Human Acts

“The woman in school uniform wiped the face of a young man whose throat had been sliced open by a bayonet, his red uvula poking out.”

The image of a woman in a school uniform wiping the face of a young man whose throat has been sliced open by a bayonet is a haunting and powerful representation of the violence that occurred during the Gwangju Uprising. The brutality of the act is heightened by the contrast between the innocence of the woman’s school uniform and the horrific nature of the man’s death. The image emphasizes the senseless and unjust nature of the violence committed by the state against its own people, and the tragic loss of life that resulted from it.

“And when someone comes looking for a friend, like you did, you uncover them again. The faces are badly injured, so they’ll need to get a good look at their bodies and clothes to decide whether it’s who they think it is.”

The description of the badly injured faces and the need for friends and family to identify bodies based on their clothes and physical features underscore the violence and erasure of humanity that took place. Some of the bodies have been so badly damaged that they are no longer easily identifiable. The state’s violence was not only physical but psychological, as it attempted to erase the very humanity of those it sought to suppress.

“The national anthem rang out like a circular refrain, one verse clashing with another against the constant background of weeping, and you listened with bated breath to the subtle dissonance this created. As though this, finally, might help you understand what the nation really was.”

The national anthem, which is supposed to represent the unity and strength of the nation, clashes with the background of weeping and mourning for the dead, creating a subtle dissonance. This reveals the complexity and contradiction within the idea of a nation and how it can be used to justify acts of violence and oppression. Dong-ho’s struggle to understand the events of the uprising reflects the struggle of many to make sense of state violence.

“Her death was every bit as quiet and understated as she herself had been. Something seemed to flutter up from her face, like a bird escaping from her shuttered eyes above the oxygen mask.”

The metaphor of a bird fluttering up from Dong-ho’s grandmother’s face symbolizes the soul leaving the body and ascending to the afterlife. The image of “shuttered eyes“ behind the oxygen mask suggests that even in death, there is a sense of privacy and protection for the soul, which cannot be seen or touched. The quiet, understated nature of her death is in sharp contrast with the violent nature of other deaths that Dong-ho witnesses during his service. In this quote, the novel highlights the idea that the soul is a precious and mysterious aspect of humanity that transcends physical existence and continues to exist beyond death.

“The world’s changed since they assassinated President Park. The labor movement’s gathering strength and now our bosses can’t force us to work overtime anymore. They’re saying our salaries will go up, too.”

The labor movement played a significant role in the events of the Gwangju Uprising and South Korea’s struggle toward a more democratic nation. The speaker acknowledges that the assassination of President Park brought about a shift in power and paved the way for the labor movement to gain momentum. This newfound strength enabled workers to stand up to their employers and demand better working conditions, which also echoed in the Gwangju protests. The inclusion of this detail highlights the intersectionality of various movements and struggles, suggesting that the struggle for workers’ rights and fair pay is intertwined with the broader fight for human rights and democracy.

“When they threw a straw sack over the body of the man at the very top, the tower of bodies was transformed into the corpse of some enormous, fantastical beast, its dozens of legs splayed out beneath it.”

The use of a straw sack to cover the bodies suggests a desire to hide the true nature of events from the eye. The comparison to a “fantastical beast“ further emphasizes the inhumane nature of the state’s actions. This erasure of humanity is a clear attempt to avoid accountability for their actions, and reinforces the idea that the state is willing to go to great lengths to maintain power, even if it means committing atrocities and suppressing the truth.

“With neither tongue nor voice to carry it, my scream leaked out from me in a mess of blood and watery discharge. My soul-self had no eyes; where was the blood coming from, what nerve endings were sparking this pain?”

Through Jeong-dae’s perspective, Kang explores the nature of the soul and its connection to the physical body. Jeong-dae describes the sensation of his soul-self screaming and feeling pain, despite not having physical eyes or nerve endings to experience it. This raises questions about the relationship between the mind, body, and soul, and whether they are interconnected or separate entities. The quote also suggests that the soul is not just a philosophical concept, but a real and tangible part of human experience that can be deeply affected by physical violence and trauma.

