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A review by arirang
The Republic of Užupis by Bruce Fulton, Ju-Chan Fulton, Haïlji
4.0
"The black and white postcard showed a lake surrounding an ancient castle, from the steeple of which flew the flag of the Republic of Užupis. The grand castle was built of marble, and it rose against the backdrop of a snow-covered alpine range. Hal failed to notice it was the same postcard he had seen last night at the apartment of Jurgita in Vilnius."
우주피스 공화국 by 하일지 (Ha Il-ji) has been translated into English as The Republic of Užupis by the prolific, and praiseworthy, Fultons (Bruce and Ju-Chan).
It's a fascinating, if brief, work, with strong echoes of Karinthy's Metropole or Ishiguro's Unconsoled, and more classically Kafka's The Castle, but which contains a uniquely Korean perspective.
Hal, a visitor from the Asian country of Han, arrives in Lithuania in search of his ancestral homeland, the Republic of Užupis, which he seems to expect to find as a newly reformed independent state nestling somewhere between Lithunia and Belarus, only to encounter incomprehension.
The locals are bemused and at first assume Hal to be the author or victim of a joke. Užupis means "the other side of the river" in Lithuanian, and there is indeed a rundown district of Vilnius called Užupis, which the local artistic community jokingly self-declared as an independent Republic of Užupis, with for example April 1st (Fool's Day) as the national day. (NB this is indeed actually true outside of the novel http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U%C5%BEupis)
But it soon becomes clear that Hal is in search of a real place, with it's own language (which he finds he can understand when he encounters others speaking it) and with some, admittedly scant, tangible evidence such as the picture on the postcard in the opening quote and a family photograph. Some of those he encounters still treat Užupis as fantasy ("a medal in a photograph - now that's convincing!"), others claim to have lived there themselves, but most disturbingly he discovers he is not the first such visitor from Asia and that others have "wandered around Vilnius for a few days, saying they were going to the Republic of Užupis, and then they shot themselves."
But just as Hal seems to be getting somewhere, his existence takes on a more dream-like state. Certain encounters start to repeat - a mute man (or men - they may or may not be the same character) toting a grandfather clock on his back, an elderly farmer who carries a goose (ditto), a fog-induced cough that is treated by a jasmine-scented soup, and an inherited Montblanc pen and revolver which seems a common possession of those who claim Užupisian ancestry.
And some of the repeats are more than mere coincidence - identical copies of the family photo are in the possession of several characters, all of whom claim is as their own family. And, as per the opening quote, Hal seems to fail to recognise these repeated motives, despite having his own version of the postcard, which indeed, having a Vilnius postmark, bought him to Lithuania in the first place.
Even characters repeat - boys called Kornelius who want to become a basketball players and whose mothers claims their father to be the legendary (and long dead) Užupis poet Urbonas; a strikingly blond lady called Jurgita (but one is young and the other elderly) who has childhood memories from Užupis of presenting a bouquet to the national sporting hero, an Olympic marathon medallist.
As the story progresses, things become more circular - it seems that the earlier visitors were somehow Hal himself, and he may share their fate - a fortune teller prophecies to the middle-aged Hal "you are the grandfather of the holy maiden Jeanne d'Arc, that you will meet your granddaughter and she will be the saviour of your homeland."
Hal's country, Han, is clearly based on Korea, but the choice of the word Han (한) is key. 한 is a important, unique, and untranslatable Korean cultural concept, and the key to the novel.
To quote from D. Bannon's "Unique Korean Cultural Concepts in Interpersonal Relations":
"Han is sorrow caused by heavy suffering, injustice or persecution, a dull lingering ache in the soul. It is a blend of lifelong sorrow and resentment, neither more powerful than the other. Han is imbued with resignation, bitter acceptance and a grim determination to wait until vengeance can at last be achieved. Han is passive. It yearns for vengeance, but does not seek it. Han is held close to the heart, hoping and patient but never aggressive. It becomes part of the blood and breath of a person. There is a sense of lamentation and even of reproach toward the destiny that led to such misery."
The characters in the novel quote a number of Užupis poems by the national poet Urbonas (incidentally written in English by the author in the Korean original book) which illustrate the national psyche, similar to 한 (albeit more humorous). So it seems fitting to close my review with a Korean poem:
"서시" ("Prelude") by 윤동주 (Yoon Dong-Ju):
"죽는 날까지 하늘을 우러러
한 점 부끄럼이 없기를,
잎새에 이는 바람에도
나는 괴로워했다.
별을 노래하는 마음으로
모든 죽어 가는 것을 사랑해야지
그리고 나한테 주어진 길을
걸어가야겠다.
오늘밤에도 별에 바람이 스치운다."
