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Translation and Critical Analysis of Bae Suah’s “Towards Marzahn”

Annah Overly EAASW3901: Senior Thesis

Thesis Adviser: Theodore Hughes Graduate Student Adviser: Jon Kief

December 11, 2014

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Table  of  Contents  

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS  .....................................................................................................................  3  PART ONE: BAE SUAH AND CONTEMPORARY KOREAN LITERATURE  ....................  4  

WHO IS BAE SUAH?  ...............................................................................................................................................  4  PART TWO: “TOWARDS MARZAHN” AND THE ACT OF TRANSLATION  ..................  7  

TRANSLATING “TOWARDS MARZAHN”  ..........................................................................................................  7  “TOWARDS MARZAHN” BY BAE SUAH  ........................................................................................................  10  

PART THREE: CRITICAL ANALYSIS OF “TOWARDS MARZAHN”  ..............................  37  REFERENCES  ......................................................................................................................................  46  

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Acknowledgments

This thesis would it not be what it is today without the help of several people in

my life. I would first like to thank my Korean professors, Lee Beom, Carol Schulz, and

Yi Hyunkyu at Columbia for the continuous support of my study of Korean. Secondly, to

Jon Kief, PhD candidate at Columbia, who was assigned to help me along this journey

and helped me first choose to translate “Towards Marzahn” and then encouraged me

through the writing process. I would like to thank the faculty at Barnard’s Asian and

Middle Eastern Cultures Department for their advising. To my friends, for always

comforting me and being there for me. And lastly, to my parents, for their belief in me

and support in my studies. Thank you to you all.

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Part One: Bae Suah1 and Contemporary Korean Literature

Who is Bae Suah?

Bae Suah was born in 1965 and graduated from Ewha Womens University in

Seoul with a degree in Chemistry. After working for years as a government employee at

the embarkation/disembarkation desk at the Gimpo International Airport, she had her

literary debut with the short story “A Dark Room in the Year 1988.” Since then, Bae has

gone on to publish twelve novels, seven short story collections, and one collection of

essays. Between 2001 and 2002, Bae left her job and moved to Germany in order to study

German. She has now translated a few works from German into Korean, such as Martin

Walser’s Angstblüt (“Bae Suah: PEN World Voices Festival”). In 2003, she was awarded

the Hankook Ilbo Literary Prize and in 2004 received the Dongseo Literary Prize.

Bae Suah’s work has been widely critically acclaimed for its unconventionality

and unfixed nature. In the bilingual edition of Time in Gray (Hoesaek Si) translated by

Chang Chung-hwa and Andrew James Keast, a section is included that provides excerpts

of past literary criticism. Shin Su-jeong remarks that Bae’s fiction is not “simple kitsch”

but “sail clear of the national and the ideological, and even of literary tradition,” an action

which makes the stories into “fiction” (Bae, 2013, 109, 111). Kim Sa-gwa sees Bae’s turn

towards essay-format stories as a way to “give substance to the enormous void set

between the world of her personal reality in Berlin and the Korean world of her readers,”

and now “as a symptom of her resolute solitude and departure from reality, her own

1 “Author Database: Suah Bae,” Literature Translation Institute of Korea, accessed November 29, 2014, http://klti.or.kr/ke_04_03_011.do

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included,” Bae has constructed a “world of dreams…through which lost voices drift”

(Bae, 2013, 113, 115). These small samplings of acclaim for Bae’s work share an

appreciation for the new directions that Bae is pushing literature in contemporary Korea.

In her interview with Bae Suah, Deborah Smith asked whether she thought that

the move to Germany had influenced Bae to become more experimental with her work

(Smith 2014). Bae replied that “the experience of going to Germany and living there on

my own… really brought home to me that loneliness that is particular to writers,” which

she believes “intensified” the changes her writing was going through (ibid.). She also

comments on her earlier works, which she states she wrote “without any kind of writerly

self-consciousness,” and has now started to pay more attention to as she tries to deepen

the “fairytale-like atmosphere” (ibid.). Bae mentions that “What literary theorists say

about literature doesn’t hold much appeal for me,” and that she focuses more on how we

enjoy a text, rather than attributing it to a specific genre of writing (ibid.). She defines

literature as “a way of mourning existence” since she believes that the sadness humans

hold due to the fact that “they have to die…drives them to create literature” (ibid.). The

focus on experimentation and exploration in her writing that Bae outlines here are

important to consider while thinking about her place in the contemporary Korean literary

scene, which is markedly different from the literature of twentieth century Korea.

Discussions of Korean literature that was being written in the twentieth century

are often confined to themes surrounding war memory and trauma that had their start

during the Japanese occupation and through to the Korean War. But as generations of

Koreans began to be born who had no living memory of a connection to North Korea and

the political associations with literature began to diminish, Korean literature was given

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the chance to look back on modernity. Or, at least, this is what Lee Kwang-ho argues in

his article “Cultural Hybridity in Contemporary Korean Literature” in which he discusses

the changing literary landscape of twenty-first century South Korea. Lee asserts that “For

the past one hundred years, [Korean literature] played the role of conducting social

discourse and persistently pursued literary autonomy” (29). However, due to “the

industrialization and democratization of Korean society” these roles were reduced and

“its status in the cultural market was peripheralized as it competed with other new mass

media” (Lee, 29). He refers to these new authors with the term “zero gravity.” Without

the “political guilt” of generations past, these new writers were instead connected more in

terms of their shared experiences of cultural texts than a sense of shared trauma (Lee, 31).

Under these conditions set out by Lee that mark zero gravity writers in contrast to Korean

writers of the twentieth century, Lee also states that this new generation of literature

“came to try new forms and styles of speech,” which “can be understood to signify the

beginning of a ‘different literature,’ instead of playing up a ‘death of literature’” (29). In

Lee’s analysis of contemporary literature, echoes of Bae’s own style can be seen, first

through his comments on the absence of a “shared historical experience,” and then

through his discussion on the trend of the lack of an enlightened and confessional narrator

within contemporary literature (Lee 30, 34). As a member of this new generation of zero

gravity writers, Bae is both a unique and resounding voice in contemporary Korean

literature.

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Part Two: “Towards Marzahn” and the Act of Translation

Translating “Towards Marzahn”

Bae Suah’s “Towards Marzahn” presents an interesting prospect to the reader and

translator—a text written by a Korean author in Korean that takes place in a

neighborhood of east Berlin. Within this foreign setting, Bae plays with the Korean

language to emphasize the isolation and repetition of situations occurring within the text.

At twenty-six pages in length, it took the better course of three months to write the full

translation that is below as well as multiple revisions in order to make sure that each

character’s voice contained the appropriate tone. The challenges faced specifically that I

will talk about in this section dealt with determining the appropriate narrative voice and

the repetition of sentence endings and phrases within dialogues.

What is not readily apparent when one first begins reading “Towards Marzahn” in

Korean is the absence of a bodied narrator. Nowhere in the text is the use of the first

person pronoun used in Korean except when characters are in dialogue with each other.

Similarly, while there are some judgments and suppositions made on the part of the

narrative voice, there are no clues in the text that point to the narrator actually being an

inhabitant of the apartment building. An example of one of these instances takes place

during the description of the resident who often holds loud parties in his apartment. Table

1 shows a comparison of the original sentence in Korean, the Romanization, the basic

translation, and the final translation. In most cases, the sentence construction ~(으)ㄴ

적이 있다/없다 (~(ŭ)n chŏki itta) is a way to talk about an experience a person has or

has not had.

