At Least We Can Apologize

by Lee Ki-Ho, Christopher Joseph Dykas (Translator)

At Least We can Apologize focuses on an agency whose only purpose is to offer apologies--for a fee--on behalf of its clients. This seemingly insignificant service leads us into an examination of sin, guilt, and the often irrational demands of society. A kaleidoscope of minor nuisances and major grievances, this novel heralds a new comic voice in Korean letters.

Genres: Fiction, Asian Literature, Asia, Novels, Literature, Literary Fiction, 21st Century

185 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2009

About the author

Lee Ki-ho is a South Korean writer. He is currently a professor in the department of creative writing at Gwangju University.

Reviews

[julieta · Rating 4 out of 5]

Este humor negro va muy en serio! Tiene algo del absurdo, y algo de violencia. Me gustó mucho porque siempre te lleva por lugares inesperados. Especialmente porque los personajes actúan por una lógica que no tiene nada que ver con "el bien" y "el mal". Original y desesperante. Muy recomendado.

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 5 out of 5]

Emerging from the allegorical Institution—a brutal place where frequent illogical and inexplicable beatings plague the inhabitants—the narrator and Si-bong take refuge at the home of a foul-mouthed alcoholic prostitute (Si-bong’s sister) and her companion known only as the man with the horn-rimmed glasses. Needing to contribute to the upkeep, the narrator and Si-bong offer their services as professional apologizers—baiting their first client the butcher by probing into the small-scale “wrongs” he has committed to his fellow shopkeeper across the road. This surreal, dark and hilarious narrative is a disquieting satire of a brutalising environment (parallels to Korean situation simple to draw) and a touching tale about that general poisonous bitterness that loves creeping into the lives of the poor and makes human existence an unbearable toil for no apparent reason and the alienness of compassion in these conditions. Dalkey’s proposed 25-book Korean Library is an exciting and unprecedented event in recent letters and this reader will be devouring more entries in the series on the basis of this stunning novel.

[Tony · Rating 4 out of 5]

An apology means that you say you aren't going to do the same thing you did before. That's all it is.

Would that it were that simple.

This is a different kind of Dystopia. It begins in an Institution. Our narrator meets Si-bong there. They become a pair, in a story of pairs. They are "residents," drugged and systematically and brutally beaten by "caretakers." It is there they learn to apologize and, more precisely, learn to apologize for others. In the Institution they apologize for the other residents. When they leave/escape, they start a kind of business where, for a fee, they will apologize for anyone who needs to.

The apologies are not simply saying, "I'm sorry." For example, a mother was angry at her son, who did something wrong. She grabbed him by the wrist, hard. So the narrator and Si-bong apologize for him . . . by Si-bong grabbing a steel pipe and smashing it against the narrator's wrist.

Sometimes, death will be the only apology.

Perhaps I've made this sound grim. It is, yet it isn't. This book is brilliant, riveting, powerful, not-for-everyone-but-yes-for-me.

[Hulyacln · Rating 4 out of 5]

Yeteneklerinizi şöyle bir gözden geçirin. Elinizde neler var? Yumuşacık bir sesiniz, güçlü kaleminiz, dillere destan yemekleriniz, bakanın gözlerini alamadığı resimleriniz? 
Takdir gören, yaptıkça kendinizi iyi hissettiğiniz bir şey bulamıyor musunuz? Hemen canınızı sıkmayın: Özür dileyebilirsiniz.
Sadece kendiniz için değil başkaları için de! Dünyada hata yapmaktan, suç işlemekten bol ne var? Hemen yüklenin sorumluluğu, günah keçisi oluverin. Boynunuzu bükün, aflar dileyin, özrünüz kabul edilene kadar ne gerekiyorsa yapın. 
İşte böyle düşünen iki arkadaş var: Jinman ve Şibong.
Onlar bir tesiste tanıştılar. Dostlukları pek çok şeye dayanıyor: Birlikte şiddet görmeye, ispiyonlamaya, suç yaratmaya ve daha nicesine.Tabii alışık oldukları düzen değişmeye başlıyor, o kadarını da anlatmayayım değil mi? Sizi merakta mı bıraktım? Özür dilerim!
.
Lee Ki Ho karanlık bir atmosfer yaratıp, simgeler üzerinden bir olay örgüsü kurguluyor. Suç'un karşına cezayı da masumiyeti koymuyor, bu karşıtlığı 'özür dilemek' ile sağlıyor. Bitirene kadar başından kalkmadığım bu eser tenime iğneler de batırdı elbet. Kitabın son sayfasını da çevirdiğimde düşünmeye başladım: Kendi hatalarımızı başkalarının üzerine yıkıp yüklerimizden arınabilir miyiz? Sütten çıkmış ak kaşıklar olabilir miyiz? Önce suç yaratıp ardından bu suça inanıp bir de üzerine acılar içinde kavrulabilir miyiz? Bu soruların cevaplarının 'evet' olduğunu bildiğimiz halde, sonuçsuz bir çaba ile sormaya devam eder miyiz?
.
İncecik bir kitap Özür Dileriz. Ancak anlattıkları, ima ettikleri çok derin. Lee Ki Ho sade, dolambaçsız bir şekilde bunu başarıyor. 
Okumanızı çok isteyeceğim eserlerden oldu bile!
.
Mehmet Ölçer çevirisi, Yasin Çetin kapak tasarımıyla ~~