“A strange violence welled up within me, not spurred by the fact of my death, but simply because of the thoughts that wouldn’t stop tearing through me, the things I needed to know. Who killed me, who killed my sister, and why?”

Jeong-dae’s continued questioning of who killed him and why reflects a desire for understanding and justice, showing that this desire is a fundamental aspect of the human condition, something that persists even after death. It also highlights the tragedy of the mistreatment of human bodies after their death; due to the state of his body, Jeong-dae is trapped in his body, unable to find peace, struggling with the inexplicable questions of his death.

“All the same, there was something infinitely noble about how his body still bore the traces of hands that had touched it, a tangible record of having been cared for, been valued, that made me envious and sad.”

This quote speaks to the importance of human care in death rituals, as honoring the dead can create closure for both the living and the dead. Jeong-dae’s envy and sadness highlight the emotional weight that comes with being denied the opportunity to engage in these rituals, and the pain that can come with being unable to fully process loss and grief.

“My face, which my sister had twice caressed. My stilled, unseeing face, which she had loved.”

Even in death, Jeong-dae longs for his connection with his sister, Jeong-mi. His reference to his own face, which she caressed, is juxtaposed against the horrifying decay of his body after death. While he comes to despise his corpse due to its mistreatment, Jeong-dae finds solace knowing he was loved in life.

“I want to see their faces, to hover above their sleeping eyelids like a guttering flame, to slip inside their dreams, spend the nights flaring in through their forehead, their eyelids. Until their nightmares are filled with my eyes, my eyes as the blood drains out. Until they hear my voice asking, demanding, why.”

Jeong-dae longs to hold those responsible for the uprising’s violence accountable, to make them confront the harm they have caused. The vivid imagery of him hovering above their eyelids and slipping into their dreams suggests a desire for an intimate and personal form of justice, one that goes beyond punishment and seeks to make the perpetrators understand the full extent of their crimes. The repetition of “my eyes” emphasizes the personal nature of this violence and Jeong-dae’s desire to be seen and recognized as a victim.

“Every time our shadow-boundaries brushed against each other, an echo of some appalling suffering was transmitted to me like an electric shock.”

The idea of “shadow-boundaries” suggests that individuals are not fully separate entities, but rather exist in a web of relationships with others. The “echo of some appalling suffering“ that is transmitted when these boundaries are crossed underscores the idea that our lives are deeply interconnected, and that the pain and suffering of one person can have a ripple effect on others.

“Swallowing saliva was her usual trick to quell this familiar nausea, the sensation occurring simultaneously in the back of her mouth, her throat, and stomach, and unaccountably tied to thoughts of you.”

Eun-sook’s nausea is a physical response to old memories and thoughts, which she associates with memories of Dong-ho, whom she tried to protect during the uprising. The use of the word “familiar” suggests that this nausea is not new to her, and is something she has experienced before, indicating that her trauma is ongoing and may continue to impact her throughout her life.

“Her initial impression is that the pages have been burned. They’ve been thrown onto a fire and left to blacken, reduced to little more than a lump of coal.”

The violence of censorship is represented through the imagery of fire, the same destructive force that soldiers use to burn the bodies of their victims. Although the manuscript is not actually burned, its appearance resembles a charred object, suggesting that censorship, much like fire, can consume and erase meaningful human labor.

“Gasping for breath in these interstices, tiny islands among language charred out of existence. How can there be water coming out of the fountain? What can we possibly be celebrating?”

Eun-sook’s confusion at a fountain reoperating after the uprising emphasizes the disconnect between her trauma and the state’s response to this trauma. While she grieves unthinkable losses at the sight of this fountain, governing forces simply wish to maintain a semblance of normalcy, erasing the horror she has suffered. This speaks to the isolating and disorienting nature of state violence and the struggle to find a sense of connection and belonging in the aftermath.

“After you died I could not hold a funeral,

And so my life became a funeral.”

During Mr. Seo’s play, the actors mouth these lines which had been censored. These lines speak to the harm of censorship, and the way that the denial of truth and closure create prolonged suffering, as people are unable to move past traumatic events.

