Even in the faintest light / 007
Quotient / 047
One year / 085
Reply / 125
Sowing / 181
To my aunt / 213
Disappearing, Not Disappearing / 267

Commentary│Yang Kyung-eon (literary critic)
I want to go further / 321

Author's Note / 347

“There is a part of me that doesn’t know what to do because I want to hurt my sister.
“There was another me fighting, afraid of losing my sister.”

When deep affection and transparent hatred are intricately intertwined
When I belatedly realized the love I received at one time
Seven long letters written with all my heart, contemplating my own share.

Choi Eun-young's novels, which display a remarkable sense of depicting human relationships, are particularly adept at capturing the moments when relationships begin and fall apart, or more precisely, at examining with intense precision what causes those relationships to become distorted.
One of the characteristics of this collection of short stories is that it examines the nature of such relationships in relation to social issues.
As literary critic Yang Kyung-eon accurately points out, “Choi Eun-young’s work has always pointed out that the subtle waves are caused by various social conditions and historical and structural problems,” and she is “still brave in dealing with the problems of reality” (“I Want to Go Further,” commentary on “Even in a Very Dim Light,” p. 332).
Therefore, examining the relationships between characters in a novel cannot be separated from understanding the kind of ground they stand on.

“It is a perfect stitch without a single seam.
“One Year,” which was nominated for the final round of the Lee Hyo-seok Literary Award with the comment “A unique answer to the question of what human relationships are” (critic Jeong Yeo-ul), follows the year that the narrator, Ji-su, spends with Da-hee, a contract intern of the same age when he was a third-year employee.
At the time, Jisoo was in charge of going to the construction site every day to check the situation ahead of the wind power plant opening ceremony, and Dahee had started working as Jisoo's assistant because she was fluent in Chinese.
Despite the difference between a full-time employee and a contract intern, the two carpool together and have a genuine conversation they have never had before while commuting to and from the construction site.
Only through that conversation was there “a heart that revealed itself” (p. 123), but the two people’s different situations created an unexpected rift in their relationship, and they broke up without being able to be honest with each other.
But the novel goes a step further and sets up a situation where the two meet by chance eight years later.
The important thing is that this brief encounter does not serve as a refreshing opportunity for the two to start a new relationship, but rather as a time to honestly reflect on what that one year has meant to each other.

“Even in a Very Dim Light” focuses on depicting such a complex process of disharmony and reconciliation.
Hee-won, a twenty-seven-year-old who worked at a bank and later transferred to the English department at university, is fascinated by a young lecturer named “Her,” who “wears neutral clothes and speaks her thoughts clearly in English with a strong Korean accent” (p. 10).
Through her intellectually stimulating classes, Heewon reflects deeply on whether her writing was not "safe writing" that was concerned about the opinions of others, and approaches writing with a little more seriousness and courage.
However, when she tells him that she wants to go to graduate school, “You can study even if you’re not a graduate school student, Hee-won, you know that too” (page 37), Hee-won is hurt and blurts out words that hurt her pride.
It was only after time had passed and he had become a young instructor like her that Hee-won began to understand why she had said that to him.
When Hee-won, recalling her, calmly confesses, “Although I cannot agree with her, I think I can understand her feelings now,” and “I, too, just wanted to go further. / Perhaps, at that time, I vaguely wanted to follow her” (p. 43), we see a faint but clear light connecting Hee-won and her.


Meanwhile, while "One Year" overlaps the issue of irregular employment on top of changes in relationships, "Even in a Very Dim Light" highlights the space called "Yongsan."
The novel seriously explores the meaning of writing by recalling Yongsan, a space that binds Hee-won and her through shared memories and a place where a disaster occurred due to excessive government suppression, as the basis for writing.
"Share" is also a work that encapsulates the core keywords of this collection of short stories—relationships, society, and writing—and powerfully portrays the achievements, rewards, and limitations experienced through writing by three characters who became close while working together on the school newspaper's editorial staff.
In the fall of 1996, twenty-year-old Hae-jin accidentally picked up a pile of school newspapers in front of the library and was captivated by Jeong-yoon's writing. As if by fate, he joined the school newspaper's editorial department.
Haejin is overwhelmed by the sharp and elegant writing of her peer Heeyoung, but as she gradually begins to write her own, she is captivated by the fact that “writing is difficult, painful, tiring, and embarrassing, and sometimes makes you feel nothing but self-deprecation, but it is also what helps you overcome all that” (p. 75).
However, the situation in the 1990s, which was not much different from today, with its sharp conflicts and debates surrounding women's issues, gradually created a rift between Hae-jin, Hee-young, and Jeong-yoon.