[Coos Burton · Rating 5 out of 5]

Si no supiera la nacionalidad del autor, y al margen de ciertas tradiciones/guiños a la cultura coreana, pensaría que esta novela está ambientada en Argentina. El desconocimiento y negación con el tema de las enfermedades mentales es terrible: todos los días se escuchan noticias anunciando tragedias que involucran a personas que padecen alguna enfermedad mental. Quizá por esa extraña y triste cercanía fue que me pegó tanto esta novela.

[lecturas_niponas · Rating 4 out of 5]

Satírico, cómico, trágico. Si la trama no fuera con un fondo oscuro, afirmaría que es comedia.
Es un género muy difícil de conseguir tal sutileza, solo había leído a Tsutsui lograr algo así.
Lo recomiendo muchísimo, es ideal para distender la mente.

[jounseen · Rating 4 out of 5]

Imagine this : One day suddenly waking up inside a mental institution. You do not have any memory of how you got there nor why. But somehow you managed to adapt in the environment as if it was like a home where you were fed, medicated, given sleeping accommodation and assigned everyday tasks. One of these tasks is to apologize of the wrongdoings of other residents. What is more is that you do all these things as if it is the most natural thing in the twisted world that is of the institution.

This is what happens to Sibong and Jin-man, two young men who were brought to a mental institution at an early age, and then forced to adapt at such demanding place.

The story At Least We Can Apologize penned by Lee Ki-Ho begins in a light, somber tone. One could chuckle and smile a bit at the silliness of the premise. But one will also know that there is something foreboding about it.

Admittedly, I purchased the ebook after being intrigued by the book’s synopsis. I was like: ‘who, in their right minds, will apologize for any wrong of my own doing?’

Yet, unknowingly, with that question, I also found the answer. Who in their right minds will do such thing? Presumably, the antagonists in the story were not of right minds because they were admitted to a mental institution. But were they?

This is what the narrative explores. Through Jin-Man’s thoughts and voice, I began to empathize, relate and explore what really is being mentally-ill and what it is not. For there is a fine, thin line between that on some, maybe most, people.

I like the book because it does not dither and dawdle on what it truly can be in the world of mental health care (or lack thereof). I do not wish to reveal more of the plot but I can say that the story makes this known in such peculiar and gripping ways.

I also found the narrator’s voice curious, candid and sincere. Though warped and nonlinear may the narrator’s way of thinking is, the reader will come to understand and justify why this is so.

I find this story highly recommended if you prefer to read less-talked about topics or issues intertwined in the plot with an air of mystery. It is not an effort to read at all. This was one of my apprehensions at first but, gladly, it was all easily overshadowed with further reading.

Altogether, it’s an engaging read because the story can be real to any one person. We do not have to be mentally-ill to relate to it. Nor we do not have to be thoroughly sane to realize the foolhardy ways with which we live unapologetic lives.

To end this review, I leave with my favorite quote from the book:

Because sometimes your wrongs only go away if you pretend you never knew them.

