Al atardecer

by Hwang Sok-yong, Laura Hernández Ramos (Translator)

Al terminar la conferencia, una joven se acerca a Minwoo Park, director de un gran estudio de arquitectura, y le entrega una nota, con un nombre y un número de teléfono. La joven es Woohee Jeong, una directora de teatro que vive en un semisótano mohoso, quien para llegar a fin de mes trabaja todas las noches en un supermercado y se alimenta de la comida caducada que tendría que tirar. En el crepúsculo de su vida, Minwoo Park tiene la satisfacción de haber triunfado, contribuyendo a la modernización de su país, a pesar de haber nacido en la pobreza. Pero, con la nota, reaparecen los recuerdos del pasado, invitándole a sumergirse en un mundo que había olvidado. Se ve forzado entonces a interrogarse sobre la corrupción que reina en el ámbito de la construcción, su propia responsabilidad en el afeamiento del paisaje urbano y la violencia ejercida contra los expropiados.

Genres: Fiction, Asia, Contemporary, Asian Literature, Literary Fiction, Novels, Historical Fiction

176 pages, Paperback

First published November 3, 2015

About the author

Hwang Sok-yong (황석영) was born in Hsinking (today Changchun), Manchukuo, during the period of Japanese rule. His family returned to Korea after liberation in 1945. He later obtained a bachelor's degree in philosophy from Dongguk University (동국대학교).

In 1964 he was jailed for political reasons and met labor activists. Upon his release he worked at a cigarette factory and at several construction sites around the country.

In 1966–1969 he was part of Korea's military corps during the Vietnam War, reluctantly fighting for the American cause that he saw as an attack on a liberation struggle.

Reviews

[M. Malmierca · Rating 4 out of 5]

Al atardecer (2015), del coreano Hwang Sok-yong (1943-) narra la peripecia vital de un niño desde su nacimiento en un entorno rural y su infancia en un suburbio de Seul hasta su éxito como arquitecto. El autor elige dos momentos cruciales en su vida (su niñez y alrededor de sus 60 años cuando nuestro protagonista pasa por un dulce momento en lo laboral, pero uno amargo en lo personal) para mostrarnos cómo nuestros orígenes determinan nuestra visión del mundo, nuestras ambiciones y nuestras relaciones personales.

Novela para reflexionar, para cuestionarnos si es correcto renegar de nuestras raíces, si las decisiones tomadas fueron adecuadas. Se trata de analizar si el esfuerzo ha valido la pena, si somos felices con lo que finalmente hemos conseguido.

Pero, en ese “echar la vista atrás”, nos encontramos además ante la historia de un país, Corea, desde la ocupación japonesa, pasando por la postguerra y el desarrollo económico hasta la actualidad. Contamos así con dos protagonistas que se entrelazan y caminan juntos, un personaje y un país que parecen avanzar hacia una victoria que finalmente no resulta tan idílica como se pretendía. Porque es indudablemente crítica la comparación entre la pobreza extrema de la postguerra con otro tipo de pobreza actual motivada por las precarias condiciones laborales y la corrupción. Finalmente, del texto parece deducirse una conclusión: olvidar el pasado conduce a crear un presente igual de execrable.

La magnífica prosa realista (narrada a dos voces en primera persona) resulta a veces brusca y puede generar confusión. Quizá sea la traducción o quizá pretenda mostrar la impasible personalidad del protagonista al que también he encontrado frío, lejano e incluso oscuro. Sin embargo, la estructura es singular (el uso de un personaje ajeno para relacionar a los viejos amantes…) y la conclusión de la historia me ha resultado sorprendente y muy adecuada al tema tratado.

Al atardecer me ha convencido de su honestidad. Creo que merece la pena leerla.

[Eric Anderson · Rating 5 out of 5]

From the description of this novel I thought it would be a standard mid-late life crisis story about a man contemplating what his ambition and success really amount to. But it turned out to be something much more subtle and nuanced than that with a clever twist at the end. Park Minwoo was raised in a working class neighbourhood surrounded by poverty and gang violence, but became a successful architect heading his own firm. Parallel to his story is that of Jung Woohee who is a 29 year old playwright and director struggling to earn a living by working the night shift at a convenience store while trying to realise her artistic ambitions. What’s so moving about these two story threads is the way they intertwine to say something much larger about how our values and desires can become so twisted over the course of time. While working to create a good life for ourselves and those closest to us we become enmeshed in society’s progress which has a way of paving over history and people who fall by the wayside. This novel says something powerful about how our collective and personal values change over time.

Read my full review of At Dusk by Hwang Sok-yong on LonesomeReader

[julieta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Me gustó mucho por la manera en apariencia tan simple en que está escrito. La historia te deja con mucho que pensar sobre las diferencias económicas entre las personas, la corrupción, y cómo esta afecta la vida de personajes que no parecen estar conectados entre sí. También habla sobre la ambición y la soledad.

“En los años ochenta, cuando la asfixiante pobreza empezaba a darle un respiro a la mayoría de la gente, el desánimo y la resignación se enquistaron en la vida diaria y las pequeñas heridas comenzaron a hacer callo. Es como tener un callo en el dedo del pie, incómodo y pensando que debes quitártelo, pero al final de acostumbras y pasa a ser parte de tu cuerpo. Solo de vez en cuando eres vagamente consciente de ese intruso que tienes dentro del calcetín."

