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Oleander
- Girlhood adolescenceToxic environmentsSocial critique
- Categories:Contemporary Literature & Fiction Social Issues
- Language:Korean（Translation Services Available）
- Publication Place:South Korea
- Publication date:
- Pages:256
- Retail Price:（Unknown）
- Size:128mm×188mm
- Text Color:（Unknown）
- Words:（Unknown）
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Feature
★ A new work by a unanimous Hangyoreh Literary Award winner: Author Seo Su-jin won the 25th Hangyoreh Literary Award in 2020 by unanimous vote of the judges for Korean Teacher, which literary critic Shin Shin-star praised as “teaching us the true face of this country that cannot be avoided.”
★ A dissection of girlhood adolescence from a global perspective: The story is set in Australia, and the work dissects with surgical precision the precarious, nearly shattered adolescence of three girls. Like the wildfires consuming southern Australia, the inner worlds of these seventeen-year-old girls turn to ash day by day. The author creates vividly distinct characters and renders this state of mind tangible through delicate psychological description.
★ A social interrogation that strikes at a generational predicament: This is not merely a credible coming-of-age narrative; the fractures reflected in the story are also the predicaments shared by an entire generation today. Beneath the glamorous curtain, everyday disasters run rampant, throwing a question at readers: In this chaotic world, can I live a life that truly belongs to me?
★ A cruel aesthetic built on the metaphor of the oleander: In the corner of the backyard, an oleander vine wraps around itself, laden with large, deep-pink blossoms. Mother repeatedly warns that oleander is poisonous and must not be touched. The whole family avoids it, yet every summer, it stubbornly blooms riotously—an image that runs through the entire book, precisely metaphorising the girls’ tenacious yet dangerous growth in a toxic environment. The work interweaves issues of maternal anxiety, Asian discrimination, academic pressure, and class rigidity, writing contemporary youth through a cruel aesthetic.
★ A dissection of girlhood adolescence from a global perspective: The story is set in Australia, and the work dissects with surgical precision the precarious, nearly shattered adolescence of three girls. Like the wildfires consuming southern Australia, the inner worlds of these seventeen-year-old girls turn to ash day by day. The author creates vividly distinct characters and renders this state of mind tangible through delicate psychological description.
★ A social interrogation that strikes at a generational predicament: This is not merely a credible coming-of-age narrative; the fractures reflected in the story are also the predicaments shared by an entire generation today. Beneath the glamorous curtain, everyday disasters run rampant, throwing a question at readers: In this chaotic world, can I live a life that truly belongs to me?
★ A cruel aesthetic built on the metaphor of the oleander: In the corner of the backyard, an oleander vine wraps around itself, laden with large, deep-pink blossoms. Mother repeatedly warns that oleander is poisonous and must not be touched. The whole family avoids it, yet every summer, it stubbornly blooms riotously—an image that runs through the entire book, precisely metaphorising the girls’ tenacious yet dangerous growth in a toxic environment. The work interweaves issues of maternal anxiety, Asian discrimination, academic pressure, and class rigidity, writing contemporary youth through a cruel aesthetic.
Description
Oleander further expands the author‘s creative boundary in writing sharply about contemporary social issues. Set in Australia, the work has a global vision; it dissects with surgical precision the precarious, nearly shattered adolescence of three girls.
Like the wildfires consuming southern Australia, the inner worlds of these seventeen-year-old girls turn to ash day by day. The author creates vividly distinct characters and renders this state of mind tangible through delicate psychological description. This is not merely a credible coming-of-age narrative; the fractures reflected in the story are also the predicaments shared by an entire generation today. Beneath the glamorous curtain, everyday disasters run rampant, throwing a question at readers: In this chaotic world, can I live a life that truly belongs to me?
Essayist Kim Hon-bi commented that this book is dedicated to “all those who still cannot become the subjects of their lives, wandering lost in the midst of life”—words that carry tremendous weight.