[Korcan Derinsu · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5/5

Özür Dileriz, aslında çok güzel bir fikirden yola çıkan, yer yer güzel bölümleri de olan ama eksik kalmış hissi veren bir roman. Bunun sebebi de sonsözden öğrendiğimiz üzere 600 sayfadan 150 sayfaya indirilmesi kuşkusuz. Şiddeti, suç ve cezayı, iyiliği-kötülüğü ele alan bir roman bunu o kadar az sayfada yapmaya çalışıyor ki hiçbir şey tam doyuma ulaşmıyor. Oysa bir başkasının özrü ile suçlar bağışlanabilir mi, vicdan bu durumda nerede konumlanır, her suçun özrü var mıdır vs. gibi güzel felsefi soruları ele alan bir romanın düz bir hikayeden daha fazlasını vermesi gerekli bence. Bu yüzden romanın uzun halini okumayı çok isterdim. Ancak bu haliyle de asla kötü değil sadece eksik gibi.

[Tuck · Rating 5 out of 5]

bizarre and gruesome tale here, but what if someone offered to apologize for you? but really effectively, i mean, this apology would stick, would really really be from the heart, albeit, a hired heart.
would you hire that person? ah come on, nothing? you have NOTHING to apologize for? um.. what about that kid you terrorized in 5th grade? or or the car batteries you stole to buy drugs? (i mean, those folks had to a. somehow get to work the next morning and b. had to buy a new battery,, and for what, a days worth of dope for you?!) oror what about that rabbit you hit in your car? yes if WOULD have been dangerous for you to swerve, or stop and pick up the pieces, and say you're sorry, but, did you really do anything with those few minutes you saved? oh yeah, what?

so, if this worked, if it was a business, what would be the consequences? i mean, it'd be all to the good right? you, with a clean conscience, the wronged with a nice new shiny apology. what could go wrong?
lee ki-ho chronicles what could go wrong.

[Davin Underwood · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lee Ki-ho’s “At Least We Can Apologize” is a synthesis of dark humor and the absurd that draws the reader into a self-ascribed and objectionable logical realm of a set of characters whose rationality is shaped by undesirable circumstances. The story is well crafted using sparse storytelling and simple language with a fair amount of symbolic imagery that provides a catalyst for the reader to reach deeper into the subtle social criticisms and insights woven into the story. In one respect, it is a post-modern tale of the lives of two men who were held at an enigmatic mental institution where they faced constant abuse from two of their caretakers. They are forcibly medicated and endure seemingly constant torment as a result of their living conditions. In another respect, it is a call to arms to question and reject authoritative social constructions that suppress individuality and the superficial ascription of shame. On the surface one might assume this story to be a tragedy that utilizes claustrophobia in the Kafkian sense and as a miserable saga where one trudges along with the characters on their path to despair. Fortunately, that isn’t the case. Instead the tone, which stands in stark contrast to the often grotesque subject matter, is lighthearted and comical, perhaps a result of the character’s respective naiveté as they try to reintegrate themselves in the real world.

Si-bong and the narrator Jin-man forge a somewhat sacred bond with one another on account of their horrific living conditions at the facility at which they have been admitted. Si-bong is capable of recalling his life before being institutionalized more easily than Jin-man, whose history is more opaque and fragmented and clues about his history only come by way of third-party recollection. While in the institution, Si-bong and Jin-man spent the majority of their time packing socks into boxes and when they are working, they spend their time devising ways to avoid the perpetual beatings. Eventually the men learn how to lessen the beatings by confessing their wrongs. Upon learning of this confession loophole, they begin confessing even the most trivial of their actions and thoughts, which leads to a slight relief from the burdens of the abuse. Unfortunately, they begin to run out of tangible confessions and begin fabricating wrongs to confess. They then commit these same wrongs ex post facto in order to justify their cause. Over time, they become so good at confessing and apologizing that they burden themselves with the task of apologizing for the wrongs of the other patients at the hospital. In accordance with the logic implanted in Si-bong and Jin-man, every apology requires an acceptance, and in order to accept an apology there must in turn be a requisite punishment.

The arrival of a recalcitrant third patient, who calls upon Si-bong and Jin-man to assist him in communicating with the outside world, signals the death knell of the institution. Eventually the authorities catch wind of the proceedings at the institution and the institution crumbles. The men are released into the world to make a living with a limited and peculiar set of skills. After leaving the institution, Si-bong and Jin-man end up at Si-yeon’s house, the former’s sister. Jin-man, on account of his having nowhere else to go, sticks with Si-bong so they can figure out their next move. Si-yeon is leading a morally questionable life with her freeloading boyfriend, a man who is only described by the shape of his glasses, his knack for poor decisions, and lack of general integrity. Perhaps his one redeeming quality is his suggestion to the pair to find work, even though his ulterior motives are apparent. He encourages Si-bong and Jin-man to tap into their narrow field of proficiency, which they do. The pair attempts to find work related to their expertise in the art of packing but fail. This leaves them with the only option to find a way to utilize their skill of apologizing, most specifically, apologizing for the often very personal faults of others.

