"Han Kang’s Nobel Prize and Korean Literature as World Literature," by Jaeyeon Jeon (PhD Student, Department of Comparative Literature)
Han Kang’s Nobel Prize and Korean Literature as World Literature
Jaeyeon Jeon
PhD Student, Department of Comparative Literature
In an interview with Maeil Business Newspaper on October 10, 2024, less than a day before winning the Nobel Prize in Literature, Han Kang gracefully remarked that it is a “natural process” for Korean literature to meet a global audience, because literature has always had the “power to connect.” However, for Pascale Casanova, a scholar keen on center/periphery dynamics in the world literary market, Korean literature has long existed at the periphery. Because South Korea lacks what she calls “literary capital,” it harbors “an obsession with the Nobel prize”: the coveted prize is a means of “consecration” that will build a path to world literature. While the center/periphery model has faced various critiques, it offers a useful framework to understand the challenges and aspirations of Korean literature on the world stage.
Indeed, long before Han Kang’s Nobel prize, significant efforts were made to introduce Korean literature to a global audience, addressing existing imbalances. For example, the Daesan Foundation has been awarding grants for translation, research, and publication of Korean literature since 1993. Selected languages for translation often included English, French, German, and Spanish, but there has been a growing support for Eastern European languages along with Vietnamese, Mongolian, and Persian over the past decade. The Literature Translation Institute of Korea (LTI Korea) is another institution that supports overseas translations by providing grants to publishers. Their Translation Academy Program has also played a crucial role in training future translators since 2003, along with their workshops and Internships.
Since 2007, the Korea Institute at Harvard has also provided a platform for translated Korean literature through its literary magazine, Azalea: Journal of Korean Literature and Culture. Founded by Young-Jun Lee, a PhD alum of the East Asian Languages and Civilizations (EALC) department (class of 2006), and David McCann, Professor Emeritus of Korean literature and a former director of the Korea Institute (EALC PhD, class of 1976), the magazine has featured translations of diverse writers such as Kim Young-ha and Kim Hyesoon since its inaugural volume. Under Lee’s editorship, Azalea has published 17 volumes and was the first venue to introduce The Vegetarian (Ch’aesik chuŭija) in translation, with Janet Hong’s version appearing in Volume 3 (2010). Additionally, it featured Deborah Smith’s first English translation of Kim Kyung-uk’s short story, “Young Hearts Never Grow Old” (Sonyŏn ŭn nŭlchi annŭnda), in Volume 6 (2013). While the Korea Institute was laying this groundwork to introduce Korean literature, the field of Korea Studies was also growing in North American academia.
In a 2014 interview with Young-Jun Lee, McCann reflected on his time as a graduate student, noting that Chosŏn history and the Korean language were the only Korea-related course offerings at Harvard. By the time he completed his PhD in Korean literature, there was “only one person in the entire country teaching Korean literature—Peter Lee, at the University of Hawaii.” (Lee later joined UCLA.) Looking back, he now acknowledges the field’s remarkable expansion, especially in its interrelation with other disciplines. Indeed, at Harvard alone, Korean literature features across a wide range of syllabi, spanning departments such as East Asian Languages and Civilizations, English, and Comparative Literature, as well as interdisciplinary programs like Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies and the Committee on Ethnicity, Migration, Rights.
Han Kang’s Nobel Prize can be seen as a milestone in the growing global presence of Korean literature. However, a “peripheral” literature’s encounter with the world has not been without controversy. Symptomatic of this was the heated debates surrounding Deborah Smith’s translation of The Vegetarian (2016). Smith’s first English translation of Kim’s short story, mentioned above, seems in many ways a precursor to her Booker Prize-winning Translation. While her translation reads beautifully in English, showcasing surprising traces of her own literary genius, it also features bold omissions here and there along with occasional mistranslations. Noticing such tendencies, an enormous amount of scholarship dissected Smith’s translation after the Booker Prize announcement. In particular, quite a few tackled the hierarchy between English and Korean in which an English translator’s literary prose could override her limited proficiency in the source language.
The ecstatic reaction in Korea to being able to read a Nobel laureate’s work in its original language attests to another dimension of this tension. By virtue of the prize, Korea is for the first time on the giving end of the world literary market. But it would be too simplistic and too reductive to understand the world literary space as governed solely by national hierarchies. In this context, Han’s prize risks being an emblem of Korea’s nationalistic effort that sought to globalize its literature despite the imbalance. Rather, while acknowledging such undercurrents, the more pressing question seems to be this: what does it mean that the world so urgently needs Han’s voice at the present moment?
Even before the prize, scholars agreed on how the military violence Han critiques in her works like Human Acts transcends national boundaries. Equally resonant with the world was her critique of Korean patriarchy in The Vegetarian and the protagonist’s self-destructive act that aimed at maintaining human dignity. Han’s work has garnered global recognition over the past decade, yet her grappling with human fragility and dignity has been a constant theme throughout her career. From her debut short story collection, Love in Yŏsu (Yŏsu ŭi Sarang, 1995), Han has consistently amplified the voices of the marginalized and the wounded. As a “local” reader who has often drawn strength from the resilience and vigilant self-respect Han imparted onto her characters, it feels surreal to now be part of the world readership united by her prose — each fragile, and yet fighting for human dignity through her works.
Han acknowledged in the “First Reactions” telephone interview following the prize announcement that she “grew up with Korean literature.” In this vein, just as there is much left to be discovered in her past and future works, one could equally say that much of Korean literature remains to be discovered. For a student interested in the formation of world literature, part of the excitement lies in anticipating another literary map shaped by the growing encounters between Korean literature and its expanding audience. At the same time, with Korean literature now on the cusp of becoming world literature, I am reminded of other “peripheries” and their literatures—often untranslated and left unread. Perhaps, another meaningful way to celebrate Han Kang’s Nobel Prize is to acknowledge the imbalances in the world literary market and actively create space for voices from different parts of the world.
In a brief note released by her publisher, Han expressed surprise at how the “warm hearts that congratulated her” were “conveyed to her like giant waves.” These “giant waves of congratulations,” in my view, are composed of many interconnected layers: Koreans elated by the news; publishers and institutions that facilitated the global reach of Korean literature; translators who introduced Han’s works to the world; and a world readership that resonated with Han’s unwavering exploration of “the fragility of human life,” as endorsed by the Nobel committee. The journey of any “peripheral” literature into the world literary market would be just as arduous, but Han’s achievement reminds us that it is possible through literature’s “power to connect.” As we anticipate future configurations of world literature shaped by myriad forms of connection, I imagine these “giant waves of congratulations” will continue to flow in multidirectional and interconnected ways. Han Kang’s Nobel Prize sets forth a vision of world literature; it is the one more inclusive of the world nonetheless.