"Hush, child. You mustn't interrupt the long-lost husband," said Grandmother.
"Go on," said Grandfather, giving Sunok another cookie to ease Grandmother's mild rebuke.
"Ajeosi Neil is indeed a kind soldier-friend, child." His inclusion of Sunok in the conversation impressed me. He was much the same yet completely different somehow. Even the way he sat on the floor seemed foreign. I wondered what changes he saw in me and lamented my gaunt cheeks and farmer's hands-hands that had cracked and bled during the years at his father's house in Pyeongyang, which now, with him sitting there almost a stranger, didn't seem to matter in the slightest.
"How wise to write me in care of the Presbytery! Your handwriting alone ... I cannot express to you the joy ... your letter ..." He paused again to collect himself. "Thanks to you, I had your address, but I can barely remember the roads in Seoul, much less recognize the city at all ..." He would never be able to tell his story if every suggestion of his absence choked him to silence. We waited quietly-Dongsaeng with eagerness, like a child being good in anticipation of a treat, my parents with compassion, Meeja with inquisitiveness, and me with the patience born of eleven years. I listened to Sunok's crunching of cookies and neglected sounds from outdoors: leaves blowing in the wind and acorns falling from our last oak tree. Their hollow plops in the courtyard reminded me of the bitter acorn porridge we ate last winter and how our fingers blistered from shelling the dry and frozen meat.
Calvin mopped his eyes, cleared his throat, looked straight at me and said, "My apologies."
I mouthed, "None needed," and we smiled at this small exchange between us.
He continued with a restored strong voice, "My next wish was to find someone who could give me directions. Since getting off the plane, I couldn't help but search every Korean face, not necessarily to see if I could recognize anyone, but because I was among my countrymen and welcomed seeing so many Korean faces. It was as if I was home and not-home at the same time, a very strange sensation. Upon leaving the hotel, I tried to spot a local person of whom I could ask directions. That's when I noticed a man staring at me. He looked familiar, and I thought he might be a former schoolmate. As we neared," Calvin said, smiling at Dongsaeng, "he raised his arms and cried out. I wondered if he thought I was going to arrest him, he was that excited."
"That was me!" said Dongsaeng, unable to contain himself. "I could hardly believe my eyes. I'm walking home and see this strange sight: a man who has a Korean-looking face dressed like an American G.I. Such a curious thing, and I stare like a peasant! And when he comes closer, I think I recognize him, I see Cho Cho on his coat-see it, there!- and all the hairs on my head jump up and down, and I can't help but cry out. There's your picture, always with us." He pointed to our wedding portrait hanging on the wall. Dongsaeng's enthusiasm was infectious, but it was the chance meeting downtown that made all our eyes widen. on his coat-see it, there!- and all the hairs on my head jump up and down, and I can't help but cry out. There's your picture, always with us." He pointed to our wedding portrait hanging on the wall. Dongsaeng's enthusiasm was infectious, but it was the chance meeting downtown that made all our eyes widen.
Dongsaeng continued, "I said to him, 'I am Han Ilsun. Could it be you, Brother-in-law?' and he said, 'Dear God!' and then I knew it was him!" Everyone laughed and Sunok clapped her hands.
"To say I was surprised is an understatement," said Calvin. "It's God's work that you would be there at that very moment. It was meant to be." He addressed the family, "Once he identified himself, I got the Jeep and he showed me the way. He's told me something of your years of difficulties, and I was very sorry to hear these things, very sorry. I must ask, again, your forgiveness-" He stopped.
As he gathered himself, Grandmother said, "There is only God's will, and we are among the truly blessed to be reunited."
"There is no blame, and so no need for forgiveness," said Grandfather. His eyes met mine for a flick of a moment, less than a glance, but I understood with the convincing truth of tears that my father had spoken to both my husband and me. Combined with Calvin's presence, my father's words released a weight that had crowded my soul since leaving Gaeseong. This physical sensation and my enormous gratitude untethered me to an emotion so rich I felt that if I were to lift my eyes to see my husband and family in this room all around me, I'd fly into the heavens, soaring with light.
Grandmother echoed Grandfather's statement with a firm "Amen."
My eyes met Calvin's and I saw that his showed an unnamed determination. My features relaxed, and I hoped he could read from my expression the limitless measure of acceptance that poured from my heart.
Sunok said, "Harabeoji, how can he be a G.I.? Only Americans are G.I.s, aren't they?"
"Yes, child," said Grandfather. "It's a good question."
"The letter took more than a month to find you," I said. "So yes, how did you become an American soldier?" while others chimed in, "Tell us about your studies. Is your family well? What's New York like?"
"Start at the beginning," I said. Meeja refreshed the water and I passed the cookies. We settled in beside the sputtering brazier to hear Calvin's story, while outside, the sun seeped through the clouds and slowly arched across the sky.
"Four years ago, I finished a course of study at New York Biblical Seminary. Before then, I'd attended three other seminaries and wasn't sure what I should next pursue. My studies thus far were seen as unusual, and I was advised to pursue a bachelor's degree in sociology, then a master's in philosophy of education, which I did. At that point, I had studied theology and Western culture to such a degree that I believed it would be best if I returned to the Bible; hence, the Biblical Seminary. But after Pearl Harbor, I knew I had to contribute somehow, and found a clerking job in the New York Office of Censorship. From there I was hired by the OSS-that was the American intelligence organization during the war-to translate various Japanese and Chinese communications, until the OSS was disbanded early last spring."
This startling news made me quickly calculate and compare the years, and with irony and relief, I concluded that Major Yoshida's accusation was wrong by three or four years prior.
"I briefly worked at the Herald Tribune Herald Tribune newspaper in the classifieds department, a simple job that barely managed to pay for a room and a bowl of soup. A friend found work for me on the weekends cleaning houses, cooking and serving at parties. I know, odd work for a man, but I was grateful for the wages and learned a great deal about the American way of life." newspaper in the classifieds department, a simple job that barely managed to pay for a room and a bowl of soup. A friend found work for me on the weekends cleaning houses, cooking and serving at parties. I know, odd work for a man, but I was grateful for the wages and learned a great deal about the American way of life."
