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Yi Sang: Selected Works by Jack Jung, Yi Sang, Don Mee Choi, Sawako Nakayasu, Joyelle McSweeney
briancrandall's review against another edition
4.0
This ground was once the bottom of a primal lake. Salty. The pillars holding back the curtains become damp. Clouds do not come near me. My tonsils swell in the humorless air. There is a currency scandal—my hand, looking like a foot, shamelessly holds the crone's throbbing hand.
A rumor goes around about a tyrant's infiltration. Babies constantly turn into little grave mounds. The grown-ups' shoes hit other grown-ups' shoes. I never want to see them again, but where can I escape to? In a state of emergency, quarantined neighbors mingle. The distant cannon blasts and the blisters on our skins soothe us.
All I have here now is the stifling trash that came out of sweeping my vast room. Crows as big as suffocated doves once flew into my thunderbolt-infested room. The stronger crows tried to get out, but they caught the plague, and fell one by one. The room was purified, ready to explode. However, everything I have put down here is just my recent trash. [46]
indukisreading's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
spacestationtrustfund's review against another edition
4.0
『이상 작품선』 is the best English-language book on Yi Sang (이상), né Kim Haegyeong (김해경), I've read yet. Contains various poems originally written in Japanese, translated by Sawako Nakayasu; poems written in Korean, translated by Jack Jung; various essays originally written in Korean, translated by Jack Jung; various stories originally written in Korean, translated by Choi Don-Mee (최돈미) and Joyelle McSweeney; and various biographical and contextual information. The majority (forty-nine poems, six essays, two short stories) of the book was originally written in Korean, with only twelve poems originally written in Japanese, and those included additional information by the translators which explained some of the ways in which Yi Sang modified and subverted the language of the Japanese colonisers.
Although I like to think I know a fair amount about Yi Sang (certainly more than the average person, which is sadly not that difficult given how underappreciated he is), there was some information I'd never heard, such as Kwon Yeongmin (권영민)'s theory that Yi Sang's pen name was chosen "in order to honor a gift given to him by a fellow painter friend ... The gift was purportedly a painter's box made out of plum wood. The Literary Chinese characters for Yi Sang's name are 李箱. The first character, 李 (Yi), means 'plum tree,' and the second character, 箱 (Sang), means 'box.' Yi Sang's painter friend was likely Korean impressionist painter Gu Bon-woong ... Later, Gu Bon-woong would also paint a portrait of Yi Sang, titled 'Portrait of a Friend.'"
That's Gu Bon-ung (구본웅), Yi Sang's lifelong best friend (and possibly lover). Here they are:
Cute, right? This is the portrait, titled 『우인상』 (友人像):
The only story I'd heard before is Pak Taewon (박태원)'s claim that a Japanese supervisor mistakenly called him "Mr. Lee" (the second-most-common Korean surname) instead of "Mr. Kim" (the first-most-common Korean surname), i.e., 李さん (Li-san) in Japanese, which would be 이상 (Yi-sang) in Korean. The kanji 李箱 are also homophonous for 異常 (strange, abnormal), 理想 (an ideal), and 以上 (aforementioned, more than), among others.
Also, there's a higher-quality version of one of my favourite pictures of Yi Sang:
Wasn't he cute? I think he was real cute.
Although I like to think I know a fair amount about Yi Sang (certainly more than the average person, which is sadly not that difficult given how underappreciated he is), there was some information I'd never heard, such as Kwon Yeongmin (권영민)'s theory that Yi Sang's pen name was chosen "in order to honor a gift given to him by a fellow painter friend ... The gift was purportedly a painter's box made out of plum wood. The Literary Chinese characters for Yi Sang's name are 李箱. The first character, 李 (Yi), means 'plum tree,' and the second character, 箱 (Sang), means 'box.' Yi Sang's painter friend was likely Korean impressionist painter Gu Bon-woong ... Later, Gu Bon-woong would also paint a portrait of Yi Sang, titled 'Portrait of a Friend.'"
That's Gu Bon-ung (구본웅), Yi Sang's lifelong best friend (and possibly lover). Here they are:
Cute, right? This is the portrait, titled 『우인상』 (友人像):
The only story I'd heard before is Pak Taewon (박태원)'s claim that a Japanese supervisor mistakenly called him "Mr. Lee" (the second-most-common Korean surname) instead of "Mr. Kim" (the first-most-common Korean surname), i.e., 李さん (Li-san) in Japanese, which would be 이상 (Yi-sang) in Korean. The kanji 李箱 are also homophonous for 異常 (strange, abnormal), 理想 (an ideal), and 以上 (aforementioned, more than), among others.
