Our people
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Description
Book Introduction
- A word from MD
-
Empathy and comfort delivered in a language close to everyday lifeA story of empathy and comfort presented with Park Sol-moe's unique sensibility.
The characters in the work are not visible or tangible, but they portray another life, a possibility that exists or may have existed in a life we did not choose.
It is a strange yet familiar world where thoughts and imaginations that you have thought of at least once unfold in print.
February 26, 2021. Novel/Poetry PD Park Hyung-wook
“My stay here is not forever,
“Sometimes it’s surprisingly repetitive.”
Park Sol-moe's sense of living well and sleeping well
Short stories that convey empathy and comfort in a language closest to life.
Park Sol-moe, who began her career in 2009 with the 『Consonant and Vowel』 New Writer's Award and has since received awards such as the Kim Seung-ok Literary Award, the Munji Literary Award, and the Kim Hyeon Literary Award, and has garnered attention from both inside and outside the literary world, has published her fourth collection of short stories, 『Our People』.
This collection of eight short stories, published between 2016 and 2020, consistently presents novelistic delights with unique language and unexpected flow, and shines with the author's signature style.
Each work invites readers into an “unfamiliar space” that gives them “the feeling of waking up in someone else’s house, not my own, although I don’t know exactly where it is yet, but clearly a familiar home,” while conveying a subtle “mysterious hope” beyond the unfamiliar sensation.
Readers are momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliarity, but then blink and “look at the things that are gradually becoming familiar” (Kang Bo-won’s commentary), entering the world of Park Sol-moe’s unique humor and loveliness.
The narrators of "Our People" repeatedly imagine the conditions of life that they did not actually choose, but that might have been possible, and draw the lives of those who might have lived according to those imagined conditions.
The narrator of the title piece, "Our People," hears that his friends will not be going to the forest they had planned to go to, and instead imagines his friends going to the forest.
Some people who go into the forest in their imagination keep walking and never return.
The narrator, who now lives alone here, also gets married and has children somewhere, living a life different from the 'me' of today. The belief that "such a world exists" (page 11) continues throughout the novel collection.
“Sometimes it’s surprisingly repetitive.”
Park Sol-moe's sense of living well and sleeping well
Short stories that convey empathy and comfort in a language closest to life.
Park Sol-moe, who began her career in 2009 with the 『Consonant and Vowel』 New Writer's Award and has since received awards such as the Kim Seung-ok Literary Award, the Munji Literary Award, and the Kim Hyeon Literary Award, and has garnered attention from both inside and outside the literary world, has published her fourth collection of short stories, 『Our People』.
This collection of eight short stories, published between 2016 and 2020, consistently presents novelistic delights with unique language and unexpected flow, and shines with the author's signature style.
Each work invites readers into an “unfamiliar space” that gives them “the feeling of waking up in someone else’s house, not my own, although I don’t know exactly where it is yet, but clearly a familiar home,” while conveying a subtle “mysterious hope” beyond the unfamiliar sensation.
Readers are momentarily taken aback by the unfamiliarity, but then blink and “look at the things that are gradually becoming familiar” (Kang Bo-won’s commentary), entering the world of Park Sol-moe’s unique humor and loveliness.
The narrators of "Our People" repeatedly imagine the conditions of life that they did not actually choose, but that might have been possible, and draw the lives of those who might have lived according to those imagined conditions.
The narrator of the title piece, "Our People," hears that his friends will not be going to the forest they had planned to go to, and instead imagines his friends going to the forest.
Some people who go into the forest in their imagination keep walking and never return.
The narrator, who now lives alone here, also gets married and has children somewhere, living a life different from the 'me' of today. The belief that "such a world exists" (page 11) continues throughout the novel collection.
- You can preview some of the book's contents.
Preview
index
Our people
Crossing words
basketball player
With twelve women already dead
Fluttering Paper Sugimatsu Bible
I'm good at riding a bike
Practice walking every day
I bought a theater after watching a movie
Commentary | Kang Bo-won
Author's Note
Announcement page of included works
Crossing words
basketball player
With twelve women already dead
Fluttering Paper Sugimatsu Bible
I'm good at riding a bike
Practice walking every day
I bought a theater after watching a movie
Commentary | Kang Bo-won
Author's Note
Announcement page of included works
Into the book
As we welcomed the New Year in Fujino, we talked briefly about hibernation, and according to a zoologist who had stopped by before I arrived, there was a hypothesis that humans may have hibernated as well.
