"This Burns My Heart" by Samuel Park (published 2011)

Have you heard this story before? A woman, torn between her feelings for two different men, ends up making the wrong decision and lives a life of pain, suffering, and longing. Does that sound familiar? Though that storyline comprises the basic plot of Samuel Park’s “This Burns My Heart” (2011), I promise that there is something especially distinctive about this story, which I would even go so far as to call an epic saga.

The novel is made up of four parts, each one named for a plant organism special to Korean culture; Part 1: Chrysanthemum, Part 2: Orchid, Part 3: Plum Blossom, and Part 4: Bamboo.  Each of these plants represents something specific, which is beautifully explained by Park within the context of the story, but can be said simply to symbolize resilience, strength, and persistence in the face of harsh circumstances. These characteristics align with how Korean society became after the war, during the 1960s. Everyone in “This Burns My Heart” is an embodiment of the life-sustaining properties of those four powerful plants - most particularly, Soo-Ja, a beautiful and headstrong young Korean woman, who, at the beginning of this novel, is determined to become a diplomat.

“This Burns My Heart” takes place in South Korea after the war. South Korea was in the process of modernization (which we now know happened rapidly between the 1960s through the present day). Samuel Park tells a story of how this process affected three generations of Koreans – the generations that came before the war, generations that lived through it, and generations that had to find a way to survive in its aftermath. After the war was over, Soo-Ja, a woman who lived through it alongside her parents and brothers, expressed a great interest in becoming a diplomat: it would mean working alongside businessmen with a lot of clout, moving to Seoul (the capital of South Korea) from her hometown of Daegu, and international travel: all requirements she knew she could handle and desperately wanted to do. However, with her father standing in her way - as Seoul was considered then unsafe, full of people striking and rioting in the streets – she isn’t able to go… not without a fight anyway.

One day an arrogant-looking man follows Soo-Ja and her friend through the busy streets of South Korea. When he finally gets stopped by the police (due to quick, clever thinking on Soo-Ja’s part) it turns out all this man wanted from Soo-Ja was to ask her on a date, as opposed to stealing her purse. It is when Soo-Ja finds out that he is not just a possible suitor - but also a protester that plans on going to Seoul to join the movement - that she comes up with an idea to help her fulfill her dream of becoming a diplomat. Her decision to marry this man, who she likes well enough and seems to believe that she could end up loving, actually ends up becoming a disastrous choice with repercussions lasting over a decade of her life.

History, coming-of-age, culture, drama, violence… what’s missing? Yes – romance. True love appears at exactly the wrong time for Soo-Ja. Still, she is given one chance to make a final decision. Later, she asks herself:

“Why are we asked to make the most important decisions of our lives when we are so young, and so prone to mistakes?”

Soo-Ja’s story is about hardship. At her home in Daegu before her marriage, servants spoke behind her back as if she were a spoiled princess needing attention. Men would rudely howl for her outside her home just to see her attractive face. Her over-protective father would not allow her to fulfill her highest goals, while her complacent mother held on to suffocating traditions. Later, Soo-Ja is subjected to an abusive family of in-laws, after her money, her work, and ability to bear children. Worse, she is shunned for her beauty and forced into poverty. A bit of a Cinderella story – but the many depths that Soo-Ja falls into, I think, are the worst but the very best part of it. People complain that Cinderella was weak, that she shouldn’t have let her family speak to her in such a way, that she could have left, that she was not strong, that she waited to be saved, that her beauty was all there was. Read Soo-Ja’s story and understand precisely why any Cinderella’s circumstances are as such. There are conditions which a person may become entrapped without any one person at fault – how does someone rise above this? “This Burns My Heart” is a perfect example of how.

Soo-Ja, the rich, smart, and beautiful girl from Daegu, becomes almost unrecognizable as the story moves ahead. She finally gets to Seoul all right, but she is offered no respect as a cheap hotel owner who people mistake for a maid – even as she runs the entire hotel while her husband remains jobless. Before this life in Seoul, Park offers unbelievable subplots as well as chapters which burned my very own heart as I read them, racing ahead to see how Soo-Ja’s unwavering will would shine through by the end. There is her relationship with her daughter Hana, her relationship with the husband she sincerely tries to love, Min, her relationship with her father, saddened by his daughters' plight, and her relationship with her one true love, Yul, who never happens to completely disappear from her life, for whatever reason.

Samuel Park writes as if he doesn’t intend to teach, that instead, his intention is to share something more worthwhile, to show an example of someone with the ability to remain dignified while still, unconsciously, being absolutely selfless. A byproduct of Samuel Park writing this book is the possibility of understanding more about Korean culture, for example, the idea of parental “privileges” over children and how this can be done with love or else abused, the bravery of men, which can be ridiculous and used to show-off or else done with real valiance, or, the dynamics of a Korean “gye”, and much, much more. Another byproduct is understanding major elements of Korean history, like what it would be like to be one of the “lucky” ones during the war, or how men would steal children from off the street as if it were completely normal after the war the was over, of how people became liars and cheaters just to spite others and get ahead post-war, and so much more. There is the class struggle too, always a looming shadow in the background, full of depth and insight into the reasons behind actions and reactions.

It is difficult to summarize and review this book. “This Burns My Heart” overflows with content on so many subjects, and has the nuance to boot. Samuel Park is a natural storyteller that produces clear images and straightforward characterization that makes this heavy tale an easy read.

I’ll end with this – one of my favorite parts of “This Burns My Heart” is a scene when Soo-Ja is told, in detail, how Korea is perceived negatively by other parts of the world. And despite all this about Korean drama, petty or not, and culture, barbaric or not, and history, moral or not, Soo-Ja says this back:

“Did you know that Korea was the first country in Asia to have a standing army? And even through decades of being colonized by foreigners, it still managed to create a world-class art, literature, and the finest tradition of brush ink paintings you’ve ever seen? When I visit the magnificent, centuries-old temples of Nakansa or Shinhungsa, or drive past the Namdaeum Gate, or think of the astonishing Tripitaka Koreana and the thousand Buddhas of Jikjisa Temple, I am always proud that in my blood runs a tradition of great scholars and artists… or when I hear a woman, dressed in a colorful hanbok, sing and dance the pansori, and do so beautifully, I find myself swooning with joy. This is what I like about being Korean: when we were attacked by all those different countries, and our names, language, and occupations taken away, we may have looked as though we were bound to our enemies, but deep down we never forgot our worth, we never let them into our heads. And that’s why we’ll be able to triumph in the end, and be proud to call ourselves Korean…”