OUR TWISTED HERO
By YI MUNYOL
Translated by Kevin O'Rourke. New York: Hyperion East, 2001. 122 pages, $21.95

Reason and freedom are the two principles that Han Pyongt'ae, the narrator of Yi Munyol's provocative novel Our Twisted Hero, has been struggling for since the age of twelve. The middle aged narrator of the story takes the reader back to 1959, a time in his childhood when his father, a civil servant, was sent into political exile from Seoul to a small town in the countryside, turning Pyongt'ae's life upside down. Leaving behind the comforts and conveniences of the city, Pyongt'ae finds everything about his new surroundings backward and challenging. He is forced to give up the prestigious "three story red brick" elementary school in Seoul for an "old Japanese style" colonial era eyesore, his progressive instructors for a bumbling teacher with rice wine stains on his sleeves, and like minded classmates for country boys fascinated by the quality of Pyongt'ae's school supplies and his life in the big city riding trams and seeing the sights. For Pyongt'ae, however, even after thirty years, the vividness of that first day at school centers on meeting Om Sokdae, the student monitor and classroom leader. Sokdae-who has a grown up voice, is taller and stronger than the other boys, and is often surrounded by a loyal group of student thugs-wields extraordinary control over the class.
Coming from a school in Seoul where class decisions were judiciously worked out through debates and elections, Pyongt'ae is immediately taken aback by what he finds-a kingdom ruled by might rather than right. No one seems willing to challenge the system and stand up to Sokdae. At first, Pyongt'ae refuses to submit, beginning a "lonely and difficult" struggle to topple the authoritarian yet popular Sokdae. He tries everything to bring about the monitor's downfall: competing with him in schoolwork, winning over the loyalty of classmates, and even squealing to the teacher about Sokdae's misdeeds. It all comes to naught, though, as Sokdae, through political cunning and behind the scenes violence, always manages to stay just one step ahead.
Sokdae's style of rule does have its benefits. In this fifth grade world, the kingdom Sokdae has built for himself is far from inefficient, and we can recognize the advantages of having him as class monitor. Things seem to get done when he is involved. Not only does he have more control over the students than their teacher has, breaking up fistfights and keeping the schoolroom clean, but the class always excels in school contests, shaped up through the monitor's warped system of rewards and punishments. Still, something about the monitor-his excellent grades and the perverted loyalty of the students-seems not quite right. Pyongt'ae's fight to replace Sokdae's system with the more rational way things are done in Seoul ultimately fails. Finally, ostracized by his classmates, Pyongt'ae reaches the point where he can no longer withstand isolation, and he gives in to Sokdae. When the monitor pulls Pyongt'ae into his inner circle, though, the psychological struggle really begins. Pyongt'ae himself tastes the power that accompanies Sokdae's style of rule. It takes a surprising turn of events to jolt him out of his complacency and into a frame of mind that allows him to see the monitor for what he really is-"just an ordinary boy like the rest of us."

Our Twisted Hero, which has become immensely famous in South Korea since its publication in 1987 and is now beautifully translated into English by Kevin O'Rourke, is a compelling tale of a class bully and the boy who rises up against him. Yet, the story is much more than that. Yi Munyol, one of South Korea's most acclaimed novelists, offers a thinly veiled critique of the Korean sociopolitical landscape of the twentieth century from Japan's defeat in World War II (when Korea's experience as a Japanese colony came to an end) through the democratic reforms of the late 1980s. Yi sets his novel in the season immediately before the April Revolution of 1960, the student led uprising that brought about the downfall of Syngman Rhee, South Korea's first (but not only) authoritarian leader. Rhee had consolidated political power, manipulated the election process, and generally quieted his critics in one heavy handed way or another. The analogies do not end with Rhee, though. After two brief periods of democratic promise, first in 1960 and then in 1980, other strongmen stepped forward. General Park Chung Hee (in power from 1961 to 1979) and then General Chun Doo Hwan (1979 to 1988) came to power through military coups. Like Sokdae, each isolated his enemies, suppressed political dissent, and kept for himself the reins of state control. Much the same can even be said about the rise of Kim Il Sung, the deceased yet eternal president of North Korea.
Without pushing too far the parallels between Sokdae and the list of political leaders who have dominated the scene in Korea, suffice it to say that Our Twisted Hero offers a shrewd assessment of Korean society. Pyongt'ae recognizes the absurdity of it all, but, by himself, lacks the power to bring change. Some of the novel's sharpest criticism is directed at the students of the fifth grade class, those who allow Sokdae to take advantage of them-without their apathy, boys like Sokdae would have no one to push around. The lesson Pyongt'ae learns at school is straightforward: we can lose reason and freedom-the self determination that allows us to be our own masters-just as easily by our own inaction as we can by someone else taking them away from us. And that is the ultimate lesson of Our Twisted Hero, a lesson that transcends cultures and is just as applicable to the world outside the Korean peninsula as it is to Han Pyongt'ae's elementary school. Standing up to bullies, whether in the schoolyard, at the workplace, or in the political environment, demands constant courage and vigilance, and is a fight we must never concede.

George Kallander is a Ph.D. candidate in premodern Korean history at Columbia University.