Kenneth Burke is an accomplished educator and administrator with a unique academic background in higher education, cultural studies, and political science. He has extensive teaching experience in diverse settings such as Kurdistan, Iraq, and South Korea. His commitment to promoting diversity, critical thinking, and inclusive excellence has left a significant impact on the lives of students across various cultures and communities. Having returned to his hometown of St. Louis, Kenneth currently teaches in the public schools and online as an adjunct professor. His experiences abroad and his dedication to education reform contribute to his innovative teaching approach, which aims to foster an environment of comprehensive understanding and mutual respect among his students.
Reader’s corner
The Feminist Mind of Bae Suah
Kenneth Burke, St. Louis Public Schools
Reading international feminist fiction offers the opportunity to engage diverse perspectives on feminism. Fiction itself provides a platform to address social and cultural issues. By reading feminist voices in fiction across cultures, readers can gain insight into identity and learn about the ways in which different societies approach issues of gender and power. Global expressions offer alternative views that transcend dominant theories and practices. Feminism is not a monolithic movement, and diverse cultures have their own histories which shape meaning. International writers challenge readers to broaden awareness of feminism as a social movement and gain a more complex understanding of the potential for gender equality.
Bae Suah is a South Korean writer and translator known for her experimental writing style, which often blurs the boundaries between genres. She has published several novels and short story collections in which she critiques how gender, identity, and power intersect in the context of Korea’s rapid modernization and global change. Bae offers a powerful portrayal of the ways in which social expectations affect women and the toll that these pressures have on their well-being. Her work provide a unique window into international feminist fiction.
Bae often relates the act of writing to Shamanist meditation, drawing connections between the role of the shaman as a mediator between different realms and the writer’s role as a mediator between worlds of experience and imagination.[1] In doing so, Bae reflects a broader trend in Korean feminism that seeks to reclaim indigenous knowledge and practices from their subjugation by modernization and colonialism. Referred to as “minjung feminism” (people’s feminism), this movement emphasizes cultural identity and historical memory in the struggle for social justice.[2]Through these influences, Bae is drawing from this tradition of feminist cultural reclamation. At the same time, Bae’s interest in Shamanism is a divergence from mainstream liberal and conservative feminists who tend to emphasize Western-oriented feminism in Korea. Thus, Bae’s focus here can be seen as a departure of the dominant discourse while iterating the importance of indigenous and local knowledge in feminist thought.
When approaching international works, mindfulness of translation and how it might impact meaning and interpretive discourse proves important. Language and culture remain deeply intertwined with power and representation. Dominant cultural and linguistic practices have excluded women and other marginalized groups, and translated works have historically misrepresented or even erased their experiences.[3] The intent here is not to criticize modern translation but rather to create a consciousness of that past, an awareness of the linguistic challenges, and the impact of translation. Translation is a complex process that involves balancing linguistic accuracy with meaning and cultural context. This means being open to multiple interpretations and engaging in dialogue with others about their significance. Knowledge of translation and its potential effect can help ensure that feminist writings are accurately represented.
Bae’s Fiction and Feminism
Bae’s novel A Greater Music was the first of her works translated into English. The novel follows a Korean narrator who travels to Berlin to study music and discovers a connection with a German musician while grappling with memories of a failed love affair.[4] Bae’s works often engage with political themes in numerous ways, particularly through her use of multilingualism and experimentation with structure. She explores the complexities of language and identity as the narrator navigates life in Berlin. The novel explores the disorientation and confusion experienced in unfamiliar environments. Similarly, she examines the power dynamics that exist in cross-cultural relationships. The novel raises questions about male privilege and artistic difference as the narrator becomes involved in a relationship with the musician who occupies a position of relative privilege in life. Throughout the work, Bae explores the ways in which power and authority reinforce inequalities and perpetuate social hierarchies.
Many of her shorter works in North Station compliment these themes. For example, Bae satirizes Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther in “Owl” and “The Non-Being of the Owl” by drawing parallels between Werther’s experiences and that of her narrator.[5] As in A Greater Music, her narrator is a Korean woman living in Berlin. Like Werther, she is a young artist struggling to find her place and grappling with questions of love, identity, and artistic expression. The narrator engages in dialogue about Western literatures throughout these narratives, ultimately satirizing romanticism and the idealization of suffering. Within the broader context of her writing, “The Non-Being of the Owl” deepens a commentary on the tendency to valorize a male protagonist’s pain and elevate it above that of women. She caricatures an unidentified character named Werther with questions about death, adopting a near-clinical tone.[6] Through fragmented memories and musings as the narrator navigates her reality, she reflects on her own displacement while indicating that the suffering portrayed by Goethe is a luxury she cannot afford. The dark satire is a poignant critique of male privilege in literature and art.
