Crime Detective Mystery Thriller Group discussion

We will begin reading A Corpse In The Koryo with James Church on February 15th.

My thanks to you all for letting me join in on your discussion about “A Corpse in the Koryo.” Although publication was in 2006, I actually began writing the book – and began my acquaintance with Inspector O – in 2001. A lot of water has gone under the bridge for the two of us since then, and memories are tricky things. I’m delighted to review my notes and jog aging brain cells to delve into the whys and wherefores of the background, the story, the writing, the characters and whatever else has caught your interest as you stepped into Inspector O’s complicated but, at its core, not really alien world. JChurch

Thanks for joining us for the discussion. For me, this is the first time that I'm reading a book that takes place in North Korea. Can you tell us the concept of this book and how and why it was written?

The simple truth is, it began as a challenge to myself. I’ve long loved detective stories, but it never occurred to me that I would write one. Then, as I happened to be sitting in the pleasant stillness of a North Korean consulate waiting for a visa, a question tapped me on the shoulder, “Has anyone ever written a detective story set in North Korea?” The answer, as best I could tell at that moment, was, “No.” In the fog of jet lag that surrounded me, this seemed to be a serious gap in the universe, and one I decided badly needed to be filled. The title, nicely alliterative, came to me as I sat there. What tumbled out next was the pleasant notion that it would be interesting to write the story as a sort of Raymond Chandler meets Kim Jong Il (who was then the ruler of North Korea.)

As I wrote notebooks of sketches over the next several years, I realized that unless I wanted the story to end up as a sort of comic book, it needed to be rooted in the reality of North Korea, or at least as much as I knew. And having worked in and around North Korea for decades, I figured I must have absorbed something about the place and the people. There was, I knew, a truth about the country, a reality, which is washed away in the day-to-day descriptions that fill the American media or fuel the jokes in late night TV comedy shows. A good detective story, especially one set in a foreign place, has to have at least one foot on solid ground. That’s what I needed, and that’s what I set out to find.

My purpose in writing then shifted subtly, but in an important way. This would still be just a story, not political propaganda, nothing with a political axe to grind. But to tell the story true to itself, I needed a character who knew North Korea in his bones. In a mysterious way I do not comprehend to this day, Inspector O suddenly appeared as if he were an old friend, someone who knew me but who I grew only gradually to understand. The rest was sitting down at 10 pm every night for three years, emerging at around 2 am and reading with amazement where Inspector O had led me.

Raymond Chandler meets Kim Jong il. I think that people would like that since Raymond Chandler is so popular.
I agree that there is a huge gap to fill and since there was this controversy with the movie, the Interview, your book will fill a void where people can pick it up and get a better perspective of what goes on in North Korea without all the political distractions.

‘Without political distractions’ – that’s a very good way to put it. I deliberately did not mention the name of the North Korean leader in this or the subsequent Inspector O stories, nor did I go head on at issues commonly the focus of media articles about the North (e.g. nuclear weapons, missiles, human rights). In that way, I hoped to lessen the likelihood that readers would fall back into accepted wisdom about the North. If they did that, it would be more difficult for many of them to set aside, at least temporarily, what they already “know” about North Korea. The common, comfortable stereotypes would not only distract from the story, but they would also make it harder for readers to keep their minds open to exploring the different perspectives and realities that underpin the story.

But is it really possible to leave the "common, comfortable stereotypes" behind? If I were to write a novel set in Germany in 1939, could I do so without any reference to Hitler and the Nazis? If I did do that, wouldn't I be distorting the reality of the situation and trying to shield the reader from unpleasant truths?

You’ve hit upon a central problem of setting a detective story in North Korea. How does one write about the place, and figure out a way not to ignore ANY of the realities? Prison camps, nuclear weapons, missiles – these dominate discussions and media coverage on the outside. Indeed, these are real, but they are not the only realities that define existence in North Korea. If these are what dominate the reader’s mind, then there is liable to be no room for a detective story that, as the best of them can do, explore inner life, relationships, and society.

