All the seas of the world
Rolling Thunder Love
headlight
Two people's international
universal education
Rona, our star
The mainspring has 12 and 1/2 turns
heavy and tall
Pax Atomica

Commentary | Ordinary people, come in.
Lee Hee-woo (literary critic)

“If that is love, then somehow I miss that nearsighted love a little.”

A tribute to all the characters struggling on the stage of life.
A story about you: serious yet witty, hurt yet loving.

"The International of Two" begins by confronting precisely our portrait of ourselves lost in the complex political and ethical layers of the modern world.
Haku and Yeongrok meet at a concert by the girl group "All the Seas of the World", which opens a novel collection.
Haku tells Youngrok that a guerrilla concert will follow, but Youngrok dies as a result of the crowd that gathers for the rumor and the 'terror' staged for attention.
Before he can even begin to shake off his guilt, Haku is lost in a situation where everyone is blaming each other for the death.

The novels that follow stand out sharply like landmarks amidst a thick fog and a hazy, obscured field of vision.
In front of malicious comments that cruelly criticize variety show participants, he asks, “How did you guys become so fucked up?” (“Rolling Thunder Love”), and in front of a world that criticizes us even more cruelly for being weaker even though we worked hard to do our part, he asks, “Did we live so wrongly?” (“Two People’s International”), with cold questions.
These questions open up a new dimension.
Just as a teacher who was accused of being politically biased because he taught Marx was prepared to take “a test that must be destroyed but not defeated” (Universal Education).
When we look at the idol 'Rona', who is gradually wearing down from the perspective of a fan, feeling that "the world gives a little respect to political musicians, but is merciless to musicians who are in politics" ("Rona, Our Star"), the possibility of a fanatic 'political group' that is latent in modern people and inseparable from the identity of the fandom is finally revealed.

I went to school without missing any classes.
I have never broken the law.
I spent a third to a half of my day faithfully at work and paid my bills on time.
Then shouldn't we be able to live without too much worry?
Since I lived like that, should I be satisfied with living this much?
When I read the comments people leave on articles with titles like "Please evaluate my life at 27," I sometimes feel like I've done something wrong.
If you wanted to live better, you should have studied harder.
You should have eaten the lidded pork belly, not eaten the instant tteokbokki, not drunk beer, not had sex, and just studied hard to pass the exam or save money.
When everyone else was settling down, we were lazy and indecisive, so they called us 'stupid people'.
The two reached this question:
“Have we been living so wrongly?”
_「Two People's International」, pp. 133-134

Even as the call to "we" seems distant today, "Two People's International" shines with a sincere sense of balance that examines people's diverse and unique identities.
As if he had lived nine lives, Kim Ki-tae captures his life in nine stories.
When a man, living his life as the world tells him to, walks along the smooth road, and wonders if he has been acting all this time, and asks, “What is mine?” (“Headlight”), the dark curtain of the play called life flutters slightly.
On that stage, there is an old man who, despite his life that is as vague as something squishy in a black plastic bag, finds strength in himself, saying, “No matter what pranks and schemes there are, there is still plenty of time to live” (“The Wind-Up Turns 12 and a Half Times”), and a high school student from the weightlifting club who challenges “100 kilograms” instead of abstract and powerless “dreams, hopes” and “futures” (“Heavy and High”) in a closed coal mining town where a casino has been built.
Kim Ki-tae's gaze, which quietly observes their specific struggles, heralds the arrival of a solid and upright third-person perspective that is warm but does not hastily lift the barbell.

From a solid and upright third-person perspective
The first step to changing our world begins.

"Pax Atomica," which closes "The International of Two," intersects the intimate obsessions of modern people with the precarious peace created by nuclear weapons after World War II.
The boundary between the individual and the world collapses as they begin to devise a 'decisive spell' to remove the 'nucleus' that has taken root in the extremely fragile human mind and within the world.
Kim Ki-tae's response to this harsh world is neither a leap of optimism nor easy pessimism, but rather a sincere "support" (Im Sol-ah) for "ordinary people" (Lee Hee-woo, commentary).
The reader will discover himself somewhere in this book, and will also encounter a friendly way of life he never knew existed.
Isn't that pretty much all we can hope for in a novel?
Combining a lighthearted wit and rhythm, while also thoughtfully exploring the hardships of life, "Two Internationals" serves as a new turning point for future Korean literature, taking a serious and bold first step toward reimagining Korea in the 2020s.

The novel cannot say, like a great political manifesto, “Workers of the world, unite!”
Literature cannot 'unite' the majority, nor can it clearly distinguish between friends and enemies.
In other words, literature does not have the momentum and power that politics necessarily requires.
(…) However, in the novel we find slogans that are different from political slogans.
Despite the well-known dubiousness and weakness of this slogan, it comes to mind vividly when we read a good novel.
The slogan that Kim Ki-tae repeats in the most contemporary way is this.
'Come in, you ordinary people.'
_Lee Hee-woo's commentary, "Come in, ordinary people"