For some reason, it felt like a hypothesis that only that person or a very small number of people were advocating.
But I liked the story and it gave me comfort.
The reason I'm weak to the cold and winter is because it's the time when people like me should have already eaten their fill and gone to sleep.
I thought I wanted to wake up when the scent of spring came and the melted clear water rolled over the leaves.
---From "Our People"
So the night before I returned to Seoul, I worried in advance.
I was very nervous.
I felt at peace as I soaked in the warm water, but for a split second I felt like crying because I didn't want to go to work so badly.
But aside from that time, I didn't miss any of it, but I was still able to relax and feel at ease.
(…) I cried a lot, but I rested well in Busan and returned to Seoul.
Time passes and we do what we were doing.
But I kept wanting to go back to Busan.
Couldn't I be someone who rests well there, returns here, works hard, refocuses, appreciates the work given, ties my shoelaces, and races like a horse on a racetrack? I didn't have the energy to think about such things, and for a while after fall, I spent my days scouting for opportunities to go to Busan, like I was eating lunch and thinking about what to eat for dinner.
---From "Words at the Crossing"
Sometimes I feel like I want to be a nuisance to people I'm not close with, but to people I like.
Please give up something for me for a moment.
Please take my worries into your hands.
I, too, sometimes find myself wishing I could swallow someone's fireball.
Of course, it is an idea that will soon disappear.
Because of that, I may have to go far away for a while and may never meet anyone again, but I accept it without a dark heart.
---From "People Who Play Basketball"
As I soak in the bath, the thought of believing too much in dreams, of something descending from somewhere like a rope before my eyes, that my dreams would solve me, lingered in my mind.
But when you wake up from sleep, you become a new person, a new feeling like opening a new package of sausages.
Still holding onto my belief in sleep and dreams, I washed my body, dried my hair, applied some soap, put on some clothes, and headed to bed.
I wanted to go to sleep quickly, so I said goodnight and fell asleep.
For some reason, it felt like a hypothesis that only that person or a very small number of people were advocating.
But I liked the story and it gave me comfort.
The reason I'm weak to the cold and winter is because it's the time when people like me should have already eaten their fill and gone to sleep.
I thought I wanted to wake up when the scent of spring came and the melted clear water rolled over the leaves.
---From "Our People"
So the night before I returned to Seoul, I worried in advance.
I was very nervous.
I felt at peace as I soaked in the warm water, but for a split second I felt like crying because I didn't want to go to work so badly.
But aside from that time, I didn't miss any of it, but I was still able to relax and feel at ease.
(…) I cried a lot, but I rested well in Busan and returned to Seoul.
Time passes and we do what we were doing.
But I kept wanting to go back to Busan.
Couldn't I be someone who rests well there, returns here, works hard, refocuses, appreciates the work given, ties my shoelaces, and races like a horse on a racetrack? I didn't have the energy to think about such things, and for a while after fall, I spent my days scouting for opportunities to go to Busan, like I was eating lunch and thinking about what to eat for dinner.
---From "Words at the Crossing"
Sometimes I feel like I want to be a nuisance to people I'm not close with, but to people I like.
Please give up something for me for a moment.
Please take my worries into your hands.
I, too, sometimes find myself wishing I could swallow someone's fireball.
Of course, it is an idea that will soon disappear.
Because of that, I may have to go far away for a while and may never meet anyone again, but I accept it without a dark heart.
---From "People Who Play Basketball"
As I soak in the bath, the thought of believing too much in dreams, of something descending from somewhere like a rope before my eyes, that my dreams would solve me, lingered in my mind.
But when you wake up from sleep, you become a new person, a new feeling like opening a new package of sausages.
Still holding onto my belief in sleep and dreams, I washed my body, dried my hair, applied some soap, put on some clothes, and headed to bed.
I wanted to go to sleep quickly, so I said goodnight and fell asleep.
