I find myself trying to reach the end of the question– not an answer

The activity of guessing possible answers who's predicted to win the Nobel Prize in literature in 2024, has come to an end. South Korean writer Han kang won the prize at last. She won the Booker Prize in 2016 for her novel 'The Vegetarian'. She had given an interview to Booker Prizes dot com about 'The Vegetarian'. A short translation of that interview has been published for the readers of View Bangladesh.

The Booker Prizes: You were the first winner of the International Booker Prize after the rules changed for 2016. How did it feel to win, and what did it mean for you?
Han Kang: I wrote The Vegetarian between 2003 and 2005, and published it as a full-length novel in 2007. I remember thinking that it was rather strange (in a good way) to win the International Booker Prize in 2016, more than a decade later. Since winning the prize, my other works including Human Acts, The White Book, and Greek Lessons, as well as my most recent novel, We Do Not Part, have been or are being translated into several languages. I’m grateful that the International Booker Prize has invaluably helped my works to reach a wider readership in different cultures.

The Booker Prizes: You were also the first Korean to be nominated for – and win – the award. Do you feel there was more recognition for Korean fiction as a result of your win, or was it becoming more visible internationally anyway?
Han Kang: At that time, there were already excellent Korean poets and writers – such as Kim Hyesoon – whose works had been translated into English. Now, more and more works of Korean writers are being translated and published overseas. In recent years, the number of translators working on Korean literature has increased dramatically – a phenomenon that seems to be also closely related to the global success of Korean cinema and pop music.

The Booker Prizes: The novel was based on your 1997 short story ‘The Fruit of My Woman’. What inspired you to develop this into a full-length novel, or a story in three parts?
Han Kang: After writing ‘The Fruit of My Woman’, I hoped to one day write a variation on that story. It was only after writing two full-length novels that I was able to do so in my third novel, The Vegetarian. In particular, Part One of The Vegetarian retains many formal traces of the original short story. For example, the husband takes on the role of an unreliable narrator, and the voice of the female protagonist appears only partially, in dreams or in monologues addressed to her mother. The difference between these two stories about a woman who becomes - or wants to become - a plant lies in the level of darkness, passion and intensity. The Vegetarian is much darker, more intense and painful; nothing supernatural happens as in ‘The Fruit of My Woman’, and the characters plunge to their doom in the midst of brutal reality. Another difference is that the protagonist of the novel has a sister, which creates a strange sense of self-identification.

The Booker Prizes: The Vegetarian has been translated into over 20 languages. Has the reaction to the novel been different in different countries and have any of those reactions surprised you? Has it attracted a different readership (e.g. younger readers) in different places or resonated in different ways?
Han Kang: It is intriguing to see the subtle differences in interpretation between various cultures and generations, but what strikes me even more is the way the novel has been received in general. For example, it has been more embraced and understood by female readers everywhere.

The Booker Prizes: The Vegetarian combines beauty with horror. It is a story that is at times brutal and disturbing, with scenes of physical and sexual violence, force-feeding, and a foreboding sense of death. What draws you to write about darker subjects, and human actions?
Han Kang: I wanted to deal with the questions I had about the world and humanity in the form of three sections about two sisters crying out in silence: one who wants to stop being part of the human race, refusing to eat meat and believing she has turned into a plant, and the other who wants to hold her sister from death, conflicted and pained herself. When I write novels, I find myself trying to reach the end of the question – not an answer – which initially drew me to write it. To penetrate my questions on the meaning of being human, it was inevitable for me to go through such intense scenes and images.

The Booker Prizes: You wrote The Vegetarian in 2007, and when translated into English in 2015, many readers and reviewers felt it was a parable, a transgressive commentary on Korean etiquette and society, as well as patriarchal norms. 16 years on, how do you feel this stands up?  
Han Kang: I agree that the novel can be read as a parable against patriarchy. However, I do not think that this is unique to Korean society. There may be differences in degree, but wouldn’t it be universal? I did not set out to create a portrait of Korean society in particular.

The Booker Prizes: The Vegetarian challenges conventional narrative structures. Yeong-hye’s story is told through three narrators, yet she is rarely allowed a voice. Why did you choose to write your protagonist in this manner?
Han Kang: Yeong-hye is a radical and strong character. She is determined to become a plant in order to save herself. The irony, of course, is that her efforts bring her closer to death. Instead of having Yeong-hye speak directly, I wanted to show through the narration of other characters how she is observed, hated, misunderstood, pitied and objectified. I imagined the moments the readers piece together her truth as it emerges from these misunderstandings.

The Booker Prizes: What three works of translated Korean fiction would you recommend to readers, and why?
Han Kang: I would like to recommend One Hundred Shadows by Hwang Jungeun, translated by Jung Yewon; Concerning My Daughter by Kim Hye-jin, translated by Jamie Chang; and Cursed Bunny by Bora Chung, translated by Anton Hur. All three works never avert their gaze, but look directly at the world and the human interior.