Confiding in Si-yeon’s lover, the two agree to allow the man to design their new business strategy and marketing plan for possibly the world’s first ever firm for apologies. With good intentions, the pair set out to find wrongs in the world, as they understand wrongs to be, according to their esoteric assumption of prudence. The two stake out in a residential area and intervene in the affairs of a few small business owners whose lives revolve around the neighborhood. Specifically, they target a butcher and his close friend, a street vendor, and later, a restaurant owner and her son. The lives of their newly adopted clients, and recipients of the fruits of the protagonist’s arduous labor, are relatively sound. Each of them performs a certain routine and is seemingly happy in doing so, as if they have willfully accepted their lot in life. That is until the pair’s distorted sense of justice and retribution makes its unwelcome debut in their private matters.

The story runs back and forth between the present and recollections of the time in the institution, adding complexity to the bleak circumstances forced upon the protagonists before their release. Lee Ki-ho’s style is understated, leaving the reader much room to formulate their own assumptions about just how different their world is from reality and what the consequences of that might bring. The chapters are compact and succinct while a smattering of sentences can sound almost aphoristic. This novel has a quick pace and is a fine read, especially for those who prefer the pile of manure to the field of daisies. It brings to light new and old questions pertaining to morality, justice, retribution, and challenges one’s involvement in the social institutions that govern every individual. Depending on the perspective of the reader, the book can be regarded as a grim comedy, or a testament that beckons for change and advancement of what is expected from each of us in our particular social roles. Overall, it is a solid read and fine piece of work from a country whose contributions to the contemporary literary world are criminally undervalued.

[J J · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a quick read, and very good and well written, albeit highly and deliberately stylized. I haven't read the Korean, but either the English translation or Lee Ki-Ho's writing itself is very smooth, transcending cultures and idioms and existing just as a work of legit literature. This might seriously be the first Korean fiction novel written by a Korean writer that could have taken place anywhere, and almost at any time in modern society. I really appreciated this factor of the book.

The narrator's way of ending each statement with, "This was on account of [something obvious]" really reminded me of something, but I can't put my finger on it...otherwise, it reminds me of something between the book version of "A Clockwork Orange" by Anthony Burgess, and the Kubrick film "Full Metal Jacket."

I read this before really looking into its reviews, which now I see round this book up as an absurdist comedy about an "agency whose only purpose is to offer apologies." Other sources seem to consider this a "fun read" in the style of Vonnegut. I disagree - as with Vonnegut's writing, far greater, deeper, and thought provoking social and ethical commentary can be, must be, found between the lines.

This is a story of two best friends by circumstance and need, who escape from an institution in which they were forcefully medicated and beaten daily, and also made to cover up and literally bury evidence of suicides or other mishaps within the walls in which they were imprisoned. What ensues after the institution gets raided and shut down, granting them accidental liberation, is absurd and quirky, maybe, but not altogether funny. More sad and horrifying, actually. Together, the apologists don't quite have an "agency" - apologizing is a habit that they try to monetize as they grasp to find a income and identity after being cut loose from an extremely abusive and controlled environment. They have no help, either, because everyone around them is wrapped in their own b.s. and unable to see how dysfunctional these men are. Worse and worse stuff happens as the tale goes on, but I won't spoil it for everyone.

Whether the author intended it or not, his two main characters' altogether unsuccessful and odd journey back to society constantly harks towards deeper themes of disillusion, numbness, mistrust, identity, obliviousness, abandonment, institutionalism, corruption of society and the soul, mental/physical/sexual abuse, classism, socioeconomic struggle, and humanity and lack thereof.

[Paul Fulcher · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Being beaten together like that for so long, we became friends."

이기호 (Lee Ki-Ho)'s 사과는 잘해요(literally [We] (*) can apologise well) has been translated into English by Christopher J. Dykas (a new translator to me) as “At least we can apologize”, another in the excellent Dalkey Archive Library of Korean Literature.

(*the pronoun is implicit in Korean)

The copyright pages shows that the Library of Congress have categorised the novel under the fiction sub-headings of "Mystique of sin", "apologising" and "autonomy (psychology)". The writing of the novel itself is much simpler than this categorisation would suggest, reflecting the mental development of the narrator, and the story is even cartoonish with a slapstick level of violence reminscent of Korean movies, but the categorisation hints at the psychological complexities underneath.

