A poet who burst onto the literary scene with a unique career background and unrivaled talent

Lee Wonha's first poetry collection

Poet Lee Wonha, who made her literary debut in 2018 by winning the Hankook Ilbo New Writer’s Contest, has released her first book of poems. Back when she was unanimously chosen by the judges, she received comments, “A straightforward poem that makes you read on without preamble. A poem that flows like a song. A poem that even invites you to dance to its rhythm. A poem of innocence that never checks for others’ reactions. A muscular poem made of simple sentences, that fearlessly speaks its mind. Above all, a poem with me in it. A poem that defies the stereotypes of poetry. A poem that never for once cringes from any type of compulsion. Anyhow, a poem that brings a bright smile to readers.” Right after she was named the winner, her poem, uniquely titled “I Live Alone in Jeju and Can’t Hold My Drink," garnered significant attention within literary circles, among critics, and from readers eagerly waiting for new poetry. She didn’t major in Korean language and literature or creative writing; she worked as a staff member at a beauty salon after graduating from a beauty high school and as an assistant actress, with her back making a brief appearance in the movie "The Handmaiden." Such backgrounds played a role in her gaining the spotlight, as did her move to Jeju Island to meet literature and write poetry in her mid-twenties—at what could be considered a rather late age—and her significant departure from the typical path of literary award winners. Two years have passed since then, and she now faces readers anew with her first poetry collection titled I Live Alone in Jeju and Can’t Hold My Drink, comprising a total of 54 poems.

Open the book, and even the table of contents feels fresh. It’s composed of four parts, each with subheadings titled Sae (Bird), Ssak (Bud), Nun (Eyes), and Mul (Water). The words are all one syllable, but can also be read together as Sae Ssak, Nun Mul, or even Sae Ssak Nun Mul, each with a new meaning. And under these short subtitles are rather long titles: “It’s still a sad day, so sad that a snail stuck to my shoes”; “I’m like someone waiting for the sea to sweep me away,” “When I’m standing on the grass, it’s as if I've been underlined”; “Some things just don’t change even when I brush them off”; “It’s too petty to cry, since I’m the only one who can lend a shoulder and embrace myself”; “The sense of feeling upset and disappointed never dozes off or takes a break, not even for a brief moment”; and so on and so forth. Such titles feel like text, speech, or even a monologue or letter addressed to someone.