The Birdcage Archives

Thursday 7 September 2017

A Greater Music

Hello Gentle Reader

Bae Suah has been described (in her native (South) Korea) as a writer who is: “committing violence to the Korean language.” The previous statements intention was to be critical; to present disproval and recrimination against Bae Suah, who is accused of aggressively eroding the foundations and structure of the Korean language. This brings to mind the only thought: writers thrive and live in language, words, and stories more than the real world; but the relationship is not without its complications. Every depiction of Bae Suah, presents the writer as a dark horse, an outsider, a sardonic and sarcastic contemporary commentator on the current state of (South) Korea, with its patriarchal ideas, its post-capitalist consumerist economy, and the breakdown of human relationships and function. How then did such an enfant terrible begin her career? The answer itself is acutely understated. Bae Suah has stated she began writing, when she worked as a low level government employee at the Gimpo Airport, behind the embarkation/disembarkation desk; Suah relays, she wrote one sentence, then another sentence, with many more following suit, until a story was formed and presented. From there, Bae Suah treated writing as a hobby and enjoying pastime, rather than anything serious. Over time however, Bae Suah’s work came to the attention of the literary and publishing world, where her work was immediately noted for his psychological detail and presentation. From there, Suah was able to resign from her stultifying job and begin work as a writer full time. Despite being one of the most original voices in Korean literature, Bae Suah retains the appearance of an outsider. She has no formal education or theoretical groundwork for her works, she has not be manufactured by creative writing degree programs either; nor has Bae Suah been nursed and mentored under the wings of other writers. Rather, Bae Suah has carved out her own autodidactic place in Korean literature. Her work is known for its acute psychological depiction and attention to detail; time is no longer depicted in the straight arrows path, rather its fluid, where past and present ebb and flow beneath the nib of Suah’s pen. Her novels are noted for their sardonic tone, and sarcastic temperament, depicting the frailties and dysfunction of her characters with a critical glare, and disinterested perspective. It is interesting, however, to reflect on Bae Suah being an experimental writer, despite her lack of formal training, theoretical base of knowledge, or mentorship of any kind. Perhaps it goes to show; the writers who operate outside the generally accepted conventions and spheres of literary influence are more open to pushing the envelope and playing with the format of the written word; then those who have been manufactured by writer’s workshops, and graduate creative writing programs.

Since publishing her first short stories and novels, Bae Suah has expanded her horizons beyond writing her own work. In the early two-thousands, she spent an eleven month exchange in Germany, after which and with further study, Bae Suah would become a translator of German literature into Korean. “A Greater Music,” has been described as a semi-autobiographical novel, in which the narrator is a Korean women/writer living in Germany with the intention of learning German, but is experiencing great difficulty in commanding the language, and applying it in real world contexts and conversations. The novel traces the narrators experience in Germany, as she orbits between two people—the student (engineering?) and casual welder (the book describes him as a ‘metal worker,’) Joachim, who is noted for a lack of interest in literary and cultural pursuits; instead favoring ruthless pragmatic ideas and ideals, which are more relevant to concreate realistic problems—and, the androgynous M, who is a complete foil to Joachim, due to her intellectual pursuits, love of culture (specifically music and literature), but is also sickly; her living situation is also not as desperate as Joachim’s as she is not concerned with finances and other pragmatic or practical concerns, and appears to live a life  deprived of such inconveniences, in order for her to peruse more liberal interests and cultural pleasures. Between these two, the narrator finds herself passed back and forth; but each relationship is constructed on loose sand, and neither one is either willing or capable of standing the grips of foreign pressure, and alien realities.

Time is not a natural force which moves in a linear format, marching ever forward into eternity and infinity, with no regard for what is swallowed in its sands; rather, in the hands of Bae Suah, time is subject to the subjugation of perspective and memory; and of course is unreliable considering it serves at the pleasure and mercy of memory and therefore the individual. Just like the fluidity of time, there is also the fluidity of sexuality, as Bae Suah’s narrator of “A Greater Music,” has relationships both with a male (Joachim) and a female (M); though her true feelings toward to the two is ambivalent at times, with a complete lack of romantic sentiment; instead replacing it with infatuation, endearment, and perhaps even cool detached co-dependent perspectives of tit for tat, and other transactions as such. Lesbianism is mentioned in pacing, and touched lightly, despite the relationship of the two women, being a central part of the novel. Thankfully though, the homosexual relationship is described with usual commonplace language, and avoids the pitfalls of exaggeration and over dramatization, where the entire relationship is not depicted as some social break down, and a triumph of human and social progression, but rather some carnival sideshow, fixating on the fact it is completely out of the norm or defies the social and moral conventions of time. Rather, the relationship between the narrator and M is a focal point of the novel; a chain in which the pearls of themes and discussions are to be laced through and strung on.

Throughout the novel we view the narrator as a an isolated island, alienated and lone to herself, since her school years, which were defined as tedious and a waste of time, as the narrator was incapable of learning to pay attention early on, and would begin to read novels inside of her textbook, rather than pay attention to class, though she always passed on mediocre grounds. Friendships during this time were limited or non-existent, as the narrator confesses her inability to conform and align herself with the popular tastes of her classmates; though she bought and listened to the popular music of time, like ABBA, surrendering herself to the tastes and opinions of the group, but with limited success. Her time in Germany is much the same, but made that much worst due to her inability to communicate fluently or with ease. In Korea our narrator was noted for her apathy her towards her studies, as well as the social conventions and conformities of her classmates who gobble the materialistic and fashion trends of the day. Her lack of desire for interaction and all attempts at interaction generally end in failure, with her circumstances remaining much the same and herself alone.  

In Germany her isolation continues because of her lack of control, authority, and ability to utilize the German language in any function beyond the most basic exercises in communication. It is her boyfriend Joachim, who would introduce the narrator and M, as student and tutor. The lessons with M, are unconventional at best, and lead to little to no insight, of the linguistic mechanics of the German language. Instead, M has the narrator read passages from German novels; she gives little feedback to any, while her expressions differ nothing to outright pain, at listening to the narrator read. The narrator finds herself not gaining any particular knowledge or handle of German, any better than she has already, while M, confesses she cannot reduce the German language to grammatical exercises, and topics of pronunciation and elocution. Though she admits her teaching is unorthodox and is perhaps not quite the best way for the narrator to learn to speak German, and introduces the narrator to another instructor Erich; who would succeed in helping the narrator learn the German language, but would also be successful in washing out the base of the narrator’s relationship with M.

At its basis in plot, “A Greater Music,” is the beginning and the end of a relationship, told through the labyrinth of memory and time. Beyond that, “A Greater Music,” attempts to act as a novel with essayistic elements (after all the literal Korean translation of the former novel would be: “The Essayist Desk,”). The novel tackles the discussion of language, be it learning a new language, the separation of high culture and low culture, as well as the transcending power of music.

“A Greater Music,” was a wonderful introduction into the writing of Bae Suah. It begins to show her current trajectory as a writer, where she has tossed the conventional concepts of plot and story aside in favour of essayistic discussions, poetic ruminations, and a discussion on personal themes and points of interest. She is certainly one of the most exciting and exhilarating voices to come out of South Korea; her lack of formal education or mentorship, have allowed her to carve her own space in contemporary South Korean literature, where she is dubbed a dark horse, and a writer who assaults and defiles the language. Suah’s treatment of time is unique, and her acutely displayed psychological perspectives are unique and believable, adding greater depth to her narratives. Bae Suah will certainly be an author worth looking into further, and reading more of, as her work becomes translated more and readily available.

Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read


M. Mary

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