Violets by Kyung-Sook Shin

 

Papperback Edition

We join San in 1970s rural South Korea, a young girl ostracised from her community. She meets a girl called Namae, and they become friends until one afternoon changes everything. Following a moment of physical intimacy in a minari field, Namae violently rejects San, setting her on a troubling path of quashed desire and isolation.

We next meet San, aged twenty-two, as she starts a job in a flower shop. There, we are introduced to a colourful cast of characters, including the shop's mute owner, the other florist Su-ae, and the customers that include a sexually aggressive businessman and a photographer, who San develops an obsession for. Throughout, San's moment with Namae lingers in the back of her mind.

A story of desire and violence about a young woman who everyone forgot, VIOLETS is a captivating and sensual read, full of tragedy and beauty.

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Violets

Author : Kyung-Sook Shin

Published year : 2022

First published year : 2001

Pages : 208

Language : English (Original : Korean)

Genre : Fiction, Korean Contemporary

Age recommendation : 21+ (TW: Self-harm, LGBT)

The last time I read a book by Kyung Sook Shin was Please Look After My Mother, the first book I purchased after arriving in Seoul several years ago. I still remember the storyline and the lingering feeling to this day—which is not a common case for me, since I have the memory of a goldfish. Hence, when I saw this book on discount, I couldn’t stop myself from purchasing it, even though I have stacks of unread books in my library. Anyway, I read it back-to-back with Counterattack at Thirty, which was written by Won-Pyung Sohn—another beloved Korean author—just because I’ve been missing Seoul so badly lately (it’s been almost 4 years since I left the country).

So, Violets is a story about San, a twenty-two-year-old girl originally from a rural village who is now living alone in Seoul. Ever since she was born, San has always been lonely. She lived in a village where almost everyone had the family name Yi (she’s an Oh). Her father left when she was an infant, and her mother lived frugally and constantly argued with her mother-in-law. The only close relationship she ever had was with a girl living next door—Namae—but one event in a minari field ended their relationship abruptly.

Being alone, San lives in a small studio room in Seoul. She dreams of becoming a word processor and ultimately a writer, but when reality hits, she ends up working as a flower shop assistant. There, she meets a co-worker, Su-ae, who has the opposite personality of San. Later, they become friends and roommates.

At first, San comes alive whenever she is working at the flower shop. She is excited to learn about plants and flowers and works hard. There are many descriptions of plant identification, with each plant having a distinct character that draws in different kinds of people.

San and Su-ae get along very well. Yet, when it matters, San restrains herself from opening up fully to Su-ae, no matter how honest and open Su-ae is. Her past experiences have created implicit memories in which everyone eventually leaves her—without her even realizing it. Thus, she is incapable of believing that happiness will come into her life.

Then, one summer afternoon, a photographer comes to the flower shop intending to capture the beauty of violets. Yet, the violet is a dull and unseen flower—it doesn’t take a genius to understand that it is a metaphor for San’s character. However, San tries to explain to the photographer the beauty of violets, and later, the photographer finds himself captivated by San's beauty and takes pictures of her.

Since it is her first time being adored by another person, she finds herself infatuated with the idea of the photographer. Every day, she sits in the café across from the photographer’s office, mustering the courage to go talk to him.

San’s character is not rare in today’s world—many carry loneliness deep in their hearts and hope to be found, or at least seen, by someone who is capable of loving their pain nonetheless. We see a lot of books that portray characters like San: alone, lonely, unseen, reserved—and eventually preyed upon, which only causes them to retreat further into silence. And the fact that the author wrote this in 2001 and it’s still relevant now is saddening.

What I liked most about this book is how vividly we can feel and ache for San’s sorrow without it being explicitly told. I understand San’s point of view very much, and just like a best friend, I got mad at her decision to self-destruct—but somehow, I still felt her. I see a lot of Sans on the streets of Seoul or other big cities around the world.

In the afterword, the author says she wrote Violets to highlight unseen Korean women like San, who exist and struggle as victims of poverty and lack of opportunity—just like the violet flower, ignored because of its “lack of beauty” and perceived insignificance.

My only complaint is the long descriptions of each plant or flower. Not that I disliked them, but simply because I am not a patient reader. And being Indonesian myself, I noticed a description in the book about people helping on the farm who came from Indonesia and were described as “tanned”—which I saw as a bit racist, knowing how Asians tend to prefer fair skin over tanned. Other than that, it is a good read!