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Table 1. Comparison of Original Korean and Translation of a Sentence from Bae Suah’s “Towards Marzahn” (116) Original Korean Romanization Korean-English

First Translation Final Translation

그의 얼굴을 본 적은 한 번도 없다.

Kŭŭi ŏlkulŭl pon chŏkŭn han pŏnto ŏpta.

There was never a time when his face had been seen.

No one had ever seen his face.

Source: Bae, Suah 배수아. Matchan panghyangŭro 마짠����������� ������������������  방향으로 [Towards Marzahn].

Munhakkwasahoe 문학과사회����������� ������������������  16.1 (2003): 92-117.

But in the case of the narrator in “Towards Marzahn” who has no shown bodily

experience, I read the sentence as referring to the experience of other residents and

translated it as such. Bae also makes the translation interesting by often having the

narrative voice re-word what it is commenting on. The most challenging instance of this

is when the narrative voice chooses to describe the shape of a slipper in front of the

kitchen door. Table 2 shows a comparison of the original sentence in Korean, the

Romanization, the basic translation, and the final translation. As can be seen by the side-

by-side comparison, I tried to stay as faithful to the original as possible although chose to

make grammatical changes in order to create a better flow in English.

Throughout “Towards Marzahn,” certain sentence endings and phrases were

repeated by characters, making it a challenge to translate the sentences without feeling

like one had to resist the repetition. In order to translate the dialogues to my best ability, I

chose to assign each repeating phrase and sentence ending to one English equivalent that

would likewise repeat within the text. I felt that this was an important aspect of the text to

keep consistent as the repetition of the phrase in turn signified the level of

miscommunication that was occurring between the characters. The first repetition to

occur within the text was between the two men standing outside the elevator who were

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Table 2: Comparison of Original Korean and Translation of a Sentence from Bae Suah’s “Towards Marzahn” (109) Original Korean Romanization Korean-English

Literal Translation Final Translation

“부엌 문 앞에서 사람의 그림자가, 그렇게 보이는 것이, 더 자세하게 말하자면 단지 사람의 발처럼 보이는 것이, 사람의 발이 신은 슬리퍼의 모습이 잠시 머뭇거리다가 사라졌다.”

Puŏk mun apësŏ saramŭi kŭrimchaka, kŭrŏhke poinŭn kŏti, dŏ chasëhakë malhachamyŏn danchi saramŭi palch’ŏrŏm poinŭn kŏti, saramŭi pali sinŭn sŭlripŏŭi mosŭpi chamsi mŏmutkŏridaka sarachyŏtta

A person’s shadow in front of the kitchen door, it looked like that, if said in more detail it looked like only a person’s feet, the shape of a person’s feet in slippers appeared for a moment and the disappeared.

In front of the kitchen door a shadow of a person, something that looked like one, or more specifically—or more something that looked like a person’s foot, that is, a slipper worn by a person’s foot—appeared momentarily and then disappeared.

Source: Bae, Suah 배수아. Matchan panghyangŭro 마짠����������� ������������������  방향으로 [Towards Marzahn].

Munhakkwasahoe 문학과사회����������� ������������������  16.1 (2003): 92-117.

discussing renting an apartment within the building. The shorter man continuously uses

the sentence ending ~말이지(~malichi), which I have chosen to translate as “I’m saying,”

to both convey the repetitive nature of his speech as well as the informal manner in which

he is speaking. In another conversation between a resident and a student, the resident

repeats the phrase 그렇지 않니? (Kŭrŏchi anhni?), which I have chosen to translate as

simply, “right?” due to the informal way that this resident too is addressing the student.

Although the longer phrase, “Isn’t that right?” is the correct literal translation, using,

“right?” echoes the feeling of informality that is taking place in the Korean text.

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“Towards Marzahn” by Bae Suah

As soon as the clock hit 7:45am, the sound of the radio was audible. It was not

always the same program, despite the fact that the broadcasting channel had been set.

What the person who had originally set the radio to that channel had wanted—although

its impossible to know who they were—was the news that started at that time. But as time

passed and the station made changes in programming, so too did the time of the news

change. The timeslot was re-assigned to a morning program that played mostly soft music

or pop music and now it was a news and classical music broadcast, which sometimes also

had local news announcements with occasional popular music. Even though the way the

radio turned on—vibrating and crackling faintly as the power automatically turned on—

was the same tumultuous and spasmodic movement as ever, the content of the broadcast

had changed. According to the broadcast, the snow from last night had not melted yet.

No, the moisture had caused it to become grey and lumpy and even now snow was falling

so little by little that it was barely noticeable. The temperature was not low, however the

street had become damp with slush. If one does need to go out, how about putting on a

pair of boots? Of course, that is assuming one does have something like a pair of boots at

home. Are they trying to be funny? The announcer’s voice was very fast as if he had a lot

to read in a short span of time. Last night, a fire broke out in a theater near here.

Thankfully, since there were no people there at the time, no one got hurt and the

firefighters arrived quickly to extinguish it. The radio is beside the headboard of the bed,

directly below a large window with drooping grey curtains. The window is so

ridiculously large that if the wind was severe or the temperature dropped at night, a cold

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draft would hang in the air. People who had moved up from the south could hardly

endure this ice-like air that chilled them to the bone. The sky visible through the window

was completely grey; this winter weather was especially awful. Occasionally a crow

would flash by the window. The view from the window was more than just dull. It was

the realization of a completely dull imagination. Below was a large, empty intersection

with tram tracks running down the middle. On the opposite side of this street was a line

of five rectangular buildings, which at first appeared to simply be built like twins but

upon closer observation, one could see that they were all connected through a huge deep-

set glass hall. It would be much more accurate to say that the buildings looked like a huge

lump. The ‘Office Space For Rent’ signboard was still there after several months and,

inexplicably, there was a pile of sand on top of one of the flat buildings below. Without

any sign of variation, the low rectangular buildings existed wherever one looked. This

apartment building was the only high-rise on this street. Even if one looked for the next

closest apartment building, it was impossible to know how many kilometers away it was.

It was not strange that, among the residents, there was one who spent the whole winter

standing by the window, looking outside, and eventually became depressed. Moreover, to

the point that it was hard to understand, the street was quite literally always empty. It was

often the case that the snow would melt before anyone had had the chance to even tread

on it. Traffic along the street was composed entirely of trams with three or four cars and

automobiles that passed under the traffic light routinely. As soon as the sun sets,

everything quickly falls into darkness except for the corner on the other side of the street,

which is illuminated by a yellow light emanating from the large car wash and a billboard

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with an advertisement for beer. These are the only indications that this is not a completely

abandoned city.

It was just before 8:05am but there was neither the sound of a door opening nor

closing anywhere in the building. The radio announcer quickly swallowed without a

sound and his throat contracted.

All right listeners, I have one more thing to announce. If you would like to

enjoy a Monday-evening recital, you have the opportunity today. This is not a

regular concert but is a piano recital tonight at 8pm. It will take place in the

reading area between the library periodicals room and the history corner. Three

students from the graduating class of the music school will be performing. The

musical program will be Löffler’s Two Rhapsodies for Viola, Oboe, and Piano,

and Schumann’s Romance. Concerning the Marzahn Theater fire, the police are

not giving any explanation as to the cause. And tomorrow’s weather is scheduled

to get colder. In the early morning, the temperature will be around minus 14

degrees Celsius. The next song will be “Gay Girls” by Fettes Brot.

