Ask the Author: Suki Kim
Answered Questions (13)
Suki Kim
In the past, I had asked the publisher for that subtitle with "undercover" in it but was denied, as well as asking them to not call the book a memoir, which was also denied. Then in June, I published this essay:
Once the essay went viral and there was an uproar, the publisher agreed to remove "memoir" from cover in new editions, as well as changing the subtitle. (I never liked the misleading suggestion of a female "memoir" along with "my time with the sons. . .") It's all too late, since due to the mislabeling, I was so criticized & dismissed in all sorts of ways, and the book was also not eligible for any nonfiction awards (except for a memoir category where the book would not have fit), but at least the new editions have been corrected.
Once the essay went viral and there was an uproar, the publisher agreed to remove "memoir" from cover in new editions, as well as changing the subtitle. (I never liked the misleading suggestion of a female "memoir" along with "my time with the sons. . .") It's all too late, since due to the mislabeling, I was so criticized & dismissed in all sorts of ways, and the book was also not eligible for any nonfiction awards (except for a memoir category where the book would not have fit), but at least the new editions have been corrected.
Suki Kim
Certainly, there is that concern in the immediate aftermath of publishing a book. You feel restricted and trapped by the expectations, not so much from the readers but from yourself. You are so used to thinking about that one topic that it is difficult to imagine thinking about anything else with an equal level of passion and devotion. Not all writers are like this, but I am. It's not the best characteristic for a writer who must produce books with frequency and regularity, but that is the way it is for me. I am insanely loyal, and I find it nearly impossible to move on. But then, to a degree, the subject only shields what lies beneath. What makes me obsessed enough to write an entire book has that same hollowness and violation of alienation and blurred boundaries. So I keep on. It's a step by step. The first step is to feel connected enough with myself to write a book again, and the next step is to become excited about it and fall in love with the new world.
As for the response from the world, I am only grateful for the emotional connection that my readers seem to have made with the characters -- the North Korean boys who are actual human beings living currently inside that horror. And I remain hopeful that the book will continue to have its life, and do what great books are supposed to do -- to move people and make the world better in some invisible and miraculous way.
As for the response from the world, I am only grateful for the emotional connection that my readers seem to have made with the characters -- the North Korean boys who are actual human beings living currently inside that horror. And I remain hopeful that the book will continue to have its life, and do what great books are supposed to do -- to move people and make the world better in some invisible and miraculous way.
Suki Kim
This is a question that took some time for me to answer. Vulnerability is a necessary thing in anything artful, I feel. Confession isn't interesting to me. You just pour out your feelings and turn around and go on. That's a different thing altogether. Someone else's story ultimately is someone else's story. Both listening and telling are contained in this one dimensional space, quite a superfluous exchange.
Once you turn that into art, however, someone else's story becomes mine. That's where vulnerability comes in because this exchange involves a deeper level of empathy.
In fiction, vulnerability is reached when you get to the core of your characters, and it's that moment that the characters come alive and this abstract story that had only been in your mind becomes real, both for you as a writer and also for the readers. Making something alive that had not been until then is akin to performing a miracle.
This is also the case in literary, narrative nonfiction. In Without You, an investigative memoir, that "character" was also me. I was not merely delivering the raw facts about North Korea but instead recreating the very human and complex world I saw there for my readers in all its vivid details, which meant that I had to also become a narrator of the story. I was telling the truth about myself and what I saw there and experienced but I was also a character as well as the writer. How much to reveal and how much to hold on, so that this stops being a verbal vomit of confession, which isn't interesting or relevant, but instead comes alive as if the readers are there in Pyongyang living the experience through me? What I choose to reveal, and how I do it -- that revelatory process is an artful one. And there is a vulnerability to it because unless I reach the inner most depth of honesty, it doesn't come alive. This is like breathing life into a thought. That process, whether in fiction or nonfiction, involves the sort of vulnerability that is simply hard and inevitably painful. Because we human beings resist being vulnerable because opening oneself to hurt is fundamentally frightening. For me, stripping oneself bare naked is what is required in both fiction and nonfiction.
Your question is if I find one genre harder than the other -- I think it's the same if you are making art. Most often I am just not able to be open, and when I write in that mode, my writing falls flat, but once you fall in love with whatever you are writing, it's then some magic happens, and I am not so terrified of vulnerability, and I get swept away by that magic. It's immensely painful, however, for some reason, to get there.
Once you turn that into art, however, someone else's story becomes mine. That's where vulnerability comes in because this exchange involves a deeper level of empathy.
In fiction, vulnerability is reached when you get to the core of your characters, and it's that moment that the characters come alive and this abstract story that had only been in your mind becomes real, both for you as a writer and also for the readers. Making something alive that had not been until then is akin to performing a miracle.