I recalled from an early letter that he had been a houseboy at times, but I hardly knew what to do with this additional information about his domestic jobs. Had I been with him, I gladly would have worked those jobs in his place.
"Shortly after Pearl Harbor, the New York Presbytery ordained me as a postwar missionary. I hadn't yet been ordained because I needed to be sponsored by a local church. Naturally I attended church, but as part of my studies it was one church or another, which left me without a church to support me as copastor or even assistant pastor. The Presbytery chose to ordain me as a missionary, thinking ahead to when the war would end and the potential need for an indigenous missionary. But after V-J Day," he defined the Americanism and went on, "I appealed to the Presbytery to send me home, and was told that an American missionary had just returned from Korea and had reported that the people were not yet prepared to receive an indigenous Korean as an American missionary. I was greatly disappointed.
"Several years ago, a group of friends and I had formed a society to publish a journal called the Korea Economic Digest. Korea Economic Digest. Since very few Americans know about Korea, our aim was to educate and publicize the political situation. Then two years ago, when we learned that the Cairo Declarations said Korea would eventually have independence, we wanted to propagate discussion on what Korea was like and what it should become after the war. Somehow, we managed to raise enough money to distribute the journal, not only to subscribers but also to libraries, government offices and influential people in Washington. On August 15, I was with this group of friends in our makeshift office at a boardinghouse, and we all stayed up through the night listening to the radio, until finally we heard Hirohito's surrender. One of my fellow editors was so overcome he fell to the floor and burst into tears. Soon we were all crying with him." Since very few Americans know about Korea, our aim was to educate and publicize the political situation. Then two years ago, when we learned that the Cairo Declarations said Korea would eventually have independence, we wanted to propagate discussion on what Korea was like and what it should become after the war. Somehow, we managed to raise enough money to distribute the journal, not only to subscribers but also to libraries, government offices and influential people in Washington. On August 15, I was with this group of friends in our makeshift office at a boardinghouse, and we all stayed up through the night listening to the radio, until finally we heard Hirohito's surrender. One of my fellow editors was so overcome he fell to the floor and burst into tears. Soon we were all crying with him."
"I hope to hear that radio broadcast one day," said Dongsaeng.
"I'm certain you will," said Calvin, "since it's the first time a Japanese emperor, their god figure, spoke publicly in this way." The men talked more about the radio broadcast and Japanese ethos, then he returned to his story.
"Our journal had become a contact point between Koreans and Americans, and the society received word that the army needed interpreters. That very day I had also received a phone call asking me to become an interpreter for the military. They particularly needed men who were fluent in Korean, Japanese and English, and the government knew about me from the OSS. That I could also read Chinese made them quite pleased, and I was immediately hired as a civilian employee and given the rank of field officer. I was trained briefly in army protocol and what to expect of the U.S. military government installed here. I flew on army transport and arrived this morning."
Everyone exclaimed, and Sunok smiled with the happiness that filled the room. Calvin's experiences were far different from anything I could have ever imagined, and I marveled at both his accomplishments and perseverance.
Calvin looked at me and said, "It is eleven years since I left this land. During that time I heard only sporadically from my father. Not long after you saw them last, my parents moved to Manchuria in self-exile. My father believed religious persecution would only increase as the China War escalated, and he was correct. I have not heard from him since then but believe they'll return to Pyeongyang if they haven't already. I worry that my mother is in fragile health and hope to gain permission to visit my parents. I know that wherever they are, they're living the word of God and are at peace. Too many families have suffered."
We murmured agreement, and some time passed in spontaneous silence, prayer and remembrance for the countless lost.
"What news of your families?" asked Calvin. Relatives and politics were discussed, and a sad lunch of rice and cabbage prepared, served and eaten. The afternoon waned. Rain came and left, as Calvin, Ilsun and Grandfather each tried to compress the decade into words. Grandmother took Meeja and Sunok to the kitchen to prepare as much of a supper as they could muster, insisting that I stay with my husband. As the sun set and cold seeped into the sitting room, I lit lamps and kept the brazier blazing using a three-day supply of fuel. Meeja set the table and my mother said, "I'm afraid we have only poor food to offer."
"To break bread with my wife and her family is a meal that is richness itself," said Calvin, which both pleased and embarrassed me. During our simple dinner he exclaimed how wonderful it was to eat perfectly cooked rice and told amusing stories about American rice. Then, after inspecting the house and yard, he promised to return the next evening. I walked outside with him, and when we reached the far side of the covered Jeep, hidden from the house, he took both my hands and gazed at me, his face tight with feeling. "Najin," he said. Overcome, he embraced me fully.
I stiffened, then realized that naturally he'd become even more Westernized. Being outside, I couldn't relax into his embrace, but he held me long enough for his rough wool coat to itch my cheek, and for me to feel his warmth radiating through his many garments. He released me, his eyes wet once more. After composing himself, he folded my hand around won and American bills that totaled the largest sum of cash I'd touched in years. "Take this," he said, with such solemnity that I imagined this was how he would administer communion. Unnerved by this sacrilegious image, I kept my eyes to the ground, distressed that everything between us seemed to emphasize differences that would be impossible to overcome. "I'll bring food tomorrow, some things ..." He held my hands again, then climbed into the Jeep.
I watched him drive away until his taillights faded like the eyes of a cat one couldn't be certain had really been there, slipping into the comforting shadows of night.
THE NEXT EVENING, the Jeep rattled to a stop in front of the house, packed with all manner of goods: tins of foodstuff, cooking pots, winter coats and rubber shoes for each of us, sacks of briquette fuel, soap, salt, toothbrushes, razors for the men, paper, pens, candy, a bottle of aspirin and-an item of wonder that everyone had to try-a coloring book and crayons for Sunok. Since no army accommodations were available for married men, Calvin was given permission to live with us, but he stayed in the barracks for its convenience to his job working meetings of marathon length and translating speeches and piles of documents. He said he expected to move in when things were less urgent at his job, and he added, "Yuhbo, the house is for one family: Dongsaeng's family. It isn't proper for us to raise our own family in these rooms. I'll talk to your brother and see if he'll agree to an addition."