Igual confieso que a momentos me puso un poco nerviosa la traducción tan "españolizada", hay una escena medio fuerte de una paliza entre pandilleros de un barrio, y me cuesta imaginar a un coreano furioso diciendo “denunciadme si queréis. Si vais a meteros en el barrio de otro, deberíais presentaros e intentar ir de amigos, capullos. ¿Te estás burlando de mi, acompañado de estos chavales?"

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 2 out of 5]

Book 7/13 for me from the Man Booker International longlist

온 세상의 고향이 다 사라졌어요.
내 말에 김선배는 먼바다 쪽을 내다보다가 고개를 돌려 우리를 보았다.
그거 다 느이들이 없애버렸잖아.

Everyone's hometown is disappearing, I said.
Kiyoung gazed out to where the sky met the water before turning to look at us.
And you're the jerks who tore it all down!

I am a massive fan of Korean literature, so it is always a delight to see K-lit on a translated book award list - indeed the consistent overlooking of Korean novels by the US Best Translated Book Award (one longlisting for Bae Suah aside) frustrates me.

That said, when it comes to big-hitting male authors born in the 1940s and so writing in the aftermath of the Korean war, I am very much Team 이문열 (the brilliant Yi Mun-Yol) than Team 황석영 (Hwang Sok-yong). The four of his previous novels which I have read - The Guest, The Old Garden, The Road to Sampo and Princess Bari - have all been fine but not outstanding. sSee e.g. my review of the latter.

Like Princess Bari, At Dusk has been translated by Sora Kim-Russell, from the 2015 original 해질 무렵. I have read 7 different Korean authors through her translations, the others being Gong Jiyoung, Pyun Hye-Young, Kim Un-su, Bae Suah, Park Hyoung-su and Shin Kyung-sook, and she is one of my favourite Korean-English translators alongside the MBI-winning Deborah Smith and the wonderful Jung Yewon. Kim-Russell's translations tend to be towards the reads-naturally-in-English end of the spectrum, certainly as compared to Jung's. E.g. in the quote that opens my review a character Kim Kiyoung, an old acquaintance as a year ahead of the narrator in college, is still called, decades later, the respectful 김선배 (Kim Seon-bae, or Elder-brother/Senior Kim) by the narrator in the Korean original even when he is thinking about Kim Kiyoung in his own mind. But he thinks of him as 'Kiyoung' in the English translation.

Hwang is known not just as an author, with a prolific highly varied output, but as a political activist - anti-imperialist and pro- labour rights, Korean re-unification and democracy, even spending 5 years in prison (1993-1998) after an illegal visit to the North and a period of exile.

And ultimately that is my problem with this novel. Reading a novel apparently narrated by a successful architect and property developer from North Gyeonsang but written by Hwang Sok-yong is rather like reading a novel apparently narrated by an seeker of asylum in the US from Latin America but written by Donald Trump.

Perhaps that is a little stretched - but a very close analogy would be a novel apparently narrated by a Trump voter but written by a Sanders fan, or apparently narrated by a Leaver but written by an avid Remainer where the author has the Leaver expressing Bregret.

At Dusk is the story of Park Minwoo, a now successful architect who rose from humble origins in the slums of Seoul, where his family had a small fishcake business. There he became friendly with a girl, Cha Soona, daughter of a noodle maker. The two shared a common love for literature, and each strove to earn their way out of the slum by education, but also a common geographical origin:

Most of the neighbours had been from Jeolla Province whereas Soona’s family and mine were from the rival Gyeongsang Province.  We were like black beans that had accidentally sprouted in the middle of a soybean patch.

To put that in context, in the 2012 Korean Presidential election, a two-horse race with minor party candidates, like in the US, the winning candidate won 52% of the vote nationwide.

- in Jeolla Province, also Hwang's adopted province, she won less than 10%
- in North Gyeonsang Province, from which the narrator hails, she won over 80%

(cf Trump, who DC aside had a range of State votes between 30% and 68% at the absolute extremes)

While Minwoo made it to 'the most prestigious University' (unnamed in the translation, but I assume 서울대) and levers his Gyeongsang connections (from where the Presidents in the military era originate) to obtain success, Soona remains trapped.

Now decades later, and with some of his business associates caught up in a growing scandal, Park Minwoo is reflecting on his life, and legacy, in part due to receiving an unexpected message to contact Cha Soona, and also prompted by the dying days of another architect who reflects:

부처가 그랬지. 인간사 한 바퀴가 일륜인데 백 년 걸리지. 우리는 모두 한 바퀴도 못 돌고 내리는 셈이 아닌가.

백 년 뒤에는 여기 있는 사람들 대부분이 사라지고 없을 것이다. 세상에는 모두가 새로운 사람들일 것이다.

You know what the Buddha said. The wheel of life takes a hundred years to turn. Which means that none of us make it all the way round before we have to get off.

After a hundred years, most of the people here will be gone. The world will be full of new people.

In a side story, at first apparently unconnected, the novel has a second strand narrated by a late-20s artistic theatre director, Jung Woohee, who works the night shift in a convenience store to make ends meet and lives in conditions that, despite living in modern-day Seoul, don't seem to differ terribly from the 1960s slums of Park Minwoo's youth - including a rather implausible lack of any social media use.