The novel begins with the narrator, Jin-man, and his fellow inmate Si-bong in an unnamed and small institution, where each of them had been committed by their parents: "neither Si-bong nor I know how many years we spent there together. That's because we can't remember. I know that there, I grew six centimetres taller. Si-bong gained eight kilograms.".

In the institution, the two caretakers (warders) regularly beat them:

"When I first entered the institution I was beaten almost daily. I was beaten in the morning, beaten at lunchtime and beaten before bed. Sometimes I wasn't beaten in the morning and then beaten twice at night, and I was even beaten twice at lunch and three times at night before. I was beaten with a pointer, beaten with a steel pipe, slapped, punched, kicked with a booted foot, and even beaten with a thick book. I was beaten with a chair, beaten with a trashcan, beaten with socks, and beaten with a shovel. After being beaten like this for some time, one day I looked over and there was Si-bong. After that we were beaten together every day. Being beaten together like that for so long, we became friends."

They discover that the way to (slightly) lessen the beatings is to confess to myraid offences.

"Every time the caretakers beat us they would ask us 'Do you know what you did wrong'

We had to come up with new wrongs every day. Some of them became 'wrongs', while others became 'greater wrongs.' On days we committed wrongs, we were beaten less, on days we committed 'greater wrongs' we were beaten a lot, and on days we admitted to nothing, we were beaten repeatedly all day long."

But crucially:

"After we confessed a wrong, we always made sure to commit it. That was on account of our feeling unsettled after having the confession in our heads all day long. We made sure to commit exactly the wrongs we confessed, and only those wrongs. Only that way could we ease our minds and sleep soundly."

And they are eventually appointed head residents: "We began to apologize to the caretakers on behalf of the residents, that was exactly the head residents' duty that the caretakers had told us about."

But apologising means more than simply words "then we're just tittletatlers, you have to accept the apology" and that means them accepting punishments on behalf of the other residents ("don't think of us as us...Please, hit us more! Then it's an apology.")

A new arrival tells them that there is no reason why they are there ("you guys are fine and you're locked up in here! We have to get out of here as soon as we can") and who throws notes over the wall begging for rescue. "The image of the man staying up late each night to write the notes was so pitiful that Si-bong and I decided to help him" and in imitation writes their own notes which they enclose in the boxes of socks and soap the institution sells to raise funds:

"We are being held captive. If you find this note, please report this to the police. The man in our room said that you will be paid generously."

Someone follows the note's suggestion, the staff are all arrested and the institution is closed, leaving them rather bereft. They go to live with Si-bong's sister Si-yeon, and look for work. Someone tells them: "Isn't there something you know how to do that other people don't?"

"We realised something we did well, something that we could do to earn money and so something that we could do to help out Si-yeon....

Apologize."

The rest of the novel narrates how they try to start working apologising on behalf of others. The potential market size is huge - "there are wrongs upon wrongs out there. That means the apologies just keep coming." But they take their tasks to naïve extremes, largely making situation worse by creating wrongs so there is something to apologise for, and taking suggested restitutions literally:

"'Just go on your merry way, 'cause I'm finally going to break this little bastard's wrist.'

'So you're saying if a wrist gets broken then you would accept the apology?'"

And Si-bong and Jin-man are unable to move on from their past in the institution as they re-encounter the psychopathic caretakers and the other staff. Si-bong makes the ultimate apology to the caretakers on Jin-man's behalf, and Jin-man finds that his father may have done the same thing.

"I looked back once and gazed at the neon blue cross of the hospital. I thought about how we'd gotten pretty far, but that still, the cross, from someplace high up, from someplace close, was still looking down at us."

A deceptively simple but very dark story, with powerful undertones on the meaning of guilt, sin, restitution and forgiveness.

Links to some other reviews:

http://www.ktlit.com/review-of-lee-ki...

http://tonysreadinglist.blogspot.co.u...

http://londonkoreanlinks.net/2014/03/...

http://www.complete-review.com/review...

