Pachinko by Min Jin Lee (February 2017)
At the start of February, I went to see Min Jin Lee read from her recently published Pachinko. The story is named for a Japanese parlor game that loosely resembles slot machines. The novel follows a Korean family over several generations and describes how various indifferent forces beyond their control- colonialism, warfare, religion, blind (and often bad) luck- conspired to chart the difficult course of their lives.
The circumstances surrounding this event differed for me from many of the author readings I have attended in the past. Usually, I read a book or two and- if I like what I read- try to go see the writer when he or she comes to town. The Pachinko reading differed for two reasons. The first one is simple enough- I went to the event before reading a syllable of her work. I suppose the idea was that if I enjoyed the event, I would read the book.
The second is a little more complex. The book is about the Korean-Japanese in Japan. It covers most of the 20th century- when Japan colonized Korea before Western powers first intervened, then broke the country in two. At the risk of stating it too kindly, Koreans and Japanese of Korean ancestry were treated like dirt throughout this period by the nation that first subjugated the country.
What led me to classify the above as 'complex' is how much of this general attitude remains prevalent in Japan today despite decades having passed since the atrocities of the colonial period. At best, it manifests as indifferent acceptance of policy, law, or tradition; at worst, examples of outright racism confirm how Japan's dark history is not yet fully in the past. I wanted to attend this reading to hear more about the matter from an author who has spent so much time and energy thinking, discussing, and writing about it from a perspective that I never sought out in the past.
The event was excellent and the conversations were thought-provoking throughout. It started with a short discussion with Professor Jeannie Suk Gersen of Harvard Law School. Gersen began the evening by asking about the opening line- 'History has failed us, but no matter.' Lee responded by briefly summarizing the history of discrimination against Korea by Japan. Then, she shared her surprise that many Korean-Japanese she spoke to shrugged off the setbacks brought unfairly about due to their ancestry. These examples included lack of access to apartments, difficulty in finding good jobs, or bullying at school. Essentially, the 'no matter' response to these obstacles highlighted the interest of getting on with life in an environment that showed no sign of changing.
The rest of the evening seemed to find its way back to this idea- no matter the topic being discussed. One fellow attendee asked about pachinko, the parlor game that often employed Korean-Japanese who were locked out of other industries. Though nominally a game of chance, Lee explained how the odds on each game were adjusted daily by the parlor owners. Regular players, rather than bemoan how these adjustments ensure the house always won, simply got on with things and tried to find the 'hot' machine before their competitors did.
Many in the crowd could not help but find a timeliness in this book's release given this country's current political and social climate. I understood where those thoughts and sentiments were coming from. The challenges of acceptance, openness, and tolerance that Lee delves into in these pages apply almost everywhere on the planet today, Harvard Square included.
However, I thought the book was more timeless than timely. It is, at heart, the story of immigration. It captured so achingly the impossible feeling that I believe is unique to immigrants- the duality of never feeling at home in the new country while also feeling excluded from returning to the motherland. For an immigrant, home is always in the rear view mirror.
That is the feeling that has stayed with me from this book. It surfaces whenever I'm referred to as 'Japanese' here in America just like it did several summers ago whenever I was identified as 'American' during a visit to Japan. It's in the memory of being informed that my eye shape makes me look sleepy and in the recollection of how I was ridiculed in kindergarten for not being 100% Japanese. The funny thing about the rear view mirror is no matter how far back it reflects, it always remains right in front of you.
As I mentioned earlier, I arrived at this event unsure if I would read Pachinko. I left knowing I would do so as soon as I got my hands on the book (for free, from the library). The main reason was that Lee's discussion covered so many things on my mind recently. My thought was that if the conversation about the book was so good, reading the book itself would be equally stimulating.
I was not disappointed.
One up: This book is written from multiple viewpoints without any clear structure or pattern to how the changes are made. I understand that some refer to this as 'head-hopping' and that it is generally frowned upon as a writing technique.
If this is truly the case, I'm grateful that Lee chose to ignore this convention. It is hard to imagine the book being written in any other way. I think the loss to me as a reader would have been significant had she chosen to focus the story solely on any one of its characters.
One down: At one point during the event, Lee commented that understanding the history of modern Korea required a recognition of Christianity's significant influence. I understood this comment a little better after reading. The religion's influence throughout the novel is apparent in ways both obvious and subtle. I did wish, however, that she explored the topic a little more than she ultimately did so in Pachinko.
Just saying: Early on in the novel, Sunja, one of the main protagonists, gets locked into a critical negotiation. As I was reading, I realized- I was rooting hard for her to do well. At this point, I knew I was completely locked into Pachinko.
Although the book was around five hundred pages, I breezed right through it. I'm looking forward to reading it again someday.
