The Concerns of 14 Translators
and the Diverse Process of Translation
The thin, sheer sa hat and the white gokkal
are carefully folded, fluttering like a butterfly.
The closely cropped hair
is hidden under the light silk gokkal. ? From 'Seungmu' by Cho Jihoon
When people in the Korean literary world are asked why no Korean writer has won the Nobel Prize in Literature, some respond that there is no way to fully convey the emotional nuances embedded in Hangul. They argue that the unique "flavor" of the language disappears in translation. Translator Jung Eun-gwi also admits to hearing similar doubts frequently. In her book "The Birth of K-Literature" (Gimm-Young Publishers), she shares that whenever she mentions translating poetry, people often ask whether it is possible to translate lines like, "Step gently, step gently on each flower that lies in your path" (from Kim Sowol's "Azaleas"). She explains, "It is certainly not easy to capture the inherent power and rhythm of poetry in another language."
The difficulty of translating poetry is primarily a matter of interpretation. For example, the phrase "jeuryeobalgo" can be read as "to step hard" or "to step ahead," and depending on which meaning is chosen, the translation can be entirely different. Capturing the "flavor of the words" is also a major challenge. "It is not easy to preserve the rhythm of the original work in the target language." This is why some believe that poetry is impossible to translate.
Nevertheless, there are cases where translators take on the challenge and achieve unexpected results. This book focuses on the stories of translators who have helped Korean literature, including poetry, reach a global audience.
According to translators, translation is an act of "recreation" or "repurposing." It is not a mechanical transformation that simply preserves meaning and rhythm, but rather an act of creation. Translator Kim Hyesoon likens such translation to "writing with unfamiliar allure," defining it as "liberating poetry from its prison." However, she notes that this liberation is nearly impossible, and it is precisely this difficulty that "has fascinated so many poets and translators with the process of translation."
What results have these challenges produced? Translators, for example, considered the subtle differences in nuance between "sky" and "paradise" and ultimately translated "Gwicheon" (meaning "return to heaven") as "Back to Heaven." In another case, they translated "Ah, eojjeonda" not as the literal "What to do" but as "Shit," conveying the same meaning with a different feeling. Translating "Lost in Translation" as "Love, Can You Be Interpreted?" is another such example. Throughout the translation process, translators agonize over even the smallest punctuation marks, debating whether to insert them for clarity or omit them to preserve the mood.
Thanks to such efforts, the global standing of Korean literature has changed dramatically in recent years. Since Kim Ji-young's translation of Shin Kyung-sook's "Please Look After Mom" won the Man Asian Literary Prize in 2011, and Deborah Smith's translation of Han Kang's "The Vegetarian" won the Man Booker International Prize in 2015, several works have been shortlisted for the Booker Prize: Hwang Sok-yong's "At Dusk" (2018), Han Kang's "The White Book" (2018), Bora Chung's "Cursed Bunny" (2021), Park Sang Young's "Love in the Big City" (2021), and Cheon Myeong Kwan's "Whale" (2023).
These works share the common trait of effectively localizing "genre narratives" that prioritize entertainment over meaning or value. In this process, translators with a deep understanding of local cultures are essential. Translator Lee Hyungjin explains, "Most translators are not Koreans with Korean as their native language, but rather native speakers of the target language with foreign citizenship or overseas Koreans who are almost native speakers." He adds, "This shows that the mechanism by which Korean literature reaches local readers is different from how it is received by Korean readers."
He also points out issues with domestic translation, stating, "In Korea, there is a classist sense of superiority that treats translation as something that undermines the purity of literature," and "the situation in which domestic scholars with insufficient translation skills evaluate and judge translations is both an obstacle to the development of Korean literature translation and a harmful aspect of the entrenched cultural establishment."
The book also details not only the personal efforts of translators but also the support provided by the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. According to the book, the Institute has supported 2,000 translations in 39 languages from its founding in 2001 through 2021. As a result, in 2021, Yoon Go-eun's "The Travelers of the Night" won the British Dagger Award, Ma Young-shin's "Moms" won the Harvey Award in the United States, and Kim Hyesoon became the first Asian woman to win the Griffin Poetry Prize in Canada for "Autobiography of Death."
Through the voices of 14 translators, the book intimately explores the "humble service" involved in bringing a translated work to life, the creative process of translation, and the challenges faced amid the Korean Wave. The journey to an engaging translation offers its own unexpected enjoyment.
The Birth of K-Literature | Jo Euyeon and 13 others | Gimm-Young Publishers | 416 pages | 20,000 KRW
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