Life does go on in North Korea, as it did in Nazi Germany and the USSR, as it did in Eastern Europe during the Cold War and in China and Vietnam during the grimmest years. In the North, people do not use the exaggerated language of Pyongyang’s media when speaking among themselves. Most people in the North do not care a fig about nuclear weapons and missiles; they have jobs and superiors to cope with; they have families to raise; they have the next meal to worry about. There is crime, not all of it political/ideological but some of it in the fuzzy gray areas; there is a criminal code; there are police who, often within impossible constraints of the system, have to do their jobs. How do I “know” this? I’ve dealt with the North and North Koreans for decades, and been constantly amazed and intrigued with the flashes of insight that have come to me about how the people live their lives at many levels. That’s what Inspector O does. That’s the world he lives in. There is clear concern about what “the center” thinks. There is clear concern about the consequences of stepping on the wrong toes, of making the wrong enemies, of brutality that lurks around the corner. But there are also bureaucratic rivalries and personality clashes, mundane jealousies, love, disappointments, and hopes. An educated reader would, I calculated, recognize the mile markers – the indirect references to some of the things you pointed out as important – but not let them interrupt or derail the journey into a place few readers have had the time or opportunity to explore more deeply.

In any case, I was aware I could not effectively portray all of the aspects of life at ground level since I am not a North Korean. What I could do was to avoid the cartoonish aspects – of the James Bond-like portrayal of a land of villains (when I was writing the book, the movie “The Interview” had not seen the light of day). In thinking about how to proceed with the story and the characters, I realized that perhaps what I could do best was to draw upon my own experience of how the two perspectives – North Korean and, for want of a better term, Western – clash when they meet at the level of individuals. The sparks from those clashes, it always seemed to me, were illuminating and revealing. The question, as I started to write, was how they might help a detective story unfold.

That makes sense. I guess when I alluded to Nazi Germany I was thinking of Philip Kerr's excellent Berlin Noir: March Violets / The Pale Criminal / A German Requiem series in which his detective tackles the problem head on. But more generally, I think the problem is that wherever one sets a novel there always must be a sense of time and place in order for it to seem real to the reader.

Interesting points. Thanks Frank for bringing this up. Part of me didn't want to watch the Interview but I think I'm going to check it out in any case just to see what it's like.

By the way, I am enjoying this book so far. Inspector O seems to have a great sense of humor. Kind of like Myron Bolitar from the Harlan Coben series.

Frank, you put succinctly what took me three paragraphs to say: the importance of conveying a sense of time and place. Not to jump ahead, but each of the Inspector O novels has a slightly different setting, capturing the fact that North Korea – and thus how North Koreans act – has changed over time. Readers get an early taste of that in “A Corpse in the Koryo” when Inspector O discovers (not completely to his liking) how the idea of profits influences people’s behavior. I didn’t have to make that up. It was based on real policy changes and developments in the North around the time the book takes place (the early 2000s).

Frank, you put succinctly what took me three paragraphs to say: the importance of conveying a sense of time and place. Not to jump ahead, but each of the Inspector O novels has a slightly different setting, capturing the fact that North Korea – and thus how North Koreans act – has changed over time. Readers get an early taste of that in “A Corpse in the Koryo” when Inspector O discovers (not completely to his liking) how the idea of profits influences people’s behavior. I didn’t have to make that up. It was based on real policy changes and developments in the North around the time the book takes place (the early 2000s).

I usually ask this question and have gotten some interesting responses from other authors.
Craig Rice was a pulp fiction writer in the 1940's and in her biography, Who Was That Lady, it was said that she wrote her books by the seat of her pants. She would just lock herself in a room and write the book and that was it.
What is your writing process, especially since your series takes place in North Korea?

I'm late starting but I enjoyed the comments and background information. Thank you so much for joining us for the reading.

Thanks Skeetor. Glad you're here with us. Looking forward to hearing your comments. Other people have said that they'll be joining us as well.

Skeetor, I'm probably 20 years (or more) behind the times in using even this simple technology (feeds, tweets, instaviralbuzzes etc). I wrote initial drafts of the book, much of it anyway, in longhand because there seemed to be some connection between my hand, my arm, and my brain. When it comes to editing, however, I have to admit that nothing beats a word processor. The 'delete' button is more useful than vowels in trying to fashion a noir style story, where spare prose is a must and adverbs should fear to tread. Happy to join you.

