Peace Under Heaven: A Modern Korean Novel by Man-Sik Chae Kyung-Ja Chun

Author:Man-Sik Chae, Kyung-Ja Chun [Man-Sik Chae, Kyung-Ja Chun]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Social Science, Ethnic Studies, General, Poverty & Homelessness, Regional Studies
ISBN: 9781317463122
Google: 3vgvCgAAQBAJ
Publisher: Routledge
Published: 2015-07-17T03:19:23+00:00

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*See glossary.

An Anecdote of No Significance

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When Taebok tuned the knob of the radio on the little table beside Master Yun’s bed, traditional music poured out instantly, as if it had been waiting: “Tta-ang-tchi-tchi, chŭ-ŭng-chŭng-ji. Tta-ang-chŭng-ŭng-ta-ang …”

It was “Chanyŏng Mountain,” a traditional Korean melody. The round melancholy tone of the bamboo flute and the dark nasal sound of the lute raveled and unraveled, and in between was heard the delicate yet firm sound of a zither.

“Ta-ang-dang-dong, ta-ang-dong ta-ang-dong, chŭng-ji, ta-ang tang-dong-dang, ta-ang tta-ang.”

As the first section swung toward its conclusion, Master Yun, who had been lying on his side with his pipe in his mouth, slapped his huge buttocks.

“Goo-od!” he bellowed.

Traditional music is generally considered to be a dignified art form, and in appreciating it one does not as a rule respond with such an outburst. But who would feel bound by such stupid rules of decorum, anyway? Master Yun had every right to cry “goo-od” when he found the music good. That such an ignorant man possessed even this modicum of cultural sensibility in the realm of music might seem implausible, yet considering the time he spent rubbing shoulders with scholars during his tenure as a Master it should come as no great surprise.

Having finished tuning the radio, Taebok was about to withdraw to his own room when in walked Ch’unsim wearing a thin smile.

“Come right in. Why are you so late, you little bitch?”

Master Yun swore even though he was delighted to see her. Ch’unsim was not troubled in the least by his vulgar language.

“What would bring me early? I come if I feel like coming and don’t if I don’t. It’s a free world!”

Spewing out this gibberish in one breath, she plopped down in front of Master Yun. He laughed blankly but kept his eyes right on her.

“Why, that beak of yours spins like the wheel of a gig! How come your beak rattles on like that?”

“What’s a gig?”

“Be quiet, you bitch … I’m listening to some music. Why don’t you get down there and rub my legs, huh?”

“No! Night and day that’s all I do–rub your legs. I won’t!”

Ch’unsim had reason to complain. She was young and so earned only half the full rate, but it wasn’t right to ask a kisaeng, who paid her taxes, to rub his legs all the time.

Since the previous spring, Master Yun had been disappointed in love five times running; Ch’unsim was his sixth love. Since his loving concubine had run off the autumn before, Master Yun had endured the deep loneliness of a man on a solitary pilgrimage, not to mention the intolerable nightly boredom of a man without a companion.

The guest room was in good shape and ready for use, but there wasn’t a single old man to pay a friendly visit to Master Yun. Out of desperation he might have gone out of his way to invite a paduk* player, at the cost of wasting a few cigarettes, except that in his whole life Master Yun had never played paduk, changgi,* or other board games.

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