Left speechless by his mention of raising a family, I was barely aware of concerns about the cost, inconvenience and propriety of his proposal. I understood, however, that he truly was here to stay, and as I began to see farther ahead than the day's meals, I also understood how narrow our lives had become during the war. His decision making felt like a respite, and I was pleasantly compliant to anything he proposed, but I was also conscious that my acquiescence came from the novelty of having my husband home, and also that it was my duty as a wife.
During the next few weeks, our lives improved dramatically. Dongsaeng's advertising and printing connections and Calvin's military sources produced a lucrative job. Dongsaeng and my father simplified and translated into modern Hangeul the history books written in Chinese and old-style vernacular that my father had carried from Gaeseong. This work would then be printed as textbooks and distributed to schools. Grandfather thanked Calvin for his influence in delivering the true history to the nation's people, and Grandmother thanked God that Grandfather had the foresight to have chosen to bring with him those texts over all the other classics in his library.
My husband, busy translating for his general, visited one or two evenings a week and on Sunday. I said those two words, my husband my husband, frequently, to get used to their sound and shape in my mouth. Fortunately, the winter was unseasonably mild, and he spent time with the men working on the large addition he had contracted to be built behind the original house, along with the installation of running water, flush toilets, electricity and telephone service. In the shifting, fluid postwar economy, Calvin's biweekly paycheck in American dollars managed to cover the materials as well as the earnest, plentiful labor.
He met and profusely thanked Neil Forbes. Calvin mentioned that he had once visited a congregation in Fort Lee called Eden Presbyterian, which turned out to be the church of Private Forbes's youth and marriage. They spoke rapidly in English with some excitement upon this discovery. Forbes revealed that his trade prior to joining the army had been carpentry, and the two men became close friends as they drew building plans, stretched level strings between stakes, pounded nails and supervised workmen. I watched them talking and working together, awed at Calvin's ease in English conversation, and how quickly and sincerely he bonded with the American soldier. It reminded me that I knew essential aspects of my husband's character and could speak unhesitatingly about his true nature, yet I knew very little about him in daily life.
Calvin was careful to discuss the second house with a consideration that allowed my brother no loss of face, and so, with the exception of a few bumps inevitable on such a rapid road to change, harmony and comfortable living came to our family. In a rare moment of camaraderie with Meeja, she said with a teasing smile, "You're a lucky woman to be lavishly courted by your own husband!" I returned her smile and hid my own thoughts about his generosity. While I was exceptionally grateful for the improvements he brought to our lives, especially the comforts for my parents, the excess of it embarrassed me, though I was also aware that his abundant giving helped to alleviate his profound remorse.
I fed the workmen, found places to store the goods that Calvin and Neil Forbes continued to bring, swept the pervasive sawdust, practiced English and kept a hot meal always ready for my husband, should he show up. My transition to being a wife was made easier by his scruple for separate living quarters. I'd be peeling turnips or washing the floor, and then I'd hear the Jeep and suddenly have a different purpose, one that aimed to serve and please my husband. It gave me a sensation I'd never known. I tried to name it-complacency, obedience? No. Contentment, wholeness, belonging-love? When I dressed in the morning, I dressed for him. I brushed my teeth and wondered if he was shaving at the barracks or showering in hot water, the idea of which, even with the difficult years behind us, seemed immensely wasteful.
He was an active if not everyday presence, and I grew conscious of the pleasure this gave me. At the same time, I held back, as if it were a simulation of happiness that couldn't be sustained and would end as abruptly as it had before. This irrationality gave me moments of relief. If he were gone, I'd be released from having to confess my paucity of faith.
He watched me when we were together, and sometimes I was glad for his attention, but other times it made me painfully self-conscious. I was frequently unsure of what he wanted. If he stood to pour himself a cup of water, was it his way of demonstrating how I'd failed to provide for him? Was he deliberately trying to embarrass me in front of my family, or-more likely, but still very strange-was he trying to be helpful? When he insisted that I stay for the men's talks, was it because he saw how woefully uninformed I was and wanted to educate me? Or did he want me to contribute to these conversations and further embarrass me in front of my family? Did he simply want to have me in his sight? I wished we were writing letters again, for then I could cautiously ask these things and he could explain his manner toward me. I liked it best when he gave me tasks with the new house and when he complimented my cooking, saying how much he had missed Korean food. I knew how to be that kind of wife. I also liked it when I walked him to his Jeep in snow, rain or sunshine and he would turn to me and say, "Yuhbo," in such a way that both warmed me and made me shiver, and these feelings in turn would ease my discomfort when he touched my fingers, took my hand or stroked my cheek.
Then he'd be gone again, and I would miss him with a fierceness that I hadn't known for all the years of our separation. I missed his eyes following me when I crossed the room. I missed hearing his voice as he solved a problem with the workmen, his gentle and diplomatic persuasion when they disagreed on how to approach a task. I missed the flat way he wielded his chopsticks, the questions he asked about the years apart, the foreign stiffness when he sat or stood, the stories he told about colleges and America, the woolly smell of his army sweater, his breath mixing with mine in the same house.
At night I crawled into bed in the room that Grandmother, Sunok and I shared in the winter. I awaited sleep, exhausted, and the image of my husband behind my closed eyes gradually changed as the days since his homecoming grew in number. I envisioned his charming smile, how his shoulders rolled and his hands moved, the smart way his cap accented his chin, the handsome cut of his coat when he belted it, the interesting line of his three-quarter profile. But the last two thoughts I had were always the same. First was the mortifying anticipation of sharing his bed, and any nervous or pleasurable thrill I felt was always quashed by my second thought: that I must tell my husband the truth about having lost my battle of faith. It brought a frown to my brow that stayed until morning.
The New House
DECEMBER 1945.
A WEEK BEFORE CHRISTMAS, INCHES OF POWDERY SNOW COVERED THE entire city, and the workmen left until spring thaw. The front of the new house needed carpentry-trim, doors and windows installed-but the back was ready to live in. Calvin said he'd move in Friday evening. I laid planks to bypass the unfinished front rooms and tested the floor heating and the rear chimney's draw. Although the house was wired, electricity had yet to reach our street. Similarly, the bathroom had a working toilet but lacked running water. I thought the house waited for an uncertain future, much like myself, and fretted over the effort and expense it was taking to build. I filled kerosene lanterns Calvin had provided, swept sawdust and arranged a cistern and washbasin in the bathroom.