Dududududududoong, la, la… Gay girls, we are gay girls…

If one were to open the door and go in (that is if one could find the key to this

empty apartment) there would be a small kitchen opposite the entrance. A visitor standing

in the entrance from which the bedroom is not visible might think that someone was

there, reading the local newspaper out loud. Since the coffee machine in the kitchen

happens to have a timer, at the same time every morning, when the radio was due to turn

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on, the coffee machine would automatically start brewing coffee. But this was no longer

the case. There is no one here now to change the coffee filter every night, to put in the

new coffee grounds, or to fill the machine with water. So, really, there was no longer a

use for the timer on the coffee machine. Composed of only two rooms, the apartment was

really just a kitchen and a bedroom-cum-living room. Walking through the entrance, a

framed watercolor hung on the wall and underneath it was written, “One Wild Red Bird.”

Yet no matter how much one looked, there was no bird in the painting; in fact comprised

of an orchid and a few other plants. In fact, not a single part of the painting was red. This

was the only flower in the whole apartment. The wall directly across had a closet which

was where the food waste and bags of trash had been stored. The warmest place in the

apartment was this entrance and corridor. We can say that all spaces hold on to a fated

smell as a kind of character. The smell in this place—in addition to the remnants of

smoke, of potatoes burned on the bottom of the oven, of spoiled beer that had long since

died in a glass—felt like an intentionally made expression. Melancholy, long winters

spent alone here for who knows how many years, an elderly person, a night-shift nurse,

the sound of music from a basement bar, an insurance company employee who is only a

shadow. The space retained these kinds of traces, which can be seen as elements of

personality. Even though it had been a few months since anyone had lived here.

The last resident had left only a little bit more than four months ago. Since then,

no one had come looking for a house to rent. It is not strange that this area had become

empty to the point that most buildings stood unoccupied. A long winter had come to visit

this place. In most cases, it was customary that as soon as the rented apartment was

emptied, the janitor would clean it. But this time it was different. Due to a problem with

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the cleaning company, cleaning the emptied apartment had been delayed and when a new

cleaning company was at last hired, the apartment had been completely forgotten about.

It seems almost certain that no one will find any of this until a new person comes looking

for an apartment to rent. There was one desk in the bedroom. When eating, it became a

dining table, and when work needed to be done, it could be called by a different name. It

was that kind of desk. For instance, the last resident of this place was a person that liked

to write with a pen. He might’ve been too poor to buy a machine but during the quiet

hours he would become absorbed in the silence and liked to write a few pages, despite

not being a professional. At the desk, he would unfold and lay down a white piece of

paper and write about things he had both seen and not seen. While it is true that he was

the last resident, he had left comparatively more traces. Looking at the vinyl-covered

waterproof desk in detail, it is still possible to see the marks the pen left as it was pushed

down onto the paper. Like a person unused to writing, he had put all of his strength into

pressing the pen into the paper for longer than necessary. He also had written many

letters at this desk. Not only letters to the government or the bank, but personal letters as

well.

I bought three aspirins as well as a magazine with the remaining money…

due to the fact that I have spent all of my money, I find it doubtful that I will have

enough to buy a stamp. If I cannot find a job by the end of next week I will have

to move away. Everything is quite unclear at the moment. Even if you end up

receiving this letter, I do not need to receive a reply. That is because I do not even

know if I will have to leave or not. It looks like what has been going on has been

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troubling you lately. But if you are healthy, what else matters? 3 o’clock…

Everything’s good. I like the place I’ve been living. I think the rent is pretty

expensive. Sometimes it’s cold. But it’s a new building. Ever since I moved here,

I haven’t met a single person. It’s a good place to be alone. Whenever I’m alone, I

end up mumbling songs to myself. Like “Three Chinese with a Contrabass” ...

Something like that. I’m terrible at singing. Oh, there’s a radio here that I can

listen to for free. But… (The rest is so blurred that it cannot be read)

His hair was red mixed with dark brown. There is still some left in the bathroom.

He was a shy, cautious, humble type of person. When he encountered women, he was so

shy and careful that it was painfully awkward, and when around men, he couldn’t match

their confidence and aggression, so he got hurt easily. He was the type of person that

couldn’t fit in anywhere. Throughout his minimal time here and probably even before

that as well, he had been unable to find either a male or female friend. Even if he received

an invitation to a New Year’s party, nobody talked to him and he didn’t strike up a

conversation with anyone either. Worried that other people would take pity on him or

look at him strangely—that is, worried that people would notice this aspect of his

personality—he attempted to make it seem like he wasn’t like that and in turn became

nervous and pessimistic. He began to enjoy being alone more and more.

There was another tall, cheerful, pleasant young man who had lived here. No

matter the weather, he would always carry his blue rucksack. But because he couldn’t

endure the loneliness, before four months were up he left for a more bustling street,

almost like he was running away. His appearance was quite striking. He resembled a

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baby that was just about to start laughing. The sides of his mouth seemed to be

perpetually lifted and what was even worse was that even when he was sad or angry, it

looked like he was just about to start laughing. There was one photo, stuck between the

bed and the wall that no one knew about that was evidence of this. Before he had left the

apartment, behind the framed picture titled “One Wild Red Bird” he had scribbled

something. It’s clear that it is a swear word but there was no one who had discovered it

yet. He had had a bicycle and had ridden it a couple of kilometers each day, going to the

park to take a walk. Even when his girlfriend had left, he did not lose his handsome and

cheery expression. It’s hard to tell precisely when he had left this apartment but he still

seemed to be no more than twenty years old.

There was a time when a young couple lived here as well. They were a nurse’s aid

and a female employee from a hat shop in the shopping center. Although their

relationship was not typical, they loved each other and thought that they would be

together for a long time. While they both had names given to them at birth, they gave

each other names that they only used when they were together. This had been their first

home. While the nurse’s aid’s personality was introverted and solitary, the shopping

center employee had the opposite tendency. They sometimes tickled each other’s toes and

read out loud to each other on their bed or spent the night watching the home shopping

channel. The nurse’s aid wanted to buy new hair rollers and the shopping center

employee wanted a travel package to take a trip to the Himalayas despite how expensive

it was. The two had met through an ad in a magazine’s personals section. They started

living together as soon as they met. If the nurse’s aid had not jumped without hesitation

out of the window one November then they could have even adopted a child and started a

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family. But the nurse’s aid had already been seriously sick and ultimately there was

nothing more that could be done. The shopping center employee then packed her bags

and returned to her hometown.

The morning’s pale light illuminated the clouds. Although the street lamps were

still on, the sky was already bright. But, of course, it was a depressing day as always. No

matter where one looked, there was nothing to stir the heart. The snow had now become

brown rain. At 9:15, the radio became excited as the performance of “The Berlin

Occupation” began to reach its finale, but, as if the radio felt awkward, it suddenly cut

out. It was the same as when a novice actor enters the stage at the wrong time and then

runs off. In the corridor, surrounded by a dizzying amount of Hakenkreuz2 scribbled on

the walls, two men stood talking by the elevator. Looking at the two from far away, they

appeared to both be armed with rather similar thick brown coats and felt hats. One of

them was carrying an umbrella. Visibly restless, the two looked at their watches while

shuffling their feet.

“So, it’s a studio, huh. That is, it’s just a bedroom for one person.”

Speaking as if he was groaning, one of them coughed deeply. Although he had a

large build, he wasn’t healthy and the more he aged, the more his face filled with worry

and concern.