[Allison · Rating 4 out of 5]

Qué viaje fue leer este libro.
El autor toca temas fuertes con una óptica muy particular. Leer sobre marginalización y salud mental nunca había sido tan desestructurante y bizarro. Me encantó encontrarme con una narrativa así de particular.
La historia sigue a dos ex pacientes de un psiquiátrico cuestionable que es cerrado por las autoridades. Estos dos hombres quedan a la deriva e intentan sobrevivir en una realidad hecha para apartar la diferencia. Y es así cómo se van topando y generando situaciones que se describen con simplicidad, pero que abarcan muchos temas sensibles.

[Doina · Rating 3 out of 5]

Stranie și înduioșătoare, o termini și iți dai seama că e foarte complexă și poate fi citită pe mai multe straturi. O poveste scurtă, dar plină de sensuri.

[Larnacouer de SH · Rating 1 out of 5]

Ay acayip tadımı kaçırdı bu kitap ya.

[Yasemin Macar · Rating 4 out of 5]

< Özür Dileriz - Lee Ki-Ho > #okudumokuyun

Yorumlanmayan ya da paylaşmadığım o kadar çok kitap varmış ki seri halinde paylaşacağım büyük ihtimal😅

Lee Ki-Ho'yu hem bir yazar olarak hem de bir insan olarak çok sevdim. Farklı bakış açısıyla bizleri düşündürmeye çalışmış; okurken bazen gerildim çünkü bu insanlara neden böyle davranıldığı beni biraz hırpaladı. Kitap basılmadan önce tefrika edilmiş sonrasında hocalarının desteğiyle Lee Ki-Ho, kitaba dönüştürmüş. Aslı 600 sayfaymış fakat yazar kısaltmış. 150 sayfada birçok şeye değinmiş ve geri kalan kısımda neler olduğunu gerçekten çok merak etmiştim. Söyleşi de kendisine soru olarakta ilettim fakat sorum tam olarak iletilmedi o da farklı bir cevap verip; yazılanlara herkesin aynı tepki vermediğini kötü yorumlarda aldığını (şiddet, istismar vs dolayı) ve bu yüzden bazı kısımları kitaptan çıkardığını da söyledi. Yaşanılan olaylar dile gelip yazıya döküldüğünde, dünyanın neresinde olursanız olun görmek istemeyince maalesef dile getiren kötü kişi konumuna düşüyor! Tesis denilen yerde insanlara uygulanan şiddet bir çok kurumla da özdeşleşebilir bu yüzden kesin tepki aldı.

Jinman ve Şibong karakterleri bu tesisten bir yolunu bulup kaçtıktan sonra kendilerini geçindirmek için en iyi yaptıkları işi "özür dilemek", yapmaya başlıyorlar. Bu felsefenin bir kurguya dönüşmesi güzel olmuş fakat eksik kalan parçaları da okurken hissedip asıl metini de merak ediyorsunuz. Bu hali de gayet iyi tabiki😉

Mehmet hocaya güzel çevirisi içinde ayrıca teşekkür ederim🙏 Yazarla tanışıp sohbet etme şansı yakaladığım içinde çok mutluyum. İnşallah daha çok yazarla tanışma fırsatım olur🥰😍

[Tom · Rating 5 out of 5]

An allegorical tale blurring sin, ideological wrong, and the nature of apology. What is an apology? Can we be said to have committed wrongs if we don't know we've committed them? When has our anger and hurt been sufficiently slaked by those apologizing to us? What does our anger and hurt require in recompense? Wrap these questions in veneer of comedy, and you have something like Laurel and Hardy meet Franz Kafka, with an emphasis on philosophical dysfunction over institutional paranoia. . . . The plot of this novel involves the nameless narrator and his friend, Si-bong, the two freed from an abusive, nightmarish institution, who create a business for themselves of apologizing to wronged individuals on behalf of wrong-doers--the only tangible skill they have, and the unexpected shortcomings of apology and atonement they only slowly, and painfully, discover.

[yelenska · Rating 3 out of 5]

je dois y réfléchir un peu avant de donner mon avis... un livre bien étrange.