To answer Ron's question -- The process of writing has changed from book to book. For “A Corpse in the Koryo," at the beginning and for many years I had no agent, no publisher, was not under contract. I didn’t even think about publishing what I was starting to write. It was, as I mentioned earlier, something I was doing as a challenge to myself.

The process – from simply filling notebooks with descriptions of scenes and people, to the more challenging task of writing a story – took about four years. I wasn’t under any pressure. And anyway I had a day job. The sketch notebooks I wrote at odd times and places – on a bench outside an embassy, during a long airplane journey, in a hotel in North Korea. My job took me to Helsinki several times, where I soaked in sights and sounds.

Once I went into the final phase, most of the writing was done in a small, one-room apartment from about 10 pm to 2 am almost nightly. It was a perfect place to write, not much furniture (no bed but a good chair for naps) no TV, no distractions. On weekends, I might write all day long, going downstairs to recharge my batteries from the energy of the life on the city’s streets. I had no real problems with writer’s block because I was doing this for the sheer enjoyment of spending my evenings with a creation that seemed to dance onto the keys of the computer (by this time, I had put down the pencil). I would write and rewrite and rewrite, polish, smooth, smooth more, delete, and write again.

The next night, I would go back over the previous day’s writing, smooth, polish, delete, smooth and then take a running leap into a page of new writing. I doubt if I ever completed more than one page per night, but often might venture into an additional page of rougher text. On many nights, I would think to go in one direction with a scene only to discover that Inspector O had other ideas. When we fought, I rarely won. It was easiest to let him lead, and his instincts were usually better than mine. New characters appeared when they had to; they did not announce themselves, they simply showed up. A few were clearly not suited and either dropped away on their own or felt the terrible swift sword of the delete button after a few hours of failing grades. Dialogue came easy. Action was painful. Getting Inspector O to pick himself out of a chair to move into a car and drive was a bloody battle we fought on many evenings. In a later book, I wanted him to go into a disco in Geneva -- all weird flashing lights and writhing bodies. He refused to go. I pushed. He pulled. In the end, he ended up jumping into a car with a Mossad agent...um, but that's another story.

I am enjoying the read although I hate waiting to have my curiosity satiated. But then, unlike poor Inspector O --- I have some tea! :)

James, you said "Dialogue came easy." Wasn't it difficult, though, to convey a sense of how those in a foreign culture naturally express themselves idiomatically? I think in your place I'd have been afraid my N. Korean characters might end up sounding like my neighbors here in NYC.

Skeetor, When dealing with North Korea, patience is a great virtue. In fact, the Inspector O stories are written in much the same way that good intelligence analysis of the North proceeds – watching patiently, reading carefully, looking for consistency in the evidence, or what passes for evidence, or what might be evidence. And then, just when you (i.e., the analyst, the reader, the policymaker) think you have discovered something important, it dawns on you (if you’re intellectually honest) that either you have missed something somewhere, or that things are leading in a direction you failed to consider because (more need to summon largely untapped reserves of intellectual honesty) you had a preconceived notion of what was going on and how things work in North Korea. Of course, having a cup of tea helps.

Frank, now THAT'S a good question. Let me think on it.

Frank: I’d have to say I never dealt with that question in my own mind, not directly anyway. I suppose I didn’t focus on the idioms for the same reason I didn’t try to present readers with a photo-exact picture of Pyongyang. Some writers do that sort of thing extremely well, and it adds to the sense of time and place. The setting for the story becomes so true that it pulls readers in. Readers walk the streets just as they were laid out in the actual place, they turn left where they should, and on the corner is a phone booth, just where it is supposed to be.

I might have tried to do that, but decided against it. What I wanted to do with both people and place was to summon the mood, the sense of light and dark, the nuances of the atmosphere especially in Pyongyang, which in a sense becomes a character in its own right. Overall, this might be the difference between a photograph and a painting. Both are true, in their own way.

How does that relate to the question of making the North Koreans sound like…well, North Koreans? In one sense, having dealt with Koreans of all stripes (North and South) for so long and in almost every sort of situation, it has become second nature for me to strip away the idiomatic overlay and listen for what they were actually saying. If there is a problem in communicating, very often it is not in the language itself but something deeper. We all know how tricky cross-cultural communication can be. I'd hope that comes through as part of the illuminating clash of perspectives (and cultures) I mentioned in an earlier message.

