‘Whale’ by Cheon Myeong-kwan (Review)

After our recent trip across Russia, today’s journey may be slightly less epic, but certainly more action packed.  We’re off to Korea to meet an interesting mother-and-daughter duo whose rise and fall mirrors that of the society around them, and they’re supported by an extensive cast, too.  Keen on a rollicking story involving magical feats of strength, mysterious old crones, an uncanny pair of twins and a psychic elephant?  Then step this way, and let’s head off to the boom town that is Pyeongdae, where we can get some coffee and take in a film at a rather unusual cinema…

*****
I’ve enjoyed Cheon Myeong-kwan’s work before in the form of his clever satire Homecoming and the amusing domestic romp Modern Family, but with Whale (translated by Chi-Young Kim, review copy courtesy of Europa Editions), the Korean writer has stepped up the pace, and increased the scale of his vision.  This expansive, three-part novel begins by introducing us to a character who will play a large part in events to come, and revealing quite a lot for the first paragraph:

Chunhui – or Girl of Spring – was the name of the female brickmaker later celebrated as the Red Brick Queen on being discovered by the architect of the grand theater.  She was born one winter in a stable to a beggar-woman, as the war was winding down.  She was already seven kilos when she emerged and plumped up to more than a hundred kilos by the time she turned fourteen.  Unable to speak, she grew up isolated in her own world.  She learned everything about brickmaking from Mun, her stepfather.  When the inferno killed eight hundred souls, Chunhui was charged with arson, imprisoned and tortured.  After many long years in prison, she returned to the brickyard.  She was twenty-seven.
p.11 (Europa Editions, 2023)

That’s a fair amount for a new reader to absorb, and it might take a while for all this to make sense…

As you might expect, this is a flashback, and the story soon takes us much further into the past.  After a few preparatory scenes, the focus switches to Chunhui’s mother, Geumbok, who is to be the star of the show for the bulk of the novel, with much of the focus on her journey through post-war Korea.  The daughter of a drunkard in a remote mountain village, she one day hitches a ride out of there with an itinerant fishmonger, and her first glimpse of the sea inspires her on to great things.  In particular, the sight of a whale breaching out on the ocean is a vision that will stay with her for years to come.

Geumbok turns out to be an embodiment of Korean ingenuity, determination and enterprise.  In a period of flux, those with a head for business and a bit of daring are able to strike it rich quick, and our heroine is a woman with an uncanny knack for surfing the Zeitgeist, knowing just what will be the next big thing.  She’s willing to work hard, and also use men to get ahead, and her charms allow her to move from partner to partner just at the right time.  There’s many a setback along the way, but thanks to her many talents, her rise in wealth and status is staggering.

While this may not be immediately apparent to some Anglophone readers, Whale is another of those Korean books casting a critical eye over the period after the end of the Korean war.  It was a time of an economic boom, a kind of Wild West era in which there was a chance to strike it rich for those prepared to dream big enough.  This is all concentrated here in the fate of the tiny village of Pyeongdae, and its growth from a hamlet surrounded by mountains to a thriving population centre.  With the arrival of the railroad, more people are attracted to what was once a sleepy village, and while Geumbok is just one of the many newcomers, she’s able to make more of her opportunity than most.

Not everything was rosy in this golden age, however, and in Whale Cheon is also criticising the dark side of the era.  As you can guess, many of the fortunes were made by exploiting the little people and taking short cuts in worker safety.  This period of economic freedom was also underpinned by political suppression (the shadowy figure of ‘the General’ looms in the background here…), resulting in anti-communist frenzy and widespread corruption:

And how were these unreasonable verdicts possible, you ask?  Just as Chunhui was held for a dozen years without being tried, at the time it wasn’t all that rare to see those kinds of verdicts.  The courtrooms were merely a stage upon which defendants’ fates were toyed with.  They had nothing to do with justice. (p.276)

It’s all part of the fun for the unconcerned reader, but not quite so amusing for Korean readers with long memories…

For the Anglophone reader, though, more striking than the societal side may well be the style Cheon adopts for his tale.  It soon becomes clear that this is a story in the traditional sense of the word, an oral tale with Uncle Myeong-kwan sitting us down by the fireside for a lengthy yarn, with the odd wink to the audience:

By its very nature, a story contains adjustments and embellishments depending on the perspective of the person telling it, depending on the storyteller’s skills.  Reader, you will believe what you want to believe.  That’s all there is to it. (p.107)

Common features include the repetition of certain phrases and appeals to the reader/listener, teasing requests for us to be patient when the story appears to be going off on tangents.

The oral nature of the tale is supported by the frequent bouts of magical realism and the many nods to folk tales.  Both in the swift pace, and the almost fairy-tale manner of certain events, Whale harks back to stories from another age:

The next morning, Geumbok gave Geokjeong a fistful of cotton on his way to work.
“Before you speak to the boss, stuff these in your ears, tell him you want to be paid three times more, and no matter what he says, just stand there for a moment, then come right back home.”
Geokjeong left with the cotton stuffed in his ears, looking puzzled, and returned home quickly.  He reported that he had done exactly what Geumbok had told him to do.  He looked uncertain.
Geumbok was calm.  “Just wait.  We’ll hear back soon.” (p.66)

Cheon also delights in predictions (the story’s always looking forwards and backwards, often at the same time) and extensive backstories, both extravagant and exaggerated (such as Geumbok’s alluring scent, or the amazing feats of strength performed by Chunhui).  Attentive readers will enjoy the recurring minor characters, like the old crone and the one-eyed woman with bees, and then there’s Chunhui’s elephant friend, Jumbo, of course, who’s just as important as many of the human protagonists.

A plot-driven novel, where we pretty much know the ending from the start, Whale is nonetheless an entertaining work where the journey is very much the destination.  In tying together a series of fun, related anecdotes, Cheon cleverly spins a fantastical tale that also contains some unpalatable truths about not-so-distant Korean history – and that’s without even mentioning the man with the scar, the brickyard and the titular whale of a building.  Yes, there’s far too much here to cover in a brief review, so I think I’ll just leave you to head off and discover all the joys of Cheon’s story for yourselves 🙂