“I haven’t decided yet whether I want to rent the room or not. I’m very sensitive

to cold and this place is too cold. Too cold. I don’t know what on earth to do. And also, I

don’t have a car and there doesn’t seem to be a single place around here to buy things.”

2 The name of the symbol used by the Nazi party in Germany and then by the Third Reich. It is based on the Hindu swastika but gets its name from the way the cross is placed at an angle.

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“Depends on how you think about it.”

The other person answered without any sincerity. Even though this smaller person

looked similar, he had an expensive-looking leather bag and gloves that differentiated

him from the larger man. His hat was pressed down to the top of his cunning eyebrows.

“Of course if it’s an apartment with one room, it’ll be cheaper than a two-

bedroom apartment. First of all, weren’t you thinking of a place that was quiet with a

good view? You need to consider that. Here the apartment is right in the plaza. You need

to consider that. Here no one, not one person will disturb you. Even if they were looking

for you, they couldn’t find you. I’m telling you this because it’s important.”

“Still, it’s too cold here. Almost like ice! Besides, even taking all of that into

account, it seems too expensive.”

The larger-framed man shook as he suddenly hiccup-ed.

“If you complain and make a fuss like this, you won’t be able to do anything. And

like you said before, this is clearly a furnished studio for rent. This isn’t a refugee camp

or something. And so, I’m saying that you have to pay the appropriate amount of money.

The world is like this, you know. I’m saying this because it’s your problem to decide. but

I don’t think I should meddle anymore.”

The elevator stopped and the door opened. The two went inside. The door closed

and the elevator began to descend. Inside the elevator, neither of the men spoke a word.

The door opened once more and the two exited into the lobby where the mailboxes were.

“Okay then.”

The smaller man walked ahead and spoke.

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“Will you let me know when you’ll be making your decision? Or else it will

difficult for me as well.”

“I don’t really know. As of right now, I want to look at a few other places.”

“Well, if that’s the case, do as you like.”

With a look of resignation on his face, the smaller man headed over to where his

car was parked. As if he had suddenly remembered something, he suddenly turned

around to look at the larger man.

“Oh, I remembered something just now, I have to go in a different direction. A

different direction is what I mean to say. I have an important meeting and it’s in the other

direction--in fact, the complete opposite one. So I’m afraid I can’t keep to what I

promised before. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you in advance. But I guess it just slipped my

mind. Ah, it seems that there’s not much time left. It’s a very important client so I have

no choice. Sorry. Well then, I’ll see you later.”

The smaller man got into his car and, like an escape artist, seemed to disappear

almost the instant he turned on the ignition. The larger man was left behind. Just before

the car left, the larger man, flustered, shook his arm and shouted.

“What did you say? You already know that I don’t know this area at all. That this

is my first time coming to this city. What am I supposed to do? After so many years, to

not even get a cup of coffee and just go our separate ways…?”

He then gave up, lowered his raised arm, and readjusted the collar of his coat

meekly. His eyes looked towards the tram station. Even if it was only for a short while, if

he rode it he wouldn’t get lost. It wouldn’t be too late to wait until later to think about the

problem of renting the room. When the traffic light changed, he hurriedly began to cross

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the street. The rain stopped and sunlight began to shine through the clouds. Short and

cold, an uneasy ray of sunlight shined down upon the snow-covered street. And then

suddenly everything began to sparkle like a mirror. The building’s windows, the white

and hard snow wrapped in shade, the puddle it formed in the street when it melted, the

tram’s tracks, the yellow road sign wet with rain and painted with five black arrows and a

black plane. The large man’s brown coat slowly faded into the distance as he crossed the

intersection. With his head bowed down, he was the only “crossing pedestrian” in sight.

The street was completely empty as usual. The man slowly became smaller. Finally, he

disappeared. Somewhere near the tram station. One had to go more than five stops in

order to get to the closest busy area. The tram let out in front of a shopping center with a

subway station and theater. The only view from the tram was of the completely empty

buildings standing gloomily on the side of the road. Although the buildings had been

completed a number of years ago, not a single person had moved into any of them. For

Rent, this was the most commonly seen advertisement, the only message, in the area. It

seemed as though the empty buildings were keeping pace with the tram. The perfectly

rectangular concrete buildings, all the same height as if by agreement; the empty plots of

land surrounding the tram tracks, left unsold and overgrown with grass; the message

constantly followed the tram, filtering through the it’s glass windows, For Rent, For Rent,

For Rent… The weak light’s dust filled the empty sky. On weekend evenings, the young

people wore pants tight in the butt and wide in the leg and short jackets, gathering at the

shopping center, the movie theater, and the bowling alley. But most of the time, there

wasn’t even a beggar or stray dog in front of the entrance to the subway that was facing

the shopping center. The subway entrance stood in the middle of the plaza like a

21

ferocious mouth pulled wide open and covered in a dizzying array of graffiti. To speak

quite honestly, it was a dangerous place to be alone at night.

Bee-beep, the drawn-out sound of the buzzer was like a hammer hitting the wall.

It was the buzzer for the apartment downstairs. It was clear, of course, that they had

pressed the wrong button. But without giving up, the buzzer rang again. The silence of

the room was bullied by the sound of the buzzer. Why wasn’t there an answer? Standing

in front of the entrance downstairs, a skinny young man carrying a violin case was

waiting impatiently. He didn’t know that he was the one who had made a mistake. Why

didn’t they answer? He repeated the address in his head. Number 137. It wasn’t the

wrong address. So why? He had asked someone for directions. And the response had

been this building. At the building’s entrance, the address was written clearly. Number

137, Apartment 343. But why? The person living there might’ve forgotten that the young

man was coming today. That could be why they didn’t answer the door. The only way for

him to find the apartment would be to ask someone for help. There wasn’t much time left.

Apartment 344, Apartment 342, Apartment 333, Apartment 323, Apartment 353, the

young man tried pressing each bell but there were no replies at any of those either.

During that space of time, the sun had again concealed its whereabouts and the street had

again become dark. Everything the eyes touched upon had transformed into a dirty,

muddy puddle. Nothing glittered any more. The young man let out a sigh. He kept on

pressing the bells to random apartments. And then finally, he received a voice.

“What is it?”

It was the voice of a middle-aged woman.

22

“I’m sorry but could you please buzz me in? I have an important appointment but,

you see, no one answered.”

“What did you say?”

“I would be really grateful if you would buzz me in. I received a request to give a

violin lesson and it’s a really important job for me, but even though today is the right day

and this is the right place, no one has answered so I can’t get in. That’s why I would like

you to buzz me in.”

“I really don’t understand what you’re saying. So you’re a visitor and you need to

get in but no one has answered the door for you. Is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“So instead you want me to open the door.”

“Right.”

“What apartment are you looking for?”

“343.”

“Well that’s strange, why would I have to open the door for you? That’s very

strange. Look here, I live in apartment 655, so you are currently ringing the bell of

apartment 655. Since 655 and 343 aren’t similar numbers at all, it’s rather strange for you

to be ringing my bell! Why are you doing that? I think that you should’ve asked that

person’s neighbors instead.”

“Of course, I wanted to do that but no one seems to be at home. Actually, no one

responded at all.”

“Well, I really doubt that. Not in this weather. And older people don’t really go

out during the winter.”

23

“But it’s true. I definitely have to finish negotiating the lessons and receive the

advance payment. This is quite a problem for me. So if you would just buzz me in…”

“Money? This is about money?”

“Yes, I’m talking about the lesson fee. I’ve come to receive the advance payment

today.”