"Let me have no shame
under heaven 'til I die.
Even wind in the leaves
pained my soul.
With a heart that sings of stars
I must love all dying things.
And I must walk the path
given to me.
Tonight also, the wind sweeps over the stars"
우주피스 공화국 by 하일지 (Ha Il-ji) has been translated into English as The Republic of Užupis by the prolific, and praiseworthy, Fultons (Bruce and Ju-Chan).
It's a fascinating, if brief, work, with strong echoes of Karinthy's Metropole or Ishiguro's Unconsoled, and more classically Kafka's The Castle, but which contains a uniquely Korean perspective.
Hal, a visitor from the Asian country of Han, arrives in Lithuania in search of his ancestral homeland, the Republic of Užupis, which he seems to expect to find as a newly reformed independent state nestling somewhere between Lithunia and Belarus, only to encounter incomprehension.
The locals are bemused and at first assume Hal to be the author or victim of a joke. Užupis means "the other side of the river" in Lithuanian, and there is indeed a rundown district of Vilnius called Užupis, which the local artistic community jokingly self-declared as an independent Republic of Užupis, with for example April 1st (Fool's Day) as the national day. (NB this is indeed actually true outside of the novel http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/U%C5%BEupis)
But it soon becomes clear that Hal is in search of a real place, with it's own language (which he finds he can understand when he encounters others speaking it) and with some, admittedly scant, tangible evidence such as the picture on the postcard in the opening quote and a family photograph. Some of those he encounters still treat Užupis as fantasy ("a medal in a photograph - now that's convincing!"), others claim to have lived there themselves, but most disturbingly he discovers he is not the first such visitor from Asia and that others have "wandered around Vilnius for a few days, saying they were going to the Republic of Užupis, and then they shot themselves."
But just as Hal seems to be getting somewhere, his existence takes on a more dream-like state. Certain encounters start to repeat - a mute man (or men - they may or may not be the same character) toting a grandfather clock on his back, an elderly farmer who carries a goose (ditto), a fog-induced cough that is treated by a jasmine-scented soup, and an inherited Montblanc pen and revolver which seems a common possession of those who claim Užupisian ancestry.
And some of the repeats are more than mere coincidence - identical copies of the family photo are in the possession of several characters, all of whom claim is as their own family. And, as per the opening quote, Hal seems to fail to recognise these repeated motives, despite having his own version of the postcard, which indeed, having a Vilnius postmark, bought him to Lithuania in the first place.
Even characters repeat - boys called Kornelius who want to become a basketball players and whose mothers claims their father to be the legendary (and long dead) Užupis poet Urbonas; a strikingly blond lady called Jurgita (but one is young and the other elderly) who has childhood memories from Užupis of presenting a bouquet to the national sporting hero, an Olympic marathon medallist.
As the story progresses, things become more circular - it seems that the earlier visitors were somehow Hal himself, and he may share their fate - a fortune teller prophecies to the middle-aged Hal "you are the grandfather of the holy maiden Jeanne d'Arc, that you will meet your granddaughter and she will be the saviour of your homeland."
Hal's country, Han, is clearly based on Korea, but the choice of the word Han (한) is key. 한 is a important, unique, and untranslatable Korean cultural concept, and the key to the novel.
To quote from D. Bannon's "Unique Korean Cultural Concepts in Interpersonal Relations":
"Han is sorrow caused by heavy suffering, injustice or persecution, a dull lingering ache in the soul. It is a blend of lifelong sorrow and resentment, neither more powerful than the other. Han is imbued with resignation, bitter acceptance and a grim determination to wait until vengeance can at last be achieved. Han is passive. It yearns for vengeance, but does not seek it. Han is held close to the heart, hoping and patient but never aggressive. It becomes part of the blood and breath of a person. There is a sense of lamentation and even of reproach toward the destiny that led to such misery."
The characters in the novel quote a number of Užupis poems by the national poet Urbonas (incidentally written in English by the author in the Korean original book) which illustrate the national psyche, similar to 한 (albeit more humorous). So it seems fitting to close my review with a Korean poem:
"서시" ("Prelude") by 윤동주 (Yoon Dong-Ju):
"죽는 날까지 하늘을 우러러
한 점 부끄럼이 없기를,
잎새에 이는 바람에도
나는 괴로워했다.
별을 노래하는 마음으로
모든 죽어 가는 것을 사랑해야지
그리고 나한테 주어진 길을
걸어가야겠다.
오늘밤에도 별에 바람이 스치운다."
"Let me have no shame
under heaven 'til I die.
Even wind in the leaves
pained my soul.
With a heart that sings of stars
I must love all dying things.
And I must walk the path
given to me.
Tonight also, the wind sweeps over the stars"