FAILED SUMMER VACATION by Hur Heuijung

"I Want to Be Explained Solely by Misunderstandings"

Subtle Alibis Crafted from Tiny Fragments in an Incomprehensible World

Hur Heuijung, the winner of the 2016 New Literary Award from Literature and Society, has released her first collection of short stories. Including "Stained" and "A Failed Summer Vacation," both nominated for the Moonji Literary Award in 2018 and 2019 respectively, the collection features seven stories that display a spectrum of “the world of empty emotions and sensations that can only be 'explained by misunderstandings'” (Lee Kwang-ho).

In "A Failed Summer Vacation," Hur Heuijung crystallizes the sense of anxiety that is hard to explain with rational judgment or logical causation into forms and images, depicting emotions that are “wholly, absolutely, and eternally incomprehensible” (“Author's Note”). Her novels, layered with traces and fragments, build and dismantle sentences like stage sets, repeatedly assembling and disassembling. This creates a distinctive atmosphere that evades hasty definitions or labeling. Keenly aware of the inherent failure of language and the imperfection of writing, she impressively captures various genre-defying attempts in her first collection through a “cheerful gesture to transcend the ultimate walls of the novel without falling into self-consciousness and melancholy” (New Literary Award Judges' Comment).

“Anxiety is not something that can be easily resolved; it is a persistent tension that one inevitably confronts, no matter how much they try to flee or ignore it. Hur Heuijung's novels have the power to tenaciously and calmly delve into that anxiety without disregarding or easily resolving it.”

— In Ah-young (Literary Critic)

“Hur Heuijung's novels, seemingly resistant to being defined or investigated for now or indefinitely, explore the best landing spot for her sentences while experimenting with and adventuring through solitude, ambiguity, wit, and exploration, as if the scope of language is too narrow to capture her world.”

— Gu Byeong-mo (Novelist)

Mobiles Made of Anxiety

“No one could say what it was No one wanted to know its true nature anymore”

The objects on the cover are arranged seemingly in balance but appear strangely out of place, evoking an uneasy premonition that they might collapse at any moment. In "A Failed Summer Vacation," Hur Heuijung portrays anxiety in various forms. She focuses on meanings that escape between assertions and certainties, exposing hesitation through commas instead of periods and alternating between ellipses and conditional statements. Characters in her works, even when they are “infinitely anxious,” distance themselves by saying “this anxiety is merely part of the role assigned to me.” They are trapped in the belief that they are “acting out something that is not themselves,” fearing “the multitude of emotions” they are “pretending,” while also questioning whether they have ever truly owned any emotion or have ever entirely been themselves (“A Failed Summer Vacation”). Is this the result of constant pendulum swings? Emotions, especially anxiety, do not deeply penetrate the mind but rather escape and become concrete externally. The smooth, gigantic transparent triangle that suddenly appears in the city's sky, stabbing into the ground, prompts an imagination of the world's end (“Stained”). The incessant urging voice of a paper man to quickly write a statement and the sharply cut edges of blank paper immediately evoke the pain of a paper cut (“Paper Cut”). These images of anxiety, devoid of thickness, mass, or volume, collected by Hur Heuijung and planted in her works, stimulate the senses and dominate the narrative, repeatedly building up and collapsing alongside the sentences. The stories in "A Failed Summer Vacation," blending genres like SF, fantasy, thriller, romance, detective, and meta-fiction, maintain individual characteristics while being interconnected through the device of anxiety.

Montage Drawn with Traces

“I do not trust memory I do not rely on memory I will destroy the records I will damage them”

Hur Heuijung's novels often begin from the void left by someone who has departed. Characters in her stories think about those who have already left, are leaving, or are about to leave. Whether waiting for a lover who left due to depression (“Pound Cake”), reminiscing about a missing exploration partner dispatched for Earth recovery after a major disaster (“Rainy Flight”), writing a belated letter to another friend after learning of a friend's death (“Broken Winter Trip”), or recalling long-held anxieties after a fan cafe member who transferred a rock band concert ticket passed away (“Incomplete Pitch”), the narrative starts by calmly and persistently retracing the traces of others. However, in the process of memory becoming a record, fact and non-fact intermingle, resulting in incomplete clues. Like ‘a blacked-out film, cut-out pages, or already mixed dough’ (“A Failed Summer Vacation”), the image of ‘someone’ drawn with layered traces inevitably remains blurry. Ultimately, the empty space remains an unknown realm that cannot be filled. Hur Heuijung writes, builds, dismantles, and writes again, already knowing that whether inside or outside the novel, it is “wholly, absolutely, and eternally incomprehensible” (“Author's Note”). In this journey towards incompletion, readers can witness the attempts and share the sensitive sensory experiences, feeling anew the emotions that existed as metaphors.