“Whatever the case, you said money, didn’t you?”

“The lesson fee.”

“Well, money is money. Whether it’s lesson fees or whatever, in the end, it’s all

the same.”

“Yes, well, that’s true. Could you please buzz me in?”

“How I see it is, it would be good for you to leave for now and come back later.

Or try to ask someone else for help. Me, I don’t think it would be good for me to buzz

you in. Especially someone like you who has come to get money…”

“Oh, I think you misunderstood me. It’s nothing like that. Moreover, it is only

opening the front door so I don’t understand why that would be a problem.”

With a clicking sound, the woman put down the intercom’s receiver. Lacking any

more strength, the young man sank to the ground. He didn’t want to ring any more bells

and repeat the same conversation over again. But he really had to receive the money

today. He took out the paper he had received from the homeowner on which the address

was written. Time passed silently. The young man read the address slowly before looking

up towards the sky and then glanced at his surroundings. It was quite a long ways to walk

before he would reach a public telephone. He slowly repeated the street’s name. Bowing

his head, he covered it with his hands and gazed at the floor. He then stood up. He started

24

to walk. At first, he reluctantly dragged his legs but gradually he began to stand up

straighter and walk faster. Upon reaching the middle of the street, he shook his head and

once more took out the piece of paper with the address written on it that that the

homeowner had given him and read it. He pronounced the address as if he was rolling it

around in his mouth. In the distance, as the sound of a bell rang out, the tram approached.

As if he had made a decision, his pale lips sealed shut and he began to run in that

direction. While running, a ridiculous sound, hick hick, was produced from his mouth. It

was hard to tell whether he was laughing or crying.

“What are you looking for?”

“My textbook and notes.”

“Why are you looking for your textbook and notes in the trash? Move, you’re in

my way. I need to throw away my trash.”

“But, I need to find them so that I can finish my homework. And I can’t do that

without my textbook. I need to go to school tomorrow.”

“That why I’m asking, why on earth are you looking for your textbook and notes

here?”

“Penn threw all of them out.”

“What did you say? Penn, who is Penn?”

“Penn is fat and has a gap between his front teeth. And also has huge hands.”

“Which is why I’m asking, who is he?”

“He’s my mom’s new boyfriend.”

25

“What did you say? How very interesting! But isn’t your mother’s boyfriend that

short bus driver with the beard on his chin? But what’s this all of a sudden?”

“That man doesn’t live with us anymore. They broke up two weeks ago.”

“What did you say? I was completely in the dark, huh! So, this new boyfriend of

your mother’s, his name is Penn?”

“Yes.”

“But why did Penn throw away your notes and textbook?”

“Whenever he gets drunk, he gets angry and hits my mom. He’ll throw away

anything and smash everything he sees.”

“Is that so! But why did he throw away your things? You don’t have anything to

do with that and you haven’t done anything wrong, right? You know, he’s just your

mother’s boyfriend, right?”

“That is true but.”

“But why is he throwing your things away? In that case, it’s his fault.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“The important question is, why did he touch your things? You know, he’s just

your mother’s boyfriend. But why in the world were your things within his reach?”

“I can’t earn money to rent a house yet. I’m still too young and these days, renting

is so expensive.”

“That man must take that into account as a problem. Who was that person you

mentioned? His name…?”

“Penn.”

26

“Ah, that’s right, Penn. He shouldn’t touch your things, right? Someone has to

talk to him. Harshly, I mean. Like, for example, your mom could talk to him.”

“My mom, she doesn’t care about my situation. I need to find my notes quickly.”

“Foolishly you, you’re really not thinking about the important things. If

something like this happens in the future, what will you do? That’s why you need to have

a talk with this Penn guy. Tell him not to touch your things, right? So whether it’s your

mom or someone else, this problem must be made clear. You are just living together

there in your mom’s house, just like Penn.”

“I’m looking for my textbook and notes right now though. If I can’t do my

homework, if I’m not able to graduate because of stuff like this, I won’t be able to get a

job.”

“Just listen to me. If not your mom, then at least you need to say something, right?

You are someone with no direct relation to them and their problems. Where were you

when your things were destroyed?”

“Standing outside the door.”

“Why were you just standing there?”

“Because he didn’t open the door for me.”

“Where did you sleep then?”

“In the super’s apartment.”

“Poor thing. So I guess the super knows everything”

“Yes.”

“You should say something to him. Aren’t you grown up now? You’re tall, you

look like an adult. So you can say something. Tell him not to touch your things. You see,

27

until you graduate and get a job, you will be staying in that apartment. Of course, even if

it’s only a little, you’re paying right? Therefore you have a right. Say don’t touch my

things. Say it right now. He’s in the apartment now, right? Since he was drunk last night,

he must still be fast asleep. Go right now and say it to him. My things are important and

they have no connection to my mom, so don’t ever lay a finger on them. Wouldn’t it be

good to just search through the trash later? I think that method is much more reasonable

and if you think towards the future, then it seems much more sensible. Isn’t that right…?

It would be good to go now and tell him. Now, don’t make such a sullen expression and

listen to me…I’m saying, go quickly and tell him…”

The sound of the television was spreading into the hallway. Someone had turned

up the sound extremely loud. Or perhaps the television itself had naturally become louder.

The television is playing a rerun of a late night movie. It is the kind of movie in which the

characters are speaking in regional dialects. A headache-inducing wind blew through the

corridor’s air vent. The wind vibrated with the smell of gunpowder. Fireworks were

popping upstairs. The person who lived upstairs had opened their window and was setting

off firecrackers that remained from their New Year’s party. Once every 15 minutes, a

popping sound could be heard. The reeking smell of gunpowder and smoke, the paper

and the scraps of firecrackers drew arcs in the air as they fell. If the window had been

open, the firecrackers might’ve been blown into the room and set the room on fire. A

desk and chair had been placed next to the window. Originally both had been placed by

the wall behind the bed but the last resident had decided to move them right beside the

window. The one with weak eyesight had needed the rays of sunlight. It was midday but

28

everything was dark as if it was covered with black ash. In front of the kitchen door a

shadow of a person, something that looked like one, or more specifically—or more

something that looked like a person’s foot, that is, a slipper worn by a person’s foot—

appeared momentarily and then disappeared. Neither the person’s legs nor the bath towel

that should have been above the slippers were there. Though there was no wind, the

kitchen door that didn’t completely close made a strange noise. Perhaps it was because of

the racket caused by the fireworks. The light from the bursting fireworks refracted once

more, shining through the kitchen window. There was just one forgotten slipper covered

in dust underneath the kitchen window.

“That’s what I’m saying, I’ve never liked my name. It’s because my name is so

common that it’s very easy to meet people with the same name. My grandmother also had

the same name. Moreover, among my close friends, one of them has a grandmother with

the same name. At school, there was always at least one student with the same name in

my class. Even after graduating from school, I often heard my name called on the street.

However, whenever I looked back, it wasn’t me who they were calling. Similar to what

it’s like outside right now, I once walked down a huge, wide street at dawn and heard

someone calling my name… I was walking by myself and nobody there knew who I

was… Of course they wouldn’t. It was a few thousand kilometers away from here. The

sun doesn’t set at all during the summer and the light has the same brightness when you

wake up as it does at night. It was just the same that morning as I walked alone there. It

was a large, wide street. There were factories on all sides with chimneys attached and

ruddy residence buildings shaped like bread tins for the factory workers and their families.

