Monographs and book-length translations
"Virginia Woolf's Politics of Myth" Ohio State University Press, under review.
Table of Contents
Introduction: A Prismatic Method
Madness, Archaic Religion, and Modernity
The Goddess in the House
Seeking Solace for the Great Renunciation: Peter Walsh’s Colonial Desire
Revising the Homeric Hymn to Demeter
Crafting Prismatic Community in Between the Acts
“The Good Family” by Seo Hajin. A collection of short stories. Co-trans. Ally Hwang. Dalkey Archive Press, Library of Korea Series, 2015.
Table of Contents
What Grows out of Sadness
Dad’s Private Life
The Good Family
Where is Everyone Going?
The Interview
Sugar or Salt
Who are You?
The Little Thing
“Standing on the Border” by Seo Hajin. A collection of short stories. Co-trans. Ally Hwang. Lamar University Press, under review.
Table of Contents
Though Time Goes By
The Man on the Skateboard
Scent of Lavender
My Wife, the Writer
The Model House
Excerpt from "Though Time Goes By"
Some people say that there are things that don't change or shouldn't change no matter how much time goes by. There was a time when I, too, believed that. Was I happy back then? Later, when that time had passed, I finally realized that I had been. During days when I had no time to think about anything like happiness, I still believed a peaceful time would come to me someday, just not yet. Then one day, all of a sudden, it happened.
“We can move to New Zealand now.”
At first, when my husband said this, I didn't understand.
“My sister sent the petition letter. We're scheduled for an interview next month.”
Even then, I still couldn't grasp the point. All I knew was that we were not qualified even though his sister’s family lived there and his brother-in-law, a minister, had wanted to invite us for a long time. I had no idea what had changed in the meantime. We were unemployed, poverty-ridden people who never paid any income tax and were exempt from residence tax. What had happened?
“You'll never guess,” he smiled. He told me that in New Zealand the right for legal residents to invite their relatives was granted through a lottery once every ten years. And in that peculiar and unfamiliar system, quite unexpectedly, his sister won the lottery; in other words, we won it.
That country seemed to have a vast expanse of land, countless trees, and extensive plains, which would never be exhausted by sharing them with everyone. He also said that we would be provided with enough financial support that we wouldn't have to worry about getting jobs right away, and free tuition for our daughter. He explained these things indifferently. His expression didn’t tell me anything—whether he was delighted or contented or worried. He said it was a good opportunity for our daughter and that there she could be with her cousins whom she missed and communicated with only through letters in English. It seemed like he'd been expecting it all for a long time. I was perplexed but I didn’t know what to say. Everyone congratulated us, being envious as if we had won a real lottery. Some people even said, “Your troubles are over now.”
Once my husband had been strong and wise. He was always warmhearted and generous. Ever since college whenever we had gone through tough times he had never once let me down with the decisions he made. For ten years he ran a free after school program in Weolgye-dong; twice he was injured on the construction site where he worked to sustain our livelihood. First he tore a ligament in his knee and the second time he fractured his ankle. With only a compress to ease the pain in his knee and no physical therapy, he limped along looking for other work. We owned nothing, so we had nothing to lose. Although we each had to go through the winters with a single overcoat and to wash our one and only shirt every evening, we had lived this way since our youth.
We were so used to poverty that it was like a comfortable neighbor. He never said that he couldn't make money, but rather that he didn't make money, and it was true to a certain extent. When his friends, who succeeded as stockbrokers, venture capitalists, or politicians, contacted him, he was treated to meals, drinks, and sometimes pocket money, but that was about it. He never accepted any other offers from them. He seemed like he enjoyed poverty. Even when he was apologizing to the landlady for the back rent, he did it in a dignified manner with an absurdly daring voice.
When had he changed? I had not realized that when he said, “I’m exhausted,” it was a serious sign. When he told me, “I'm not as strong as an ox,” I ignored it even though something inside me was rattled. I was afraid. While I wasn’t paying attention, things had slowly shifted. Apparently, my husband desperately wanted to leave this country and acted like New Zealand was his last hope. He had always enjoyed his life, ignoring the system as if it didn’t exist instead of hating or struggling against it, and now he seemed to be betting his whole life on these immigration documents. It was strange and awkward to see. ‘This is not right. This is not how we do things’. Nevertheless, I couldn’t find any way to make my questions, which overflowed in me, make any sense. One day, as we were growing further apart, he told me that he was ready to leave the country.
At first, I decided to stay in Korea simply for economic reasons. We couldn't afford three plane tickets, and at that time the children I was teaching were being evicted from their houses as part of the city's redevelopment plan, so many people needed my help. How do people act when mind and heart betray one another? I sent off my husband and child, feeling a little mistreated and saddened as if I were being deserted. My daughter, who was only eight years old, was precocious enough not to cry or be scared. “Don't worry, Mom. I will take good care of Dad,” she said like a grown-up and disappeared beyond the departure gate, waving her hand with her small teddy bear in it. She firmly believed when she was leaving that she would see her mom again in a few months. And my husband? He told me that he would speed up the immigration process as soon as he arrived in New Zealand and that he would contact me as soon as he could wire money. Was he sure I was going to join them? I would never know.
From "Though Time Goes By" by Seo Hajin, translated by Ally H. Hwang and Amy C. Smith.