Three rooms were livable in the new wing-bedroom, sitting room and bathroom-and knowing I would have privacy with my husband for the first time since the hotel in Manchuria, I gladly cleaned them to counter my nervousness. Wiping the porcelain surfaces, I recalled being that young newlywed. It wasn't the memory of my innocent bride's optimism that struck me now, but the realization that I'd been consumed with scraping meals together for so long that I had truly banished all the dreams of those days. I refused to consider them now because too much was in flux, both with the return of my husband and the return of independence to our country. I also believed I was undeserving, and I had yet to confess the dismal condition of my soul. I couldn't think a moment beyond that.
With a wet rag and soap from the PX, I scrubbed the walls and yellow ondol floors of the new house, hoping the perfumed lather would lessen the noxious new flooring and lacquer smells. It brought to mind how I'd washed all the surfaces of my in-laws' house as a way to accept responsibility for the leaky hut, but I had been a slave there and not a family member. I would never tell my husband about the misery of those years.
Friday morning brought a steady light snow, but not enough to prevent the Jeep from reaching the house. I immediately expunged this disgraceful thought and focused instead on the preparations for my husband's formal return and our move into the new house. After a tepid and bland breakfast prepared by Meeja, I sat for a time with Grandmother during her morning ritual. In the odd gray light of muffling snowfall, I bent my head, and as sometimes happened when praying with my mother, I felt my will release itself into the stillness that I thought was all that remained of God in my spirit.
I donned a navy blue wool coat and a headscarf of white magnolia blossoms on a dark green background, both gifts from Calvin. Wearing two pairs of socks for warmth and the rubber shoes he'd bought, I walked to the market, stopping now and then to appreciate the tiny sprockets of fat snowflakes on my dark sleeves. I bought pork bones with rib meat, an impressive fresh flounder, flattened dried squid, precious dried mushrooms and lotus root, and onions, potatoes, carrots and rice wine. There were no greens, not even winter kale, but Calvin had given us cans of green beans, peas and peaches-the latter a concoction so sweet it gave me a headache. I shooed Meeja from the kitchen and spent the remainder of the day cooking a welcome-home feast.
The snow stopped and low clouds opened to a blazing gold and purple sunset. Calvin arrived in the Jeep with a footlocker containing his belongings and two boxes of books and papers. These items were moved into the new house. Everyone joined Grandfather in his sitting room for the lavish dinner. The talk centered on the delicacy and variety of dishes, and it was easy for everyone to pretend that Calvin's presence was as natural as if he'd been living with us for months. After the meal, however, Grandfather cleared his throat several times and said, "Rice wine?" which Calvin steadily refused.
Grandmother asked for a prayer from Calvin, signaled Sunok and Meeja to join her, and said goodnight a little earlier than she might have on a typical evening. Her nonchalant departure gave me the courage to also say goodnight. It was understood that my husband would come later. The men had the usual news and politics to discuss, especially Calvin's inside information about the resurging civil war in China, tensions with the Russians about the temporary border dividing north and south, a disturbing rehiring of Japanese collaborators in many government jobs, sweeping reforms in education, and the guidance of the American military government toward democratic elections.
I added fuel bricks to the banked firepit of the new house and fanned its embers until they blossomed into flame, taking pleasure in the cold on my cheeks contrasting with heat on my hands. In the vestibule, I tucked my shoes on a plank step by the unfinished doorway, which I had draped with an old blanket. Inside, I fired a brazier to heat water for the washbasin, rolled out our bedding and lit kerosene lanterns, turning them low. Regretting that I'd left my sewing in Grandmother's room, I opened my husband's footlocker and proceeded to unfold and refold all of his clothes, marveling when I discovered the elastic waistbands of his undershorts. The brazier flared and the room grew hot, making the floor coating emit a fusty resinous smell. I opened the window fully and dampened the fire. Still warm, I removed my jacket and sat with chin on knees, waiting with-for the first time in as long as I could remember-idle hands.
The waning moon rose, a not-quite circular disk of mother-of-pearl, small and shining. Through the open window, I caught its mystical smile above the trees. It seemed to invite me to say nothing to Calvin. Since the mask I wore was almost fully integrated into my being, it would be little different than what the days before had been. Nights were for secrets, an easy hour for things best hidden. I thought of the royalty murdered at night, Unsook's demons, the tortured men, the selfish desires I'd stowed in the night shadows of the rafters that had all turned to dust. No, there was no hiding. Instead, recalling the dream I shared with my mother when Ilsun was born, I would be like water and pour forth my shameful truth around the feet of my husband.
All these years I had been waiting for this moment. I knew he would be disappointed in me-how could he not be?-but I remembered our first walk by the pond and his letters. He had welcomed my questions and my confessions, unjudging, and had even asked for more.
In the dimly lit room, the flickering lamplight danced smokily against the walls. The winter moon gleamed and cast a faint square of light on the floor. It brought the memory of prison and how I had clung to hope because of my mother's visits, her loving encouragement delivered in a folded paper at the bottom of my rice bowl. As I waited for Calvin in this silent sitting room, I saw that I had also kept faith in a certain reunion with my husband, this man who might hear me, understand me, know me. I had believed that being with him again would one day bring to light some larger reason, some just cause, that would explain the suffering we had witnessed and lived through.
It seemed I had waited long enough, for there he was, not forty steps away, talking about the reformation of our nation with my father and younger brother. Korea, too, had waited long for the liberation that had ended many hardships and had also brought new questions and challenges. I thought of how quickly the people had struck down the Shinto torii and opened wide the doors of churches and temples, the men I'd seen being released from Seodaemun Prison, who fell sobbing to kiss the dirt road, the jubilation that met the first American soldiers parading through the streets, the pride of the old shopkeepers to speak freely in Korean, the spontaneous fires in the squares fueled by the hated identification papers with our required Japanese names. In shared oppression, the people of this beloved land had grown strongly united in their hope for freedom and, like my father's books buried in the unreachable secret pantry of the lost Gaeseong house, had harbored their Korean identity through all those years of waiting.
