is, but it does seem to me like South Korea is coming into better view to the mainstream US as a whole. From the food hype and the boy band craze to the success in Eurocentric film awards and the increasing number of shows available on certain streaming services (one of whose shows has been ragingly popular of late), the tableau that is accessible on a superficial level to those denizens of my homeland who are curious about this area seems ten times more broad and multifarious than it was ten, twenty years ago, at least. Me, I take what I can get as a result of any of this sorts of seismic culture engagements (clashes or otherwise), and this work published in the Portable Library of Korean Literature imprint is but yet the latest example of my being drawn in minimally drawn, yet evocatively elegant design that promises a less than familiar milieu of reading. This particular work is the slimmest piece that I've read in recent memory and seems more like a duet of short stories than anything else, and, truth be told, I wouldn't have paid as much as I did for a used copy had my book buying abilities not been cut off for some period of time previous. Still, no use crying over spilled milk, and now that I'm finished, I'd be willing to see what else the PLKL imprint has put out, as well as these bestsellers that the author bio talks about. As for the work itself, a bit too on the nose with its message when considering how few pages such fills up, but considering the fervor roiling over the themes of a certain cephalopod diversion, the level of propaganda is so thick these days that sometimes the more obvious critical pushback to such could well afford to go all out.
This work is composed of 'Rust' and 'Swamp', both tales of citizens being wrung out through the wheels and the cogs of what is known today as "society." As for the first and titular work, the surrealist bent of 'Rust's main symbol would have benefitted from a far more transgressive or at the very least weird overarching story, rather than rehashing a typical middle class 'can't get ahead, can't get out' rat race amidst some rather minor oddities that don't manage to become anything significantly engaging by the time the story runs through. As such, the second to me is the stronger, as it cooperates more with the author's down to earth style in terms of having a wider point of view on a social/historical perspective and, ultimately, a more credible transition from the reader's perspective to the text's underlying theme. Indeed, the second reminded me of how little I've explored Korean literature, seeing as how my mind kept circling around Han Kang's Human Acts despite my complete certainty that that area world has far more to offer than tales of government crackdowns on revolutionary action. Still, if there's anything one should know about translations coming from a non-Euro venue, it's that what is picked will almost always serve a political point, and for all its K-pop and its not being North Korea, it wouldn't do to have an Asian country compare favorably to a certain Los Angeles containing country across the water, now would it. Considering how much I liked the second's introduction to the scene by way of a peaceful gathering centered around preparing food, I'd probably like Korean literature drawn on that far more domestic theme, although the chance of success hinges as much on the quality of the piece as it does on my willingness to engage with it.
In terms of reading experience, I'd call this an appetizer that whetted my appetite for the dream of works I can better sink my teeth into should I continue to keep an eye out for this particular imprint. I wouldn't even mind taking a chance on other pieces of comparatively truncated length, as there's always a chance of an author going out on a limb within such a tight construct and coming up with something truly special. And, of course, as it was with my reading of a massive anthology of Vietnamese short stories, with my engagement of a representative of the Caribbean Writers Series, there's always a sense that, even if the work didn't do as much for me as other have, I'd rather be bored with a piece so far beyond the WASP pale than slightly mollified with more of the same old, same old. It's about developing the kind of perspective that keeps your mind engaged far beyond the borders of what your home city, home state, home nation would sell you in order to keep you complacent but only just, and what with all the talk of Striketober and the resurgence once again of Battle Royale style media in the face of the superhero hegemony, it's hard not being excited about the grander implications. So, I read this work with its hints at violent suppression of those who are unwilling to submit to a fate of being fuel for the climate changing conflagration that is global modernity, and I think about the next five, ten, fifty years. What will have declined and fallen, and what will have risen in its place? Will you be around? Will I? Will anyone? Trends of thinking that this work isn't entirely responsible for, but food for thought nonetheless.
I'm aware of how fatuous a statement this is, but it does seem to me like South Korea is coming into better view to the mainstream US as a whole. From the food hype and the boy band craze to the success in Eurocentric film awards and the increasing number of shows available on certain streaming services (one of whose shows has been ragingly popular of late), the tableau that is accessible on a superficial level to those denizens of my homeland who are curious about this area seems ten times more broad and multifarious than it was ten, twenty years ago, at least. Me, I take what I can get as a result of any of this sorts of seismic culture engagements (clashes or otherwise), and this work published in the Portable Library of Korean Literature imprint is but yet the latest example of my being drawn in minimally drawn, yet evocatively elegant design that promises a less than familiar milieu of reading. This particular work is the slimmest piece that I've read in recent memory and seems more like a duet of short stories than anything else, and, truth be told, I wouldn't have paid as much as I did for a used copy had my book buying abilities not been cut off for some period of time previous. Still, no use crying over spilled milk, and now that I'm finished, I'd be willing to see what else the PLKL imprint has put out, as well as these bestsellers that the author bio talks about. As for the work itself, a bit too on the nose with its message when considering how few pages such fills up, but considering the fervor roiling over the themes of a certain cephalopod diversion, the level of propaganda is so thick these days that sometimes the more obvious critical pushback to such could well afford to go all out.