Hwang brings the two stories, and that of Cha Soona, together in a series of neat, if rather overly cinematic, twists.

The novel ends, poignantly with Park Minwoo thinking:

컴퓨터에 지도를 띄워놓고 새로운 주택 부지를 찾으며 맞춤한 곳에 집 짓는 상상을 하는 게 요즘의 내 유일한 낙이다. 그런데 그 집에는 함께할 가족이 없다.

나는 길 한복판에서 어느 방향으로 가야 할지 몰라 망설이는 사람처럼 우두커니 서 있었다.

Nowadays, my only pleasure is pouring over online maps for new plots of land and imagining the kind of house I would build. But I have no family to live in that house with me.

And so there I stood, in the middle of the sidewalk in what was once Moon Hollow, like a man who'd lost his way.

in one of the more revealing quotes, Hwang Sok-yong has Park Minwoo says early on, looking back at his career:

Being ambitious means having to sift out the few values we feel like keeping and toss the rest, or twist them to suit ourselves.

But that is the author's pejorative view of a property developer. He doesn't ascribe the same to Jung Woohee (the only compromises she has to make are economic - to work in a store - but she maintains her artistic integrity) and I suspect he would not to himself either.

In practice successful business people, like successful artists, unite passion with purpose (see Great at Work: How Top Performers Do Less, Work Better, and Achieve More) - that Hwang doesn't share their purpose doesn't mean they have compromised their beliefs, just that theirs are different to his.

Overall - not one I would recommend. The Plotters would have been a better K-lit pick for this year's MBI and please read Yi Mun-yol (whose political leanings are similar, but manages to write with empathy and literary depth) not Hwang Sok-yong, or better still the newer wave of younger, female authors (Kim Sagwa, Han Kang, Bae Suah etc).

1.5 stars - it doesn't quite merit 1, so rounded up to 2.

[Sally · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a politically charged examination of life in Korea for the last 50 years told through the two narrators of the book: Minwoo, an architect with a rags-to-riches origin story and Woohee, a young, struggling playwright. As the story unfolds, you find out the connection between the two seemingly unrelated narrators. Deeply nihilistic, deeply melancholy story.

I think I enjoyed it more than I would have because my parents grew up in Seoul in the 1970's and I grew up listening to the same stories as Minwoo's childhood. They left for America in the 80's and returned to Seoul in the 2000's. I remember them coming back and expressing to me how they thought they had left Seoul, but in reality Seoul left them behind.

Before reading this book, I think it might be beneficial to know a little bit about Japan's occupation of Korea until 1945 and the Korean War shortly after. If you compare South Korea then and how it is now you'd be shocked at the rapid modernization. It's a bittersweet affair because for some of the older generation, the only traces of their childhood are now in their fading memories.

[Wojciech Szot · Rating 5 out of 5]

- Skoro nie można z tego wyżyć, to po co się tym zajmujesz - pyta Jeong U-hui, początkującą scenarzystkę i reżyserkę właściciel sklepu spożywczego, w którym dwudziestoośmiolatka zarabia na swoje marzenia. “Było to najgorzej płatne z wszystkich zajęć, których się dotąd podejmowałam, a dla osób niewiedzących, co począć z wolnym czasem, mogło być także śmiertelnie nużące - mówi narratorka.

W “O zmierzchu”, powieści koreańskiego pisarza Hwang Sok-Yonga narratorów będzie kilku, a ich opowieści złożą się na niemal epicką, choć oszczędną w słowach, historię współczesnej Korei - kraju, w którym awans społeczny oznacza często zerwanie z rodziną, ceną za realizację marzeń jest praca w nieludzkich warunkach i coraz więcej osób trafia na “społeczny margines” przez zwykły przypadek.

Słownik podpowiada mi, że zamiast “koreańskiego” powinienem napisać “ukraińskiego”. Cóż, algorytm doskonale wie, że nie jest u mnie codziennością lektura książek koreańskich pisarzy. Już po dwóch rozdziałach “O zmierzchu” najbardziej obawiałem się, że te pozornie niezwiązane ze sobą historie, w którymś momencie się połączą, a ja - nieprzyzwyczajony do zapamiętywania bohaterów o jakże dźwięcznych imionach i nazwiskach - będę zmuszony do rozpisania sobie diagramu łączącego poszczególne postaci.

Na szczęście Sok-Yong w kapitalny sposób, stosując różnorodne formy pierwszoosobowych narracji, przeprowadza czytelników przez gąszcz wydarzeń, których głównym bohaterem jest Park Min-u, starszy architekt, właściciel firmy projektowej, który pewnego dnia dostaje wiadomość od Cha Sun-y, swojej dawnej miłości. Dziewczyny ze sklepu z makaronami.

Zanim Park Min-u stał się człowiekiem zamożnym, mieszkał w ubogiej dzielnicy Seulu, gdzie codzienna przemoc łączyła się z wyzyskiem i szukaniem szansy na lepszą przyszłość. Dzisiaj stać go na opłacenie córce studiów medycznych w Stanach Zjednoczonych, jednak wiadomości od Sun-y sprawiają, że sięga pamięcią do młodości i - razem z innymi narratorami i narratorkami tej naprawdę wspaniale ułożonej książki - pokazuje w jaki sposób pokolenie ludzi, którzy uwierzyli w projekt modernizacji Korei, zniszczyło swój kraj. A na pewno jego krajobraz.