This is also the case in literary, narrative nonfiction. In Without You, an investigative memoir, that "character" was also me. I was not merely delivering the raw facts about North Korea but instead recreating the very human and complex world I saw there for my readers in all its vivid details, which meant that I had to also become a narrator of the story. I was telling the truth about myself and what I saw there and experienced but I was also a character as well as the writer. How much to reveal and how much to hold on, so that this stops being a verbal vomit of confession, which isn't interesting or relevant, but instead comes alive as if the readers are there in Pyongyang living the experience through me? What I choose to reveal, and how I do it -- that revelatory process is an artful one. And there is a vulnerability to it because unless I reach the inner most depth of honesty, it doesn't come alive. This is like breathing life into a thought. That process, whether in fiction or nonfiction, involves the sort of vulnerability that is simply hard and inevitably painful. Because we human beings resist being vulnerable because opening oneself to hurt is fundamentally frightening. For me, stripping oneself bare naked is what is required in both fiction and nonfiction.
Your question is if I find one genre harder than the other -- I think it's the same if you are making art. Most often I am just not able to be open, and when I write in that mode, my writing falls flat, but once you fall in love with whatever you are writing, it's then some magic happens, and I am not so terrified of vulnerability, and I get swept away by that magic. It's immensely painful, however, for some reason, to get there.
Suki Kim
I address this exact question in my recent TED Talk, thanks:
Suki Kim
The recovery would take a long time. It is a traumatized population. With any victims post war and a lifetime of abuse, they would need a lot of re-education and healing. One sees many examples with the North Korean defectors in South Korea where there are often a lot of problems. Also it would depend on the leadership that would take over after this current DPRK regime falls.
Suki Kim
That is a hopeful possibility. I hope that were indeed possible. The answer is never black and white. Yes, possible, but then it's also possible that they could be converted into becoming underground Christians in a country where religious practice could mean death. Or that they could be persecuted for trying to disobey their regime. Or that they are being trained to become hackers and nuclear weapon experts with foreign money, as some anti PUST people claim. I would like to believe in a better scenario than any of those, but with North Korea, one cannot ever predict. Meanwhile, PUST is certainly a propaganda tool where foreign camera is allowed to capture a population that superficially looks not so different from that of the free societies.
Suki Kim
No, I am not aware of any such ramifications.
I cannot imagine I will be allowed back in North Korea after this book. But even if I were, I am not sure if I would be interested in returning there without a specific purpose.
I cannot imagine I will be allowed back in North Korea after this book. But even if I were, I am not sure if I would be interested in returning there without a specific purpose.
Suki Kim
I cannot speak for all North Koreans, but I loved my students. They were innocent, respectful, polite, funny, adorable, and absolutely sincere. I had never met college students that age be that pure and naive in some sense.
Suki Kim
I think North Korea is just too tightly controlled. There is simply no communication between people allowed. No real way for any information to travel freely. The cult of the Great Leader is also more like a cult than a political system, enslaving its own people psychologically, intellectually and emotionally, and it's been in place for decades, and the ancient history of Koreans' absolute filial piety for their kings for centuries also plays a factor here. Also Soviet Union who had helped hold that system in tact fell, which then caused a whole lot of other problems. So it is impossible to compare their system to those of the other countries.
Suki Kim
I have a few projects. Two long essays that I have to finish on deadlines. A novel I had finished several years ago that I would like to revisit and revise. A book of nonfiction I have also been thinking about. I am not a fast writer, however. I hope I do not take too long with the next book. The fans of "The Interpreter," I know, are tired waiting for my next novel. . .
Suki Kim
1) I hope that we see real changes in North Korea in our lifetime, but to do that, this current regime would have to fall. I cannot see how any real changes -- not just a facade of changes -- are possible under the brutal military dictatorship that rules with an iron fist, using the cult of the Great Leader.
2) Yes, PUST leadership was very angry, and I am sorry for hurting some of their feelings. In order for them to operate there, (and to fulfill their long-term agenda of eventually converting the vulnerable people there to Christianity ) they need to maintain and perpetuate the propaganda of DPRK being as free and open as any other country. But perpetuating the DPRK regime's propaganda only hurts the rest of the 25 million North Koreans.
2) Yes, PUST leadership was very angry, and I am sorry for hurting some of their feelings. In order for them to operate there, (and to fulfill their long-term agenda of eventually converting the vulnerable people there to Christianity ) they need to maintain and perpetuate the propaganda of DPRK being as free and open as any other country. But perpetuating the DPRK regime's propaganda only hurts the rest of the 25 million North Koreans.
Suki Kim
Yes, that fear was constant, which you will see clearly in the book.
Suki Kim
Yes I have been in touch with her. Our different beliefs did not affect our friendship although while in Pyongyang or even afterward, we never discussed that aspect. She is a generous and truthful person, and she was very gracious about the book and understood why I wrote it. I have nothing but respect for her and her faith.
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