Fashion
Choi Eunyoung on Rebecca Solnit, ‘Heartland’, and the Book That Made Her Miss a Train Stop
Welcome to Shelf Life, ELLE.com’s books column, in which authors share their most memorable reads. Whether you’re on the hunt for a book to console you, move you profoundly, or make you laugh, consider a recommendation from the writers in our series, who, like you (since you’re here), love books. Perhaps one of their favorite titles will become one of yours, too.
First published in 2016 in South Korea, Shoko’s Smile by Choi Eunyoung and translated by Sung Ryu was chosen the best fiction title by 50 Korean writers that year. (This happened again with her second short fiction collection, Someone Who Cannot Hurt Me, in 2018.) This month, Shoko’s Smile made its way stateside with Penguin Books.
The award-winning collection of two novellas and five short stories are about women’s relationships, particularly the endings of them, and reference true events like the 2014 Sewol ferry sinking disaster that claimed the lives of more than 300, the majority of them high school students on a field trip. Choi has said she wants to use language to give voice to the voiceless.
The author majored in Korean literature, taught Korean to foreigners at a university, took her first solo trip to Europe at 21, resumed taking piano lessons after a 25-year break, and has two cats, Mio and Potter. Likes: coffee, traveling, beer, noodles, the sea. Dislikes: working in an organization, rainy days. Based in Seoul, she plans to publish her first novel in South Korea this summer.
The book that:
…helped me through a loss:
The Merry Recluse by Caroline Knapp, translated into Korean by Kim Myungnam.* Can there be a more honest exploration of loss than this? Reading Caroline Knapp makes me look at the darkest, most painful places of my heart. I discover that I’m not the only one who feels this way. This book listened to my story and understood it, a precious experience.
…made me miss a train stop:
Waiting by Ha Jin. I was reading this book ten years ago at the Paris Nord station waiting room and missed my train. I was so immersed, completely forgetting my surroundings, and ended up having to buy a new ticket.
…made me weep uncontrollably:
Heartland: A Memoir of Working Hard and Being Broke in the Richest Country on Earth by Sarah Smarsh, translated into Korean by Hong Hanbyeol. This book kept making me cry. The writer’s struggles to achieve hard successes alone, away from family she loves but has been forced to leave behind, were just so vivid. I cried with her in the scene where she tearfully resolves to live a good life whatever it takes, enrich her bank account, pay off all her family’s debts, and give them rest, even if just for a day.
…I recommend over and over again:
The Neapolitan Novels by Elena Ferrante, translated into Korean by Kim Jiwoo. I’ve recommended the series quite a few times to friends, all of whom said they enjoyed reading it. One friend even told me she got so into the book that she didn’t realize the whole day had gone by and was shocked to find it was already evening.
…shaped my worldview:
Life Lessons by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler, translated into Korean by Ryu Shiva. I happened to buy this book secondhand when I was 21, and it changed the way I see my life. The part about what people regret the most before they die—not having done what they truly wanted to do, not having spent more time with loved ones—has stayed with me to this day. The book also gave me the courage to start doing what I really liked doing.
…made me rethink a long-held belief:
The Food Revolution: How Your Diet Can Help Save Your Life and Our World by John Robbins, translated into Korean by Ahn Euijeong. This book shattered my belief that eating meat and dairy was “normal” and encouraged me to pursue a vegetarian diet for animals and the environment.
…I swear I’ll finish one day:
War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy. I want to start on this book as soon as I finish my current read. I’ve put it off for too long.
…I read in one sitting, it was that good:
My Name Is Lucy Barton by Elizabeth Strout, translated into Korean by Jeong Yeonhee. I opened the first page and read to the end without stopping. Then I read it all again. Watching young Lucy decide to become a writer in the hope that her readers will feel less alone was like reading a part of my mind I didn’t yet have the language for, and it left me stunned. I love this book.
…currently sits on my nightstand:
Klara and the Sun by Kazuo Ishiguro, translated into Korean by Hong Hanbyeol. I just started on this one so I’m not too far in yet. But I’m hoping it’ll be an enjoyable read as I’m sensing similar vibes to Never Let Me Go, my favorite work by him.
…I’d pass onto a kid:
I Talk Like A River by Jordan Scott, illustrated by Sydney Smith, translated into Korean by Kim Jieun. A warm sunshine of a book. I think I would’ve been hugely comforted by this had I read it as a child. Though written for children, it’s a must-read for adults as well. Too many adults try to crumple young children into the bounds of “normality” and “fix” what they were born with. I hope these adults read the book and take a moment to reflect on themselves and understand, at least a little, how sad and terrible such behavior can be.
…made me laugh out loud:
The Trouble with Women by Jacky Fleming, translated into Korean by Noh Jiyang. A book on the history of misogyny, told with next-level sarcasm. I laughed so hard I cried. But after I closed the book, it ultimately left me feeling bitter and angry.
…I last bought:
Far From the Tree: Parents, Children, and the Search for Identity by Andrew Solomon, translated into Korean by Ko Gitak. I became interested in the author after reading The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression, then a close friend told me about this book so I decided to buy it. I had browsed it in an online bookstore and didn’t realize how big it was until I received it; it’s as thick as a dictionary and is making me all the more curious.
…has the best title:
The Faraway Nearby by Rebecca Solnit, translated into Korean by Kim Hyunwoo. This title has explained to me many moments I’ve experienced in my life. My relationship with the people close to me, with writing, with people I’ve grown apart from, with myself, with my life. It’s a title that helps me think deeply and variously about what those relationships mean.
…has the best opening:
“I am writing this because people I loved have died. I am writing this because when I was young I was full of the power of loving, and now that power of loving is dying. I do not want to die.” My Michael by Amos Oz, translated into Korean by Choi Changmo.
…fills me with hope:
The Vegetarian by Han Kang. Korean is a “minor” language, and the translation of Korean literature didn’t used to receive very much support. So most works of Korean fiction never got translated and were accessible only to Korean readers, which made me assume deep down that my work, too, will be read only by Korean speakers. I didn’t so much as hope for my work to be translated, you know? Then watching Han Kang’s The Vegetarian get translated into English and read by many people, I began to hope that if I wrote good books, they might have a chance to reach readers in other parts of the world.
…surprised me:
Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie, translated into Korean by Kim Jinjun. I was awed by just how much a novelist could expand their fictional universe. This work, at least for me, points to the furthest place fiction can go. I remember feeling more and more shocked as my reading progressed. Brilliant book.
Bonus question: If I could live in any library or bookstore in the world, it would be:
The Royal Library in Copenhagen or Shakespeare and Company in Paris. Right outside the Royal Library, which sits on the seafront, you can lounge on one of many chairs that look like they should be on a beach. I have fond memories of sitting there, reading and staring into the open sea. As for Shakespeare and Company, it felt like my home as soon I stepped into it, like it was welcoming me. It’s a space that feels comfortable and safe. The second floor is also nice and has the coziness of an attic.
*The names of Korean translators have been transliterated and may not correspond to the actual spelling used.
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