I thought of my own identity, and now saw that my father, by not naming me, had unwittingly accorded me enormous freedom. In the cemetery with Dongsaeng when I was newly betrothed, I remembered how he'd despaired, saying, "My life planned for all this before I was born." Unlike my brother, my identity had been less encumbered. Without having to confine my dreams to the destiny outlined in one's name and the expectations bestowed during one's naming, I was left free to embrace the natural turns of my character and to determine my own future, drawing from the deepest well of unnamed possibilities. Yes, I was the calligrapher's daughter, the daughter of the woman from Nah-jin, and I had grown to embody the singularity of my name, Najin.
I remembered Emperor Sunjong, Empress Yun and Princess Deokhye, and how they had to the extent possible maintained their responsibilities of royal blood amid compounding difficulties and death, until the gates of the last palace had clanged shut behind them. I thought of Imo's generosity and devotion to duty, the constancy of my mother's great faith in Jesus and the intensity of my father's insistence on tradition. Along with their never-spoken love of family and country, these were the ways they had held on to hope. As for me, I realized it wasn't the answers I was seeking all those years that mattered as much as the act of seeking itself. It was incredible, this human capacity for learning, for hope, for love, that persisted like the box of light in my cell, the waters that flowed in my dream. It was beyond my understanding. Tears came as I surrendered to this wonderment of being.
During our first private time together by the willows near the pond, Calvin had said, "And what do you think is the answer to your question?" It wasn't for him to forgive or reject my struggle of faith, but for me to accept it, to embrace it rather than deny or pretend. There were discussions we'd have about God's plan and the price of salvation through Jesus, but I was here at this moment, asking, and that was what was true. Who better than a minister-husband to explore this with? "Keep your mind open," Teacher Yee had said. "Keep your heart open," my mother had said.
I heard my husband remove his coat and shoes at the makeshift door. I stood to close the window and to look at him fully when he entered. It strengthened me to see his solid form fill the doorway, to see his gently receding hairline that made his handsome forehead even higher, to have been gifted the beauty of his patience and loyalty over so many years. His eyes glowed in the lamplight and I saw my calm features reflected in his. "Yuhbo," we said almost simultaneously, and he gestured with the smile I recognized from our first days together that I should speak first.
I accepted his outstretched hand and we sat not quite facing each other. "Yuhbo," I said, "Since you've been home, there's much I've wanted to tell you."
The moon swelled as the evening advanced. Its silvery light shone through the clear glass windows and diffused the shadows between us.
Historical Note
WHILE THE THE C CALLIGRAPHER'S D DAUGHTER IS A WORK OF FICTION, IT TAKES place in a country whose antiquity, often alluded to in the novel, might be unfamiliar to some readers. Korea is one of the oldest unified nation-states in history and is also one of the most homogeneous societies in the world. Two of Korea's dynasties, including the most recent Joseon Dynasty IS A WORK OF FICTION, IT TAKES place in a country whose antiquity, often alluded to in the novel, might be unfamiliar to some readers. Korea is one of the oldest unified nation-states in history and is also one of the most homogeneous societies in the world. Two of Korea's dynasties, including the most recent Joseon Dynasty * * (13921910), are among the longest sustained monarchies in world history. Graced with peace, reformation and enlightenment, these monarchies also suffered strife: royal filicide, internecine coups, attempted rebellions, factionalism, invasions and oppression. It is the extraordinary longevity of Korean political, ethnic and cultural continuity that remains a wellspring of the nation's proud identity. (13921910), are among the longest sustained monarchies in world history. Graced with peace, reformation and enlightenment, these monarchies also suffered strife: royal filicide, internecine coups, attempted rebellions, factionalism, invasions and oppression. It is the extraordinary longevity of Korean political, ethnic and cultural continuity that remains a wellspring of the nation's proud identity.
Korea's legendary origin is remarkably pinpointed to a specific day more than 4,300 years ago, October 3, 2333 BCE, and is a mythic saga of a heavenly visitation to a she-bear on a mountain who ultimately gives birth to Korea's first king, Dangun. In the years leading to the Japanese occupation, the Dangun legend rose to importance as newspapers pitted Korea's ancient heavenly heritage against the Japanese emperor's relatively recent divine pedigree in a contest of primacy. But until the modern age, neither country disputed the supremacy and longevity of China.
In all of East Asia, China was regarded as the center of the civilized world. Those who were friends were like little brothers who, in exchange for loyalty, symbolic tributes and trade, benefited from Chinese military protection and advances in culture and civilization. Those who were enemies, like the Mongols and the Manchus, were considered barbarians.
Clearly China had a profound influence on the Korean peninsula, but over the centuries Korea transformed those influences into its own distinct advances in literature, art, ceramics, printing, philosophy, astronomy, medicine and scholarship. Korea invented movable metal type (c. 1230) more than two hundred years before Gutenberg. The world's first self-striking water clock was constructed in 1434 at the dawn of the Joseon Dynasty, followed by the invention of new sundials, the precision rain gauge and several other astronomical and horological devices in Korea's golden age of science (King Sejong's reign, 141250). The most significant invention under King Sejong was the Korean phonetic alphabet, simple enough to be learned by all classes, yet so comprehensive it is still used today. In terms of philosophy, the establishment of Confucianism in the Joseon Dynasty as state policy, religion and social norm was so transformative it has been distinguished as Neo- Neo-Confucianism by historians. Also, Korea is the only nation in the world where Christianity first took root without the presence of priests or missionaries, but exclusively as a result of the written word-Bibles, translated into Chinese by Jesuits, that a Korean scholar-official brought home from a diplomatic trip to Beijing in 1631.
In contrast to Korea's brotherly friendship with China, Korea and Japan shared a long-standing acrimony, exacerbated over the centuries by repeated Japanese pirate raids and the brutal Hideyoshi Invasions in 159298. China came to Korea's defense, and that conflict ended in stalemate, but not before Korean Admiral Yi Sun-sin invented the world's first ironclad ship, the famous turtle ship, and used inventive explosive shells and mobile rocket launchers to repel the Japanese fleet.
