Whale is a clever satirical novel that is written in a fable-like way, using an all-seeing, all-knowing omniscient narrative voice, along with occasional interjections by the author, as he pauses the narrative and talks to the reader.
Set in a remote village in South Korea,it follows the interconnected lives of a series of unfortunate women, who go through various highs and lows, having experiences that the author tells us depict certain universal laws.
What is supposed to come always ends up coming, even without a harbinger. This was the law of fate.
It begins with Chunhui, a female brickmaker who learned her profession from her stepfather. She could also communicate with an insightful elephant. We learn that a fire burned the brickyard to the ground killing eight hundred souls and that she was charged with arson, imprisoned and tortured. She has just been freed and returned to the derelict site as the story begins.
Cocooned by the morning fog, the town faintly reveled its shape, mike a once prosperous ancient city fallen into ruin. Even at a distance she could see the remnants of the movie theatre looming up among the buildings, resembling a large whale breaching the surface for a breath. This whale-inspired theatre had been designed by Geumbok, Chunhui’s mother.
In effect, we start at the end and the novel then goes back in time, to how the brickyard came to be, starting with a woman who sold her daughter to a passing beekeeper for two jars of honey, another who built a cinema in the shape of a whale and the many reinventions of their lives as they embrace and discard different people, occupations and places, in pursuit of their desires.
Geumbok has a knack for spotting an opportunity, for seeing business potential and no fear of taking risks. Every idea she has makes her and those around her wealthy, until it doesn’t.
Geumbok’s understanding of ideology was very simplistic, but her convictions were firm, as most people’s are. This was the law of ideology.
A satire on Korean history and society, and perceived by some as ‘magical’, I found the relentless abuses and sexism towards the female characters wore me down and slowed the pace of reading. Perhaps it was the ‘knowing’ that things rarely ever come right, that any overcoming of obstacles or even resilience is eventually met with yet another example of tragedy, betrayal, seduction or disappointment.
I did enjoy the novel for the most part and I understand why it might have been a bestseller in Korea in the day (published 20 years ago), however it didn’t fit right for me, reading it in 2023, and had me craving for signs of social justice, improvement or anything that might leave the reader believing in some aspect of humanity.
I think that narratives are beginning to challenge that historical status quo of abuses towards women, the down-trodden and the poor and I find I have less tolerance and patience towards those that do little to redeem it.
‘The characters have the power of archetypes – they’ll haunt your dreams. Geumbok, the protagonist, is an irrepressible entrepreneur and individualist, but with contradictions – she is sly and gullible, loving and violent, dedicated and treacherous. You can’t take your eyes off her. The story, however, really belongs to Chunhui, her daughter, who is a tragic saint and a survivor.’ International BookerJudges
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