Also, there's a higher-quality version of one of my favourite pictures of Yi Sang:
Wasn't he cute? I think he was real cute.
veronikav's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
5.0
"I force the folded razor into myself, and suppress my pain, when suddenly its blade opens and grazes me. I bleed internally. However, I have nothing to cut my flesh open; there is no way for my evil spirit to escape. My body gets heavier because of my imprisoned suicide.
(p. 52, "Drowning")
First of all I will begin by reviewing the poetry section. As with most modernist poetry it is at first hard to get into - the rhythm of it feels different than the rigid structure you might be used to and the themes and words are much more loosely distributed. Amusing yet sad is the reaction from his contemporary readers "Stop this madman's ravings" to which Yi Sang then responded in a justifiedly melodramatic letter. However these madman's ravings are incredibly compelling and well-written. Everything about his poems is very deliberate even as he uses word-play and formatting. The common themes in his poems that repeat all over again - sickness, suicide, mirror and legacy - all repeat in such a way that make a bigger picture when read together.
THINKING ABOUT THOSE LONELY FIELDS
THINKING ABOUT THAT LONELY DAY OF SNOW
I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT MY SKIN
I AM A RIGID BODY AGAINST MEMORY
(p. 90, "Fragment Scenery")
Yi Sang's Japanese poems then represent a more mathematical, experimental mode of poetry (which might in part be due to how it is stylized). A wonderful translation by Sawako Nakayasu helps facilitate as close of an experience as possible to reading the original.
My worrying is bigger than the world that erases me. When I open the floodgates, the tides of my worrying percolate through my ruined body. However, I have not yet pulled open my masochistic bottle cap. My worrying engulfs me, and, meanwhile, my body withers away as if the wind and the rain are whittling at it.
(p. 131, "A Journey Into the Mountain Village
If Yi Sang's poetry gives us a vague caricature of themes that are important to his life, his essays are the mirror upon which liquid silver is poured. In his essays you can recognize the themes of his poetry and vice versa. In 'A Journey Into the Mountain Village' we witness a depressing yet humorous look at Yi Sang's trip to the countryside. This is continued in 'Ennui' a summary of a boring day drenched in ennui. My favorite essay 'After Sickbed' uses third person to paint a feverish picture of Yi Sang during the days of his sickness. In 'Sad Story' Yi Sang poetically describes the circumstances of his plan to commit double suicide with his lover. (The circumstances of which are later explained upon in 'True Story - Lost Flower'.) 'A Letter to my Sister' betrays a very progressive attitude towards women's rights and emancipation while at the same time standing witness to Yi Sang's guilt as an unfilial son. And lastly in 'Tokyo' we get to discover the city through the eyes of Yi Sang.
(...) want to know why I haven't killed myself? Ha! It's my habit to recommend suicide only to others. I won't kill myself. I act as if I will sometime soon, but I betray everyone's expectations. Oh - but it's no use anymore.
(p. 216, "True Story - Lost Flower")
The last part of the book holds two translated short stories. The first one is Spider&SpiderMeetPigs where we can clearly see a parallel to Yi Sang's real life. In this chaotic piece of prose the protagonist lives his life hidden away in his house while his wife provides for him by working as a sex worker. He describes his wife as a spider; then in turn describes himself as a spider, acknowledging the complicated relationship he has with his wife. This woman who is being used not only by him (willingly) but by the 'pigs' is someone he wants to protect and abandon at the same time. It shows a strong disillusionment with the relationship. The second short story is True Story - Lost Flower in which short snippets of Yi Sang's life are presented next to each other. It offers a good closure to what all you've read so far.
Genuinely enjoyed my read, great translations and very interesting prefaces.
(p. 52, "Drowning")
First of all I will begin by reviewing the poetry section. As with most modernist poetry it is at first hard to get into - the rhythm of it feels different than the rigid structure you might be used to and the themes and words are much more loosely distributed. Amusing yet sad is the reaction from his contemporary readers "Stop this madman's ravings" to which Yi Sang then responded in a justifiedly melodramatic letter. However these madman's ravings are incredibly compelling and well-written. Everything about his poems is very deliberate even as he uses word-play and formatting. The common themes in his poems that repeat all over again - sickness, suicide, mirror and legacy - all repeat in such a way that make a bigger picture when read together.