29

I could clearly hear a voice calling me from one of those homes. I heard it many times,

over and over. At 3 o’clock in the morning there wasn’t a single person around. But the

voice was clearly repeating. Amidst these hundreds, thousands of different square brick

rooms that stretched till that white sparkling horizon, someone was calling me. The voice

was being carried through an open window but it was impossible to know from where.

Ah, it seemed like a dream. While thinking that I was mistaken, I circled around and

around, trying to find the house from which the voice was coming from. What I mean is,

if I turned at this block, the voice could be heard on the other side and when I walked

over there, I would hear the voice again at the place I had just come from. By the end, I

just felt like crying. On this side there was a red square building and on that side there

was an identical one. I ended up being completely lost in the end. I even lost that voice.

Until it became morning and when the train first started running, I was unable to escape

from that street. Even now the memory remains, that street where the chocolate factory

was… That one summer night when the sun didn’t set… The red rooms with their open

windows… Clearly, there must be someone who lives there with the same name as me.

Don’t you think so? Why haven’t you said anything? Yeah, I have been talking about my

name. I hate my name. However, I don’t want to start hating myself because of that.

Really…”

“But just now clearly…”

“What do you think? Do you like my name? Tell me, as a favor. You’ve never

told me, not even once.”

“More than that though, it seems like someone is clearly calling your name right

now.”

30

“That doesn’t make sense. Someone’s calling my name? Outside right now?”

“Try listening. I can hear it right now.”

“I don’t hear it though. It’s just the sound of the wind.”

“That can’t be. Just now clearly, ah, I heard it again.”

“I don’t hear anything. Also, I don’t know anyone around here. What I mean is

that there is nobody that knows I am here.”

“Who could it be…? Someone’s calling you. Why don’t you look out the

window?”

“I did, clearly. But I couldn’t see anyone. You think there’s someone calling

outside? Look, can’t you see, there’s not even a dead ant in the street…”

“They could be hiding in the shadows, unable to be seen…”

“Why am I so angry?”

“Because of me…?”

“That’s right, because of you. And because of my name.”

“Ah, I heard it again.”

“They’re calling a different person. It’s like what I said. About my name. It’s

always like this. I always hear it but no one is ever calling me.”

“No, it’s clear that if you heard this voice, you would know it…”

“That’s not true.”

“If that is the case, then why did you deny hearing it until a little while ago?”

“I can’t hear it now either. That’s right, it seems I can’t hear it at all. But, even if I

did hear it, they would clearly be calling someone else with the same name. It’s always

31

like this. There have been a lot of times like this… Didn’t I say so? Ah, but why am I so

angry?”

“I have no intention of making you angry.”

“But the reason I’m angry isn’t because of myself. Like that name, there are a lot

of things that get in my way. I can’t stand it so I get angry.”

“Really, you don’t love me?”

“I love you. Still, I can’t do anything about getting angry. But why are you

laughing?”

“Do you know what you threw out the window?”

“What I threw out the window…? Are you saying that I did that…?”

“That’s right. You threw something out the window.”

“What is it?”

“My slipper.”

“Why is someone calling so loud?”

“What?”

“I’m talking about my name. It’s not mine but it’s a similar name.”

“You said you couldn’t hear it.”

“I didn’t hear it. No, it doesn’t matter whether I heard it or not. Because it’s not

my name, anyway. Therefore it is something so minor and insignificant and despicable to

me. So why do you care so much about it?”

“I don’t care. The only person who cares about it is you. I’m just asking you who

is calling your name.”

“So why do you keep laughing?”

32

“Because you threw out my slipper.”

“Is that funny?”

“Yes.”

“It’s because I’m angry. Like walking down that street with the chocolate factory.

It was so easy to get lost there. This alley and that alley are no different from each other

and that alley looks similar to the thousands of other alleys standing beside it. Night was

like day and day like night. If I ever hear my name being called by the same voice as the

one in that street with the chocolate factory, then I’ll show you that I can throw

something other than that slipper.”

It is hard to know where one can buy a magazine. In just a glance, it is clear to see

that there is nowhere to buy either a newspaper or magazine within a few kilometers. Not

just that but one isn’t able to find a public telephone or trashcan or a single place to buy

fried noodles. There isn’t even a post office or a church. If one were hungry, it is hard to

know what one could possibly do. The street that had been wet with snow became

gradually soaked in darkness. The light at the car wash was already shining brightly.

Under the yellow light shining over the vast car wash, only a few cars had stopped to be

washed. Now completely dark, the upstairs firecrackers that had paused for a moment

began to pop again. While it seemed that there weren’t that many firecrackers remaining,

it was just when their existence was forgotten that there was suddenly a thud and the

remaining sparks fell from the sky. There was finally light within the room. Bare feet

were sitting in the seat next to the window. Only the bare feet could be seen. In the cold,

the left foot covered the right. And then the right foot would cover the left. The bare feet

33

got up and paced. As if looking around for something, the bare feet paced around the

kitchen and bedroom. However, since it was just bare feet, it’s impossible to really know

anything. In the meantime, quicker than one could say, “Oh, so this is what you call

darkness, it’s getting dark, huh?”, the darkness had completely captured the unlit street.

The bare feet had been reading a magazine that had been published quite a long time ago.

The bare feet always sat on the seat by the window rubbing against each other as the

magazine lay open on the desk. The only remaining sound that could be heard was that of

the magazine’s pages turning, se-euk. It was a popular kind of magazine that talked about

television programs and carried popular gossip columns. Published every two weeks, it

had a famous personals section. If you wanted, you could even include a photo. But

whether it was wise or not to include a photo in a personals ad, the bare feet wondered.

Although, who could know the thoughts of the bare feet? They were just bare feet.

Hello. I am a nineteen-year-old woman. It hasn’t been long since I turned

19. A quick note about me, I’m a bit on the introverted side and very shy but I’m

not physically weak. I just look that way.

The door to the trash shoot in the corridor shut with a bang. Ripped textbooks,

homework, school, work, home, and important money…

I am a nurse’s aid at the Jewish Foundation Hospital. It has been two years

since I started working there. Of course, I work at night. When bare foot, my

height is 1 meter, 70 centimeters. My weight is a secret but I am on the skinny

34

side. Honestly, I’m looking for a friend. That is, a special girlfriend. I do not care

about age or have other particular conditions, I am just looking for a friend with

whom I can communicate freely with and can understand me with a sincere and

kind heart. If I meet that sort of friend, then I would like to live together. That is,

if possible, for a long time. If I had a dream, it would be to live with this type of

girlfriend in a home on the edge of a thick forest. As time passed by and we grew

older, I would create a family together with my beloved girlfriend in that house

with an adopted child.

The woman wasn’t quite sure which day the female post-worker came. She had to

mail a letter. She hadn’t included a picture but she still deeply hoped that there would be

some news. If perhaps she could find a friend, she would leave here and rent a furnished

home. It would be fine even if there were only one room. It didn’t matter either whether

or not the place was crowded with younger people. If it was quiet and near the tram, that

was all that mattered. Take for instance, here. Marzahn, Number 137 Marzahn. On the

desk, the years-old magazine that the bare feet had been reading lay open and the light in

the bedroom was turned off. And without anyone to fill it, the abandoned room had

turned cold. At the front entrance of Number 137 was a metal sign that was commonly

seen throughout the area that read as follows.

Number 137

People can live comfortably and safely here.

And

35

Rules for all Residents

Parties and dogs and small children are prohibited.