Bae consistently addresses themes of power, trauma, and memory in other novels like Nowhere to be Found, focusing on how social norms affect women. The novel follows the story of a young woman who becomes disillusioned with her life and struggles to find purpose amidst the pressures of Korean society.[7] Throughout, the story critiques how women become trapped in oppressive social structures that prioritize obedience, portraying the pressures to conform to ideals of beauty, success, and femininity and the toll that these pressures take on their mental and physical health. The character’s struggles with depression and self-harm reflect the psychological stress of living in a society that imposes rigid expectations on women. Thus, Bae explores how patriarchal power structures affect women’s relationships with their bodies and sexuality, highlighting the importance of creating spaces for women to be heard and valued as well as the need for greater empathy and compassion in our relationships.
The Low Hills of Seoul
In Recitation, entitled The Low Hills of Seoul in the original Korean, Bae’s feminist voice similarly addresses the themes of power, trauma, and memory with a particular focus on how women experience marginalization. The novel follows Kyung-hee, a recital actor who travels from city to city without a fixed home.[8] Through a series of recitations, Bae reflects on Kyung-hee’s experiences and memories, blurring the lines between reality and performance. The novel’s narrative structure employs multiple voices and perspectives to convey the fluidity of identity and the complexities of self-understanding in changing environments. By focusing on the character’s encounters and relationships, Bae offers a poignant commentary on societal dynamics, alienation, and the quest for belonging. Her treatment of these themes provides a profound reflection on the human condition within modern urban landscapes, underscoring issues of gender, memory, and the impact of perpetual mobility. Through her portrayal of these struggles and triumphs, Bae emphasizes the importance of recognizing diverse voices and experiences in the pursuit of gender equality and social justice.
Recitation also explores the connections between writing, memory, and healing by drawing on shamanic motifs and imagery. Bae emphasizes the power of language to heal the trauma of displacement. As noted, it is important to read translations of feminist and marginalized voices with a critical eye. Consider the following excerpt:
At some point, we’d become convinced that as a recital actor, Kyung-hee must be known by a stage name. And that this explained why we’d been unable to track her down so far. So we decided to do the rounds of as many recital stages as possible, without bothering to find out the name of the performer. Strolling the city from one recital to another. And with the expectation that, sooner or later, we would stumble across one of Kyung-hee’s performances.[9]
In this passage, the narrator and their companions search for Kyung-hee, a recital actor, but have been unable to locate her. The group speculates that Kyung-hee may be known by a stage name. As a result, they decide to visit numerous stages without knowing the performer’s actual name, hoping to eventually attend one of Kyung-hee’s performances.
The English translation largely conveys the original Hangul text, yet subtleties in emphasis are notable. Although the phrase “as a recital actor” in English conveys Kyung-hee’s role and identity as a performer, it does not convey any gendered inferences.[10] While Hangul also lacks explicit gender markers, broader cultural and contextual clues suggest that gender themes play a more significant role. Thus, although accurate in conveying the professional aspect, the English translation might miss these subtler cues of gender dynamics. The phrase “known by a stage name” provides another example of the difference in emphasis on gender,[11] implying the need to be recognized by a pseudonym and emphasizing the transformation or concealment of one’s true identity. This suggests that Kyung-hee’s adoption of a stage name is not merely about being known differently; it signifies a deeper, perhaps obligatory, transformation of identity that links closely to themes of self-expression and an artist’s public persona and private life. The original Korean invokes broader themes of identity within that context, underscoring the societal expectations and personal strategies involved in navigating public recognition.
Despite the efforts, they are unable to see Kyung-hee. As time passes, what they knew of Kyung-hee becomes vague and ambiguous as symbolic representations of Kyung-hee on stage conveyed through voice and gesture become more prominent.[12] The narrator describes hearing continuous whispering, reminiscent of an impromptu recital they had attended in their search for Kyung-hee.[13] The more they listen, the more palpable her absence becomes. This whispering described in the original Hangul suggests an intimate and secretive communication with a haunting, pervasive presence that fills the silence left by Kyung-hee’s disappearance. The choice of words in Hangul evokes a sense of mystery and secrecy by emphasizing the intimate nature of the whispering and its continuous, enveloping presence. Such subtle differences in the original language add layers of meaning, reinforcing the enigmatic and transformative aspects of Kyung-hee’s character, illustrating how translation can affect the interpretation of a text and iterate the importance of considering the broader linguistic and cultural contexts.
Conclusion
Through her complex and empathetic portrayal of characters and relationships, Bae expresses the importance of compassion in the quest for gender equality and social justice. Through her portrayal of challenges and triumphs, she emphasizes the importance of valuing individual agency and freedom. Bae provides a powerful feminist critique of male privilege by exposing how assumptions and stereotypes can limit our understanding of ourselves and others. Through her experimentation with narrative form, she underscores embracing diverse voices and experiences in a globalized world. Bae’s use of shamanic motifs and imagery highlights the importance of valuing language and storytelling in the struggle for greater social and cultural understanding and social justice. In this way, her writing reflects the potential to transcend boundaries and create new possibilities for social change. Navigating the intricacies of translation, approach such works with an openness and awareness of the layers of meaning shaped by cultural context. Through fiction, readers can connect with the experiences of others and gain a deeper appreciation for women’s writing. International feminist voices in fiction build bridges across cultural topographies and promote a more inclusive and equitable world.
