Korean author Kyung-Ran Jo and literary translator Chi-Young Kim collaborate again after Jo's English debut, Tongue, for Blowfish, a remarkably lyrical examination of the consequences after suicide, a tragic detail shared by two strangers who hesitantly develop a cautious bond. In alternating chapters, Jo achingly reveals their tragic pasts while building a multilayered connection.
She's a sculptor living in Seoul who has resolved to end her life. Accepting an art residency invitation in Tokyo provides the opportunity to avoid burdening anyone at home. She carries her chair to Ueno Park, where she's carefully chosen a Kwanzan cherry tree. Shockingly, she's greeted by her late grandmother. Her grandmother's violent suicide--by blowfish soup--has tormented her subsequent generations. The interruption delays the sculptor's plans, but she merely changes methods, embarking on a meticulous study of blowfish.
He's a Korean architect living in Tokyo. His travel between Seoul and Tokyo is a common commute. After making a phone call to the architect, "his brother had jumped to his death from his apartment window." The sculptor and the architect met briefly in Seoul, and he recognizes her when she visits Tokyo. For a time, that unexpected reunion engenders a tentative almost-relationship.
Initially published in 2010, Blowfish is composed with a simmering desperation Jo manages with impressive control; Kim is again a splendid translator. Jo's author's note mirrors her protagonist's "sadness and beauty and fear and death," as if the sculptor's longing to create despite everything else, is also her own: "What I want is a simple life, one in which I can think and read and write." Jo's complex exploration of living and dying becomes a mindful journey toward possibilities. --Terry Hong