Love Might Be a Beast from Outer Space
Arriving suddenly, bestowing new experiences

Since winning the Hankook Ilbo Spring Literary Contest in 2021 and beginning her writing career, poet Shin I-in has received solid support from both critics and readers through her poetry collections The Dictionary of Black-Headed Beasts (2023) and Maybe I'll Become an Alien (2025). She has been cited by various media outlets as a "poet to watch for the future." Now, she has published her second collection of essays. Though she does not hesitate to call herself an "alien"—one who cannot blend into the world and meticulously remembers every sensation—what nonetheless runs through the undercurrent of her work is an irrepressible love for the world upon which she has crash-landed.

In this second essay collection, A Camera That Makes Me Look Particularly Ugly, she captures more candidly—with a sense of having nowhere to retreat—the outward-directed gaze and forms of that love. As the title itself reveals, the author writes with the resolve to lower the hand that once covered her face and thrust herself before the camera, knowing that "no matter how one tries to adorn oneself, the adornment itself is all too easily made ridiculous." She captures families whom she loves but must leave, the process of securing her own sanctuary—a "rice chest" just for herself—and the new encounters with beings such as her pet lizard, along with the entangled and continuous relationships around her, and through all this, the image of herself that comes into view.

What is love? The author invites us to "imagine a transparent animal that is encroaching upon your life without your knowledge." Love, she suggests, arrives suddenly and bestows new experiences, much like "a wild animal from another dimension." Though we do not know "whether it will get along smoothly with me or bite me harshly," it inevitably alters life—for better or worse—and is therefore something never to be taken lightly.

Unable to blend in,
Fulfilling one's duty as an alien—
Never ceasing to feel, to contemplate, to write

In an age like ours, where love is dismissed as a luxury for those with leisure or its value is endlessly belittled, the author declares proudly: "My ability to love is still my pride." As a young office worker before becoming a poet, she could not bring herself to like anyone very much. But after quitting her job and beginning to write poetry, the people she met at work began to look different to her—she even felt sorry for them. As she puts it, "Poets are often gloomy about worldly affairs, but that is precisely why they sometimes become bright about something on the other side of the world."

Thus, the desire to love freely can also be called an ambition to make the world more livable. Poet Shin I-in resolves: "Though there have been many quarrels, disappointments, and moments of anger, I have never received this play as a bad story. I will remain faithful to my given role until the very end." She vows to fulfill her duty as an alien—to love the world, to feel, to contemplate, and to never stop writing. For her, love is, above all, a great capital.

The book begins with the process of leaving home and gaining independence from her family, and ends with a scene of briefly returning to that home to look back on the past. Having resolved to break with peace and purity, she is now much changed from her former self and no longer needs to flee. Though there were many quarrels, disappointments, and moments of anger along the way, her writing leaves no doubt that she is still very much in love. And thanks to that, perhaps after reading this book, we too might find ourselves, at some point, holding a key that clicks perfectly into one of the locks that fill this world.

Shin I-in
Born in Seoul in 1994. Won the Hankook Ilbo Spring Literary Contest in 2021. She is the author of the poetry collection The Dictionary of Black-Headed Beasts (Minumsa, 2023) and the essay collection Next Spring (Nanda, 2024).