Review: "I Hear Your Voice" by Young Ha-Kim

Almost no terrible things come from South Korea. From amazing movies and now books like Young Ha-Kim’s I hear Your Voice, the storytelling coming out of that country is always top notch, engaging and thought provoking. Last year, I read my first book from that county, Han Yujoo’s The Impossible Fairy Tale, and while it was a little oblique, it was fascinating and unique enough for me to remember it strongly nearly a year later. This book is a different kind of beats: easier to digest, but different enough and daring enough to offer a layered retroactive viewing of its plot, themes and ideas it brings up; I will be thinking about this one for a long while as well. It’s story about a motorcycle gang headed up by a Buddha like figure is reminiscent of many of my favorite authors. It’s setting and dreamlike quality reminded me of both Murakamis (Haruki and Ryu) and the way it switches perspectives late in the book (some might say too late) could not help me think of Paul Auster’s best work like The Book of Illusions and Invisible. But while two out of those three authors I mentioned, while endlessly brilliant, they cannot match the energy of this narrative, nor the dark, gritty areas Kim seems rather comfortable. You know what kind of story it is going to be from the first few pages where Jae is born in a public restroom and stolen by a woman at the scene. It is a bloody scene, but executed with style and grace so it is never gratuitous. The woman who raised him, Mama Pig (it is never clear why she is called this), moves into an apartment above the family of Donggyu. These two boys become inextricably linked: Donngyu is fascinated by the way Jae can read his mind, and in Donggyu, Jae comes to terms with his ability to empathize on a metaphysical level with all sorts of animate and inanimate objects. In the next section, a series of tragic events severs the boy’s relationship: Donngyu becomes introverted and mute for a time being, and Jae, after he loses Mama Pig to drug addiction, spends his time in an orphanage, only too escape and face a series of terrible realties filled with human suffering and selfishness (that’s putting it lightly). Soon, the two boys reunite, with Donnggyu following Jae; as he becomes the religious figure he felt destined to become, with the road as church and a motorcycle as his alter. I won’t spoil what happens, or what the big grand event is that changes everything, but I will say that some of the developments bothered me at first, but in the last and most surprising section, they made perfect and brilliant sense. I think it will take a while for this book’s true heart to be revealed to me. It never feels preachy about its beating heart but it is there if you take the time to look for it. Check it out and see for yourself. 

Rating: 5/5