“Już dawno doszedłem do wniosku, że ludziom i światu nie można ufać. Po pewnym czasie ludzkie pragnienia przefiltrowują nasz system wartości, zatrzymując tylko nieliczne cechy - większość zostaje porzucona bądź zmieniona tak, aby odpowiadać naszym priorytetom. Nawet drobne pozostałości naszych ideałów zostają upchnięte w piwnicy wspomnień niczym używane w przeszłości, stare przedmioty. (...) Koniec końców o wszystkim decydują pieniądze i władza”. To cytat z samego początku powieści Sok-Yonga, który definiuje opowiadaną w książce historię. Ten kalejdoskop postaci i wydarzeń, których opowieści powoli się zazębiają, robi wrażenie również niezwykłą umiejętnością uniwersalizacji koreańskich doświadczeń. Nie trzeba mieć szczególnie dużej wiedzy o Korei, by zrozumieć powieść Sok-Yonga, a niektóre detale doskonale objaśniają przypisy.

Pisząc o przeszłości, wymyślając bohatera, który wspomina dawne życie i do tego krytycznie ocenia to, co z nim zrobił, łatwo popaść w nostalgię i sentymentalizm. W “O zmierzchu” nie ma ani jednego, ani drugiego. Jest za to filozoficzna medytacja starszego, mądrego człowieka i rzetelny, momentami nieomal reporterski opis codzienności mieszkańców koreańskich miast. Sok-Yong doskonale pisze o architekturze i jej wpływie na kształtowanie rzeczywistości, dużo uwagi poświęca problemom z wynajmem mieszkań, nieuczciwymi pracodawcami, ale też emocjonalnej pustce, którą w kapitalizmie próbujemy wypełnić pracą i marzeniami o sukcesie. Czyni to “O zmierzchu” książką o cierpieniu, które człowiek zadaje samemu sobie wierząc w modernizacyjny sen.

Nie chcąc zdradzać zakończenia dodam, że Sok-Yong gra z osobami czytającymi formą, nie wszystko okaże się tu prawdą, a zaskakująco dynamiczny finał będzie kontrastował z powoli rozwijającą się akcją tej naprawdę wspaniałej powieści.

“O zmierzchu” jest powieścią z oczywistym przesłaniem napisaną w nieoczywisty sposób. Jej bohaterów wypełnia smutek i - niezależnie od tego, czy odnieśli sukces, czy walczą o przetrwanie - nihilistyczne poczucie pustki. Jednak Sok-Yong pokazuje też, że może najważniejsze jest po prostu być przyzwoitym człowiekiem, kochać i dbać o relacje? Tylko jak to zrobić w czasach wciskających nam utopijną wizję rozwoju, sukcesu, domu z garażem? I choć to podsumowanie brzmi trochę sentymentalnie i może nawet romantycznie, to “O zmierzchu” jest nad wyraz trzeźwą powieścią. Może kiedyś zmądrzejemy, mówi nam koreański pisarz. I chyba nie do końca w to wierzy.

Przełożyła Dominika Chybowska-Jang. Tłumaczka opatrzyła książkę przypisami.

[Andrew]

After the grisliness of The Guest, I wasn't expecting anything like this -- a dreamy, melancholy novel of unhappy people adrift in Seoul, a city that can be awfully goddamn alienating. But I kind of loved it -- not so much the story of the elderly property developer, although that had its charms too, with the contrast between the Korea of then and the Korea of now -- but in the story of the younger theater director putting in hours at a convenience store to get by. The tone is a very specifically East Asian melancholy, that of lonely rural bus stops in the hinterlands, of neon-lit alleys promising good times while you yourself fail to have any... memories of the wretched all-night August heat on a beach in Jeju, trying to enjoy my cold beer and sashimi in the wake of a bad breakup... This is a type of misery I appreciate. Profoundly.

[spillingthematcha · Rating 3 out of 5]

Niestety nie trafiła do mnie, ale zakończenie było wzruszające.

[Danesda · Rating 4 out of 5]

Una obra sublime donde la memoria y el atardecer de la vida confluyen en el acto de sentir ... realmente me gustó mucho.

video reseña completa en:

https://www.instagram.com/p/DKmJmFWOob0/

[Antonomasia · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this book and spending time with these characters (other than the ruse revealed in Chapter 10, which I didn't think was very nice) but a lot of what I enjoyed was because of hearing about life in South Korea.

I imagined an equivalent book set in London or New York, and although that would have had some moving content, I would not have thought that it said a great deal new, addressing common themes of memory and looking back on/reconnecting with the past found in many novels of characters around retirement age (as others have already said in the thread) and about the difficulties of millenials in finding decent quality work, pay and housing, which have been written about in many news articles. However these may strike chords with readers in similar situations. And it was interesting to hear about ways in which things are both similar and different in South Korea.

Would like to have had time to read other sources on the Korean history mentioned here (can't really due to hurrying to finish books for the MBI shadowing). The book explains events well by itself, i.e. you don't really need other sources to make sense of what it says - I just wanted to get an additional perspective.

