“Underlining in the Bookstore” Series: Kim Hyejin’s Counsel Culture
By Dalli
Published: February 7,
2023
Translated by Julie Leigh
Series
Introduction: With a strong conviction that women's voices, whether in writing
or speech, deserve a more resonant presence in the world, I carefully curate
books for inclusion on the shelves of my bookstore, Salon de Mago. By
underlining words in these selected books, this series aims to impart their
essence and flavor to readers.
“When it came
to words, she had never felt fear. She was confident that she perfectly
understood the world of words… Then she realized that, amidst the abundance of words,
she had been squandering unnecessary ones. She had never considered how her
words lived once released into the world, or where they eventually died.” (Kim
Hyejin’s novel Counsel Culture p. 225)
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| Kim Hyejin’s novels stored in Salon de Mago: Concerning My Daughter (2020, Mineumsa), The Lifestyle that is You (2020, Munhakdongne), and Counsel Culture (2022, Mineumsa). © Dalli |
While reading an online New Year’s fortune-telling site, I came across the advice “be careful not to get involved in gossip,” and my heart began to race. Being a target of gossip is something I go to great lengths to avoid. While it’s said that even malicious comments at least show that someone is paying attention, I’ve come to realized that certain forms of attention can feel like a kind of violence. Even for someone whose livelihood depends on getting attention, the destructive impact of harsh criticism and abusive language is undeniable.
Some
time ago, my casual words, after being taken apart and pieced together by
others, were spread across social media. When someone asserted that they were
hurt by my words, it felt like a knockout blow. Faced with collective scrutiny
and judgment, I surrendered entirely, just waiting for the nightmare to pass.
After that
incident, I went through a prolonged period of suffering, caught up in fear within
my relationships with others. Self-blame, resentment, self-reflection, and a
sense of injustice all tangled together, keeping me stuck in the complex traps
of the past—where everything had gone wrong in the first place. Eventually, I
chose not to keep digging into the hurtful memories and decided to cut ties
with both the incident and the people involved.
If you
found yourself being scrutinized by the public or tangled up in a relationship
misunderstanding, what would you say? It seems like in those moments, people want
assertions rather than conversations. If only loud and assertive statements
counted, the truth would be solely measured by the volume of one’s voice and
genuine intentions might be drowned out. Some people who are convinced they’re
never wrong end up becoming downright merciless toward those they think are
wrong. Trying to convince such people, who are incapable of conversation, that
you’re being treated unfairly seems pathetic and even pointless. Are we fated
to keep going through this harsh cycle of misunderstandings?
“She always let herself be guided by words, wandering until she inevitably got lost. She didn’t mind losing herself in this way. It was during those nights, scrolling through her smartphone and computer screen, that she grasped the potent impact a few words or a simple sentence could have, piercing straight to her heart. On those nights, each moment felt like a painful repetition, as if she were being stabbed.” (p. 65)
After Haesoo, the protagonist of Counsel Culture, becomes the
subject of public scrutiny, she finds herself unable to openly express her
stance or emotions to those around her. For nearly a year, her only outlet is
writing letters—each filled with words she struggles to articulate aloud. These
letters, initially polite and reserved, drift into a mix of resentment and
explanations, concluding abruptly and inconclusively. Haesoo reads and revises
these letters repeatedly to search for the precise words to convey her
feelings, yet each night, she ends up tearing them apart, unable to send any. “Is she an unforgivable perpetrator or a
victim, falsely accused?”
In her thriving
15-year career as a counselor, Haesoo has achieved such success that she
becomes a regular guest on a TV program. Enjoying her well-established life,
she never questions her ability to manage her emotions and words. However, when
she makes a negative comment about a celebrity who later commits suicide,
Haesoo loses both her friends and job. She is then condemned and ridiculed, slapped
with the label “the counselor who killed someone.”
Exiled
from the world, Haesoo often takes walks at night, when she can conceal her
identity. During one such stroll, she unexpectedly comes across Sei, a
10-year-old girl trying to help a sick stray cat named Sunmu.
“Breaking things is always easier than
building them. If life is like building blocks, she's realizing that removing
just one piece can unravel the whole structure. And she's surprised at how valuable
insights like this are everywhere, common enough to be a dime a dozen.” (p.
156-157)
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| Kim Hyejin’s novel Counsel Culture (2022, Mineumsa). © Dalli |
Haesoo always believed in her
communication skills, but a single remark shatters her life, leaving her
trapped by formidable barriers of words from those around her. Eventually she
can’t even compose another letter. As the familiar world of words crumbles,
so does her sense of direction in life. However, through interactions with
Sunmu, a stray cat expressing herself in a language beyond words, and Sei, a
10-year-old speaking openly without self-censorship, Haesoo discovers a new way
to connect. In the process of “interpreting, explaining, challenging, agreeing,
and confessing” in her relationships with these two, Haesoo, who “once assumed
she could understand everyone”, finds unexpected reassurance. The dynamic
conversations between the characters vividly illustrate that care is not a
one-way street.
“It’s strange.
The unspoken exchanges with Sunmu provide her with a sense of reassurance. In a
world filled with clamorous words, she’s never experienced anything quite like
it. Understanding, empathy, reassurance, and acceptance—are these feelings only
achievable in complete silence?”
(p.224)
Haesoo throws herself into the task of rescuing
Sunmu, treating it as if it’s a way to pull herself out of a swamp. However,
she grapples with a persistent question—whether this might be a form of
self-pity. Similarly, in Sei’s case, Haesoo suspects that Sei is being bullied
by her classmates. Still, out of respect for Sei’s reluctance to accept
assistance, Haesoo approaches only as far as Sei permits. This attitude, where
Haesoo refrains from completely immersing herself in her role as a caregiver
and maintains a certain distance, must be a characteristic of the author, Kim
Hyejin. The theme of “distancing” persists throughout the novel, offering
insights into what the author considers caregiving and ethical awareness
towards the vulnerable.
While
it’s common to seek solidarity in relationships forged through shared
suffering, genuine understanding of and responsibility for one another cannot
solely stem from a mutual experience of pain. This reality is evident in Sunmu’s
case; having lived on the streets, “risking everything in fights she might lose”,
the cat initially distrusts Haesoo, the one setting a trap for her rescue. The
eventual coexistence of Haesoo, Sei, and Sunmu becomes achievable only because,
as Haesoo realizes when deciding to move on from her own past struggles, true
connection emerges not through shared suffering but through goodwill and compassion.
Sei complains to Haesoo about always losing at dodgeball, calling it dumb. Haesoo replies, “You can always start the game over. You learn more when you lose.” After deciding to face and accept her past struggles, Haesoo stops writing letters to let out her feelings. Instead, she chooses to listen more carefully. The time of paying attention begins.
“As a counselor, Haesoo discovered time and again that
many people carried wounded and fragile hearts. The
realization of this truth would not be possible without the support of goodwill and
compassion. Perhaps, this understanding was the only thing left to her—the sole
remaining essence that she hadn't lost. Is it possible, then, to say that she
succeeded in preserving it? Is it?” (p. 296-297)
Writer Introduction: Meet Dalli, the co-owner of Salon de Mago, a local
bookstore and cultural space in Namwon, North Jeolla Province. She's not only
the author of the essay “I Write What My Body Speaks” (2021) but also the
creative mind behind women’s writing programs such as “Quiet Liberation: The
Writing Journey to Find My Own Voice” and “How to Write to Fill the Gaps in
Life.”
*Original article: https://m.ildaro.com/9555
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