In a very realistic twist on the adage “be careful what you wish for,” Cho Yeeun has created a very dark and twisty novella about an inexplicable and almost baffling massacre at a place called New Seoul Park. If you think of famous theme parks in Korea, you’re probably thinking of the same one as everyone else, and the similarities between the real and fictional parks cannot be denied.
This would be pretty obvious to any reader before even opening up “The New Seoul Park Jelly Massacre,” translated into English by Jung Yewon and published by Honford Star.
The setup to this macabre fantasy is that a mysterious man is going around New Seoul Park handing out jelly candies. The sinister vendor promises something that almost anyone would go for. That is, the jellies will create an unbreakable bond with your loved ones, and you’ll be together forever.
What happens next as people eat and enjoy these off-brand pink jellies is a horrific disaster that would beggar belief for any investigator or news reader in any society.
Everyone at the park melts and dies. This is by no means a spoiler to the story, for that is not where it lies — so fear not, fair reader.
Cho here weaves the story through the first-person perspective of several victims and onlookers to the massacre, both human and otherwise.
There is a 9-year-old girl whose parents are sure to be heading for divorce court soon, a young worker who is desperately trying to save money and move to 추천 Seoul by spending days sweating in the stifling heat as the park’s mascot, a famous CEO with a very dark secret interest, a single mother desperate to make a day’s magic for her daughter on a shoestring budget and even a cat whose old house used to be on the grounds of the park.
The truly strong aspect of “The New Seoul Park Jelly Massacre” is that within its mere 200 pages of dark tragedy, there is appeal to be found and representation for almost any generation living in Korea. The depiction of grinding reality and cutthroat competition in this country is expertly described within these first-person narratives that tell of a historic, devastating and very surreal night in the history of Korea.
With its short chapters and copious breaks, it is an exceedingly easy read for any level or age, including those with very short attention spans.
Despite the grotesque nature of the book’s titular event, what does stand out in the final analysis is a book that sings beautiful sonatas of the everyday: Living at a gosiwon studying for exams, friendly and romantic relationships and their various trajectories, the struggles of having kids and the struggles of being a kid.
These and many other everyday narratives are the stories that make Cho’s literary painting shine with bright color, which admittedly is borderline paradoxical, but nonetheless an actuality.
What punches the ho-hum and hum-drum periods of the story with a vengeance, of course, is how each character finally ends up tying into the massacre itself. Cho’s description of the violence and chaos surrounding the “main event” itself is remarkably descriptive and flowing, which is both praise for the author herself and the English translator.
Take this excerpt from the book, which is featured on the back cover:
“She stared blankly at the limbs that fell from the sky and squashed like pudding against the ground. She ran, looking straight ahead, amid the festival-like sounds of people screaming and bodies exploding like firecrackers.”