It's interesting to set At Dusk alongside The Years, which is much more in-depth about its country's history. A lot of UK readers of translated fiction will have done French to at least GCSE/O-level and have prior knowledge of the country, whereas fewer people will know much about Korea beyond K-pop and tech and beauty products. At Dusk explains modern Korean history at an accessible level, whilst also, somewhat like The Years, narrating the growth in prosperity and consumerism over the second half of the 20th century. (This is another book for the list's "return of the Boomers" theme I mentioned in my Faculty of Dreams review)
Korea's rise to prosperity was far more rapid, with shifts that in the UK took several generations (and in less prosperous European countries such as Poland perhaps two) all taking place in the lifetime of Park Minwoo, a man now in his 60s.

I didn't get a sense that it was saying how terrible the country is now. It seemed to be saying that things were bad in different ways then and now - but things were still difficult for young people at both times. At one point young Soona observed that it was difficult to get a good job. (It is not e.g. a novel about Britain in the early 1960s where you could walk into a factory and get a job on the spot.)

It added a lot to my understanding of the book to have read Sunita's review mentioning parallels with India, and similar issues with corruption and poor construction in building there. Rather than a general "what is the country coming to?" I see those as the main topics of Park Minwoo's ambivalence, along with the issue of slum clearances breaking up communities, which was an issue in many countries - I think it was covered in 90s GCSE Geography WRT Britain. Places being knocked down for redevelopment and causing difficulties for people on low incomes, and/or with established communities, is a problem in a lot of places.
e.g. in Russia: https://www.theguardian.com/cities/20...
or in London, although the attitude to protestors in London seems better than to those in the novel: https://www.theguardian.com/commentis...

It brought back fond memories of Convenience Store Woman to hear about Woohee's night-shift job - but as she is working impossible hours and is very run down it is also a different experience for her, and not exactly fulfilling.

I have said in quite a few posts over the years that there are altogether too many literary novels about people with lots of free time, often working in the arts, and not enough novels about work. At Dusk also gets brownie points from me for being a novel about people at work. And it shows how arts jobs often don't pay decently now. As well as the very hard work culture in Korea - with five 10-hour night shifts counting as 'part time'.

I found the absence of social media from the book rather artificial, as the characters do otherwise use the internet.

(Read March-April, reviewed April 2019)

The discussion thread where I first posted the above also, at the time, included some very interesting posts from Sunita - now sadly deleted when she left GR - about how the construction boom and business was very similar to what she had seen in India via people she knew there. I felt this supported the credibility of the novel.

Articles on the dissatisfaction of young people with life in South Korea also support Woohee's story, e.g. https://asiatimes.com/2019/12/75-of-y...

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 rounded up

[Declan · Rating 4 out of 5]

How, or when, does a life begin to falter? Perhaps the mistakes of youth can be forgiven and only the later compromises, dishonesty and betrayals count against a person? How might we decide?

Full review here:
https://www.irishtimes.com/culture/bo...

[Marijana☕✨ · Rating 2 out of 5]

Veoma tužna knjiga koja i pored toga nije probudila neka jača osećanja. Kroz poglavlja se smenjuju perspektive dva naratora: sredovečni arhitekta koji se priseća svoje mladosti i devojka na ivici egzistencije koja ne odustaje od svog sna da piše pozorišne drame. Njihove priče se prepliću preko drugih likova. Sudbine gotovo svih likova su teške, ali nisam uspela da se povežem sa pisanjem Hwang Sok-yonga. Previše informacija o sporednim događajima, pomalo razvučena poglavlja kada nam se obraća arhitekta i neki mučni aftertaste bez odgovarajuće nagrade.

[Scribe Publications]

At Dusk provides the reader with an excellent picture of Seoul now and several decades ago, with a mournful, nostalgic feel pervading the novel … Hwang is a masterful storyteller, and the final third of the book skilfully brings the disparate stories together, with a clever, and surprising, twist to round matters off.
Tony Malone, Tony’s Reading List

At Dusk is a small but powerful novel from one of South Korea’s most esteemed novelists … The questions At Dusk raises are timeless, and perfect for more serious book-group discussions.
Annie Condon, Readings

[A] beautifully observed tale … another superb novel from a writer at the top of his craft.
Pile by the Bed

What elevates this work, is how the gritty psychological exploration of contemporary Korean society is packaged within a taut and compelling mystery regarding how the two disparate narratives might be connected. At Dusk is another short but impactful novel from Hwang Sok-yon.
Booklover Book Reviews

At Dusk is a book steeped in melancholy – for times gone by, for relationships lost or abandoned, for a world that no longer exists. Hwang delves deeply into the psyche of his characters and in doing so tells universal stories of love, ambition and regret … another superb novel from a writer at the top of his craft.
psnews.com.au

A stirring and quietly moving novel … a sharply perceptive account of the struggle to maintain body and soul, roughly speaking, in the decades before Chun dooh-hwan's military coup of 1980.
FIVE STARS
Paddy Kehoe, RTÉ

At Dusk has Hwang’s customary blend of fragility and brutality, of tenderness and raw pain … At Dusk is a journey through memory and through the necessary potential and duty of architecture; through human spaces and urban topographies of existence and non-being. For Korea, this is a novel that should mark a turning point in its sense of identity; for non-Korean readers, it is a blueprint of the critical elenchus we need to undertake before it is tragically far too late for all our local traditions, cultures and individual lives.
Mika Provata–Carline, Bookanista