[Lautaro Vincon · Rating 5 out of 5]

«Nos sale bien pedir perdón», en una paródica tragicomedia, evidencia la reinserción de los pacientes psiquiátricos en un sistema que no está preparado para tal cosa, además del maltrato y el aprovechamiento que sufren por parte de las instituciones que deberían cuidarlos y otorgarles las herramientas para avanzar.
Tras una denuncia sobre corrupción en la clínica donde están internados, los entrañables Jinman y Sibong, una dupla inseparable digna de un sketch televisivo, tendrán que enfrentar el día a día mientras buscan su propio camino dentro de la sociedad. Intentando descubrir en qué se destacan y en qué rubro podrían aportar sus conocimientos, la respuesta estará frente a sus ojos: les sale bien pedir perdón; y si no pueden pedirlo, crearán malas acciones para poder disculparse y, de ese modo, sentirse dignos y útiles. Así, construirán un plan lleno de momentos impredecibles mientras la crítica social se asoma en los demás personajes que, como satélites, giran en torno a los protagonistas: el director y los cuidadores de la clínica, un apostador de carreras, una prostituta, la dueña de un negocio que no para de quejarse de su barrio... «Nos sale bien pedir perdón» es una novela divertida que, pese a las carcajadas que logra robarnos, nos obliga a observar las injusticias ocultas a simple vista, no solo en Corea sino en el mundo entero.

[Zak · Rating 2 out of 5]

This short novel is part of the Korean Literature in Translation series published by Dalkey Archive Press. It is supposed to be a showcase of 25 South Korean novels and short story collections representing contemporary Korean classics. " No One Writes Back" by Jang Eun-jin, which I really liked, is also part of this series. Unfortunately, I couldn't really get into this particular title. I found it conceptually absurd and if it had been meant to be satirical, then it would have been okay, but it was nowhere near funny enough to qualify as satire, so there's that. I could have bought the whole idea if I'd been told the two main characters were mentally or intellectually challenged but that's not made clear anywhere, except by the daft things they do and allow to be done to themselves.

[Justin Evans · Rating 3 out of 5]

A fine (in the sense of 'typical, but okay') first novel, which could have lost the first fifty odd pages and been trimmed down into a short story. The conceit is drowned by dull, 'realistic' details; the tiresome prose is justified by the narrator's lack of intelligence; and both of those muddy or make impossible the moral reflections that would have justified the book. If you want to watch a Korean film, but don't have access to a screen, you might like to pick this up. It's weird, there's very dark humor, but it's also polite and won't do anything to scare you too much; and, in particular, it will never suggest that a worthwhile thought might require more than one clause.

[Olivia Regis · Rating 5 out of 5]

Este libro me llamó mucho la atención por la sinopsis y apenas lo empecé a leer no pude parar hasta terminarlo. Es una novela corta, dividida en tres partes que además de ser entretenida tiene momentos absurdos y divertidos. Creo que “Nos sale bien pedir perdón” es una excelente aproximación a la literatura coreana. La verdad es que no suelo leer muchos libros de ese país pero cada vez me animo a leer más. Este libro es sencillamente excelente. Es una de mis mejores lecturas del año, estoy segura.

[Jerrod · Rating 5 out of 5]

Like most great comic novels, this book is actually tremendously sad. This isn't to negate its humor or its beauty, but I think it's important to note because I think that this novel would collapse without its dark, fragile underpinnings. To me, it is novel about empathy, forgiveness and the crucible of social expectations, and it reads as a timeless tale of human failure, only leavened by brief moments of insight and connection. A bleak, remarkable experience.

[Ömer · Rating 3 out of 5]

Konu ilginç. Daha iyi yazılabilirmiş. 600 sayfadan 150 sayfaya düşürmüş. 600 çekemezdim.

[Jasper · Rating 4 out of 5]

You have committed a wrong.

You have.

But you can be forgiven.

The narrator of this book and his friend Si-bong know how, and they will help you. Lucky for you, they have recently been released from an asylum that they were very partial to. There, they had an important—no, the most important—job. They were to apologize for the wrongs of their fellow patients.

This duty was given to them by the caretakers, those two vicious men with a penchant for savage beatings who revealed even darker tendencies as well. The caretakers were the staff that the narrator and Si-bong interacted with most frequently; they were authority figures to be obeyed without question. Pummeling the boys, the caretakers accused them of having committed all manner of “wrongs.” The boys internalize this, like perfect little blank slates, and the caretakers become their moral compass. After importing the caretaker’s logic so well, and becoming so good at taking beatings, they agree to be punished in place of the other patients. They sought them out, asked what wrongs they had committed, and were polite enough to commit wrongs for them, if needed. Then these boys reported their findings and were abused in place of the others. They did not enjoy the pain, but still they were dutiful.

