In terms of Song Sokze’s literary innovation, the “narrative world” is probably referred to the most. It still exerts pressure on modern novels whether this fact is acknowledged or not, yet he has the ability to creatively build his story worlds. Thanks to his verbal fecundity, monikers such as “consummate storyteller” and “master of the oral tradition” soon followed. He liberated language from the shadow of meaning, creating a chain in which words begot more words, a style which came to mark his novels. Hoodlums, drunks, dancers, gamblers, and other such vulgar characters are the protagonists of his stories. By focusing on eccentrics and good-for-nothings, the unique anthropology of his works has also become a focus of attention. Recently, however, critics have rightly pointed out that his novels have become heavier and darker. What has changed?

     Sung says, "I've been more interested in and am still fascinated by outsiders rather than everyday characters. It's true that my eye is drawn toward people possessing some dramatic elements—those who like to play much more than ordinary people, inveterate liars—it's much easier to write stories about such characters. But these days, I feel that the authenticity of such stories is suspect. My standards—my yardstick—for what I feel is realistic has changed a little bit, although I don't know if this is for the better or the worse. I'd like to think it's a little for the better."

     Drawing out fundamental truths about humanity through extreme and exceptional characters in tragicomic situations has been the essential hallmark of Sung's novels. In terms of realism, his characters have either lacked or transcended typicality, but the peculiar dynamism that such figures have brought to his works is much beloved by readers. The lush, drinking night and day in “Liberation,” and the country idiot with a heart of gold in “Thus Spoke Hwang Man-geun” inexplicably made an indelible impression on this critic, too. Intrigued by Sung's change in course, I yearned to hear more:

     "As in other arts, the openings created by suffering and ruin can be used as a window into the human soul. Likewise, I used to think that using them could amplify a novel's impact. When performing folk songs, tonal imperfections can help the listener experience musical sublimity. Likewise, presenting irregular, distorted, or exaggerated situations can help readers discover human nature. The problem with this approach, however, is that characters invariably end up spilling blood or being treated like imbeciles. I think this is no longer the way to go. I kind of feel like I'm using artifice; I just want to express my sentiments in a realistic way, following my thoughts for as long as I am able. That's why I've removed a few of the sensationalist elements from my work."

novelist Song Sok-je and critic Jung Hongsoo

     Come to think of it, last year when reading Sung's short story, “The South” published in the winter edition of a literary journal, I was puzzled by his spirit of restraint, but now I think I understand a little bit about where he's coming from. In this story concerning a middle-aged man on a trip to Laos, the old Song Sokze would have visualized a more comic and brash character, yet this time he moderated these tendencies. The sentences were lucid and the rhetoric was restrained. The blank spaces resulting from such restraint conveyed the weariness of life with even greater sorrow, which could be an example of the author's new yardstick of realism. On the other hand, Sung is still as much himself as ever. In his recent novel Pomp and Circumstance (serialized in four installments, of which three have been published) the fun and dynamism of his stories are still intact and could even be described as being masterful. In the story, a man having overcome all sorts of personal difficulties finds his way to a riverside village in the country and forms a quasi-family. A rag-tag gang shows up and tries to terrorize the village, but goes through all kinds of unexpected humiliations, vividly portrayed using the author's wit and literary flair. Yet there isn't even the slightest hint that the writer is trying to make the story unfold in a ridiculous fashion. It is as if his original dynamism has been tempered, creating an aesthetic balance that is the foundation for a more solid novel. In his most recent works, the theme of family disintegration has appeared often, perhaps reflecting another change in the author's interests.

     Sung reflected on this change: "Although I can't remember exactly when it started, I've become increasingly aware of the reality of family breakups. Whether it's for economic or other reasons, such separations have become commonplace. The anger and fear that these families experience is as widespread as smoke from a stove in the evening. I have no intention of slipping social messages or remarks into my work, but recently I’ve noticed the suffering resulting from such breakups and that’s what’s important."

     During our interview I learned once again that the author Song Sokze feels very uncomfortable about being boxed in by any concept or framework. Whether his work is consistent with realism or not, such critiques are secondary and only concern him after the fact. Stated more emphatically, viewing mankind through a fixed mold is something that Sung should avoid. To him, who has written fiction for almost 20 years, novels are still amorphous, without any fixed format or appearance. If so, I asked him, then why does he write novels?

     He said, "I think the functional approach epitomized by 'writing for something' doesn't apply to me. I just weave words together, and eventually they might become stories, but to me the expression 'what to write for' doesn't exist. I think novels themselves have an urge to exist. This urge—and I can't explain why, or why it has to be me—this urge uses me as its medium. I wasn't one of those kids who, when they were little, placed their head on grandma's lap while listening to her stories. There weren't any writers of fiction in my family, either. I can't pick out a solid reason why, but anyways today I write novels. I feel it's because novels have a will to exist...and that's it."

     Should we cry out for joy that novels will themselves into existence? Or should we cry out for joy that the novelist Song Sokze exists? As far as I know, only time and enough alcohol while freely wandering the roads can make one immune to the synthesis of these two beings and their continuous activity. Upon finishing the interview, it was still a bit early but I noticed the author looking around for a place to get a drink.

1. Thus Spoke Hwang Man-geun

Sung Sok-je, Changbi Publishers, Inc.

2002, 300p, ISBN 9788936436667

2. Die letzten viereinhalb Sekunden Meines Lebens

Sung Sok-je, Peperkorn, 2009

3. The Last 4.5 Seconds of My Life

Sung Sok-je, Kang Publishing

1996, 268p, ISBN 9788982180538

4. Possessed

Sung Sok-je, Moonji Publishing Co., Ltd.

1998, 268p, ISBN 9788932011189