[A] solid portrait of changing times and society.
M.A.Orthofer, The Complete Review

Having been imprisoned for political reasons, Hwang has a restrained, delicate touch, alive to the nuances of memory, the slipperiness of the past, and the difficult choices life forces us to make ... Subtly political, deeply humane, a story about home, loss, and the cost of a country's advancement. STARRED REVIEW
Kirkus Reviews

Here [Sok-yong] scrutinises the quiet disconnect of contemporary relationships through the life of a successful, sixty–something Seoul architect … A piercing modern tale about all we can never know about our loved ones and ourselves. STARRED REVIEW
Terry Hong, Booklist

Celebrated author Hwang Sok-yong explores the human toll of South Korea’s rapid modernisation ... Through the lens of Seoul’s urban housing and architecture, he traces the development of South Korean modernisation and highlights the extremes to which its citizens are pushed, challenging readers in the process to reexamine if the nation’s transformation can truly be considered successful.
International Examiner

Hwang Sok-yong’s At Dusk is a perfect slice of Koreana; a touching, somewhat depressive narrative full of nostalgia that shows the underbelly of a nation through the life of characters inhabiting society’s bottom rung.
Gabino Iglesias, NPR

These characters illustrate South Korea’s sharp economic divides and explore what is required to improve one’s lot in life — and whether it’s even possible for more than a very few. It captures so much in under 200 pages: economic inequality; gender, class, and educational divides; and the complex relationships individuals and the culture at large have with their own history.
Rebecca Hussey, Bookriot

[미소 ☾ · Rating 3 out of 5]

"İnsanların anıları, aynı durumları tecrübe etmelerine rağmen, zaman akıp geçince kayıtsızca unutulduğu ya da o anki duygu durumuna göre hafızada çarpıtılmış bir özet halinde kaldığı için herkesin farklı hikayeler anlattığı zamanlar olur."

[Abbie | ab_reads · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was very torn while reading this one. There are 10 chapters, half narrated by Park Minwoo and half by Jung Woohee, and while I really enjoyed Woohee’s chapters, I found Minwoo’s to be almost insufferably dull. Until the very last chapter I failed to see what the connection was between the two storylines (maybe it was obvious and I just didn’t care enough, too eager to get back to Woohee!), and while I appreciated the ending I don’t think that makes up for disliking half the book.
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I also liked Hwang’s comments on advancements in modern life and the way they steamroll over the past, with those living in more rural communities being forgotten about or placed to one side. And it was a smooth read, Sora Kim-Russell is apparently a prolific translator from Korean and clearly knows what she’s doing!

[Dan · Rating 3 out of 5]

Hwang Sok-Yong’s At Dusk is narrated by Jung Woohee, a young woman trying to survive while she struggles to make her way in experimental theater, and by Park Minwoo, an older man at the end of his successful career as an architect and builder. Both Woohee and Minwoo struggle with the loneliness of their pasts and their presents, and both seem unreliable narrators. Minwoo reflects on his youth in an impoverished slum and his yearning for a childhood love. Minwoo’s and Woohee’s stories intersect in At Dusk’s final pages, but this intersection remains unclear until then.

Park Minwoo’s story dominates this brief novel and he’s steeped in an oddly dispassionate nostalgia for his past: ”Back then, I’d decided that I could not trust the world or other people. After a while, being ambitious means having to sift out the few values we feel like keeping and toss the rest, or twist them to suit ourselves. Even the tiny handful of values that remain just get stuffed into the attic of memory. . .” Minwoo seems to see himself from a distance, recognizing the faultiness of memory: ”The thing about memory is that two people can end up with different versions of the same event. Either the storyline gets distorted because of your emotional state at the time, or you inadvertently forget that it happened once time has moved on.”. Minwoo presents himself as sad but simultaneously steeling himself against feeling debilitating sadness.

At Dusk is touching, confusing, and ultimately unsatisfying. 3.5 stars

[LindaJ^ · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is my second of the 13 books on the 2019 MBI longlist. I know very little about Korea, its history, or its culture (but I do enjoy spicy kimchi). This is a fast read. At first, I was totally confused. The book opens with a well-know architect - Park Minwoo - finishing a lecture and being give a slip of paper with a name - Cha Soona - and a phone number, which he puts in his pocket. Then he is off to see a childhood friend - Yoon Byeonggu - who was very sick. Yoon had grown up to be the owner of a large construction company. Both Park and Yoon came from a small town in Gyeongsang Province and were very poor. Both of their families had had to leave the small town for different slums of Seoul but were the rare children who managed to escape the slums, through very different routes. They reconnected in later years and worked together on housing projects, including those that gentrified the slums, resulting in the forced removal of those living there. Park does not call the number until sometime later and when the phone is not answered, sends a text message. We are also introduced in this first chapter to Kiyoung, a classmate of Park's in architecture school who is dying of cancer.

The second chapter, without warning, has another narrator -- Jung Woohee, who is a young theatre director who has to work a fulltime second job at night to pay her rent. In the chapter, we learn about her rather unpleasant everyday life. (But not being familiar with Korean names, it is quite awhile before I figure out that Jung is female.) During the day, she works for peanuts at a small theatre, doing script writing, interviewing potential actors, and sometimes directing. At night she works at a 24 hour convenience store. The chapter ends with her mentioning meeting Kim Minwoo.