In any case, I didn’t want to put up additional barriers that might get in the way of readers understanding these North Koreans. Rather, I wanted to get past the existing barriers -- what I’ve earlier referred to as the “stereotypes – and let the story and the characters, seemingly familiar on their surface, lead readers into what they imagine to be a place almost impossible to understand.

Remember, as I first conceived this, it was supposed to be Raymond Chandler meets Kim Jong Il, a noir detective story dropped into North Korea. In my mind, it was all right – even necessary -- to have some stock characters speaking in familiar ways, filling familiar roles as long as the essential chemistry of the place remained true. Hotel clerks, telephone operators, and security agents – it turns out that for whatever reason, they morph into recognizable “types” wherever you go.

Maybe it’s not that the North Koreans in the book end up sounding like your neighbors in New York, but that some of your neighbors in New York sound like the North Koreans in the book. In which case, you probably want to make sure your doors are locked.

James, I am a few chapters in and enjoying your book. I am curious about the relationship between O and Pak. O seems to carelessly display his true feelings for his position as Inspector and those of higher authority. Yet the only person of higher authority that O has respect for is Pak. Pak seems to be the exasperated Coach when trying to get O to take things more seriously. Why create such a sympathetic, understanding character in Pak if O is putting them into a jeopardizing situation?

I kind of like O and his sense of humor but you raise an interesting point Tameeka.

I will be starting the book today and it has been very interesting reading the questions and your responses James. It gives me a little background before I begin. I am very intrigued. Thanks for taking the time to join us and answer our questions.

Thanks, James. I appreciate your having taken the time to provide such a detailed answer to my question.

Tameeka: It strikes me that there are two ways to try to answer a question about characters. One, with the passage of time, is to look back and retrospectively justify traits and relationships. The other is to try to capture how they evolved during the writing itself. I’ll go with the latter. As I go back and polish, that's when I'll decide to fill in (or decide to leave unspoken) more detail that will explain a character and the various relationships.

The first thing to understand, however, is that I don’t figure out characters ahead of time. They pop into a scene and either ask to be developed more fully or stick to bit parts. When the reader meets them (indeed, when I met them) O and Pak had worked together for several years. They had smoothed many but not all of the rough edges of their working relations. Neither knows everything about the other, but each respects and appreciates the other’s position in the office. Pak is slightly melancholy for reasons O doesn’t understand (and the reader will only gradually grasp). In addition, Pak is one of those individuals caught just at the edge of the bureaucratic meat grinder – a mid-level official who has to protect those under him from the scourge of upper level decisions, has to answer to superiors who are more concerned with politics and personal advancement than getting work done, and has to protect himself in the process. He is more aware and worries more about the bureaucratic dangers – both from the upper ranks in his own ministry and from other, darker forces – than is O. In short, they are friends, or as much as they can be under the circumstances.

As it happens, there are actually good bosses and bad bosses in the North just as there are everywhere else. There are superiors who protect their people and earn their loyalty, and there are self-serving creeps who don’t care whose career they wreck in order to advance their own. Pak puts up with O’s quirks because, at a professional level, O is a very good detective. In addition, maybe he sees something in O that is appealing, characteristics that he admires and, to some degree, wishes he had himself.

I don’t know how far you are in the book so I don’t want to give anything away, but I think you’ll learn more about the relationship between O and Pak, and get additional insights into Pak’s personality the more you get into the story. In fact, Pak turns out to be an interesting enough character that several years afterwards I wrote a prequel (“Bamboo and Blood”) in order to have an opportunity to deal with him at greater depth.

Thank you James! As I continue to read, I am gaining more insight into O and Pak's relationship.

An idle observation that you all might bear in mind: If I'd imagined that "A Corpse in the Koryo" would be the first of a series, some things would no doubt have been different.

Like what? Well, pacing and character development, even the plot, would have been affected (not necessarily for the better). Writing a series has its own difficulties. Each book has to stand alone for the new reader, but also must have a sense of connection to the others in the series. Details have to be double checked to make sure they are consistent from book to book for eagle-eyed readers. And many readers like the familiarity that comes with a series, the comfortable feeling that comes from stepping into a pair of well-worn slippers or sipping tea from a favorite cup. Woe to author who alters too much the rhythms or, heaven forbid, kills off a cherished character.

