[Jeon Chan-il's Cultural Talk] If 'Mo Juseok' Were Made into a Movie...

On the 17th, I attended the 4th Geumgang River Basin Literature Festival held over a one-night, two-day schedule at the International Conference Room of Kongju National University. This was to accept the proposal for Kim Hong-jeong, a mid-career writer who recently released his new full-length novel Mo Juseok-eun Ireoke Malhaetda (published by Doseochulpan Deung; hereafter 'Mo Juseok'), to give a 30-minute presentation on the 'joy of novels' at the first meeting. He, who serves as the president of the Chungnam Writers' Association, is a native of Kongju and has published works including the poetry collection Dasi Badabogi (2007), the novel collections Geu Gyeoul-ui Oechul (both by Oneul-ui Munhaksa, 2014) and Changcheon Iyagi (2017), the photo essay collection Ijeneun Geumgang-ida (2017), the epic novel Geumgang consisting of 10 volumes (volumes 1?6 first edition 2016, volumes 7?10 February 2020), the serial novel Hoseo Geukjang (2020), and the full-length novels Uijawang Salhae Sageon (both by Solchulpan-sa, 2018) and Lindos Seong-ui Ollibeunamu (Doseochulpan Deung, 2021). He has received the Kongju Literature Award and the 2020 Chungcheongnam-do Artist of the Year Grand Prize.

A few days before publication, I requested and received a PDF version from the publisher and read the novel in one sitting. That alone speaks to the high readability of Mo Juseok. It was not simply due to the relatively short length of just over 200 pages of main text. The plot, of course, but also the characterization of the characters and the messages or lessons the author wants to convey to our era were outstanding on every level. Even after reading the printed book a few days later, the overwhelming impression remained. It stands alongside Hermann Hesse’s Narcissus and Goldmund, Fyodor Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment, Kim Hoon’s first short story collection Gangsang Mujin, Lee Chang-dong’s collections Soji and Nokcheon-eneun Ttongi Manta, and Yan Lianke’s Serve the People as one of the novels of my lifetime.

In fact, the title alone, which could easily cause anachronistic or ideological misunderstandings, aroused great curiosity. Not Zarathustra, but Mo Juseok?Mao Zedong (毛澤東 / Mao Zedong), a politician and thinker who is officially criticized by the Chinese Communist Party for the various mistakes during the Cultural Revolution (1966?1976) and considered by some as a 'dated' figure?“said this,” made me curious about the author’s intention. Personally, I asked a friend whom I consider the best China expert in South Korea for his opinion. Interestingly, his message aligned with the author’s. For many Chinese people, even now, Mo Juseok’s quotations hold a significance akin to the Bible.

Kim Hong-jeong said in the 'Author’s Note': “'Mo Juseok' is no longer reality, but I often meet him in reality. The small red vinyl-wrapped quotations that fit in a small pocket, Mo Juseok in twelve photo cuts is either serious or smiling. From his eyes, one can hear many stories. Lin Biao’s words, ‘Study Mo Juseok’s quotations and follow his teachings and actions,’ remain a memorable saying.” (p. 213) Unlike Yan Lianke’s novel, which throws away, tramples on, and finally tears apart Mo Juseok’s quotations in a love affair between a young private in his twenties and the wife of a division commander in her thirties, and the film of the same name directed by Zhang Cheol-su (2022) based on that novel, this is truly different.

However, in terms of heartfelt sincerity or the authenticity where no pretense can be found, the above novel and film correspond and connect directly with Kim Hong-jeong’s novel. Yan Lianke’s words, “This is not a story told to everyone but only to readers who have great interest in the fate and history of humanity,” and “a letter sent to those who have eternal respect and love for human dignity,” are likely Kim Hong-jeong’s as well. Like Yan Lianke, Kim Hong-jeong is judged to be “talking about the two most fundamental elements in the development of humans and human society: ‘love and dignity.’”

Kim Hong-jeong expressed this hope: “It would be good to read Mo Juseok-eun Ireoke Malhaetda with the heart of listening to the story of a person who has lived not as the protagonist.” “Though not special or having achieved great accomplishments, these are people who do not live carelessly or haphazardly but live with all their strength.” Though not heroic protagonists, there are four main characters who live the life of masters, not slaves, as Nietzsche emphasized. The external protagonist is Jjang Min-gwe (hereafter Jjang). Jjang is the son of a Korean-Chinese who participated as a cook in the Long March (1934?1935) of the Chinese Communist Party and lives in Haang Village near Hunha. Following Peng Dehuai’s order to encourage participation in the Korean Liberation War, he joins as a cook in the rear unit of the 9th Corps of the People’s Volunteer Army with his maternal uncle Yang Chung.

The plot unfolds dramatically over 30 years centered on Jjang, from the Korean War to the May 18 Democratic Uprising. It is loose yet exquisitely precise and meticulous. As the author revealed, by following “the experience of writing as thoughts unfold” and thanks to “writing with the relaxed style of an athlete,” there is “exquisite pleasure.” Adding to Yang Chung and Jjang, the story of Jjang’s adopted daughter Jjang Jjeo-eol and Lee Jong-myeong, who helps his father and learns cooking through Jjang while coming to the Chinese restaurant Jung-hwa-gak run by Jjang, eventually going to university and becoming a teacher, the novel becomes truly engrossing. Not only because they are contemporaries of Kim Hong-jeong, but as he also argued in his presentation in Kongju, my interpretation is that the ‘real’ protagonists of Mo Juseok are Jjang Jjeo-eol and Lee Jong-myeong.

From Yang Chung to Lee Jong-myeong, these four characters never give up living as masters even for a moment. Though it would be understandable, even human, to do so, they never lose their conscience and beliefs. They never betray even in the most atrocious situations, nor do they blame God, the world, or others. How ‘great ordinary people’ they are!

Suddenly, I imagine this: just as Yan Lianke’s novel was adapted into a film, how wonderful it would be if Mo Juseok were also made into a film by meaningful ordinary people. Although I have not drawn a concrete picture yet, in fact, the work has already begun. In July, with historian Lee Deok-il, director of the Hangaram History and Culture Research Institute, and my lifelong friend Jo Cheol-hyeon, a record literature writer and documentary PD, we established the corporation Hallyu History and Culture TV Co., Ltd. and plan to actively promote this project. Would it be too ambitious to ask for support?

Jeon Chan-il, Film Critic