Excerpts
P.11
“The resume story. What we need is not grades, but a life narrative that belongs to us. To get into university, from the first page to the last page of a student’s file, a complete personal story must run through it all. That‘s why people say now that just burying yourself in studying is far from enough.”
P.23
In the corner of the backyard, an oleander vine wraps around itself, laden with large, deep-pink blossoms. Mother repeatedly warns that oleander is poisonous and must not be touched. The whole family avoids it, yet every summer, it stubbornly blooms riotously. In the small backyard, apart from this oleander bearing its poisonous flowers, there is nothing else.
P.51-52
Chloe stared blankly at Heather’s face, recalling the drama her mother was following. In the show, cram school buildings towered high—a scale seen only in downtown Sydney, one after another, all cram schools. Late at night, the cram schools blazed with light, and lines of cram school buses stretched before the buildings. High schoolers stayed up until the small hours, grinding through practice questions at cram schools…
P.54-55
In Australia, unlike Korea, you don‘t have to study desperately to get into a good university. Kids here generally don’t love studying; as long as you‘re not unintelligent, a bit of effort can get you into a good university. With a little academic talent, medical school is even within reach. You don’t have to be a genius, and you don‘t have to pull all-nighters like in Korea. So you can—and should—aim for medical school too. Just a little more effort is all it takes…
Like the wildfires consuming southern Australia, the inner worlds of these seventeen-year-old girls turn to ash day by day. The author creates vividly distinct characters and renders this state of mind tangible through delicate psychological description. This is not merely a credible coming-of-age narrative; the fractures reflected in the story are also the predicaments shared by an entire generation today. Beneath the glamorous curtain, everyday disasters run rampant, throwing a question at readers: In this chaotic world, can I live a life that truly belongs to me?
Essayist Kim Hon-bi commented that this book is dedicated to “all those who still cannot become the subjects of their lives, wandering lost in the midst of life”—words that carry tremendous weight.
Excerpts
P.11
“The resume story. What we need is not grades, but a life narrative that belongs to us. To get into university, from the first page to the last page of a student’s file, a complete personal story must run through it all. That‘s why people say now that just burying yourself in studying is far from enough.”
P.23
In the corner of the backyard, an oleander vine wraps around itself, laden with large, deep-pink blossoms. Mother repeatedly warns that oleander is poisonous and must not be touched. The whole family avoids it, yet every summer, it stubbornly blooms riotously. In the small backyard, apart from this oleander bearing its poisonous flowers, there is nothing else.
P.51-52
Chloe stared blankly at Heather’s face, recalling the drama her mother was following. In the show, cram school buildings towered high—a scale seen only in downtown Sydney, one after another, all cram schools. Late at night, the cram schools blazed with light, and lines of cram school buses stretched before the buildings. High schoolers stayed up until the small hours, grinding through practice questions at cram schools…
P.54-55
In Australia, unlike Korea, you don‘t have to study desperately to get into a good university. Kids here generally don’t love studying; as long as you‘re not unintelligent, a bit of effort can get you into a good university. With a little academic talent, medical school is even within reach. You don’t have to be a genius, and you don‘t have to pull all-nighters like in Korea. So you can—and should—aim for medical school too. Just a little more effort is all it takes…
Author
Seo Su-jin
Made her literary debut by winning the 2020 Hangyoreh Literary Award.
Novels: Korean Teacher, The Friendly Neighbor, You Don’t Have to Become a Mother
Novellas: Eugene and Dave, Oleander
Short story collection: Gold Rush
Awards: 2020 Hangyoreh Literary Award. A total of 26 published works.
Made her literary debut by winning the 2020 Hangyoreh Literary Award.
Novels: Korean Teacher, The Friendly Neighbor, You Don’t Have to Become a Mother
Novellas: Eugene and Dave, Oleander
Short story collection: Gold Rush
Awards: 2020 Hangyoreh Literary Award. A total of 26 published works.
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