Eventually, some readers may get tired of the formula that marks a series. And one can imagine, so might an author. I made a conscious effort (though to be sure, sometimes the shift from minor key in one book to major key in the next was not altogether a conscious decision) to write each Inspector O book different in tone, color, and rhythm from the others. There are threads that tie them together, of course. In some respects, the bit actors are like those in summer stock. A reader can recognize the parts they play. The major actors, however, should be (and I hope are) consistent, though with each book one ought to discover something important about them.

One last thought. If you have a series, you have a contract with a publisher, and writing under contract -- at least for me -- is a little (only a little!) like rowing when chained to the oar of a Roman galley. That's why "A Corpse in the Koryo" has a special place in my heart. I was as free as a bird as I wrote it, ignorant perhaps in many ways, but a free spirit.

At first I thought O was an initial, then I realized it's probably spelled like



0
_|_


Is that right?
(That's the best I can do on this keyboard).

Audrey: Exactly!

Just a passing thought: One good thing my day job taught me was to observe carefully and listen closely. It’s the same as standing against a building on a street corner at 5 pm and not moving for a while, becoming one with the surroundings. You begin to absorb the scene in a way you wouldn’t otherwise. Not just the obvious things -- a truck with muddy wheels pulling away from the curb, an elderly woman pushing a laundry cart with nothing in it but a yellow bag of cat litter -- but also the subtle changes in the shadows of the buildings as the autumn sun moves toward dusk; the details of the stonework around the doorframe on the tired café across the street; the man and the woman who go into the cafe together but with only the woman emerging a few minutes later, glancing nervously both ways before hailing a cab with a timid wave of her hand. Sit alone in a restaurant at dinnertime and listen to the couple at the next table, not to eavesdrop on the conversation but to get a feel for the rhythms, the peculiar voices of agreement or boredom or love. I may not "remember" any of these things, but they flow from somewhere during those hours when Inspector O is telling me the story, and I am doing my best to get it all down.

I posted my review of A Corpse in the Koryo. I do have a question for the author, however (and I'll try to phrase it so it's not a spoiler for those who haven't finished the book yet). At one point, Inspector O talks about the toy trucks, made in Japan, that he brought back for Pak's son. Pak's reaction seemed somewhat bizarre at the time, and unexplained. However, in thinking about this, I assume his reaction was because of how his son came in to his life. Is this a fair assumption?

Kathy: A well and carefully phrased question. Your assumption is not only fair, it's right on the mark. Pak has his own nightmares about the past. He also wants to protect his son. Since the book is written in the first person, there is no way for the reader to know any more than O does, any sooner than it comes to him.

When we are all done, and people have finished the book, it will be good to discuss the ending. I'll admit that everything is not tied up neatly at the end (as nothing ever is when dealing with North Korea), but I think there are enough threads which, when pulled together, might supply a satisfactory explanation of what has happened, and why. For now, let's leave it for each of you to draw your own conclusions. Thanks to Kathy for raising the point in her review.

I liked the ending.

James wrote: "Just a passing thought: One good thing my day job taught me was to observe carefully and listen closely. It’s the same as standing against a building on a street corner at 5 pm and not moving for..."

This is a beautiful piece of writing in it's own right James.

James wrote: "An idle observation that you all might bear in mind: If I'd imagined that "A Corpse in the Koryo" would be the first of a series, some things would no doubt have been different. . ."

I think these are very insightful comments about mystery series. Is there a place on Goodreads that it would be appropriate for a general discussion of them? For the most part I only read series and I can think of many examples both good and bad.

Just finished the book James and I was anxious until the end. I nearly missed my start time because I was so engrossed in the final chapters.

To anyone who thinks the idea of British intelligence trying to recruit a North Korean is a little far-fetched, see http://www.aljazeera.com/news/2015/02....

If only MI-6 had read A Corpse in the Koryo. On the other hand, maybe they did...

