Han Kang's Light and Thread: A Tantalising Book of Reflections
When Korean novelist Han Kang was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2024, the committee lauded her "intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life." This recognition highlights her unique ability to navigate both external historical events, such as the 1980 Gwangju massacre fictionalised in Human Acts, and internal human struggles, exemplified in The Vegetarian's portrayal of a woman's claustrophobic rebellion against societal norms.
Unveiling the Mysteries of Han Kang's Work
Much of Han Kang's appeal lies in the enigmatic gaps she leaves for readers to interpret, making Light and Thread, described as "a book of reflections," a particularly tantalising prospect. This collection promises to illuminate the darker corners of her literary universe, and it partially fulfills this hope. The title, drawn from a poem Han wrote at age eight, structures the book into three distinct parts: writing, poetry, and gardening.
In the title essay, which doubles as her Nobel laureate lecture, Han Kang opens up about her novels in revealing ways. For instance, The Vegetarian, which explores a woman's radical rejection of violence by attempting to become a plant, was inspired by profound questions like, "To what depths can we reject violence?" Han explains that a book is complete "when I reach the end of these questions – which is not the same as when I find answers to them."
The Psychic Necessity of Writing
Han Kang's writing process is depicted as a psychic necessity, driven by deep emotional and historical engagements. Haunted by a youthful encounter with a photo book commemorating the Gwangju massacre victims, she abandoned a "radiant, life-affirming novel" to write Human Acts instead. Similarly, for Greek Lessons, a novel about a mute woman and a man losing his sight, Han wrestles with questions that temper dread with hope, such as, "Could it be that by regarding the softest aspects of humanity, by caressing the irrefutable warmth that resides there, we can go on living after all in this brief, violent world?"
Her dedication is further evident in her approach to We Do Not Part, arguably her best novel yet. Inspired by a dream, Han engaged in method-style writing episodes, including lying under her desk to simulate being in a hole or clenching snow to remember its feel. While sceptics might question the need for such physical immersion, it underscores her commitment to authenticity.
Poetry and Gardening: Lighter Fare
While the writing essays form the richest part of Light and Thread, the poetry section is slight and evasive. Meditation on Pain draws on Han's chronic pain experiences but offers less visceral understanding than her earlier interviews, where she described typing with pens attached to her fists due to painful joints.
The final section focuses on Han's garden, a north-facing courtyard where she uses strategically placed mirrors to direct light. This meticulous task, involving adjusting eight mirrors every 15 minutes, connects to themes in The Vegetarian and reiterates central questions like, "What does it mean to belong to the species named human?" Beautiful imagery, such as "a patch of light appears on the wall, like a window," is interspersed with mundane details like checking water meters, which may not captivate all readers.
A Stop Gap Before the Next Novel
In her Nobel lecture, Han Kang reveals that her next novel remains incomplete, positioning Light and Thread as a stop gap for both her and her audience. While it offers moments that remind us of her literary importance, the core desire remains for her full-length works. The collection, translated by Maya West, e yaewon, and Paige Aniyah Morris, and published by Hamish Hamilton, serves as a poignant interim reflection on a celebrated career.
