One Hundred Shadows

by Hwang Jungeun

Genres: City Life; Magical Realism

Synopsis

INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER!

“There is an unforgettable, curious beauty to be found here.” —Han Kang, Winner of the Man Booker International Prize for The Vegetarian

Han Kang’s Human Acts meets Yōko Ogawa’s The Memory Police in this understated South Korean novella in translation: a restrained yet emotional magical realist examination of futility in a capitalist society written in response to the 2009 Yongsan Disaster.

In a Seoul slum marked for demolition, residents’ shadows have begun to rise. No one knows how or why–but, they warn each other, do not follow your shadow if it wanders away. 

As the landscape of their lives is torn apart, building by building, electronics-repair-shop employees Eungyo and Mujae can only watch as their community begins to fade. Their growing connection with one another provides solace, but against an uncaring ruling class and the inevitability of the rising shadows, their relationship may not be enough. 

Winner of the Hankook Ilbo Literary Award and the Korean Bookseller’s Award, One Hundred Shadows is a tender working-class perspective with subtle and affecting social commentary. This edition features an introduction by Man Booker Prize-winning author of The Vegetarian, Han Kang, a historical note about the Yongsan tragedy that inspired One Hundred Shadows, and an exclusive interview with the author.

Release date: January 1, 2016

Publisher: Erewhon Books

Print pages: 192

Sample

I SAW A SHADOW IN the woods. I didn’t know it was a shadow at first. I saw it slip through a thicket and followed it in, wondering if there was a path there, and thinking how familiar it looked. The woods grew more dense the deeper in I went, but I kept on going deeper and deeper because the deeper I went, the more the shadow drew me in.

Eungyo. I turned around at the sound of my name, and found Mujae standing there. Where are you going? he asked.

I was just walking.

Walking where?

I was following someone.

Who?

Them, I said, and turned back to point, but the person I’d been following was nowhere to be seen. Mujae came toward me, pushing aside some branches, and asked what the person had looked like. I’d only seen them from behind, and as I was about to answer it occurred to me that there had been nothing remarkable about the way they’d looked. Small head, narrow shoulders, dark skin, I said.

Like you, Eungyo?

Yeah, like me, I said, and then it hit me. I looked down at my feet, and sensed something odd about the way they were outlined, against the pine cones and white oak leaves splayed over soft soil. My shadow, spread out thin, very thin, stretched out from the little toe of my right foot all the way into the thickets.

My shadow.

And then I understood.

DON’T GO FOLLOWING shadows, Mujae said, and I narrowed my eyes to bring him into focus, thinking he looked oddly hazy. Yeowoo-bi, I realized, slender as spiders’ silk. I stood there unmoving, feeling my eyelids grow heavy with the weight of water. Droplets formed on the tips of my ten drooping fingers. The rain tasted salty on my lips. I stood for a while, despondent.

Shall we head back? Mujae said, turning to leave.

I followed him, the tall grass snapping and crackling as I pushed my way through it. The thickets were so dense that I wondered how I’d managed to come so far in. Now, retracing my steps, the grass and branches are even tougher because they were wet. My trousers and shirt were damp. I rubbed my eyes, wiping away the rainwater that was gathering on my lashes.

Are you crying?

No, I’m not crying. We walked for quite a while like this, but we still couldn’t find our way out of the woods.

What should we do?

Mujae stopped and turned to me.

Seems like we’re lost.

Should we keep walking?

I don’t think we have a choice.

Then let’s keep walking for now.

The top layer of the ground, swollen with rain, was so slippery that if you slipped at all, it seemed you’d slip forever. My legs were stinging; I looked down and saw that they were covered with grass cuts. The longest cut was green with sap. Once I was aware of the cuts, my legs stung every time I moved. With my shadow drooping so far behind me I had a hard time just moving my feet, first the left and then the right. Seeing that I was having trouble walking, Mujae came over and took a look at the cuts.

I’m cold, Mujae.

That’s because you’re standing still.

I feel like I could die.

What do you mean, you could die?

I’m just saying, I feel like I could die.

Is that just your way of talking?

I feel like I could die, that’s all.