The Hideyoshi Invasions initiated an era of wholesale change in the old East Asian order. Japan's samurai tradition gave way to the Tokugawa shogunate and the beginning of the Edo or modern period of stability (16031867) in that country. China's great Ming Empire fell to the Manchus, a tribal people from Manchuria, who founded the Qing Dynasty, China's last empire. These key changes fostered Korea's isolationist policies, and being geographically outside of major trade routes, it became one of the most insulated countries in the world. When the turbulent political climate ebbed in East Asia in the seventeenth century, friendly relations were reestablished, but the animosity between Korea and Japan, and China and Japan was never forgotten.
The 1800s brought wave after wave of Westerners pounding Asia's shores-Prussians, French, Russians, the British and Americans-an influx that signaled the fall of the Joseon Dynasty. All but Prussia gained footholds in East Asian territory or trade. In particular, a U.S.-forced trade agreement with Japan yielded a new Meiji government (1868) so eager to adopt Western ways that when Japan made its next annual trade tour to Korea, the Korean ministers were shocked to see the Japanese diplomats' radical change in dress and attitude.
This international influx led to four wars, China's Boxer Rebellion, and numerous treaties in the latter half of the nineteenth century. In this climate, King Gojong acceded to the throne in 1864 at age twelve. Power devolved to his father, known as the Daewongun, a staunch isolationist. Two years later, Gojong married a fifteen-year-old from the powerful Min clan, which favored modernization and relations with Japan. Bitter power struggles between Queen Min and the Daewongun resulted in waffling policy extremes of isolationism versus Western enlightenment, plus land reform, hefty taxes, growing ideological foment, a major peasant uprising (the Donghak Rebellion) and, overall, a vulnerable Korea. Using gunboat diplomacy, Japan forced Korea's doors open in 1875 to exclusive trade, and Japanese advisers and military flooded into the Korean court.
Four nations decided the fate of Korea in 1905 without once giving the Yi monarchy or the Korean people an opportunity to voice a single plea for independence. Russia had invaded Manchuria in 1900 and mustered for China, spurring the Russo-Japan War. To protect its interests in China, Great Britain allied with Japan and in turn acknowledged Japan's interests in Korea. Both England and America believed Japanese control over Korea was an effective preventative against Russian expansion. President Theodore Roosevelt also saw Japan's domination of Korea as quid pro quo for U.S. control of the Philippines. And finally, in the American-engineered 1905 Treaty of Portsmouth that ended the Russo-Japan War, Russia pledged not to intercede with Japan's interests in Korea.
Japan moved quickly. In November 1905 a Japanese statesman, backed by troops, commanded the Korean prime minister to sign the Protectorate Treaty (also called the Treaty of 1905), giving Japan "protective" control over all government offices excluding the new Korean emperorship. The prime minister refused and was dragged from the palace. Someone was dispatched to find the official seal, which was then affixed to the treaty by Japanese hands and considered accepted.
As Japan's interests began to spread beyond Korea's borders, dealing with Emperor Gojong's diplomatic attempts to regain Korea's independence and quelching the frequent student protests and popular insurgencies grew burdensome. In 1907 Japan coerced Gojong to abdicate to his son, Sunjong. Then on August 22, 1910, Sunjong was forced to sign the Treaty of Annexation, which made Korea a colony of Japan and ended the long autonomy of the Korean nation. Less than a month later, at the dawn of the thirty-five-year era of the Japanese occupation of Korea, Najin was born.
*Yi Dynasty of the Joseon (or Choson) Kingdom, the latter meaning "Land of the Morning Calm."
Glossary
With the exception of personal and family names, most Korean words in this book are spelled using the Revised Romanization of Korean system. Because the vowel combinations used in this system might be unfamiliar to readers, nonstandard spelling has been applied to the following words: abbuh-nim, ahsee, oppa, umma-nim, unnee abbuh-nim, ahsee, oppa, umma-nim, unnee and and yuhbo yuhbo.
abbuh-nim (ah-buh-NEEM). Father, with the honorific suffix - (ah-buh-NEEM). Father, with the honorific suffix -nim. Revised romanization: Revised romanization: abeonim. abeonim.ahsee (ah-SEE). Higher level female address, used by servants. Revised romanization: (ah-SEE). Higher level female address, used by servants. Revised romanization: asi. asi.aigu (EYE-goo) or (EYE-goo) or aiu aiu (EYE-yoo). An expression whose meaning-surprise, alarm, fear, delight, concern, pity, etc.-is derived from tone. (EYE-yoo). An expression whose meaning-surprise, alarm, fear, delight, concern, pity, etc.-is derived from tone.ajeosi (AH-juh-see). Uncle. Also how a person would address an older, unrelated male who is otherwise without a professional title, such as a shopkeeper. The counterpart for an older female is (AH-juh-see). Uncle. Also how a person would address an older, unrelated male who is otherwise without a professional title, such as a shopkeeper. The counterpart for an older female is ajeomeoni ajeomeoni (AH-juh-muh-nee), though there are specific terms for maternal aunt and paternal aunt (see (AH-juh-muh-nee), though there are specific terms for maternal aunt and paternal aunt (see imo imo and and gomo gomo).chinsa (CHIN-sah). Certified scholar of Korean Confucian classics, similar to a doctor. (CHIN-sah). Certified scholar of Korean Confucian classics, similar to a doctor.cheongsam (chong-SAHM). Chinese word for the traditional women's silk dress with Mandarin collar and frog closures. (chong-SAHM). Chinese word for the traditional women's silk dress with Mandarin collar and frog closures.Daewongun (TEH-won-gun). Literally, "prince of the great court," the father of the monarch who acts as regent. (TEH-won-gun). Literally, "prince of the great court," the father of the monarch who acts as regent.Donghak Revolution (TOHNG-hahk revolution). A major peasant uprising