Table of Contents
Introduction: A Prismatic Method
Madness, Archaic Religion, and Modernity
The Goddess in the House
Seeking Solace for the Great Renunciation: Peter Walsh’s Colonial Desire
Revising the Homeric Hymn to Demeter
Crafting Prismatic Community in Between the Acts
“The Good Family” by Seo Hajin. A collection of short stories. Co-trans. Ally Hwang. Dalkey Archive Press, Library of Korea Series, 2015.
Table of Contents
What Grows out of Sadness
Dad’s Private Life
The Good Family
Where is Everyone Going?
The Interview
Sugar or Salt
Who are You?
The Little Thing
“Standing on the Border” by Seo Hajin. A collection of short stories. Co-trans. Ally Hwang. Lamar University Press, under review.
Table of Contents
Though Time Goes By
The Man on the Skateboard
Scent of Lavender
My Wife, the Writer
The Model House
Excerpt from "Though Time Goes By"
Some people say that there are things that don't change or shouldn't change no matter how much time goes by. There was a time when I, too, believed that. Was I happy back then? Later, when that time had passed, I finally realized that I had been. During days when I had no time to think about anything like happiness, I still believed a peaceful time would come to me someday, just not yet. Then one day, all of a sudden, it happened.
“We can move to New Zealand now.”
At first, when my husband said this, I didn't understand.
“My sister sent the petition letter. We're scheduled for an interview next month.”
Even then, I still couldn't grasp the point. All I knew was that we were not qualified even though his sister’s family lived there and his brother-in-law, a minister, had wanted to invite us for a long time. I had no idea what had changed in the meantime. We were unemployed, poverty-ridden people who never paid any income tax and were exempt from residence tax. What had happened?
“You'll never guess,” he smiled. He told me that in New Zealand the right for legal residents to invite their relatives was granted through a lottery once every ten years. And in that peculiar and unfamiliar system, quite unexpectedly, his sister won the lottery; in other words, we won it.
That country seemed to have a vast expanse of land, countless trees, and extensive plains, which would never be exhausted by sharing them with everyone. He also said that we would be provided with enough financial support that we wouldn't have to worry about getting jobs right away, and free tuition for our daughter. He explained these things indifferently. His expression didn’t tell me anything—whether he was delighted or contented or worried. He said it was a good opportunity for our daughter and that there she could be with her cousins whom she missed and communicated with only through letters in English. It seemed like he'd been expecting it all for a long time. I was perplexed but I didn’t know what to say. Everyone congratulated us, being envious as if we had won a real lottery. Some people even said, “Your troubles are over now.”
Once my husband had been strong and wise. He was always warmhearted and generous. Ever since college whenever we had gone through tough times he had never once let me down with the decisions he made. For ten years he ran a free after school program in Weolgye-dong; twice he was injured on the construction site where he worked to sustain our livelihood. First he tore a ligament in his knee and the second time he fractured his ankle. With only a compress to ease the pain in his knee and no physical therapy, he limped along looking for other work. We owned nothing, so we had nothing to lose. Although we each had to go through the winters with a single overcoat and to wash our one and only shirt every evening, we had lived this way since our youth.
We were so used to poverty that it was like a comfortable neighbor. He never said that he couldn't make money, but rather that he didn't make money, and it was true to a certain extent. When his friends, who succeeded as stockbrokers, venture capitalists, or politicians, contacted him, he was treated to meals, drinks, and sometimes pocket money, but that was about it. He never accepted any other offers from them. He seemed like he enjoyed poverty. Even when he was apologizing to the landlady for the back rent, he did it in a dignified manner with an absurdly daring voice.
When had he changed? I had not realized that when he said, “I’m exhausted,” it was a serious sign. When he told me, “I'm not as strong as an ox,” I ignored it even though something inside me was rattled. I was afraid. While I wasn’t paying attention, things had slowly shifted. Apparently, my husband desperately wanted to leave this country and acted like New Zealand was his last hope. He had always enjoyed his life, ignoring the system as if it didn’t exist instead of hating or struggling against it, and now he seemed to be betting his whole life on these immigration documents. It was strange and awkward to see. ‘This is not right. This is not how we do things’. Nevertheless, I couldn’t find any way to make my questions, which overflowed in me, make any sense. One day, as we were growing further apart, he told me that he was ready to leave the country.
At first, I decided to stay in Korea simply for economic reasons. We couldn't afford three plane tickets, and at that time the children I was teaching were being evicted from their houses as part of the city's redevelopment plan, so many people needed my help. How do people act when mind and heart betray one another? I sent off my husband and child, feeling a little mistreated and saddened as if I were being deserted. My daughter, who was only eight years old, was precocious enough not to cry or be scared. “Don't worry, Mom. I will take good care of Dad,” she said like a grown-up and disappeared beyond the departure gate, waving her hand with her small teddy bear in it. She firmly believed when she was leaving that she would see her mom again in a few months. And my husband? He told me that he would speed up the immigration process as soon as he arrived in New Zealand and that he would contact me as soon as he could wire money. Was he sure I was going to join them? I would never know.
From "Though Time Goes By" by Seo Hajin, translated by Ally H. Hwang and Amy C. Smith.
