By Dr Bibiana Chan
Pachinko by Korean-American author Min Jin Lee is the first book I have read by a Korean author. My interest in modern Korean history was sparked earlier this year when I visited a K-pop exhibition at the National Museum of Australia. K-pop has travelled around the world, with young people following their idols to concerts, television dramas and films. But behind this global cultural phenomenon lies a much more complicated history — one of occupation, war, division and displacement.
I was much more interested in learning how Korea was occupied by Japan, and how the country was later divided into two governments: the democratic South, supported by the United States, and the communist North, supported by the Soviet Union.
Through the life of Sunja, Pachinko tells this history on a deeply personal level. We follow her from a young girl through motherhood, widowhood and the raising of two sons whose lives are shaped by circumstances far beyond their control. Her story also opens a window into the experiences of Koreans living in Japan, particularly the discrimination and prejudice that followed them across generations.
What struck me most was the common theme running through the lives of almost all the women in the book: suffering is a given.
If you were born a woman, your destiny seemed to be to work hard, endure hardship and “swallow all the bitterness” that life dealt you. Your purpose was largely defined by the men in your life — your father, husband, sons and even grandsons, if you were fortunate enough to have them.
At times, I felt uncomfortable reading the book because I felt I was being asked to bear witness to almost unbearable suffering. Sunja carries guilt over becoming pregnant by a wealthy, much older man. Yet she also considers herself incredibly lucky to find a man as noble as her husband, who offers her comfort, dignity and safety as she gives birth to a child considered illegitimate by society.
There is an old Chinese saying we sometimes use jokingly: “Heaven is making fools of people on earth!” Just when Sunja thinks she might finally have some peace, another tragedy arrives. Life seems determined to test human resilience to its limits.
And perhaps that is the question Pachinko leaves us with: How much suffering can one person endure? How far can human resilience be stretched? And can we ever find a way out of the circumstances that seem to be dealt to us?
Min Jin Lee does not only tell the story of one family. She gives us a glimpse into the suffering and resilience of generations of Koreans, both in Korea and in Japan. The book also hints at how racial discrimination can create an invisible life sentence — one that continues to shape a person’s opportunities, identity and sense of belonging long after the original injustice has occurred.
I found Pachinko powerful, thought-provoking and, at times, deeply uncomfortable. My only criticism is that I felt the story dragged on a little towards the end. It could, in my view, have been tightened into fewer chapters.
But perhaps that is also part of the experience: just as the characters cannot escape the long, repetitive cycles of hardship, neither can the reader easily escape the weight of their stories.
A difficult book to read — but an important one to bear witness to.