The Father I Know

For the longest time, Korean literature was obscured by its neighboring Japanese and Chinese literatures. Perhaps driven by the recent surge in the popularity of Korean drama and K-pop, Korean literature has piqued the interest of readers across the world. The rise of K-pop and K-drama catalyzed the elevation of Korean culture and, by extension, Korean literature to global recognition. A slew of Korean works has since been made available to Anglophone readers. Furthermore, several translated works have gained recognition from prestigious literary prizes across the world. Remarkably, in 2016, Han Kang’s The Vegetarian won the International Booker Prize. This was another pivotal moment in the rise of Korean literature, as Kang became the first Korean writer to earn the prestigious prize. This opened more opportunities for Korean writers, with more translated Korean works nominated for the literary prize, such as Cheon Myeong-kwan’s Whale, Bora Chung’s Cursed Bunny, and Hwang Sok-yong’s Mater 2-10.

Not to be outdone, Han Kang was recognized by the Swedish Academy with the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2024. This made Kang the first Korean and the first Asian woman writer to receive one of the most prestigious literary prizes in the world. In a highly patriarchal society, Kang’s success was even more significant. Kang is one of many female Korean writers who have been gaining global recognition. Her contemporary, Kyung-Sook Shin (신경숙), has also built an equally successful and celebrated literary career. She made her literary debut in 1985 with the novella 겨울우화 (Gyeouruhwa; trans. A Winter Fable), published shortly after completing her creative writing degree at the Seoul Institute of the Arts. The novella was an instant critical success, earning Shin the Munye Joongang New Author Prize.

Shin has since become a household name in her native South Korea. Her prolific literary career has earned her various prestigious literary prizes, such as the Yi Sang Literary Award, the Dongin Prize, and the Hyundae Munhak Award. Global recognition, however, took time. In 2012, her novel 엄마를 부탁해 (2009, Eommareul butakae), translated as Please Look After Mom, was awarded the Man Asian Literary Prize, making her the only South Korean and the only woman to win the award. The book’s success also catapulted her to global recognition. Serving as a companion novel to 엄마를 부탁해 is her most recent novel, 아버지에게 갔었어 (Abeojiege gasseosseo). Originally published in 2021, it became available to English readers as I Went to See My Father in 2023, translated by Anton Hur.

My memories of Father exist in disparate and elusive fragments like the sound of the wind on some days, of the war on some days, of the flying bird on some days, of the snowfall on some days, and on some days, of the determination to keep living. And what of all the things suppressed within him, never expressed, disintegrating in silence, unspoken?

Kyung-Sook Shin, I Went to See My Father

The eponymous “I” pertains to Hon, a woman in her sixties who lives as a writer in Seoul. When her mother was taken to a hospital in Seoul for medical treatment, Hon abruptly returned to her countryside village of J- to care for her lonely and aging father in her childhood home. As the story unfolds, one senses that this was not a last-minute decision. Still, it was the first time in two years that she had returned home. She had been deliberately keeping her distance from her parents. Two years earlier, Hon—or “Honnie,” as her father fondly called her—lost her daughter, her only child, in a tragic accident. Upon arriving home, the Father she encountered was no longer the man she once knew. He had grown frail. The Father she now saw before her was a shadow of his former self. No longer was he the strong farmer who tilled the land around the family property. In Hon’s memory, her Father was a resourceful man who was highly respected in the community.

Now tasked with looking after him, she began seeing a different side of her father. He had become sensitive and often weepy. As she cared for him, Hon witnessed firsthand his bouts of melancholy. She saw tears stream down his face at the most unexpected moments; he cried over nearly everything, including his dead pet parrot, whom he sorely missed. He spent his days wandering around the property. As she observed him, Hon was surprised and dismayed by how much he had aged and how feeble he had become. She had no idea what she needed to do. While searching for her father one day, she discovered an old wooden chest filled with letters in a broken-down, cluttered building on the property. It was a chest she remembered from the past: “Whenever I thought about Father, I would think of this wooden chest. I had not seen it since I moved to the city, so I thought Father must have left the chest behind in the store when he sold it, but I never got around to asking him.”

