[W Forum] Books and Poetry Instead of Alcohol

Recently, I published a book. It is a collection of essays titled . The title was inspired by an interview with a Native American woman. When the men who left for work in distant places did not send any news and the family was starving, the grandmother would say at dawn, "Let's go pick strawberries." In other words, that phrase was a daily resolve to survive somehow. The young Native American woman shared the wisdom of her grandmother, who endured the history of massacres committed in the name of civilization.

Sometimes, when publishing a translated book or a collection of essays, I want to talk about the process of producing the book, but I have always been a bit shy and held back. However, this time I found the courage. In this confident drinking culture where conversations over drinks influence important policy decisions and mistakes made under the influence are considered understandable circumstances, I felt it was okay to bravely talk about the book I put my heart into. So, I want to advocate for a society that encourages books instead of alcohol.

To make a book, first and foremost, there must be the author's writing, but that is not the end. The editorial team at the publishing house carefully corrects typos and inaccurate information, and the designer thoughtfully selects a cover that well represents the meaning of the book. The cover of this book features a painting by Michael Amery, an artist active in South Africa, which addresses the issue of large-scale plantations destroying forests. For him, painting is a movement to protect nature as it is, which aligned well with the book’s awareness of the issues. The artist was very pleased that his painting was reborn as the cover of this book, so it felt like meeting an artist from a distant country with a certain intimacy.

Some readers send their impressions after reading the book. I added red dots to the black-and-white illustrations to represent the vitality of strawberries, but one reader said those red dots looked like bloodstains, symbolizing the sacrifices of those who perished in history, which surprised me. When one person described the writing as "refined sentences like an ancient prayer," it felt like the earnest effort of revising and polishing the text was recognized, making all the hard work worthwhile. Some people jokingly ask if I make a lot of money. These days, poetry collections or essay books are usually priced between 10,000 and 15,000 won. Prices go up if there are additional costs like copyrights or if the volume is thick. A poetry book is priced at 9,000 won, and my essay collection was set at 14,000 won. When a book sells, the author receives a royalty of 5-10%, so except for those who have other jobs like me, it is almost impossible to make a living solely as a writer, poet, or translator.

Looking at our pure traditions, the friendship and deep trust in politics expressed through sharing drinks do not seem likely to change soon. However, I hope politics and society will take the work of writing, those who handle writing, and the weight of that labor more seriously. Instead of the ubiquitous "mukbang" (eating broadcasts), I want to see more "book cafes" where poetry and writing are discussed. Think about it. On bleak days when there seems to be no way out, a single line of writing can become a breath of life and a breeze. When conversations over drinks scatter into the air, the solid words in a book alone lift me up. Meetings on pages imbued with steadfast thought are a tangible reality. Yet, these days, poetry, essays, and academic papers face all kinds of insults like ghostwriting and plagiarism accusations. In a society where anti-intellectualism that does not value writing runs rampant, I offer comfort and solidarity to those who live by relying on words.

Jeong Eun-gwi, Professor at Hankuk University of Foreign Studies