As an author who particularly guards against “recklessly guessing and confidently concluding” (“Broken Winter Trip”), Hur Heuijung's next novel will again beautifully evade predictions. I hope you experience the inescapable maze or labyrinth crafted by Hur Heuijung's meticulously persistent and earnest, yet surprisingly fresh, novels.

Excerpts from the Novel

“It was not that there were no documents about Earth. However, they mostly dealt with the world before the Great Catastrophe. Over generations and centuries, stories about Earth and the narratives surrounding it were repeatedly disassembled and reassembled. In the process, Earth transformed into a bizarrely beautiful and peaceful homeland for everyone, while the cowardly decisions made during the escape from Earth, the people responsible for those decisions, and the names of those who were abandoned first were cleanly erased.”("Rainy Flight," p. 44)

“The countless emotions that I try to imitate, forcibly obtain, and wear on my skin, those I attempt to stick together with an adhesive that is losing its stickiness—I have always feared pretending to have more emotions than I actually do. Yet, it feels as though I have never truly owned any emotion at all.”("A Failed Summer Vacation," p. 84)

“I wanted to sleep. As if it were the only thing to do, without guilt or obligation, without nightmares or sweet dreams, I wanted to sleep as if it were my duty. But it was not easy, and eventually, I woke up in the middle of the night.”("Stained," p. 91)

“Would it have been better if we had lost touch for good? I wonder. Perhaps it would have been an opportunity not to hear any more unwanted news. I keep testing possibilities, but since the past is already composed of chosen futures, thinking about such things is probably meaningless.”

("Broken Winter Trip," p. )

Author's Note

At some point, I began to think that people outside of novels and those within them are completely identical in that they can never be wholly, absolutely, or eternally understood. The difference, perhaps, is that if you threaten someone outside a novel with a knife, there is a very high chance you will become a criminal. But even if it’s not a crime, even if you dissect and break down someone outside a novel, it seems unlikely that you will understand them. Similarly, even if you tear up every piece of paper, analyze the direction and shape of the fibers making up the paper, examine the droplets of ink and the intervals of dots forming the characters, you will not fully understand the character living within the novel. Ultimately, whether inside or outside a novel, there is almost nothing I can fully understand. Each time I write a novel, it feels like trying to escape from a maze whose structure is impossible to grasp. It seems like taking even a single step might get me out of this maze faster, but the pattern of the endless walls, the fresh and cold air flowing over those walls, is both fascinating and frightening, so I just keep circling in the same place. Even so, if I have managed to take even one step forward, it is undoubtedly thanks to you, whom I love. I want to express my gratitude. It seems like it will be okay, even if I cannot escape.

Summer 2020

Hur Heuijung

Recommendation

It is said that there is a significant difference between a maze and a labyrinth, which I had thought were similar. The former confuses and disorients those who enter it (you might not find the exit!), while the latter is designed so that one eventually reaches the center by following all the paths laid out. Entering the entrance of a labyrinth with seven layers of corners, feeling my way along the walls of precise language and consciousness, changed my loose perception that I could roughly guess the coordinates of where the author might go after this first collection. Hur Heuijung's novels, seemingly resistant to being defined or examined for now or indefinitely, explore the best landing spot for her sentences while experimenting with and adventuring through solitude, ambiguity, wit, and exploration, as if the scope of language is too narrow to capture her world. If the author is someone who can endure the clash of the desire to leave a clear impression on readers’ minds and the wish to disappear without a trace, then I have encountered a writer with truly formidable tension and individuality, offering a pleasant shock.

Gu Byeong-mo (Novelist)