I’ve read so little Korean fiction that when Gu Byeong-Mo’s Your Neighbour’s Table popped up on NetGalley I decided to give it a try. It’s set in an apartment building for which there is a long waiting list and strict rules to obey: tenants must have at least one child and produce two more.
You’d encourage the child to draw an odd new shape. To colour it an unexpected hue. All while your own existence grew fuzzier by the day, until you were reduced to a sketch of yourself, and, in the end, you were rubbed out by an eraser.
The apartment building is government funded; the rules set with a view to tackling South Korea’s ever-dwindling birth rate. It’s a pilot project with an emphasis on communal living. Twelve units are available, massively over-subscribed by young families driven out of Seoul by sky-high rents. When Yojin, Euno and six-year-old Siyul move in there are just three other families living in the building, most of whom have turned out to meet their new neighbours sitting round the enormous table in the apartment’s yard. Danhui seems eager to show she’s in charge, clearly judgemental of Hyonae whose absence is explained by her looming deadline although her husband and their child are amongst the welcoming party. Eyebrows are raised when it becomes clear that Yojin is the breadwinner while Euno looks after Siyul but all are eager to make this arrangement work, aware of their luck at the affordable rent despite the isolation of their new home far from Seoul’s amenities. Over the next few months, group dynamics are increasingly strained, communal childcare becomes a competition, and marriages are stretched to breaking point. The novel ends, as it began, with a new couple moving in to Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments.
She counted up the days she had pushed their problems aside without solving then, pushed them aside to render them invisible.
Written in understated prose, Byeong-Mo’s novel switches between characters with the emphasis on the women. Hyonae with her frantic attempts to meet her deadlines, Danhui, judgemental and bossy, and Yojin, faced with the advances of Danhui’s husband, are to the fore. Gyowon seems somewhat underdeveloped in comparison. This is a highly gendered, hierarchical society with strict expectations of good behaviour. Social niceties are paramount. Men expect their wives to be the primary caregivers to their children even when, like Yojin, they’re the ones earning the money, criticisms which which might be levelled at some Western fathers. Even six-year-old Siyul is expected to take the lead in looking after the younger children which made me want to put my head in my hands. I’d read about South Korea’s dramatically declining birth rate, the lowest in the world, and if these men are a representative sample, I’m not surprised. I enjoyed this glimpse of a society I know little about albeit a somewhat depressing one.
Wildfire London 9781035416479 224 pages Hardback (read via NetGalley)
I don’t think I have ever read a book set in Korea.
I’ve read this and an excellent short story collection but thats it.
Sounds very interesting.
Definitely if somewhat depressing.
Because of our daughter having spent a year there, and our own month-long stay, I’ve picked up quite a few books written by Korean authors, Clearly neither she nor we got to experience any family dynamics, but we did observe the almost frightening ambition most famiies have for their children. Any evening you could walk through city centre streets housing After School Tuition Centres, with even quite young children there till 10.00 at night. The children of manual workers were even more likely to be pushed hard so they could become professionals rather than tradespeople. The outlook for the vibrant streetfood culture looks bleak now that the children of today’s cooks are unlikely to take over from them. Ooops, sorry. I’ve gone off message. I’ll be reading this book!
Oof, that’s grim. Poor children. How are they to learn to live a full life having endured such pressure in childhood. Must have been a fascinating experience for your daughter, though, and for you.
It was. WE were unaccustomes to such kindness and deference from strangers. We always had a seat on the metro. Whole sections of carriages were allocated to the over 40s, and anyone only slightly younger than you would leap to his/her feet to give you their place,
Blimey!
Quite.
As you know, I’ve watched quite a few K dramas this year and the difference between the gender dynamics in those (written by women for women and largely wish fulfillment, I feel) and the ones that appear in Korean novels written by women couldn’t be more stark.
Interesting. Presumably getting funding would be difficult too. I did read a short piece in the Economist that suggested Korean men were becoming more active in parenting but the percentage increase was so small and from such a low base it wasn’t particularly heartening.
I saw this on NG but passed on it as it looked a bit depressing and I think I was worried it was going to tip over into dystopia!
I can understand that. It’s not cheery, for sure, and those of us who yearn for equality could see it as a present day dystopia but I am glad I read it.
This does sound intriguing, but quite bleak too. I think I’d need to be in the right mood for it!
Not an easy society for women, and it seems young ones are voting with their feet.