The third chapter is back to Park Minwoo, although that was not immediately obvious to me, and tells why his family had to leave the small village and move to a slum of Seoul and what Park Minwoo's life was like there, including how he met his best friend in those years - Jaemyung, how his family became famous for fishcakes, and how he became friends with Cha Soona.

The fourth chapter is back to Jung Woohee and so the book continues with alternating chapters. In each chapter we learn about Park Minwoo's or Jung Woohee's current and past life. Park Winwoo is questioning the value of his life; Jung Woohee wonders whether her life will ever improve. The connection between them turns out to be Cha Soona but there is a deft twist at the end.

I liked the book and the glimpse of Korean life and culture it provides. It was a 3.5 star read that I rounded down because it is not as good as the books on the 2019 Women's Prize longlist that I gave 4 stars.

[Kamila Kunda · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have a sweet spot for nostalgia made in Korea. “At Dusk” by Hwang Sok-yong is such a brilliant, nostalgic novel on youth, on obliterated past and on loneliness, so cinematic that I often felt like I was watching a mini-kdrama. And I so wish a kdrama was made out of this book!

The main protagonist Park Minwoo grew in a Seoul’s slum Moon Hollow, being in love with the only other high school student living there, beautiful Cha Soona. He studied hard, left the slum - which in time was erased and replaced by blocks of flats as part of the urban redevelopment project which aimed to provide more adequate housing for millions of Seoul’s residents - and became an architect, involved in various similar projects. He lost contact with his teenage friends. However, a well crafted story of a young playwright Jung Woohee, working part-time at a convenience store to make ends meet, told in parallel to Park’s tale, will somewhat reconnect the architect with his past.

I was entranced reading about the squalor of the slum and the perseverance and resilience of its residents. I reflected on loneliness a lot. Here, people seem to indirectly choose loneliness so as not to inconvenience others, not to be indebted to them but also to avoid disappointment if they dare to expect that their warm feelings are reciprocated. Unexpressed desires and hopes nipped in the bud permeate the lives of Park, Cha, Jung and Kim - Jung’s friend who shares the first name with Park and is related to all other characters.

Hwang asks profound questions about success in professional life, about fragile social fabric as well as vulnerability of our relationships with ourselves and with others. The style reminded me a bit of “Shoko’s Smile” by Choi Eunyong - restrained, devoid of sentimentalism, yet poignant. A truly beautiful novel, excellently translated, for long, quiet, unhurried afternoons.

[Simona · Rating 3 out of 5]

A quite novel about the changing world is set in Seoul, told through alternating chapters between young woman struggling with everyday life, while following her dreams, and architect who grew up in the slum, and now, after successful career he wonders about his responsibilities - to the society and decisions made in his personal life. Interesting concept, and I assume, that this is also very accurate look at life in Seoul now and in the past.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

This reminded me a bit of Kazuo Ishiguro’s books that seem simple on the surface but that force readers into thinking about often deeply complex issues. On the surface there’s a fairly simple dual storyline but underneath are nostalgia, regret and plenty of questions about class - or maybe more appropriately in this context, privilege. In particular there is a focus on the architect’s participation in South Korea’s fairly systematic obliteration of its old houses (something that really hit home when I visited where very few original homes seem left standing) and it left me questioning how the loss of community and traditional ways of living may impact on people’s psyche (this is also mirrored in the architect’s growing realisation that he may have destroyed something of himself by neglecting those who remind him of his ‘slum’ roots). I’m not sure this would have quite the same impact if you have little knowledge of South Korea’s recent history but for me as a recent visitor it really hit the mark and gave lots of food for thought.

[Cas (Fia) · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow. What a beautiful piece of literature.

On one hand, we have a middle aged man who is reminiscing about his past after he receives a note from someone he used to love. Someone, who he thought was left in his old world.

On the other hand, we have a young woman in her late 20s trying to make ends meet who still remembers the only guy that she deemed special.

To be very frank, I knew from almost the very beginning how their stories would intervene. It wasn’t surprising in the end. What was though were the details.

I understand why the author is called the most powerful voice in asia. I want to read more of his works now.

Only reducing 1(only a half, technically) star because one mystery remained unsolved and it bothers me.

[Klaudiakreads · Rating 3 out of 5]

Do połowy mi się mega podobało, a potem zrobił się straszny chaos 😶‍🌫️

[Ben · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5

My first book by a Korean author. Haunting, homey, strange, meandering, ethereal. At Dusk is a very big story in a very small package. In its closing pages, I couldn’t help but think ‘that’s it?’ Taking a step back, I realize that the novel’s whole is greater than the sum of its parts.

Park Minwoo is an aging architect that reflects on his youth, growing up in abject poverty in the wake of the Korean War. Jung Woohee is a young woman living in modern Seoul, decades (but not worlds) apart from Minwoo’s rough-and-tumble childhood. What begins as two disparate stories, separated by time and space, are eventually brought to a single point by Cha Soona, a woman who has touched the lives of both characters. Hwang Sok-yong shows this with a deftness that speaks volumes of his talent as a writer.

At Dusk didn’t wow me utterly, but I’m interested in checking out similar work. It had all the moodiness and murk of Japanese novels that I love, suggesting some sort of a Pan-Asian literary style (at least in my own head), but was also enhanced by Korea’s fascinating modern history uniquely serving as a backdrop.

