Han Kang's 'We Do Not Part' delves into Jeju massacre legacy

The Nobel Prize winner’s latest novel uncovers the enduring trauma of the 1948-49 Jeju massacre.

Illustration by Nikki van Oostende

By Rochem Noor and Novanka Laras

We Do Not Part, by Han Kang; translated by E. Yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris

Han Kang, the celebrated South Korean novelist and 2024 Nobel Prize laureate in Literature, returns with another poignant and deeply unsettling novel, We Do Not Part. Translated into English for the first time by E. Yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris, the book offers a haunting exploration of the Jeju massacre of 1948-49. This dark chapter in Korean history, marked by mass killings, gang rape, and other atrocities under the guise of anticommunism, remains largely unknown to many readers, particularly in the West. Through this novel, Han Kang sheds light on this painful past while weaving a narrative that is both personal and collective in its emotional resonance.

The Jeju massacre, which resulted in the deaths of at least 30,000 civilians, unfolded under the shadow of U.S. military occupation in South Korea following World War II. Despite official apologies from South Korea’s modern presidents, including Roh Moo-hyun in 2003 and Moon Jae-in in 2018, the United States has yet to acknowledge its complicity. In We Do Not Part, Han Kang confronts this silence, crafting a story that is as much about historical reckoning as it is about the lingering scars of violence.

The novel’s protagonist, Kyungha, is a historian and writer living in Seoul. Her life is overshadowed by chronic pain—manifesting as debilitating migraines and abdominal spasms—that drives her to the brink of despair. Kyungha's struggle is not merely physical; it reflects the emotional weight of history and memory that permeates the novel. She shares an artistic bond with her friend Inseon, a former filmmaker turned carpenter from Jeju. Together, they envision a memorial project incorporating charred logs as a symbol of the lives lost during the massacres—a poignant metaphor for the destruction of both people and nature.

A journey to the past

The narrative takes an unexpected turn when Inseon suffers a severe hand injury, leaving her hospitalized in Seoul. Inseon entrusts Kyungha with a seemingly simple yet urgent task: to travel to Jeju and rescue her pet bird, left unattended in her remote compound. However, a treacherous snowstorm transforms this journey into an odyssey, leaving Kyungha isolated in Inseon’s home. It is here, amid the eerie quiet and scattered remnants of Inseon’s life, that Kyungha uncovers traces of her friend’s obsessive research into her family’s tragic history during the Jeju massacre.

The house becomes a liminal space where the boundaries between the past and present blur. Ghosts of the dead seem to hover in the air, their shadows flickering across walls. Han Kang masterfully evokes this sense of dislocation, using the physical setting as a mirror for Kyungha’s internal turmoil. The compound, with its buried secrets and haunting memories, becomes a stage where the trauma of history plays out in fragmented, dreamlike sequences.

Inseon’s family history is a microcosm of the larger atrocities that unfolded on Jeju. Her mother, a survivor of the massacre, spent years documenting the horrors she witnessed, leaving behind a trove of research that Inseon later discovers. Kyungha’s journey through this archive of pain is interwoven with her own memories and dreams, creating a narrative structure that is intentionally disorienting. Han Kang peels back layers of time and memory with meticulous care, revealing the interconnectedness of personal and collective suffering.

At its core, We Do Not Part is a meditation on the act of remembering. The novel grapples with the impossibility of fully comprehending or conveying the brutality of the past. Kyungha and Inseon’s unfinished memorial project symbolizes this struggle. The blackened logs they plan to use represent the charred remains of both trees and human lives, a stark reminder of the devastation wrought by violence. Yet, the project’s incompleteness underscores the limitations of art and language in capturing the full scope of trauma.

Han Kang’s prose, rendered into English with a mix of stark realism and lyrical beauty, alternates between historical reportage and poetic introspection. The most vivid passages recount the atrocities of the Jeju massacre in harrowing detail: children executed in cold blood, families torn apart, and mass graves hidden in caves. These scenes are juxtaposed with moments of quiet reflection, where the characters grapple with their own pain and the weight of inherited trauma.

The translation occasionally veers into melodrama, with descriptions of “blood streaming” and “fire raging” that might feel overwrought. However, these flourishes often serve to heighten the emotional intensity of the narrative, particularly in scenes where personal grief intersects with historical horror. Han Kang is unafraid to delve into the realm of poetic cliché, using recurring motifs of snow, water, and graves to evoke a sense of timelessness and inevitability.

Relevance to the present

While firmly rooted in the past, We Do Not Part resonates deeply with contemporary issues. The novel serves as a stark reminder of the invisible histories that shape our present, challenging readers to confront the legacies of colonialism, militarism, and political oppression. For readers in the United States, the novel’s exploration of American complicity in the Jeju massacre may prompt uncomfortable questions about the nation’s role in global conflicts.

Han Kang’s work also speaks to the universal human need for connection and community in the face of suffering. Kyungha’s relationship with Inseon, though strained by distance and personal struggles, becomes a lifeline for both women. Their shared commitment to remembering and honoring the victims of the Jeju massacre reflects a broader desire to bear witness to history, even when it feels unbearable.

In a world increasingly defined by digital distractions and fleeting attention spans, We Do Not Part demands patience and introspection. The novel’s fragmented structure and slow pacing mirror the disjointed nature of memory, requiring readers to piece together its narrative threads. This deliberate approach forces us to reckon with the complexities of history, refusing to offer easy resolutions or tidy conclusions.

A call to remember

As Han Kang continues to gain international acclaim, her work challenges us to reconsider the boundaries of literature and its role in society. We Do Not Part is more than a historical novel; it is a testament to the enduring power of storytelling as a means of preserving memory and fostering empathy. Through its unflinching portrayal of the Jeju massacre and its aftermath, the novel invites readers to confront the darkness of the past while seeking light in the act of remembrance.

For those willing to embark on its challenging journey, We Do Not Part offers a profound exploration of loss, resilience, and the indomitable human spirit. Han Kang’s voice, both tender and unyielding, reminds us that even in the face of unspeakable tragedy, the act of bearing witness is a form of resistance—a refusal to let the past be forgotten.