As she perused the contents of the chest, she learned about Father’s origins, his family’s history, and even his carefully guarded secrets. The contents of the letters, together with the stories shared by people who had been part of or were still part of her father’s life, prompted her to reevaluate her relationship with him. Meanwhile, readers also learn more about Father. He was born in 1933 and never received a formal education because of poverty. He never left home except when survival demanded it. Soon enough, survival came knocking. When he was fourteen, his older brother died during an epidemic. Not long after, his parents also passed away one after another, leaving him as the head of the family. Although he had an older sister, the responsibility of caring for his younger siblings fell on his shoulders because he was the oldest surviving male member of the family, as was common in many Asian societies.

He was then tasked with providing his family with basic necessities such as food and shelter. Those with weaker constitutions might have given up immediately, but Hon’s Father was not among them. Using their lone ox, he earned money by tilling the lands of their neighbors. Yet caring for his family was not his only concern. Over the horizon, the North Korean army and the Korean War slowly approached their locality. Hon recounts her Father’s adventures and misadventures during the war. He even attempted to avoid being drafted or killed by North Korean partisans and southern draft dodgers. Father survived the atrocities of war, but its memories remained etched into his body and continued haunting him long after he married Hon’s mother. Together, they had six children, with Hon born fourth. Despite the hardships of postwar Korea and the instability of farming income, Father remained committed to giving all his children a college education.

I could understand humanity through books. How weak we are and also how strong we are. How endlessly good, and yet endlessly violent. People for whom things did not turn out the way they wanted, who fought unhappiness all their lives—they leave a trace of themselves. Traces of having endured unspeakable situations. I wonder if my act of reading was a search for such traces.

Kyung-Sook Shin, I Went to See My Father

Hon’s visit to her childhood home was initially meant to be merely the fulfillment of duty, but it was also motivated by a lingering sense of guilt. She was compelled to confront her understanding of her father. Was the image she had carried of him all these years accurate? Had she been neglecting him? As the story progressed, the visit transformed into something deeper and more meaningful. Through memories, letters, and conversations, Hon slowly pieced together the story of her family. The wooden chest revealed not only Father’s secret letters but also his vulnerabilities. She learned the whole truth, including the complicated lives of her siblings and the financial struggles of her family. These revelations dismantled Hon’s self-portrait of her father, making her wonder whether her image of the strong, silent, and stoic patriarch had been built merely on assumptions.

Father loomed over the story like a puzzle Hon slowly assembled. What she learned about him made her understand the vast scope of his sacrifices and heroism. For the longest time, she had taken the sturdy man she called Father for granted. The past revealed a once vibrant and ambitious young man who slowly unraveled during the postwar years. In the present, he was gripped by painful memories and bouts of insomnia—offshoots of generational trauma that lingered despite rarely being spoken of. Hon witnessed him thrashing violently at night because of nightmares. Still, these burdens did not prevent him from diligently settling his affairs. He arranged another person’s funeral, confessed his guilt to his dearest friend, and distributed his belongings to those who would care for them. He made sure his son completed his responsibilities. These details underscored a portrait of a strong and self-sufficient individual.

Yet Father is not portrayed as perfect. He has weaknesses that underscore his humanity, repeatedly tested by a difficult life. His story is not merely an exploration of one man’s existence. I Went to See My Father is also an examination of contemporary Korean history. Father came of age during the Korean War, which had a devastating impact on him. The scars of the war and even the Japanese occupation were etched across the nation. People starved. Malnutrition, pestilence, and disease became prevalent among the rural poor. Father also joined protests in Seoul following the failures of government programs and social policies that neglected disenfranchised and undereducated citizens. Father’s story thus becomes a microcosm of modern Korean history, embodying the trials and tribulations of the Korean people. The novel is also a character study devoted to how one survives and is shaped by personal and political upheaval.

For Hon, what remained etched in her mind was the image of a stern farmer who managed to build a home and raise six successful children. Despite abject poverty, he remained resolute in providing his children with college educations. Like Shin’s breakthrough novel, Please Look After Mom, I Went to See My Father raises important questions for children: How much do we really know our parents? Do we truly understand the sacrifices they made for us? Ironically, we often begin to realize this only when we see the creases etched on their faces and notice that the vitality they once possessed has faded. Growing up, we often take our parents’ presence for granted. Their sacrifices frequently escape our notice. The story highlights an important aspect of Asian culture: children are expected to care for their aging parents. Despite her initial apprehensions, Hon experiences firsthand how parent-child relationships shift over time. She and her siblings gradually become the nurturers and protectors of their parents.