[La Repisa de Elena · Rating 4 out of 5]

Me resulta difícil reseñar este libro. Narrada por dos personajes, un arquitecto exitoso y una dramaturga trabajadora nocturna. La visita a un amigo enfermo le hace dar un paseo por su infancia. Criado en un barrio marginal es el único de sus amigos que decide estudiar y salir de ese mundo tan ruin que me rodea. Con un final para nada esperado me ha dejado con una sensación de preocupación y desconcierto absoluto. Este protagonista es de esas personas que se preocupa por el resto cuando es él por quien deberían de preocuparse. Muy recomendable.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[Sharah McConville · Rating 5 out of 5]

At Dusk is written by renowned Korean author Hwang Sok-yong. Park Minwoo, a successful architect, reflects on his life which began in the slums of Korea. At Dusk if a fantastic novel translated in to English by Sora Kim-Russell. Thanks to Text for my paperback copy.

[Kelly D. · Rating 4 out of 5]

An interesting fictional look at the development of modern South Korea. The transitions in time and point of view were a little tricky to read at times - not sure if that was due to the author's style or the translation.

[Azjatycka Półka · Rating 5 out of 5]

"O Zmierzchu" Hwang Sok-Yonga to jeden z ciekawszych tytułów, jakie ostatnio czytałam.

Autor znakomicie buduje swoją historię na kontrastach. Bogaty architekt i biedna artystka. On, który na swoje stanowisko pracował ciężko całe życie, i ona, która łapie się każdej możliwej dorywczej pracy, by przetrwać. Silnie osadzony w przeszłości Park Min-u, i Jeong U-hui, która nie może planować daleko do przodu, bo troska o jej teraźniejszy byt zakrząta całą jej uwagę. On może przebierać w działkach, na których postawi sobie nowy dom, ona nocuje w kompletnych ruderach, bo na dobre mieszkanie w Seulu jej nie stać. Różnią się wiekiem, płcią, statusem społecznym. Łączy ich za to samotność i żal.

Dodatkowo architektura w tej książce staje się istotnym bohaterem. Widzimy zarówno ludzi, którzy na sytuacji budowlanej w Korei zyskują, jak i tych, którzy na niej tracą, często wszystko. Poznajemy też ciemne strony branży budowlanej. Widzimy jak niewiele znaczy dorobek ludzkiego życia w obliczu nienasyconego kapitalizmu, który każe budować więcej i więcej. Co ciekawe prywatne historie bohaterów również rezonują ze zmianami w architektonicznej tkance miasta, co jest afscynującym zabiegiem.

Jestem zachwycona mnogością tematów, które powieść porusza, znakomitym wpisaniem historii bohaterów w skomplikowaną sytuację społeczną. Dość prosta, ale poruszająca linia fabularna, zostaje wzbogacona o fascynujące tło społeczne. Jedyne, co mi zgrzyta, to przypisy, które są nagminne, za długie, niekonsekwentne, a często po prostu zbędne, ale o tym poczytacie już w pełnej recenzji.

https://azjatyckapolka.wordpress.com/...

[Mind the Book · Rating 4 out of 5]

För drygt ett år sedan flanerade jag själv längs Han River och inför den nu drömlika vistelsen i Seoul hade jag mitt vanliga månadslånga Reading a City-projekt. Efter det upphörde visst min koreanska våg, men den här boken påminner om hur fint det är att vistas i koreanska romanvärldar. Även koreanska filmvärldar. Efter ett ganska stort antal närstudier kan jag urskilja ett antal återkommande troper, eller vad man ska kalla dessa utmärkande drag:

- bitterljuv ton; att t.ex. livet inte riktigt blev som man ville eller att man gärna skulle återförenas med en ungdomskärlek. Om huvudpersonen är ung finns hinder för dennes drömmar och hopplöst brödjobb på dygnetruntöppen minibutik med neonskylt nödvändigt.

- en stark mamma med informell makt och ofta sinne för affärer; genom detta kan hon t.ex. genom hårt arbete att sälja streetfood finansiera studietiden för åtminstone något av barnen. Fäder beskrivs antingen som hopplösa soju-drickande vrak eller utbrända businessmän på finansiellt instabil mellannivå eller oförstående, traditionella patriarker.

- milstolpar - vilka ofta är tragedier - ur koreansk 1900-talshistoria; det japanska styret, krig, kupper och konflikter, finanskrisen, nord och syd samt den skoningslösa gentrifieringen av Seoul.

- självmord, antingen som en pakt eller sista utvägen vid personliga - dock egentligen strukturella! - problem

Känner någon mer igen dessa observationer?

Just den här tycker jag att man ska läsa för att hylla författaren. Han reste en gång in i Nordkorea i konstens namn och fick flera års fängelse för det. Vissa anekdoter hade passat bättre i rena memoarer, men jag förstår bokens funktion med funderingar i "livets skymning", at dusk.

[Phoenix2 · Rating 4 out of 5]

'At Dusk' is a reflective book about a man who starts reminiscing his life growing up at the slumps.

The book is surprising, with many plot twists, especially in the ending.

Also, and even though the start was slow and there were some boring parts, everything blended up together in the end, and there was a nostalgic and sad feeling about it.