A Record of the Intimate Lives of People
Living in Our Time
Park Suki's novel collection Cucumber and Violin has been published as
part of the Blue Thoughts Novel Selection No. 55. This collection
features nine stories that delve into various aspects of contemporary society,
such as the true value of art, same-sex love, gender discrimination, and issues
surrounding pets. The stories portray ordinary people who confront established
cultures and customs in their own ways.
The characters in Park Suki's novels
include artists (Ha-yeon in "I Just Called," Jang Hyeong-su in
"What We Need Is Not Wings," and Yi Sang in "Poet Yi Sang"),
but also office workers (Mr. Yeo in "Mr. Yeo"), bar patrons (G and K
in "Cucumber and Violin"), urban dwellers (the main characters in
"The Conditions of Cohabitation"), and ordinary people (the woman in
"That Woman" and the father in "A Very Trivial Death").
Even a dog (the narrator in "I Am Number 2") finds a voice in her
stories. Regardless of their status or where they live, these characters, who
live in or have lived through the same era, are chosen to be part of her
fictional world. They are 'ordinary people' you might encounter anywhere, but
at the same time, 'special people' who reveal their value in their unique ways.
Park Suki's storytelling oscillates between
'the ordinary' and 'the special,' offering a reading experience that allows
readers to appreciate the 'special' hidden behind the 'ordinary.' This
understanding simultaneously reveals that what is 'special' can also be
'ordinary.' Our lives are shaped by this interplay between the ordinary and the
extraordinary. The simplicity of this truth often goes unrecognized by the
world. Park Suki's novels, with their mix of humor and seriousness, expose the
ignorance of those who overlook this fundamental aspect of life. - Excerpt from
the commentary by Park Deok-gyu (novelist and literary critic)
Author's Note
While driving on the highway to visit a friend's house in Hongcheon, I saw a
van with the words "Emergency Escort, Ministry of Justice" written on
its door. Imagining that there might be a man or woman in gray prison clothes
with handcuffs inside the van, a sentence suddenly came to mind: "The
prelude to hell began with an absurd and surreal story." With this
sentence, a new story began to stir in my mind. Many of my novels start from
external observations like this, and as I write, I become one with the story.
If the story is painful, I feel that pain too, and sometimes I pour my entire
soul into a single sentence. The stories I pull from the outside world might
actually be my own, secrets I don’t want to reveal. Or maybe, it’s the other
way around: I disguise my own stories as someone else’s, using the craft of
fiction to hide them. That might be the true nature of the novel as a genre.
With a sly smile, sometimes in pain and other times in the throes of passion, I
wrote these stories. As I gather them into a book, I find myself reconnecting
with you, and with myself, whom I had almost forgotten. These stories, written
after my debut in 1995, are both familiar and strange. Each time I finish a
story, a part of my life concludes with it, and so today’s me is not the same
as the me who wrote those stories. Thus, these familiar yet unfamiliar stories
will likely resonate in the same way with others