against tyranny, foreign influence, government corruption and the yangban class. The revolution climaxed in 1894 and threatened the Joseon Dynasty to such an extent that Chinese and later Japanese troops were required to quash the peasant army. The Donghak (Eastern Learning) Revolution was a significant factor in Korea's instability at the turn of the century. (TOHNG-hahk revolution). A major peasant uprising against tyranny, foreign influence, government corruption and the yangban class. The revolution climaxed in 1894 and threatened the Joseon Dynasty to such an extent that Chinese and later Japanese troops were required to quash the peasant army. The Donghak (Eastern Learning) Revolution was a significant factor in Korea's instability at the turn of the century.dongsaeng (TOHNG-sayng). Younger sibling. How a sibling addresses a younger sister or younger brother. (TOHNG-sayng). Younger sibling. How a sibling addresses a younger sister or younger brother.gayageum (KAH-yah-gum). Elongated zither- or harp-like stringed instrument, usually with twelve strings. (KAH-yah-gum). Elongated zither- or harp-like stringed instrument, usually with twelve strings.geulsae (KUL-seh). Expression of agreement or wonder, similar to "really." (KUL-seh). Expression of agreement or wonder, similar to "really."gisaeng (KEE-sayng). Courtesan, akin to the Japanese geisha. (KEE-sayng). Courtesan, akin to the Japanese geisha.gomo (KOH-moh). Paternal aunt, versus (KOH-moh). Paternal aunt, versus imo imo, maternal aunt. Both are often paired with the honorific suffix -nim.gosari (KOH-sah-rree). The edible young fiddlehead shoots of the ostrich fern, (KOH-sah-rree). The edible young fiddlehead shoots of the ostrich fern, Matteuccia struthiopteris. Matteuccia struthiopteris.halmeoni (HAHL-muh-nee). Grandmother. With the honorific suffix, (HAHL-muh-nee). Grandmother. With the honorific suffix, halmeonim halmeonim.hanbok (HAHN-bok). Korean traditional clothing for men or women. (HAHN-bok). Korean traditional clothing for men or women.Hangeul (HAHN-gul). Korean vernacular language and writing. Until the invention of the Hangeul alphabet in 1446 by King Sejong, Chinese characters were used phonetically to transcribe Korean, which limited literacy to the educated upper class. (HAHN-gul). Korean vernacular language and writing. Until the invention of the Hangeul alphabet in 1446 by King Sejong, Chinese characters were used phonetically to transcribe Korean, which limited literacy to the educated upper class.harabeoji (HAH-rah-buh-jee). Grandfather. (HAH-rah-buh-jee). Grandfather.hyung, hyung-nim (hyung-NEEM). Older brother, older sister-in-law, or older friend. How a male sibling addresses his older brother; a female addresses her older sister-in-law; and a friend addresses an older, close friend. Typically with the honorific suffix, as shown. (hyung-NEEM). Older brother, older sister-in-law, or older friend. How a male sibling addresses his older brother; a female addresses her older sister-in-law; and a friend addresses an older, close friend. Typically with the honorific suffix, as shown.imo (EE-moh). Maternal aunt, versus (EE-moh). Maternal aunt, versus gomo gomo, paternal aunt. Both are typically paired with the honorific suffix -nim.jajangmyeon (CHA-JAHNG-myun). A noodle dish with sweet black bean sauce (jajang), typically purchased from a street vendor. (CHA-JAHNG-myun). A noodle dish with sweet black bean sauce (jajang), typically purchased from a street vendor.jangin-eorun (CHAHNG-een-uh-run). Father-in-law, as used by a man. A woman would refer to her father-in-law as (CHAHNG-een-uh-run). Father-in-law, as used by a man. A woman would refer to her father-in-law as Ssi-abbuh-nim Ssi-abbuh-nim.jangmo-nim (CHAHNG-moh-neem). Mother-in-law, as used by a male. Includes the honorific suffix - (CHAHNG-moh-neem). Mother-in-law, as used by a male. Includes the honorific suffix -nim. A woman would refer to her mother-in-law as Ssi-umma-nim Ssi-umma-nim.jeon (CHON). Korean monetary unit, both coin and currency, used during the occupation. One (CHON). Korean monetary unit, both coin and currency, used during the occupation. One won won equaled 100 jeon. One Japanese equaled 100 jeon. One Japanese sen sen was equivalent to one Korean jeon. was equivalent to one Korean jeon. Sen Sen and and jeon jeon are different pronunciations of the same Chinese character. are different pronunciations of the same Chinese character.Kabo Reforms (KAH-bo reforms). Six hundred reform laws passed by King Gojong in 189495. Also called the 1895 Reforms. (KAH-bo reforms). Six hundred reform laws passed by King Gojong in 189495. Also called the 1895 Reforms.li (LEE). Chinese measure of distance equal to five hundred meters. (LEE). Chinese measure of distance equal to five hundred meters.man-se (mahn-SEH). Literally, "ten thousand" in Chinese. The Korean language uses Chinese for days/dates and counting money. It is the slogan cry for "Long Live Korea!" originating from the March 1, 1919 national demonstration for independence. (mahn-SEH). Literally, "ten thousand" in Chinese. The Korean language uses Chinese for days/dates and counting money. It is the slogan cry for "Long Live Korea!" originating from the March 1, 1919 national demonstration for independence.Meiji (MAY-EE-jee). Reign/era name of the period when the 122nd emperor of Japan, Mutsuhito, was in power, 18681912. (MAY-EE-jee). Reign/era name of the period when the 122nd emperor of Japan, Mutsuhito, was in power, 18681912.moksa (MOHK-sah). Minister, reverend. With the honorific suffix, (MOHK-sah). Minister, reverend. With the honorific suffix, Moksa-nim Moksa-nim (mohk-sah-NEEM). (mohk-sah-NEEM).mudang (MOO-dahng). Female shaman who acts as intercessor between humans and the spirit world. (MOO-dahng). Female shaman who acts as intercessor between humans and the spirit world.nuna (NOO-nah). Sister. How a male sibling addresses his older sister (versus (NOO-nah). Sister. How a male sibling addresses his older sister (versus unnee unnee, used by female siblings).olgae (OHL-geh). Sister-in-law. How a female addresses her younger sister-in-law; versus (OHL-geh). Sister-in-law. How a female addresses her younger sister-in-law; versus hyung-nim hyung-nim, how a female addresses her older sister-in-law.omana (OH-mah-nah). Exclamation