The problematic awareness of "Share", which acknowledges that solidarity and reconciliation are not easily achieved simply because we are all women, and examines the complexity of women's issues, continues in "Reply."
This novel, the most intense of the collected works, is written in the form of a letter sent by 'I' to my sister's daughter whom I can no longer meet.
Why am I writing a letter to my niece and not my sister?
Why can't I meet my sister and niece anymore?
As we read the novel with such curiosity, what we encounter is a violence so strong that it seems impossible to overcome with individual will alone.
'I' begins the letter by telling 'you', my nephew, about my childhood.
'I' grew up neglected by my father after my mother left home, but my older sister, who is 3 years older and has a strong sense of responsibility, has been my parent since I was little and has been my greatest strength.
When did that older sister start to change?
One day, a black sedan stops in front of my house, and unexpectedly, my sister gets out of it.
My sister is embarrassed and makes excuses, saying that she was just given a lift by a teacher she met by chance, but I realize that she is lying.
And my sister says that when she turns twenty-one, she will marry that teacher who is fifteen years older than her.
She said she was pregnant and that the man would take responsibility for her.
But in reality, he ignores his sister so naturally and openly, as if he has nothing to be ashamed of, both at the meeting and after marriage.
'I' am unbearably angry at his attitude, but I feel helpless because I don't know how I can help my sister.
And that anger explodes due to a certain incident.
'I' begins to fight against him with all my might because "I want to protect my beloved sister, and I want to show her that she is a precious person who should not be treated so carelessly" (p. 177).
“What will be the result of the choice made at that time?” (p. 170).


“Even if you don’t want it to, the traces won’t disappear.”

Looking honestly at the traces carved into myself
Moving forward toward others and society

The three novels, “Sowing,” “To Aunt,” and “Disappearing, Not Disappearing,” placed side by side in the latter half, show a family different from what is commonly considered a “normal family.”
"Sowing" is the story of a younger brother who belatedly realizes the love of his older brother who took care of him in place of their mother who passed away early. It delicately captures the feelings shared between siblings against the backdrop of the "garden," a space that metaphorically symbolizes the older brother's attitude toward life and the love he left behind.
As the title suggests, “To My Aunt” is a story written by me as I reminisce about my aunt, with whom I spent most of my childhood.
'I' cannot stand my emotionally stingy and strict aunt, and while trying to deny the mark deeply engraved on me, I also miss my aunt who cared for me in a way no one else did.
Because 'I' am not writing this to judge my aunt.
Because that kind of judgment is too easy.
When we say, “I don’t want to talk about my aunt in that easy way” (p. 217), we realize that accepting her as she is may also mean accepting aspects of ourselves that we find so unbearable.

If "Sowing" deals with siblings and "To Aunt" deals with an aunt and her nephew, "Disappearing, Not Disappearing" takes a long-term look at the most complex and difficult relationship between mother and daughter.
'Kinam', a woman in her sixties, goes on a short trip to meet her younger daughter 'Woo-kyung' who lives in Hong Kong.
What Ki-nam realizes on his trip is the invisible line between himself and Woo-kyung, but the person who unexpectedly becomes a comfort to Ki-nam is his seven-year-old grandson, Michael.
Michael is busy trying to get the attention of Ki-nam whom he hasn't seen in a long time, and at the same time, he throws unexpected words at Ki-nam with a bright expression.
Ki-nam goes on an outing to downtown Hong Kong with Woo-kyung and Michael, but makes a mistake. Returning home to a depressed atmosphere because of him, Ki-nam looks back on his life and suddenly feels ashamed.
But then Michael comes up to Gi-nam and sits down next to him, and as if he had read Gi-nam's mind, he says this.
“It’s okay to be embarrassed.
“It’s cute to be embarrassed” (p. 318).

Kinam carefully stroked Michael's head.
The thick, curly hair was just like when Woo-kyung was young.
“Michael is so sweet.”
"that's right.
My mom said so.
Michael is so affectionate.
“Like a Korean grandmother.”
"really?"
“But you shouldn’t be too affectionate.”
Michael looked at Gi-nam for a moment and then continued speaking.
“Being too affectionate is a bad deal.”
A warm pain spread through Gi-nam's back and stomach.
Kinam nodded quietly while stroking Michael's hair.
Michael didn't know himself and he didn't know the time he had lived.
But at that moment, why did it feel like the person who knew nothing about me understood me better than I did?
It's okay to be embarrassed.
Kinam couldn't believe it.
Words I never expected.
Ki-nam thought he would never forget those words. (p. 319)

The 'warm pain' that Ki-nam feels at Michael's words is similar to the emotion that spreads within us while reading Choi Eun-young's novel.
When a wound is touched precisely, when someone we barely know seems to understand us deeply, when we have a feeling that we will never forget that moment, we become aware of our intimate connection with the other person.
Our existence cannot stand unrelated to anything within relationships or within society.
Choi Eun-young, who has presented brilliant works so far, constantly examines her writing and clearly engraves this image of us into this collection of short stories.