In spite of the metal sign, the person upstairs often disregarded it and broke the

rules. He liked to have parties and turn up the volume of the music and set off

firecrackers. However right now there were no neighbors who lived near enough to

justify a complaint. Therefore he could enjoy himself to his heart’s content. Whether it

was Christmas or New Years, his birthday or some special weekend, the beginning of fall

or time for a personal computer music recital, he always had an excuse to have one of his

noisy parties. No one had ever seen his face. But there was always the sound of music

and firecrackers. When he held parties, the sound of furniture dragging across the floor

and heavy jumping could be heard all day long, and sound of ear-splitting music rang out

from that apartment. There was a thought that came to mind every time the parties passed

by like typhoons. His speakers could not possibly work any more. They must be ruined

by now. The parties were that loud. However, there was no problem with his equipment

and he continually held loud parties. There was no longer anything strange about the

parties. That is, excluding the fact that despite having frequent parties, not a single person

ever came to his house. And excluding the fact that when the party was in full swing,

only music—never another person’s voice—could be heard through his open windows.

And excluding the fact that during the party, the sound of fierce jumping that made the

ceiling vibrate was that of only one person. Tonight as well his party was getting ready to

start. Mar-zahn. Someone called out. However, where the sound had come from precisely

was hard to tell. The streets as usual were quiet with not even the shadow of a person.

36

Mar-zahn, Mar-zahn. Damn (mumbling), he must be throwing a party! He should eat shit.

There was the sound of fingers tapping on a window and a high-pitched sound came out

of the speakers twice and then the music started. Dududududududoong, la, la…Great! It’s

at maximum volume.

Gay girls

We are gay girls

When three gay girls walk through Hamburg

People will stop talking and they stare at us

While waiting to see what will happen…

37

Part Three: Critical Analysis of “Towards Marzahn”

In this section, I will be exploring the thematic elements at play in Bae Suah’s

“Towards Marzahn,” that immerse the reader in a desolate urban expanse. Throughout

the text, Bae plays with expectations of time and space, giving the reader the chance to

explore the apartment as a liminal space. Upon entering the text, the reader is introduced

to an empty apartment that has become filled with the traces of those who have lived

there but long since left. When taking the form of media, these traces actively show

issues of communication that have or are occurring within the space. Interactions

between characters within the text are marked by loss, whether it be the loss of one’s

personal items or the feeling of being physically lost that hinder them from moving

forward and essentially stymies their movement onward within this urban space.

The liminality of the apartment arises chiefly though the temporary nature of its

residents, which is described through the narrative voice that has no visible body within

the text. Although an apartment is where people are meant to live, the space is introduced

to the reader as empty, although filled with its past occupants. Present time in the text is

marked by either the time of day or the specific hour and minute, while all fragmented

pasts are told by the narrative without a specified date attached, blurring the line between

past and present in the space. In this abandoned state, the apartment becomes a conduit

for the past interacting with the present through the insights of the narrative voice, which

exists in a state somewhere between objectivity and subjectivity. This tension between

subjectivity and objectivity in the narrative voice often takes the form of stating the

actions and words of the characters in the space with detailed precision but giving only

suppositions towards the intentions or thoughts of the characters. An example of this

38

within the text is in the description of the young lesbian couple that once lived in the

apartment. The narrative voice describes how the two had watched the home shopping

channel but while “the nurse’s aid wanted to buy new hair rollers… the shopping center

employee wanted a travel package to take a trip to the Himalayas” (Please see my

original translation in this thesis, 16). Despite the appearance of amicability in their

relationship, the nurse’s aid “jumped without hesitation out of the window one

November” (16). The narrative voice does not give an explanation as to the reasoning for

why the nurse’s aid made such a decision, showing the lack of omniscient knowledge on

the part of the narrative voice. In this way, the narrative voice is not unreliable but rather

places the reader in a state of uncertainty concerning the true nature of events.

This uncertainty is also perpetuated by the narrative’s recognition of its lack of

knowledge. The most striking example of this within the text is during the description of

bare feet sitting in the chair reading a magazine. Although the narrative describes the

movements of the bare feet as they rub against each other, when they stand up the

narrative voice states, “As if looking around for something, the bare feet paced around

the kitchen and bedroom” (33). The reader is unsure if the bare feet are actually looking

for something or if the bare feet are just pacing. The narrative then continues, “However,

since it was just bare feet, it’s impossible to really know anything,” signaling to the

reader that there will never be an explanation given to the reader concerning the bare feet

(33). The recollection of these bare feet has been perpetuated by the narrative voice and

the reader is well aware that there cannot be any bare feet in the apartment in the present

of the text as it has already been stated to be empty. Thus, the narrative voice

39

supplements the liminality of the space as well as helping reinforcing through its

uncertainty and recollections of past residents.

The first instances of liminality in the text are noted within the first paragraph

when the narrative describes the contents of the radio program. Despite the fact that

someone had set the radio to that station for a reason, “as time passed and the station

made changes in programming, so too did the time of the news” (10). The active

transitory state of the radio here reflects the transitions that the apartment has gone

through with the cycles of residents. While the radio’s physical state has not changed,

“the way the radio turned on… was the same tumultuous and spasmodic movement as

ever,” the narrative notes that it is the contents that have changed since the last resident

had lived here (10). This last resident is the only one for whom an idea of their time of

occupation is noted. The narrative voice remarks that they “had left only a little bit more

than four months ago” and that since no one had moved in and there had been problems

with the cleaning company, “the apartment had been completely forgotten about” and

remained in its messy state (14). Un-cleaned, the apartment still contains the traces of its

past residents, which are used to weave in the stories of the past residents, leading to

connections among the fragmented stories of the residents that hint at the cyclical nature

of living in this place.

The traces left by the past residents of the apartment do not only function as

evidence of their presence but also are a way to think about how communication and the

misunderstandings that occur within its various types lead to halting of one’s intentions.

These traces fall into two categories, either stagnant or media. Stagnant traces are those

that do not undergo any changes through time. The primary examples of these are the

40

glass containing dried beer, the hair left in the drain, and the coffee machine. Traces that

function as media are those that somehow interact with the characters or have some

physical change done onto them that exhibits the movements of the characters in the text.

The radio that begins the text is one example of this as it has undergone a transformation

through the changing schedule of programs but all the while keeps to its constant state of

“tumultuous and spasmodic movement” (10) The radio is grounded in the present through

the announcement of the recital, the Marzahn Theater Fire, and the weather, as well as the

song “Gay Girls,” which is repeated at the end of the text. It is the playing of the radio to

an empty room that is indicative of miscommunication due to the twist of the announcer

addressing an empty room. The next trace that appears is a watercolor painting that has

been named “One Wild Red Bird,” although “no matter how much one looked, there was

no bird in the painting… [and] not a single part of the painting was red” (13). This

painting is not only remarkable because of the dichotomy between its name and

appearance but because it is linked to one of the former residents a “tall, cheerful,

pleasant young man,” who had left another stagnant trace of himself through a photo that

remains “stuck between the bed and the wall” (16). The painting however, is also media

that has been interacted with as the young man had scribbled on the back of the painting a

curse word that remains undiscovered, just like his photograph.

