‘The Specters of Algeria’ by Hwang Yeo Jung (Review)

While Honford Star have spread their range a little over the past few years, Korean fiction is still at the heart of their work, and today sees me looking at another of their books from that country.  It’s an intriguing story with a secret at its heart involving drama, Karl Marx and several people hiding away from the unexpected consequences of literary discussions.  We’re heading off to Seoul again, then, via Jeju Island and Algiers, where the ghosts of the past still haunt the lives of many characters today…

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Hwang Yeo Jung’s The Specters of Algeria (translated by Yewon Jung, review copy courtesy of the publisher) is a short novel in four parts that revolves around a play of the same name.  In the first part, the narrator, Yul, is looking back at pivotal scenes from her childhood, mostly involving the aftermath of traumatic events that remain hidden to the reader.  Both she and her friend Jing grow up scarred by their parents’ actions and illnesses, but when she loses touch with him, she ends up living a rather lonely life, at least initially.

The second part then leaps forward in time to 2016, where Cheolsu, a slightly lazy wannabe theatre director, is drawn into the story.  He hears about the playwright and director Tak Osu, and of the mysterious play, The Spectres of Algeria, an absurdist piece set in the African country.  Following a lead, he heads off to Jeju Island where he meets both Tak and another familiar face.  But what is the play about?  And how did it ruin so many lives?

Hwang’s debut novel took out the 2017 Munhak Dongne Novel Prize, and it’s certainly an accomplished work, but I suspect that it might be a little oblique for many Anglophone readers.  Having read a fair bit of Korean fiction, I had an idea where we were going, but I had my doubts at times, especially when the second section, set in Jeju, started to take the story in a different direction.  If you do decide to try Hwang’s work, just be prepared to be in the dark for the majority of the novel, as if you don’t get the historical subtext, it’s only in the final pages that everything comes together.

Like much Korean fiction, Hwang’s novel is a book with a focus on trauma.  In the very first pages, we’re confronted by Yul’s father and his sudden, unusual fears:

My dad was afraid of paper.  At first he was afraid of books, then he was afraid of paper with words written on it; in the end, he grew afraid of paper itself.
p.10 (Honford Star, 2023)

What ensues is a bout of book burning and Yul’s chronic headaches, leaving her unable to study, and in later sections we learn of stand-up fights between her parents, with Yul cowering in the corner.

As the novel progresses, there are gradually more and more mentions of the play itself, one set in Algiers and featuring four people:

Four specters appeared in the play, against the backdrop of a bar called “Algeria”.  Two of them sat at one table, and the other two at another, and the two who named each other Hammonia and Fred were the protagonists.  The other two cut into the conversation now and then, and the four would talk.  None of them knew how they had ended up in Algeria, why they had to stay there, and how they could get out; they would talk about other things, often forgetting that, and then someone would recall the fact and remind the others, and they would ask and answer questions, like a chorus that was repeated at regular intervals. (pp.41/2)

The third section brings a surprising revelation.  Here, we’re told of how Karl Marx is connected to the play – and of how it came to Korea…

One of the central figures in the book is the narrator of the third section, Tak Osu.  An ‘uncle’ figure to Yul, he’s obviously very involved in the play and is described as a rather charismatic figure:

Tak Osu was someone whose presence was so powerful that Jin Jeongsu couldn’t help wondering how on earth he had never noticed him before.  He wasn’t that big of a guy, but he was taller than most kids their age, and his booming voice and knack for setting the tone of a gathering were more than enough to draw eyes to him. (p.101)

Cheolsu’s certainly drawn to him on their meeting in Jeju, lapping up Osu’s stories over lashings of soju, but is what he’s told the whole story?

It’s all cleverly done and, as mentioned previously, we do get there in the end, but if you want a clue to it all, I’ll let you know that the first part is set in the 1980s.  Anyone who’s read books such as Han Kang’s Human Acts or Kyung-Sook Shin’s I’ll Be Right There will be well aware of the violence and anti-communist fervour of the Korean government and police of the 1980s.  It was an era when it didn’t take much to have people arrested and beaten, and suffice it to say that reading the wrong books was enough to permanently affect your life.

Having said all that, I suspect I’ll need a second read of The Specters of Algeria to really make my mind up on it as it’s a slightly unusual little book.  Nevertheless, it’s all well done, and Jung’s translation is as flawless as ever, so I’d certainly recommend it, especially to anyone interested in this era in Korea. It’s an interesting story within a story, with the characters, and the reader, wondering where they are, and how they got there.  Like the four spectres, they’ve found themselves wanting to leave, without knowing quite how to do so…