“We handed out guns to children. Guns they were not capable of firing.”

The unnamed prisoner emphasizes the tragedy and absurdity of the uprising since child participants were not physically or emotionally mature enough to handle firearms, much less the psychological toll of armed conflict. The fact that children were forced to take up arms underscores the desperate and hopeless circumstances of the uprising. The phrase “guns they were not capable of firing“ underscores the idea that the civilian militia was ill-equipped to face the military, making the state’s actions even more horrific.

“Every time I recall the blood that flowed in the small hours of the night—literally flowed, gushing over the stairs in the pitch dark—it strikes me that those deaths did not belong solely to those who died. Rather, they were a substitute for the deaths of others.”

The enormity of firepower at the government’s disposal underscores the violence that civilians faced, and the potential loss of life that the uprising could have resulted in (aside from the lives that were lost). The unnamed prisoner wonders if the death of a few may have been a substitute for the death of many. This suggests that the government saw the uprising as a threat to its power and used extreme force to quell it, regardless of the cost in human life. The use of the phrase “a substitute for the deaths of others“ implies that the government was willing to sacrifice the lives of civilians to maintain control, and that the deaths were seen as necessary in the larger political context.

“Before, we used to have a kind of glass that couldn’t be broken. A truth so hard and clear it might as well have been made of glass. So when you think about it, it was only when we were shattered that we proved we had souls.”

Jin-su reflects on the impact of the traumatic events that he and others experienced during the Gwangju Uprising. He compares the truth they used to believe in to a kind of unbreakable glass, suggesting a sense of stability and certainty in their lives before the uprising. However, traumatic events shattered this sense of security and forced them to confront the fragility of their existence. Jin-su goes on to say that it was only in being shattered that they proved they had souls. This suggests that the traumatic events had a profound impact on their sense of self and understanding of what it means to be human. He seems to be implying that it was only in the face of such extreme violence that they were able to truly understand the depths of humanity, both good and evil.

“Is the dignity that we cling to nothing but self-delusion, masking from ourselves this single truth: that each one of us is capable of being reduced to an insect, a ravening beast, a lump of meat? To be degraded, damaged, slaughtered—is this the essential fate of humankind, one that history has confirmed as inevitable?”

The unnamed prisoner questions whether the idea of human dignity is nothing but an illusion, hiding the reality that anyone can be reduced to a state of degradation, damage, or even slaughter. The repetition of phrases like “reduced to an insect” and “a lump of meat” highlight the dehumanizing effect of violence and trauma. The use of rhetorical questions also emphasizes the speaker’s uncertainty and confusion about the inevitability of such tragedies. In challenging his interviewer, he also asks the reader to reflect on the ways in which humans are capable of inflicting great harm on each other, and how this harm is often perpetuated and repeated.

“To wrap them in the Taegukgi—we wanted to do that much for them, at least. We needed the national anthem for the same reason we needed the minute’s silence. To make the corpses we were singing over into something more than butchered lumps on meat.”

These rituals provide a way for the living to honor the dead, acknowledge their humanity and significance, and give them a place in the larger context of their community or nation. Through the act of wrapping bodies in the national flag and singing the national anthem, Seon-ju and others participating in the death ritual seek to counteract dehumanization and restore a sense of dignity and respect to the dead.

“But that means that the way is also closed that might have led back to the time before. There is no way back to the world before the torture. No way back to the world before the massacre.”

Seon-ju acknowledges that the traumatic events she has experienced have created a clear divide between the past and present, and there is no way to go back to the person she was before her trauma. The use of the word “closed” suggests a sense of finality and irreversibility. The trauma created a new reality that she must learn to navigate.

“The thread of life is a tough as an ox tendon, so even after I lost you, it had to go on.”

Dong-ho’s mother addresses Dong-ho in the second person throughout her chapter, showing that she has never fully recovered from his death. However, by comparing life to a tendon, she depicts the resilience of the human spirit and the ability of the soul to carry on after tragedy.