This work is composed of 'Rust' and 'Swamp', both tales of citizens being wrung out through the wheels and the cogs of what is known today as "society." As for the first and titular work, the surrealist bent of 'Rust's main symbol would have benefitted from a far more transgressive or at the very least weird overarching story, rather than rehashing a typical middle class 'can't get ahead, can't get out' rat race amidst some rather minor oddities that don't manage to become anything significantly engaging by the time the story runs through. As such, the second to me is the stronger, as it cooperates more with the author's down to earth style in terms of having a wider point of view on a social/historical perspective and, ultimately, a more credible transition from the reader's perspective to the text's underlying theme. Indeed, the second reminded me of how little I've explored Korean literature, seeing as how my mind kept circling around Han Kang's Human Acts despite my complete certainty that that area world has far more to offer than tales of government crackdowns on revolutionary action. Still, if there's anything one should know about translations coming from a non-Euro venue, it's that what is picked will almost always serve a political point, and for all its K-pop and its not being North Korea, it wouldn't do to have an Asian country compare favorably to a certain Los Angeles containing country across the water, now would it. Considering how much I liked the second's introduction to the scene by way of a peaceful gathering centered around preparing food, I'd probably like Korean literature drawn on that far more domestic theme, although the chance of success hinges as much on the quality of the piece as it does on my willingness to engage with it.
In terms of reading experience, I'd call this an appetizer that whetted my appetite for the dream of works I can better sink my teeth into should I continue to keep an eye out for this particular imprint. I wouldn't even mind taking a chance on other pieces of comparatively truncated length, as there's always a chance of an author going out on a limb within such a tight construct and coming up with something truly special. And, of course, as it was with my reading of a massive anthology of Vietnamese short stories, with my engagement of a representative of the Caribbean Writers Series, there's always a sense that, even if the work didn't do as much for me as other have, I'd rather be bored with a piece so far beyond the WASP pale than slightly mollified with more of the same old, same old. It's about developing the kind of perspective that keeps your mind engaged far beyond the borders of what your home city, home state, home nation would sell you in order to keep you complacent but only just, and what with all the talk of Striketober and the resurgence once again of Battle Royale style media in the face of the superhero hegemony, it's hard not being excited about the grander implications. So, I read this work with its hints at violent suppression of those who are unwilling to submit to a fate of being fuel for the climate changing conflagration that is global modernity, and I think about the next five, ten, fifty years. What will have declined and fallen, and what will have risen in its place? Will you be around? Will I? Will anyone? Trends of thinking that this work isn't entirely responsible for, but food for thought nonetheless.
January 14, 2019
I liked these two stories but the second one "Swamp" was definitely more difficult to stop reading. Very interesting to see the second order effects of the political interrogations.
July 23, 2013
Yang's two tales of demoralization and defeat, "Rust" and "Swamp", present an almost psychoanalytic narrative of the working professional's woes. The imagery of a crushed idealist ["Swamp"] and a disaffected ad-man ["Rust"] are reflected by the natural world's own slow and inevitable forms of decay, but Yang seems to underestimate her readers (or perhaps its the translation) by taking the metaphor too far, to the point that every conclusion is practically spelled out for us, with little room for interpretation.
November 24, 2022
I am started to see a definite korean style of writing, or at least of works translated into English. Rust is a very heavy handed "surreal" short story. The narrator is obsessed with the rust creeping over all the objects in his life, and spends all of his spare time methodically wiping away the rust that may or may not be accumulating on everything. The metaphor is just...too obvious. Too heavy handed. Too tame, too blah. It's really boring actually.
It really reminds me of a recent edition of Azalea I read, where there are two trite and ham-handed surreal short stories. One is about a man getting trapped in a hotel run by robots and his rooms get smaller and smaller as he runs out of money, until he turns into an animal because he can't stand up straight anymore. And another is about a person trapped in a tiny goshiwon. Both of them had potential, or could have been interesting, but basically rehashed boring tropes about the shrinking middle class without tension, depth, or reflection.
I really want to like Korean literature more than I do. I live in Korea and have lived here for years, and I speak a passable amount of Korean. I am interested in the history and culture, and I don't mean kpop. But I repeatedly find myself disappointed by the quality of stories. Trite, obvious, and shallow even when they are trying to be deep. *especially* when they are trying to be deep.
It really reminds me of a recent edition of Azalea I read, where there are two trite and ham-handed surreal short stories. One is about a man getting trapped in a hotel run by robots and his rooms get smaller and smaller as he runs out of money, until he turns into an animal because he can't stand up straight anymore. And another is about a person trapped in a tiny goshiwon. Both of them had potential, or could have been interesting, but basically rehashed boring tropes about the shrinking middle class without tension, depth, or reflection.
I really want to like Korean literature more than I do. I live in Korea and have lived here for years, and I speak a passable amount of Korean. I am interested in the history and culture, and I don't mean kpop. But I repeatedly find myself disappointed by the quality of stories. Trite, obvious, and shallow even when they are trying to be deep. *especially* when they are trying to be deep.
Displaying 1 - 5 of 5 reviews