Lee Yuri’s Broccoli Punch, translated by Amber HJ Kim, is one of those short story collections that rather creeps up on you. You think you’ll dip in to see what it’s like, and maybe read one or two of the stories, but you look up and the sun has set, and you are finishing the last story.
From fruiting ancestors, via urban bird watching, to utopian dreaming iguanas, Broccoli Punch might seem myriadic in topic, but there is a tonal consanguinity that brings the stories together as naturally as a family. That is not to say they are all identical. The topics change but the tone and focus on the concerns of modern life, refracted through a surreal lens that emphasises its patent absurdities, are constant.
This is not a generic focus. Each story has a clear sense of place, and is grounded in a Korean context. It might be easy to write that off as an obvious thing, as writers are so often encouraged to write what they know. However, here it is not just an incidental aspect. The focus on the issues of modern life might feel universal, but are tightly bound to cultural specificities and so are all the more effective at critiquing society. For instance, ‘Drifting’ could be read more generally as an examination of obsession and music fans, but its K-pop setting lets it address more specific issues, such as the role and power of studios, alongside those wider themes. That specificity gives it teeth. This is not a collection just here to entertain, it has a keen sense of purpose, highlighting a flawed society and wider issues that apply universally.
For all the almost Kafkaesque inexplicability of the stories and sharp critical eye, there is a consistent sense of empathy. This is most clear in ‘Moon Cheese and Biscotti’. In any other writers’ hands this could have become a funny, but slightly cruel examination of delusion and societal conventions and expectations. Yet Lee carefully balances the humour of the opening scene – its humour is best unspoilt without trying to explain it – with a hefty dose of criticism of the perception of what it means to be successful and, by the end of the story, a deep sense of compassion and understanding of human variance.
I often feel a slight fraud when reviewing work in translation. Without knowing the original language, there is always an extra level of remove between the review and the author. So, it is vital to acknowledge the translator’s role and understand the interpretative nature of translation. Broccoli Punch is written in prose that is carefully tuned to rhythm, with frequent speech giving the stories a conversational immediacy. That conversational immediacy and sense of natural rhythm ground the surreal aspects of the stories as if these things are only a shade outside of the character’s normal lives.
These are stories that – like the clock mentioned in the author’s note – once written feel as if they should always have been written, and belie the time it takes to finally find the place, for words or a clock, that is the perfect place.
Words by Ed Bedford
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