Ron, All I meant was if when most of the people have finished the book, some of them wanted to express frustration with the ending (which is actually something more than a few readers feel about the Inspector O stories), it might be worth my describing how I thought the threads come together...or don't. I just didn't want to talk about the ending in any detail before people had a chance to read through the to final sentence.

I'm sorry James. I'm not feeling well tonight. My comment was meant for Gary. Sorry about that.

Gary wrote: "James wrote: "An idle observation that you all might bear in mind: If I'd imagined that "A Corpse in the Koryo" would be the first of a series, some things would no doubt have been different. . ."..."

Hi Gary. I can set up something for you if you want. I just didn't know what you meant by a general discussion.

Sandra: Thank you. It was kind of you to say.

The best thing about being amongst readers is that it helps me remember (again) that they are all different, each one comes to a story from a different place and so may bring away different impressions from it. Unlike live performance art, where the emotion of the audience can affect individual responses, an author speaks to only one person at a time. An author has no range of sound or color, not really. Whenever I hear a symphony, I say to myself, “The lucky SOB! All those instruments!” How I envy the painter or the composer. I can only proceed one word at a time. I have no chords, no bright hues or dark, no forte or pianissimo. There is only one word, then another, then another, and they can only be put down to sit in silence on a page (or god forbid these days an electronic screen), from there to appeal to something in each reader – brain or heart, I can’t know which.

Moreover, unlike live performance art, there is no going back and changing, tweaking, improving. Once it is done, a book is fixed in time. It becomes a child making its way in the world. At that point, there is a certain emotional separation between me and the book. If someone likes an Inspector O story, I’m pleased, but it is only a distant reflection on my input. I brought it up the best I could, but that was long ago. Same with criticism. Someone doesn’t like the book at all? Well, what can I say? The child is grown up, there is not much I can do about it at this point.

One saving grace is discovering all the different interpretations readers (and critics) put on the story. A sort of Churchology has grown up. I once ran across a reference to an academic paper, “Linear Madness in James Church’s A Corpse in the Koryo” I was sure I would find it ridiculous, and so snagged a copy. No! To my surprise I loved it! So many insights! Some of them I hadn’t quite realized were there, some were not really there but who cares? The writing had sparked something creative in another person. I ended up going to the college where students and faculty did readings from Inspector O. I laughed until I cried, they were so good, each one in its own way. Elsewhere on the internet (blessed on occasion), I discovered Inspector O had inspired jewelry, and – why not? – appealed to carpenters.

I think it might be worthwhile to discuss some of the things that happen in series in a general way with examples. For example I am reading Last Rites at the moment and I think there is too much tension between the two main characters. A female DC and her partner who is a freelance reporter.

In the Kate Ellis Wesley Peterson books (he is a DI at the point in the series I am at, book 11 of 19) I think she sticks too slavishly to the format she has chosen.

Those are the kind of things I am interested in discussing.

James wrote: "Sandra: Thank you. It was kind of you to say."

But true 8:D

Tameeka: I wouldn't want to be guilty of making anyone miss their start time. On the other hand, it is always a good thing if the final chapters can hold the reader. The writing is meant to quicken the pulse, to emerge from the ambling introductions and stroll-through-the-gardens of the earlier chapters and pick up speed.

How did the ending leave you? Wondering? Uneasy? Confused? I spend as much time polishing and polishing again the last sentence or two as I do the opening paragraph to a book. The plot may be open ended, not neatly tied up, but the writing itself, the composition, should gently touch down on the runway, maybe a quiet step away from the story, or a reminder perhaps of where it all began.

James wrote: "Tameeka: ....On the other hand, it is always a good thing if the final chapters can hold the reader."
That is so true James.

The ending did bring up quite a few questions which leads to a hint of confusion. Why was O so in the dark when everyone else knew what was going on? What does that say about his character? Does he prefer to live his life in riddles? It does seem to be O's preferred way to answer Richie's questions. What was Richie trying to obtain from O's information? Among other questions, thoughts, etc

You mentioned in a previous post, "An idle observation that you all might bear in mind: If I'd imagined that "A Corpse in the Koryo" would be the first of a series, some things would no doubt have been different." Did you feel that you and Inspector O had parted ways after "Corpse in the Koryo" but O wouldn't let you go that easily?