Mujae wiped away the sap with his sleeve, then straightened up and looked me in the eye.

Should we die, then? Right here, he added, so quietly that I was frightened. I looked at Mujae as if seeing him for the first time. His black eyes peered down at me. His hair, usually somewhat disheveled, had been subdued by the rain.

Eungyo, he said. Don’t say you feel like you’re going to die, if you don’t really plan on dying.

Okay.

Let’s keep walking then, Mujae said. He walked on ahead and I followed him. My eyes welled up with tears. Mujae was so heartless, I wanted to let him go on ahead so I could be on my own, but I couldn’t do that in these woods, especially when my shadow had risen, so I just kept walking, wiping my eyes.

Are you crying?

No, I’m not crying.

As we were walking our surroundings grew lighter. Mujae stopped and spread out his hands palms upward.

The rain has stopped.

Yeah.

Do you want some gum?

Okay.

Mujae took out a bent stick of gum from his pocket, tore it in half, and handed me one piece. I removed the dampish double wrapper and poked the green-grape gum into my mouth. It was sweet, so sweet that my jaw tingled and my mouth watered. I folded the wrapper neatly and put it in my pocket. I walked on diligently, chewing gum. Each time my wet feet pushed against the ground a deep chill leached up through my soles. I imagined melting away into such a deep chill, becoming a part of these deep woods. Round mushrooms were growing near sinewy tree roots that poked above the leaf mold.

Mujae, I said. Do you think we’ll make it out of here?

I’m not sure.

What will happen if we don’t?

We’ll die, won’t we?

Will we?

We’ll die anyway, sometime, somewhere, but if we don’t make it out of here, we’ll die in these woods.

I’m scared.

You are?

Aren’t you?

Yes, I am.

Really?

Yeah, Mujae said, still striding forward. I’m scared too, Eungyo.

We walked in silence for a while. The rain had stopped, but the humidity of the sodden woods was stifling. My stomach felt cold even as I walked, moving my body vigorously, and I thought, What do we do if it gets dark before we make it out? Mujae, I said. Tell me a story.

What kind of a story?

Any kind.

I don’t know any stories.

Go on, just one.

Hmm, Mujae said. Shall I tell you a story about a shadow?

Why a shadow, of all things?

The mood is right.

I don’t want a story about a shadow.

That’s the only story I know.

Well, go on then, tell me.

Hmm, Mujae began.

THERE WAS A boy.

Okay.

His name was Mujae.

Hey, Mujae?

Yeah?

Is this story about you?

It’s about Mujae.

About yourself, Mujae?

It’s about Mujae, I said. Should I go on?

Okay.

There was a boy named Mujae. Mujae’s family lived in a large room without a single picture hanging on the walls. There were nine people in the family. A mother and a father, and six older sisters.

Six sisters?

Mujae was the seventh child, the youngest.

That’s so many.

Is it?

Why so many, I wonder?

Well, Mujae said, tilting his head a little to the side. They must’ve liked doing it.

What?

Sex.

I blushed a little, still walking after Mujae. Eungyo, Mujae said. Is this story too racy? It isn’t racy at all.

Isn’t it?

Anyway, it’s fine if it is.

Do you like racy stuff?

I said it’s fine. My voice sounded tense, and Mujae chuckled.

In any case, for that reason, Mujae’s parents had seven children.

So then what happens?

The parents of the boy Mujae probably get into debt.

Probably?

Or inevitably, you could say.

How is it inevitable to get into debt?

Is it possible to live otherwise?

There are people who manage it.

Well, Mujae said, then broke off to concentrate on negotiating the slope, holding on to tree roots, and went on. I don’t really like people who go around saying they don’t have any debt. This might sound a little harsh, but I think people who claim to be in no debt of any kind are shameless, unless they sprang up naked in the woods one day without having borrowed anyone’s belly, and live without a single thread on their back, and without using any industrial products.

Are industrial products bad?

That’s not what I’m saying. A lot of things can happen in the manufacturing process, can’t they, when it’s the kind of mass production that uses all sorts of materials and chemicals? Rivers could get polluted, the payment for the labor could be too low. W. . .