Continuing on with the tour the apartment, the narrative dwells on the

indentations made by a pen on the desk that are parts of the past resident’s letters. The

indentations appear to come from two letters, the first written in more formal language

than the other. The more formal letter seems to have been written after the second, and

the writer is notifying the recipient that “Even if you end up receiving this letter, I do not

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need to receive a reply” (14). By stating that a reply is not needed, the writer is cutting off

communication prematurely, due, in part, to his proposed departure from the apartment

that the reader knows will occur. The letter that he has written also mentions the buying

of a magazine, which ties into the lives of a couple who had once lived in the same

apartment. The reader is told that this couple met through a personals advertisement that

appeared in a magazine and “started living together as soon as they met” (16). This

personals advertisement appears later in the story as a pair of bare feet sit at the desk,

which the narrative voice assumes is wondering about “whether it was wise or not to

include a photo” in (33). This trace also still remains in the room as the narrative voice

states, “the years-old magazine that the bare feet had been reading lay open and the light

in the bedroom was turned off” (34). The magazine becomes a symbol of the lost

relationship between the couple as, despite their happy beginning to their relationship,

which is assumed due to the speed to which they got together, the decision on the part of

the nurse’s aid to jump “without hesitation out of the window one November” points to a

reality in which their relationship was not all it appeared to be (16). The reading of the

magazine is then linked to the last media trace, a slipper.

The slipper as a media trace is one of the most difficult of the traces to track as it

is the most mobile of the traces in the apartment. Not only does a slipper exist within the

main apartment of “Towards Marzahn,” appearing “momentarily” and then disappearing,

but it is followed by a conversation between two people who, while one laments the

commonality of her name, the other takes notice first of someone outside calling the

other’s name and then that she has thrown a slipper out the window (28). The remaining

slipper in the apartment is described as “forgotten…covered in dust underneath the

42

kitchen window,” is illuminated by the sparks of the firecrackers (28). The slipper that is

discussed in the conversation between the two people is somewhat humorous as it was

thrown in frustration, however, the narrative voice gives no more information as to

whether this is the same slipper that is now beneath the kitchen window. The connection

between the slippers and the magazine is done through the continuous bursting of

fireworks outside which first illuminates the slipper as the light comes “shining through

the kitchen window” and then through the sudden bursting of a firework. The fireworks

bring the narrative back into the apartment, which then focuses on the pair of bare feet

are reading the magazine as already discussed (28).

Interactions between other characters that appear to be happening in the present

are linked in subtle ways and commonly feature the communication of something being

lost. The first interaction that occurs within the text is between two older men, the taller

of whom is looking to rent an apartment. After the taller man expresses his dissatisfaction

with the apartment, the shorter man with “cunning eyebrows” answers that, “Here no one,

no one will disturb you. Even if they were looking for you, they couldn’t find you” (18).

After the taller man is left quite suddenly standing in front of the building by the shorter

man, who asserts that he must go meet an important client, the narrative voice states,

“Even if it was only for a short while, if he rode [the tram] he wouldn’t get lost” (19).

These two quotes contrast the conversation between the two people discussing the

commonality of one of their names, as she always hears her name being called but “it

wasn’t me who they were calling” (28). Instead of being looked for, she describes her

own experience of trying to find the person that is calling her name out in a place where

no one knows who she is. This woman also tells the other person that she becomes

43

“completely lost in the end” and “even lost that voice” (29). Although both the tall man

and the woman seem to find their way back, they do not reach their intended destination,

which for the tall man was to talk with the shorter man after not seeing him in a long

time, and for the woman to find the mysterious voice that called her name. Both also feel

impeded from moving forward, as the taller man finds the apartment not congenial to

himself and the woman is frustrated, not only due to her name but due to a “lot of things

that get in my way” (31).

Characters are not just lost in place but they also lose important physical objects.

This first occurs to the violin teacher who has come to chat with a resident concerning

future lessons and to receive the payment in advance. After not receiving an answer when

he presses the buzzer to the apartment given in the address multiple times, he begins to

“press the bells to random apartments” until a middle-aged woman answers (21). Upon

hearing that he is a visitor who has come to give a lesson to someone in an apartment far

below her floor and to receive money, the woman refuses and says, “it would be good for

you to leave for now and come back later. Or try to ask someone else for help,” citing

also that she does not want to let someone in “who has come to get money” (23). Despite

his attempts to persuade her, it’s no use and the woman puts down the receiver. Without

any one to let him in, the violin teacher ends up leaving Marzahn without accomplishing

what he set out to do.

A similar conversation takes place following the departure of the violin teacher in

which a resident encounters a student digging through the trash when the resident goes to

throw their things away. Instead of being sympathetic to the student who is trying to find

their homework and notes after their mother’s boyfriend threw them away, the neighbor

44

tries to convince the student to search later, saying, “You should say something to him.

Aren’t you grown up now? You’re tall, you look like an adult… Wouldn’t it be good to

just search through the trash later? I think that method is much more reasonable and if

you think towards the future, then it seems much more sensible.” (27). By trying to

persuade the student to search through the trash later, the resident words hint at their own

desire to throw away their trash quickly. In both of these interactions, both of those who

are searching for objects that would help them move forward in the future, money and

textbooks, are being stymied by others who find themselves inconvenienced by such a

search. The juxtaposition of the two encounters further emphasizes this loss, as the failure

of the violin teacher is followed immediately by the student searching through the trash,

and the ambiguity of the location and time of the interaction between the resident and the

student creates an assumption that the student too will fail in the search for their missing

textbook and notes.

Through these traces linking the fragmented storylines and the repetition of loss

within interactions, the apartment as a liminal space that links the present to the past

becomes clearer. Considering these aspects, an almost cyclical existence in the apartment

is visible. Among the lives discussed in the narrative that have lived in the empty

apartment, most are noted to have come with hopes of a happy life. The last resident

states in his second letter that he likes living in the apartment building, the lesbian couple

that begins living together almost immediately, even those visiting the building come in

the hopes that they will find what they are looking for. However, as previously explored,

each is disappointed in turn and eventually leave or may have the intention of leaving in

the future.

45

Bae Suah’s text raises interesting points about the nature of living in an apartment

through “Towards Marzahn,” as this paper has strived to consider. Creating an apartment

that functions as a liminal space, Bae’s text comments on the ambiguity of urbanity

through the faceless encounters the reader has with the characters as well as by means of

the physical space of the apartment. Without any further understanding of the residents

than through the bodiless narrative voice, the reader feels disconnected from the lives that

they are observing. Connection only surfaces through the traces that the residents leave

behind but even these only reveal so much due to the selective information made

available. “Towards Marzahn” thus becomes an exercise in urban isolation that the reader

participates in through the experience of the liminal space of the apartment and

observation of the interactions between the past in traces and the present in loss.

 

46

References “Author Database: Suah Bae,” Literature Translation Institute of Korea, accessed

November 29, 2014, http://klti.or.kr/ke_04_03_011.do “Bae Suah: PEN World Voices Festival,” PEN America, accessed December 7, 2014,

http://worldvoices.pen.org/bae-suah Bae, Suah 배수아. Matchan panghyangŭro 마짠����������� ������������������  방향으로 [Towards Marzahn].

Munhakkwasahoe 문학과사회����������� ������������������  16.1 (2003): 92-117. Bae Suah, trans, Highway with Green Apples. Seattle: StoryFront, 2014. Kindle edition

ebook. Bae, Su-ah, trans. Time in Gray. Seoul: Asia Publishers, 2013. Smith, Deborah, “Q&A with Suah Bae,” British Council, last modified May 19, 2014,

http://literature.britishcouncil.org/news/2014/may/qa-suah-bae Lee, Kwang-ho, “Cultural Hybridity in Contemporary Korean Literature.” Korea

Journal: 47.1 (2007): 28-49.