THINKING ABOUT THOSE LONELY FIELDS
THINKING ABOUT THAT LONELY DAY OF SNOW
I AM NOT THINKING ABOUT MY SKIN
I AM A RIGID BODY AGAINST MEMORY
(p. 90, "Fragment Scenery")
Yi Sang's Japanese poems then represent a more mathematical, experimental mode of poetry (which might in part be due to how it is stylized). A wonderful translation by Sawako Nakayasu helps facilitate as close of an experience as possible to reading the original.
My worrying is bigger than the world that erases me. When I open the floodgates, the tides of my worrying percolate through my ruined body. However, I have not yet pulled open my masochistic bottle cap. My worrying engulfs me, and, meanwhile, my body withers away as if the wind and the rain are whittling at it.
(p. 131, "A Journey Into the Mountain Village
If Yi Sang's poetry gives us a vague caricature of themes that are important to his life, his essays are the mirror upon which liquid silver is poured. In his essays you can recognize the themes of his poetry and vice versa. In 'A Journey Into the Mountain Village' we witness a depressing yet humorous look at Yi Sang's trip to the countryside. This is continued in 'Ennui' a summary of a boring day drenched in ennui. My favorite essay 'After Sickbed' uses third person to paint a feverish picture of Yi Sang during the days of his sickness. In 'Sad Story' Yi Sang poetically describes the circumstances of his plan to commit double suicide with his lover. (The circumstances of which are later explained upon in 'True Story - Lost Flower'.) 'A Letter to my Sister' betrays a very progressive attitude towards women's rights and emancipation while at the same time standing witness to Yi Sang's guilt as an unfilial son. And lastly in 'Tokyo' we get to discover the city through the eyes of Yi Sang.
(...) want to know why I haven't killed myself? Ha! It's my habit to recommend suicide only to others. I won't kill myself. I act as if I will sometime soon, but I betray everyone's expectations. Oh - but it's no use anymore.
(p. 216, "True Story - Lost Flower")
The last part of the book holds two translated short stories. The first one is Spider&SpiderMeetPigs where we can clearly see a parallel to Yi Sang's real life. In this chaotic piece of prose the protagonist lives his life hidden away in his house while his wife provides for him by working as a sex worker. He describes his wife as a spider; then in turn describes himself as a spider, acknowledging the complicated relationship he has with his wife. This woman who is being used not only by him (willingly) but by the 'pigs' is someone he wants to protect and abandon at the same time. It shows a strong disillusionment with the relationship. The second short story is True Story - Lost Flower in which short snippets of Yi Sang's life are presented next to each other. It offers a good closure to what all you've read so far.
Genuinely enjoyed my read, great translations and very interesting prefaces.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexism, Suicidal thoughts, and Self harm
partypete's review against another edition
5.0
so I’m going to be blunt: the poetry of yi sang is interesting, especially from a historical perspective, but really not the kind of poetry I enjoy. but man, wave books really outdid themselves with providing excellent context throughout the entire book. and really I don’t think you can ask for much more than that.
yi sang was kind of this enfant terrible of Korean modernism, who mixed surrealism and Dadaism with a kind of experimental formalism that at times reminds me of the language school. I have no doubt at all that it was a massive culture shock, I just don’t particularly enjoy dreamlike surrealism unless it’s telling me more. the translators insist that it underpins his anxieties of Japan’s colonization of Korea, which I wish they highlighted a little more.
his essays were incredible, and the inclusions of his typography as facsimiles helped me understand what he was all about. for someone writing in the 1930s, his work felt surprisingly fresh - this may be the result of good translators.
aside from Han Kang, I know virtually nothing about Korean literature. Not mad that this was my first introduction to a major author!
yi sang was kind of this enfant terrible of Korean modernism, who mixed surrealism and Dadaism with a kind of experimental formalism that at times reminds me of the language school. I have no doubt at all that it was a massive culture shock, I just don’t particularly enjoy dreamlike surrealism unless it’s telling me more. the translators insist that it underpins his anxieties of Japan’s colonization of Korea, which I wish they highlighted a little more.
his essays were incredible, and the inclusions of his typography as facsimiles helped me understand what he was all about. for someone writing in the 1930s, his work felt surprisingly fresh - this may be the result of good translators.
aside from Han Kang, I know virtually nothing about Korean literature. Not mad that this was my first introduction to a major author!
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