Notes
[1] Interview with Bae Suah, “소설가 배수아 인터뷰 (ENG SUB),” LTI Korea 한국문학번역원, October 14, 2023, https://youtu.be/ DJVPcgYzypE?feature=shared.
[2] Nicola Anne Jones, “The Korean Women’s Movement: From Minjung Feminism to Gender Mainstreaming,” in Gender and the Political Opportunities of Democratization in South Korea (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006), 45-66.
[3] Ferguson, Russell, Martha Gever, Trinh T. Minh-Ha, and Cornel West, eds., Out there: Marginalization and Contemporary Culture (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1992). Luise Von Flotow, Translation and Gender: Translating in the Era of Feminism (London: Routledge, 2016).
[4] Suah Bae, A Greater Music, trans. Deborah Smith (Rochester, NY: Open Letter Publishing, 2016).
[5] Suah Bae, “Owl,” In North Station, trans. Deborah Smith (Rochester, NY: Open Letter Publishing, 2017).
[6] Suah Bae, “The Non-Being of the Owl,” In North Station, trans. Deborah Smith (Rochester, NY: Open Letter Publishing, 2017).
[7] Suah Bae, Nowhere to Be Found, trans. Sora Kim-Russell (Amazon Crossing, 1998).
[8] Suah Bae, Recitation, trans. Deborah Smith (Dallas, TX: Deep Vellum Publishing, 2011).
[9] Suah Bae, Recitation, 3255 [eBook Edition].
[10] Baesuah, Seoul-ui Najin Eondeokdeul [The Low Hills of Seoul] (Ja-eumgwa Mo-eum, 2012), 338-341 [eBook Edition]. The Korean term “배우로서” (baeu-roseo) can be roughly translated to “as an actor” in English, but such a translation doesn’t quite capture the term’s full depth. The word “배우” (baeu) specifically refers to an actor or someone who acts, whereas “로서” (roseo) is a postposition that can be compared with the preposition “as,” denoting the role, status, or capacity in which someone is acting. In this context, “배우로서” doesn’t just describe the activity of acting; it connotes a deep association with identity and vocation as an actor. Unlike the broader term “연주자로서” (yeonjuja-roseo) which more commonly refers to a performer in a musical or recitative context, “배우로서” is more narrowly focused on the acting profession. Being aware of this and its cultural and contextual meaning deepens an understanding of the person’s embodiment of their art and identity.
[11] Baesuah, Seoul-ui Najin Eondeokdeul, 338-341 [eBook Edition]. The Korean phrase “예명을 사용할 것이라는 확신이 들었다” (yemyeong-eul sayonghal geosiraneun hwaksin-i deuleotda) can be translated as “became convinced that she would use a stage name.” This expression underscores the importance of adopting a pseudonym or professional identity. “예명” (yemyeong) specifically denotes a pseudonym that is distinct from one’s legal name, taken to represent an alternative identity. The verb “사용하다” (sayonghada) means “to use,” and the phrase “것이라는 확신이 들었다” (geosiraneun hwaksin-i deuleotda) indicates a significant moment of realization or the formation of a firm belief in the necessity of using a stage name. Here, “것” (geot) is a nominalizing suffix that turns the preceding verb phrase into a noun phrase, referring to the concept of using a stage name. “이라는” (iraneun) acts as a quotative or descriptive marker, linking the nominalized verb phrase to the subsequent belief. “확신이 들다” (hwaksin-i deulda) translated literally to “a conviction forms,” or colloquially as “to become convinced,” shows that a strong belief has been established. This linguistic structure reflects cultural norms surrounding the separation of public and private identities and societal views on the balance between personal life and professional persona. The emphasis on maintaining distinct identities highlights broader attitudes toward individual recognition.
[12] Suah Bae, Recitation, 3272 [eBook Edition].
[13] Baesuah, Seoul-ui Najin Eondeokdeul, 338-341 [eBook Edition]. The Korean phrase “낮과 밤을 가리지 않고 귓속말은 계속되었다” (nakkwa bameul gariji anko gwitsokmareun gyesokdoe-eotda) contains several linguistic elements that deepen its meaning. “낮과 밤을 가리지 않고” (nakkwa bameul gariji anko) means “without distinguishing between day and night,” which iterates the unceasing nature of the whispers. The word “가리다” (garida) means “to distinguish” and the negating particle “않고” (anko) indicates that this distinction does not occur, conveying the whispers’ all-encompassing quality. “귓속말” (gwitsokmal) translates to a “whisper” with an intimacy, secrecy, or discretion while implying a personal connection or the sharing of exclusive information. The etymology of this word is also notable: “귓속” (gwitsok) means “inside the ear” and “말” (mal) means “word” or “speech,” which implies communication meant to be heard only by a select few. Where “계속되다” (gyesokdoeda) means “to continue,” the past tense form “계속되었다” (gyesokdoe-eotda) expresses the constancy of the whispering and reinforces its persistence over time. The expression alludes to how rumors can infiltrate both one’s professional and private life. The repetitive and continuous tone of the language emphasizes the entanglement between cultural norms, societal expectations, and individual identity.
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