---From "The Fluttering Paper Sugimatsu Bible"
Publisher's Review
Fun presented with unique imagination and an unfamiliar atmosphere
Making room for those who don't return and telling them it's okay to be there.
The 'I' in "Words at the Crosswalk" is a person who uses words to make a living and works in Seoul, but has a hard time with words and the cold.
This 'me' imagines 'burying the horse', believing that if I dig the ground with a shovel and bury the horse, the horses will scatter and the cold will run away.
The speaker, who says, “For a moment or two, I feel like crying because I don’t want to go to work so much” (page 44), imagines ‘hibernating’ instead.
If only I could hibernate, I could get through the cold and stop saying and living a life of regret.
Park Sol-mae's humor, which makes you laugh at the cute imagination but also makes you sympathize, continues in "The Fluttering Paper Sugimatsu Bible."
The narrator in the novel is captivated by the words 'Sugimatsu Bible' that appear several times in his dreams and decides to visit the place in his dreams himself.
The Sugimatsu Bible was displayed in an old house in Busan, but when I arrived in Busan and took a walk, the dream disappeared into the distance.
We, who have experienced the experience of continuing to grope through the dream world even after waking up, only to be suddenly brought back to reality by a small sound from everyday life, may once again find relief, empathy, and enjoyment in novels.
Meanwhile, in "Basketball Player" and "Daily Walk Practice," the lives of people in past stories are recreated and repeated through imagination.
"The Basketball Player" retells the lives of characters from Choi In-hun's novel "The Square," poet Kim Si-jong and Zainichi Korean Kwon Hee-ro, and the real-life figure Norio Nagayama from the film "Serial Killer."
In “Daily Walk Practice,” the story of the students who committed the Busan American Cultural Center arson incident is brought back and their names are called out, confirming that just as the previously imagined characters were “there,” the characters in the story are also “there” (Kang Bo-won’s commentary).
"With Twelve Women Already Dead" takes a slightly more daring approach to imagination.
Kim San-hee is murdered “at least twelve times” (p. 95) by twelve women.
He cannot die again because he is already dead, so he suffers repeated deaths at the hands of women.
The deaths of other women, not just the twelve, are repeated, and so the murders of a murderer like Kim San-hee are bound to be repeated. The narrator, who happens to be involved in this incident, continues to carry a notebook with a pen in it to confirm that they are there.
Just as we cannot say with certainty that we 'know' the lives of imaginary characters, we cannot say that we 'know' the lives of people living here and now.
In “I Bought a Theater While Watching a Movie,” director Lee Du-hyeon intentionally postpones “scenes that seem obvious and important” to “outside the frame” (p. 202), and in “Our People,” Park Sol-moe also seems to intentionally disperse scenes that could be considered important.
Just as we cannot say that we know everything about someone's life, even though we believe that there is someone living in another world, we cannot say that anything is important.
The characters who cry because they hate the coming tomorrow and desperately want a warm place also play a role in cracking the strange and unfamiliar feeling that runs throughout the novel. This may be because the characters are “our people” who are not so different from us, and because they and we “are here not forever, but sometimes surprisingly repetitive” (p. 223).
Thus, Park Sol-moe's voice, which "says that it is okay to be there" (commentary by Kang Bo-won) with the "belief that we still belong in the same place," rings out clearly and poignantly in this age of growing distance, and this is perhaps the reason why "Our People" deserves to be read with care.
Author's Note
A few days ago, I was writing a novel and I had a lot of fun.
Actually, it's always been fun.
How is the fun of the past different from the fun of the present?
What else could there be besides fun?
Sometimes I wonder what it is, but I don't think about it any further.
I don't feel like turning my head in that direction.
I often think about the past and often regret things I did, didn't do, or couldn't do in the past.
I tend to reflect on myself from time to time.
I often think about the past, miss it, and open it like a book.
But I rarely feel that way when it comes to novels.
I'm not curious about anything other than the fun and excitement of the past.
What on earth could that have been? Maybe there's something like that in this book.
But still, the novel is a bit strange, and I say that what I think of as the past is not the past.
It's not that I have nothing to say.
Isn't it possible that these conversations led to the publication of the book?
February 2021
Park Sol-moe
Making room for those who don't return and telling them it's okay to be there.