Father would put my bag in the basket attached to the front of the motorcycle and have me sit in the back, and we’d noisily zoom toward home. I would put my hands in his jacket pockets and hold on to his waist as the motorcycle wove its way through the traffic by the station and into the roads by the rice paddies and fields.

Kyung-Sook Shin, I Went to See My Father

As the story progresses, Hon learns not only about her father but also about herself. The novel, therefore, becomes equally about Hon, underscoring its exploration of identity and personal success. She found fulfillment in writing, yet she had long struggled to balance her work and personal life. She realized that her writing and pursuit of success had created a wedge between herself and the rest of the world. The singularity of purpose that fueled her successful literary career also isolated her from those who wished to remain close to her. This tension culminated in her daughter’s untimely death. Her grief blinded her to her father’s vulnerability and her family’s fragility. This estrangement was further emphasized by her father’s refusal to read her works because they “made him feel you were getting further away from him.”

Hon also has a tendency to edit and revise, a trait that sets up one of the novel’s most cathartic realizations. What she uncovered about her father and family made her understand that she could no longer revise the past. There was no way to return and change it. Yet there remained one thing she could still do: use her gift for writing to tell stories that might help repair broken relationships. As Park Muleung encourages her: “Tell him your stories and listen to him tell his. What else is there to do for each other?” The novel also explores family dynamics and societal expectations. While Hon was the favored child and the apple of her Father’s eye, the Eldest Son was burdened with expectation and responsibility. His graduation portrait was once prominently displayed in the house. Meanwhile, the Second Son was saved from death by his father’s intervention, leaving him with a different psychological burden.

Ultimately, I Went to See My Father is a poignant meditation on memory, grief, sacrifice, and reconciliation. Through Hon’s gradual rediscovery of her father’s humanity, Kyung-Sook Shin crafts a deeply intimate portrait of familial love shaped by hardship, silence, and generational trauma. The novel reminds readers that parents often remain unknowable figures—they are often viewed as paragons of stoicism and silent strength—until time and distance force us to confront their vulnerabilities and sacrifices. At the same time, Shin situates this personal reckoning within the broader history of modern Korea, demonstrating how political upheaval and poverty shape both individuals and families. Quiet yet emotionally resonant, I Went to See My Father stands as both a tribute to ordinary resilience and a moving reflection on the fragile, evolving bonds between parents and children.

That most fathers in the same situation would’ve pretended to be fooled. That if our fathers were really that foolish, what would the world come to? My friend went on to say that it was simply the role of fathers to pretend to be fooled. And I found this idea that I hadn’t really fooled my father oddly comforting.

Kyung-Sook Shin, I Went to See My Father
Book Specs

Author: Kyung-Sook Shin
Translator (from Korean): Anton Hur
Publisher: Astra House
Publishing Date: 2023 (2021)
No. of Pages: 283
Genre: Literary

Synopsis

Two years after losing her daughter in a tragic accident, Hon finally returns to her home in the countryside to take care of her father. At first, her father appears withdrawn and fragile, an aging man, awkward but kind around his own daughter. Then, after stumbling upon a chest of letters, Hon discovers the truth of her father’s past and reconstructs her family history.

Consumed with her own grief, Hon has been blind to her father’s vulnerability and her family’s fragility. Unraveling secret after secret, Hon grows closer to her father, who proves to be more complex than she ever gave him credit for. After living through one of the most tumultuous times in Korean history, her father’s life spiraled after the civil war. Now, after years of emotional isolation, Hon learns the whole truth, from her father’s affair and involvement in a religious sect, to the dynamic lives of her siblings, to her family’s financial hardships.

What Hon uncovers about her father builds toward her understanding of the great scope of his sacrifice and heroism, and of his generation. More than just the portrait of a single man, I Went to See My Father opens a window on humankind, family, loss, and war.

About the Author

To learn more about the highly heralded South Korean writer, Kyung-Sook Shin, click here.