of surprise or alarm. (OH-mah-nah). Exclamation of surprise or alarm.ondol (OHN-dohl). Literally, "warm stone." A type of granite and concrete flooring interlaced with flues for heating. (OHN-dohl). Literally, "warm stone." A type of granite and concrete flooring interlaced with flues for heating.oppa (OHP-bah). Brother. How a female sibling addresses her older brother (versus (OHP-bah). Brother. How a female sibling addresses her older brother (versus hyung hyung, how a male addresses his older brother). With the honorific, oppa-nim oppa-nim. Revised romanization: obba. obba.Sam-il (SAHM-eel). March First, a Korean holiday commemorating the national independence movement's demonstration on that day in 1919. (SAHM-eel). March First, a Korean holiday commemorating the national independence movement's demonstration on that day in 1919.Showa (SHOW-ah). Reign/era name of the period when the 124th emperor of Japan, Hirohito, was in power, 192689. (SHOW-ah). Reign/era name of the period when the 124th emperor of Japan, Hirohito, was in power, 192689.sijo (SEE-joh). Classic Korean form of poetry consisting of three lines, each with fourteen to sixteen syllables, with the middle line the longest. The first line presents the theme or idea, the second line develops, challenges or counters it, and the third line resolves the poem, sometimes with a surprise ending. (SEE-joh). Classic Korean form of poetry consisting of three lines, each with fourteen to sixteen syllables, with the middle line the longest. The first line presents the theme or idea, the second line develops, challenges or counters it, and the third line resolves the poem, sometimes with a surprise ending.Sollal (SOH-lahl). New Year's Day. (SOH-lahl). New Year's Day.ssi-abbuh-nim (SHEE-ah-buh-neem). Father-in-law, as used by a female, with the honorific suffix - (SHEE-ah-buh-neem). Father-in-law, as used by a female, with the honorific suffix -nim. (A man would call his father-in-law Jangin-eorun.) Jangin-eorun.) Revised romanization: Revised romanization: ssi-abeonim. ssi-abeonim.ssi-umma-nim (SHEE-uh-muh-neem). Mother-in-law, as used by a woman, with the honorific suffix - (SHEE-uh-muh-neem). Mother-in-law, as used by a woman, with the honorific suffix -nim. (A man would call his mother-in-law Jangmonim.) Jangmonim.) Revised romanization: Revised romanization: ssi-eomeonim. ssi-eomeonim.sunsaeng-nim (sun-sayng-NEEM). Teacher, with the honorific suffix - (sun-sayng-NEEM). Teacher, with the honorific suffix -nim.Taegeukgi (TEH-guk-EE). Korean flag. Designed by Bak Yeong-hyo, the Korean ambassador to Japan, and proclaimed by King Gojong to be the official flag of Korea on March 6, 1883. (TEH-guk-EE). Korean flag. Designed by Bak Yeong-hyo, the Korean ambassador to Japan, and proclaimed by King Gojong to be the official flag of Korea on March 6, 1883. Taegeuk Taegeuk refers to the red and blue symbol in the center, which represents the origin of all things in the universe. refers to the red and blue symbol in the center, which represents the origin of all things in the universe.Taisho (Tah-EE-show). Reign/era name of the period when the 123rd Emperor of Japan, Yoshihito, was in power, 191226. (Tah-EE-show). Reign/era name of the period when the 123rd Emperor of Japan, Yoshihito, was in power, 191226.umma-nim (uh-muh-NEEM). Mother, with the honorific suffix - (uh-muh-NEEM). Mother, with the honorific suffix -nim. Revised romanization: Revised romanization: eomeonim. eomeonim.unnee (UN-nee). Sister. How a female sibling addresses her older sister (versus (UN-nee). Sister. How a female sibling addresses her older sister (versus nuna nuna, used by males). Revised romanization: eonni. eonni.won (WON). Unit of Korean currency issued by the Bank of Joseon during the occupation. Its value was equal to the Japanese yen. (WON). Unit of Korean currency issued by the Bank of Joseon during the occupation. Its value was equal to the Japanese yen. Won Won and and yen yen are different pronunciations of the same Chinese character. are different pronunciations of the same Chinese character.yah (YAH). Familiar and casual form of address similar to "hey." Also an expressive sound like "ah" or "oh." (YAH). Familiar and casual form of address similar to "hey." Also an expressive sound like "ah" or "oh."yangban (YAHNG-bahn). Aristocratic class, or an aristocrat, through heredity. (YAHNG-bahn). Aristocratic class, or an aristocrat, through heredity.yuhbo (yuh-boh). Familiar way of saying "hey you." Also a term of endearment when used between spouses. Revised romanization: (yuh-boh). Familiar way of saying "hey you." Also a term of endearment when used between spouses. Revised romanization: yeobo. yeobo.
Acknowledgments.
In addition to my parents' papers, numerous resources helped inform this novel. Among them are works by JaHyun Kim Haboush, A New History of Korea A New History of Korea by Ki-baik Lee, and by Ki-baik Lee, and Sources of Korean Tradition Sources of Korean Tradition edited by Yongho Ch'oe, Peter H. Lee and Wm. Theodore de Bary. Three books were instrumental in shaping the Historical Note: edited by Yongho Ch'oe, Peter H. Lee and Wm. Theodore de Bary. Three books were instrumental in shaping the Historical Note: A Concise History of Korea A Concise History of Korea by Michael J. Seth, by Michael J. Seth, Everlasting Flower: A History of Korea Everlasting Flower: A History of Korea by Keith Pratt and by Keith Pratt and Korea Between Empires: 1895 Korea Between Empires: 18951919 by Andre Schmid. by Andre Schmid.
The four illustrations displayed on the title and part title pages were painted by my mother, Alice Hahn Hyegyung Kim. Unlike her father and brother who studied painting in their youths, my mother deferred pursuing her love of art until widowhood in her eighties. She soon proved that her brush flowed with as much talent and authority as that of a king's calligrapher.
My gratitude to Nat Sobel and Judith Weber and their staff, and Helen Atsma and her colleagues, for expertise and enthusiasm.
I am grateful to my sisters, friends and my family for their unceasing support of this writing that took many forms, including reading, storytelling, travel, translation, great meals, greater conversations, generous loans of beach houses and the all-important cheerleading. Thank you.