The 'I' in "Words at the Crosswalk" is a person who uses words to make a living and works in Seoul, but has a hard time with words and the cold.
This 'me' imagines 'burying the horse', believing that if I dig the ground with a shovel and bury the horse, the horses will scatter and the cold will run away.
The speaker, who says, “For a moment or two, I feel like crying because I don’t want to go to work so much” (page 44), imagines ‘hibernating’ instead.
If only I could hibernate, I could get through the cold and stop saying and living a life of regret.
Park Sol-mae's humor, which makes you laugh at the cute imagination but also makes you sympathize, continues in "The Fluttering Paper Sugimatsu Bible."
The narrator in the novel is captivated by the words 'Sugimatsu Bible' that appear several times in his dreams and decides to visit the place in his dreams himself.
The Sugimatsu Bible was displayed in an old house in Busan, but when I arrived in Busan and took a walk, the dream disappeared into the distance.
We, who have experienced the experience of continuing to grope through the dream world even after waking up, only to be suddenly brought back to reality by a small sound from everyday life, may once again find relief, empathy, and enjoyment in novels.
Meanwhile, in "Basketball Player" and "Daily Walk Practice," the lives of people in past stories are recreated and repeated through imagination.
"The Basketball Player" retells the lives of characters from Choi In-hun's novel "The Square," poet Kim Si-jong and Zainichi Korean Kwon Hee-ro, and the real-life figure Norio Nagayama from the film "Serial Killer."
In “Daily Walk Practice,” the story of the students who committed the Busan American Cultural Center arson incident is brought back and their names are called out, confirming that just as the previously imagined characters were “there,” the characters in the story are also “there” (Kang Bo-won’s commentary).
"With Twelve Women Already Dead" takes a slightly more daring approach to imagination.
Kim San-hee is murdered “at least twelve times” (p. 95) by twelve women.
He cannot die again because he is already dead, so he suffers repeated deaths at the hands of women.
The deaths of other women, not just the twelve, are repeated, and so the murders of a murderer like Kim San-hee are bound to be repeated. The narrator, who happens to be involved in this incident, continues to carry a notebook with a pen in it to confirm that they are there.
Just as we cannot say with certainty that we 'know' the lives of imaginary characters, we cannot say that we 'know' the lives of people living here and now.
In “I Bought a Theater While Watching a Movie,” director Lee Du-hyeon intentionally postpones “scenes that seem obvious and important” to “outside the frame” (p. 202), and in “Our People,” Park Sol-moe also seems to intentionally disperse scenes that could be considered important.
Just as we cannot say that we know everything about someone's life, even though we believe that there is someone living in another world, we cannot say that anything is important.
The characters who cry because they hate the coming tomorrow and desperately want a warm place also play a role in cracking the strange and unfamiliar feeling that runs throughout the novel. This may be because the characters are “our people” who are not so different from us, and because they and we “are here not forever, but sometimes surprisingly repetitive” (p. 223).
Thus, Park Sol-moe's voice, which "says that it is okay to be there" (commentary by Kang Bo-won) with the "belief that we still belong in the same place," rings out clearly and poignantly in this age of growing distance, and this is perhaps the reason why "Our People" deserves to be read with care.
Author's Note
A few days ago, I was writing a novel and I had a lot of fun.
Actually, it's always been fun.
How is the fun of the past different from the fun of the present?
What else could there be besides fun?
Sometimes I wonder what it is, but I don't think about it any further.
I don't feel like turning my head in that direction.
I often think about the past and often regret things I did, didn't do, or couldn't do in the past.
I tend to reflect on myself from time to time.
I often think about the past, miss it, and open it like a book.
But I rarely feel that way when it comes to novels.
I'm not curious about anything other than the fun and excitement of the past.
What on earth could that have been? Maybe there's something like that in this book.
But still, the novel is a bit strange, and I say that what I think of as the past is not the past.
It's not that I have nothing to say.
Isn't it possible that these conversations led to the publication of the book?
February 2021
Park Sol-moe
GOODS SPECIFICS
- Publication date: February 10, 2021
- Page count, weight, size: 264 pages | 324g | 122*188*20mm
- ISBN13: 9788936438371
- ISBN10: 8936438379
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