K-LIT REVIEW Bora Chung’s ‘Red Sword’ keeps readers on edge
Cover of "Red Sword" by Bora Chung / Courtesy of Honford Star
Many works of science fiction begin with extensive exposition, providing backstory and technical details before the narrative unfolds. Others immerse the reader in a narrative that gradually unveils the scientific details, sometimes leaving them a mystery indefinitely. Bora Chung’s "Red Sword" is certainly the latter, to such a strong degree that it could easily be described as a thriller or mystery as well as action-packed science fiction.
"Red Sword" has about as much action as one could pack into just over 200 pages, but it is terrifying in its desperation and confusion.
In the chaos of blinding fog and alien terrain, the protagonist and her fellow prisoners battle against all odds, making split-second decisions with harrowing consequences that take the reader's breath away. There are deep descriptions of their brief skirmishes against a technologically superior foe whose capabilities the characters discover as we do. The fog they fight in is both literal and metaphorical; the prisoners seem to know so little about who they are fighting, where they are fighting or why they are fighting. Yet, fighting is all they can do — or they face execution by their captors, the Imperials, who push them forward in battle after battle.
The protagonist, who remains nameless through much of the novel, wields her red sword with grace and desperation, but between battles she questions the purpose of the war she seems destined to wage, and whether it is her captors who are the true enemy, or if she can trust their offer of freedom in exchange for valor.
Four times in the novel, the narratives, generally from the protagonist's point of view, are split by brief third-person descriptions of the past, of research goals and experiments that seem to be connected to this story. They begin with questions of memory and identity, and then describe experiments to transplant memories into birds. It is mentioned that the birds eventually attacked their creators, foreshadowing future conflict with these genetically modified birds as well as rebellion against other creators. After all, prisoners do not exist in a vacuum; they are created by captors. But who creates the captors?
Another section tells a fable of a king’s search for immortality and the price he paid. Each of these sections, titled Double Helix I-IV, reveals some of the history of this planet and its inhabitants, the role between the prisoners and the Imperials and the role of our own memories and DNA in forming who and what we are.
The descriptions of the alien world are sparse and haunting. Color is used sparingly in the novel. There are monstrous black birds with blood-red wings that vomit red-black toxins, white aliens with their white blood and white ships and even white rain and rivers. Black, white and red—whether through smoke, fog or blood—seem to be the palette of this world. Characters are given brief, impersonal descriptions. Two women prisoners are usually named as Indigo Skirt and Light Green Skirt, even after we, through the protagonist, learn their names. The two men most often encountered are simply young man and older man. Even the protagonist, whose name we eventually learn as well, becomes Red Sword in our mind, as it is her most prized possession and an inalienable part of her identity and survival.
Despite the inhumanity of their situation and surroundings, brief moments of tenderness or simply passion between the prisoners do arise. These sparsely described characters are still allowed the depth of human emotion. Indigo Skirt and Light Green Skirt have the strongest bond of love between any two living characters in the novel, a love that transcends life and death. Though Red Sword’s early dalliance with another character ends quickly and tragically, her affection for him persists throughout much of the novel. Another woman, suspected of being a spy placed among the Imperials by a prisoner, still holds onto the love she has for her two children taken from her. What makes a person special, we seem to be asked. What is real, if not love?
From left, "Red Sword" author Bora Chung and translator Anton Hur take part in a book launch talk moderated by Honford Star co-founder Taylor Bradley at Platform P in Seoul's Mapo District, May 3. Korea Times photo by Jon Dunbar
Chung doesn’t shy away from challenging the reader with her exploration of the nature of humanity, the colonial mindset and the nature of truth. In one haunting sentence, she captures much of the present malaise many of us have living in the post-truth world. “Because even when everything was fake and a lie, this moment at least was completely true.” Chung’s extensive academic background comes to bear as she uses 15th-century Sino-Russian border conflicts involving Koreans assisting the Qing Dynasty in fighting Russia as inspiration or perhaps even instigation of this tale. It too closely mirrors today’s news of North Korean soldiers being used as cannon fodder by Russia to continue its invasion of Ukraine.
A key component of successful science fiction is its ability to create an emotional attachment to characters who have never existed. I have read a lot of science fiction, but few works have made me want to think and act differently. The injustice faced by the characters in "Red Sword" hits too close to home and feels too real to ignore. Their heroism in the face of hopelessness could be inspiring — if only we could direct our intolerance for injustice toward our real-world oppressors, whoever they may be.
Anton Hur's newly released English translation of Bora Chung's "Red Sword" is available at dbbooks.co.kr.
Arlo Matisz is an economics professor at Chosun University in Gwangju.