As Korean literature has been published more in Argentina, its readership has grown accordingly. The Map: An Anthology of Short Stories in Korean Literature, which was a collaborative project by translator Kim Un-kyung and myself, has served as a touchstone for presenting Korean literature to the Argentine public. The Map was designed to provide an overview of modern Korean literature of the last 50 years. Such an endeavor would generally call for cooperation from a number of experts in the field, not to mention a diverse array of works, but The Map avoided the usual procedure of selecting well-known writers’ works and was instead compiled for the purpose of presenting different literary movements by theme. This kind of project can only be subjective and leaves ample room for debate, not to mention the fact that some may find it unsuitable for a foreigner to compile and organize the literary works of a country that is not his own.

The Map, which is organized by theme, includes social realist writers like Jo Seon-jak and Lee Dong-ha, as well as Park Min-gyu, the author of dreamlike fiction, and Kim Young-ha, who shares his insights into city life. However, most of the stories in the anthology are by writers who published their principal works in the 1960s and the 1970s. Because only a small number of young writers were selected for this collection, I felt as though I had shortchanged—during the selection process—the new generation of Korean writers, who offer a truly remarkable and unconventional style of writing.

Mandala by Kim Seong-Dong and A Gift from a Bird by Eun Heekyung, which were introduced by reputable South American publishers after The Map, incited great interest among readers and critics in the region. But as a result, poetry, which is a more subtle and rigorous genre without a mass readership, was put in a precarious state. But thanks to the efforts of Bajo la Luna, a series entitled The Korean Library, which includes novels, essays, and poetry under 15 cultural sub-themes, is underway. As of February 2012, Bajo la Luna has published three volumes of poetry, namely The Autobiography of Ice by Choi Seungho, The Hour of Men by Baek Mu-san, and Someday, I’ll be Sitting in an Overcast Bar by Hwang Ji-u.

What should not be overlooked in publishing such a series is the importance of evaluating the areas of interest for Spanish and South American readers. On the one hand, the series could include works of classical Korean literature that have already been translated and widely circulated in most parts of the Western world. On the other hand, it could include late modern literature that gave an overview of the social and historical developments of Korea in the postwar era and the dictatorial period that followed. For example, writers such as Choi In-hun and Hwang Sok-yong, as well as less renowned but excellent writers, could play a leading role in the series.

If the aim is to target those readers who are primarily interested in the current situation and future development of Korea, then more consideration could be given to works dealing with the technocratic society, the problems of capitalism, and city life that has given rise to a huge metropolitan population. Just as the new wave of Korean cinema was in the vanguard of promoting Korean culture worldwide, the new novel in Korean literature demonstrates in fresh, original ways realism that encompasses irony, fantasy, science fiction, and parody—by writers who lived through the horrors of modern Korean history. In this vein, the new Korean literature contains a potential that cannot be found elsewhere. For the most part, European and American literature has increased in quality over the centuries but lacks originality.

Korean authors who have been writing and publishing in the last 15 years, since the establishment of a democratic government, are perhaps the most creative, for they came of age in an era of political freedom. At the same time, it cannot be said that they are devoid of political vision and social criticism just because they are not writing under a dictatorial regime. In many cases, dramatic historical events drive a writer to sail back and forth between Scylla and Charybdis. The writer, as an intellectual, takes a neutral if not an advocatory position. In the era of democracy, the writer’s position has become even more opaque, and many new writers, in addition to going beyond elitism or philistinism, have faced the challenge of finding a less obvious or superficially critical position.

The extraordinary output of women writers has also contributed to the advancement of Korean literature. What is notable is that such recognition of women’s literary voices has coincided in the last 20 years with the modernization and transformation of Korea into a strong capitalist economy.

As a young Argentine writer, I cannot help but compare the literature of Korea and Argentina. Both countries have experienced similar historical circumstances, undergoing the same kind of political events around the same time. Dictatorship came to an end in 1983 for Argentina, and in 1987 for Korea. In the case of Argentina, this led to the flowering of a cultural movement, with the emergence of post-Borges authors like César Aira and Ricardo Piglia. However, Argentina failed to take the lead in the publishing markets of Spain and South America, as it had before the era of dictatorship. More recently, a reliable alternative publishing company, which came into existence in 2011 as a result of the economic crisis, has made it possible for the new generation of writers like me to translate and publish foreign literature without having to rely on the Spanish book market.

In contrast to the rising group of young writers in Korea, the one I belong to emerged in the new millennium and is quite eclectic and urban in character but lacks the originality I mentioned above. It could be argued that the true reforms in Argentina were already carried out in the 1980s by writers—such as César Aira, Sergio Chejfec, Alan Pauls, Daniel Guebel, Luis Chitarroni, and Sergio Bizzio—when there did not seem to be much hope in the publishing industry, with the Spanish multinational corporation’s acquisition of the historically significant Emecé and Sudamericana publishers.

I am not an expert when it comes to the publishing climate of Korea but it is true that Korea and Argentina have recently undergone similar historical events and the writers born in the 1960s had many benefits that had not been available to the literary figures of the previous generations, such as far more opportunities for exposure in foreign book markets. Consequently, the writers who have enjoyed favorable conditions and a high visibility, and marked above all by their originality, will help supplement The Map, through which the Spanish and South American readers can be introduced to a generation of writers who criticize life under an extreme capitalist system.

However, the series will not be complete unless it also includes a comparable volume of poetry. Literary vision and talent are transmitted not through a specific genre but through sensibility; therefore, no one can claim that a chronology can better tell the story of social circumstances than a poem. From my point of view, an anthology of poems of the last 20 years is more urgently needed than an anthology of short fiction. Moreover, the selection should be made by a committee of experts in the field, based on research and consultation rather than individual preferences; a diverse group of Korean writers and critics should engage in a dialogue and apply the same aforementioned criteria and standards to the authors who are under consideration for inclusion in the anthology.

Even though Spain continues to dominate the Spanish-language publishing world, Argentina is once again emerging as a key player, while the growth of the Mexican publishing industry has been affected by political and social conflicts. For these reasons, the Library of Korea series already underway and two other books, which will come out in the near future, offer great promise. I believe they will serve not only experts in East Asian culture but also readers and writers in Argentina and South America as a powerfully subversive model for a new forum to delve into the social reality of their own country.

* Oliverio Coelho is an Argentine writer and literary critic. In 2010, he was named by Granta as one of the 22 best young Spanish-language novelists. He is the author of six novels and a short story collection including Tierra de vigili, Los invertebrables, Borneo, Promesas naturales, and Un hombre llamado Lobo.