After being released from the asylum, they were suddenly members of that glorious vibrant public world. Today, for a small cost, they would like to offer their professional services to you. Sincere apologies for a nominal fee, what do you have to lose? If you cannot identify a wrong you’ve committed, they will do that for free. Their world sounds absurd, you say? I understand. The whole point of the apology is to get right, to “fix” something, to be accountable. The apology is a symbol as well as the act of repentance. When all of that is delivered through someone else, it loses its sense. Gone are the elements of humility, humiliation, and pain. It becomes a superficial maneuver meant to deliver absolution without having to go through the trouble of actually meaning anything. But these boys have no dreams of their own, none of the big, powerful emotions like rage, passion, misery, joy, or despair. They are detached from the world. And yet they are also watchers and intruders. Constantly moving along the periphery, they gaze upon you as potential clients, ripe for transacting.

Even as they tread in liminal space, these boys belong to modern Korea. They reflect the ambivalence of a rapidly modernized, highly industrialized, and stratified society: a place where chaebol CEOs, government officials, foreign nations, and even criminals are always apologizing—or not—in highly conspicuous, but often seemingly useless ways. At a time when people are becoming increasingly individualized, the boys (who are practically one being for the majority of the book) speak to some of the anxieties related to isolation. Locked in the topsy-turvy world of the asylum, cut off from the rest of society, they develop odd and asocial behaviors that seem horrifically and completely normal to them. There is also a pervasive sense of the modern-day dread that things do not really change except for the worse. Indeed, the boys find their “job” to be impressive, even respectable. Si-bong and the narrator don’t really have anything else to offer; they have nothing to capitalize on but their “skill” at apologizing. They also never question the point of the apology beyond being recognized for their service. This is one of the essential absurdities of the book: these determined boys are keen observers of their own failure without ever really realizing it.

This is not a comfortable book, but it is one that strikes chords that we know, even if only faintly. Those chords thrum with familiar questions: What is the significance of an apology and how does forgiveness figure into our culture? What are the more complicated issues associated with ultimate individuality and freedom? Can repentance be bought? In a story where a transactional ideal takes precedence over relating to others, how does consumerism factor into our lives? What does it mean to spend your life searching for wrongs? Who are you if you are a blank slate in a world that has its share of caregiver-like authorities? These questions seek introspection and discussion if only to better disentangle ourselves from the surreal, whirlpool-like recollections of the narrator.

Our narrator’s sparseness will draw you in and then make you an observer to wrongs apologized for and wrongs created. You are meant to be troubled by this story. This book will unnerve you, make you feel that the world is stagnant.

But you will find or make meaning where the main characters did not. You will make your own apologies—or not. As you read and see how the boys’ clients turned out, you will come to agree that what you can “at least” do is never enough and that such efforts can unfortunately beget larger problems. Provoking a constant tension, this story makes you feel as though long fingers dangle you above emptiness, though you want to discover significance during the fall.

[mahesh · Rating 3 out of 5]

Its really a weird type of novel. Its disturbing, confusing and horrific .But even trauma made yo look normal in this creative plot and narration. Korean literature is so dark ... And i like it

[Joan · Rating 1 out of 5]

I'm not sure if the translation was just bad or what, but this book did nothing for me. A lot of it just seemed to be overly weird just for the sake of being weird. The "deep" metaphors fell flat because they were drowning in poor writing (plus--comparing Siyeon's peeing to birdsong? Really?? Come on). The whole subplot about his father made little sense and didn't really add anything necessary to the story. And don't even get me started on how annoying the phrase "that was on account of..." became after the first 10,000 times it appeared in the narrative.
I'm sorry but this entire book was just plain stupid in my opinion.

[Melisa Fuentes Kren · Rating 4 out of 5]

Librazo. Esta novedad editorial de Hwarang fue la protagonista de mayo del club de lectura de literatura coreana organizado por Flor @bookwonderlands. Y también la segunda novela coreana contemporánea que leo. Quedé encantada.

El libro aborda temas difíciles, principalmente la enfermedad mental y el abuso, pero es evidente la maestría de Lee Kiho, porque es una obra redonda por donde se la mire, con un equilibrio entre lo sórdido y lo cándido que no hubiera podido imaginar que lograría.

La historia comienza con sus dos protagonistas, uno de ellos el narrador, saliendo de la institución psiquiátrica en la que se hallaban confinados. Estos compañeros de cuarto fueron testigos y padecieron las "irregularidades" del nosocomio, ahora clausurado.

Sin tratamiento, contención ni seguimiento, quedan a la deriva en una sociedad que no tiene nada para ofrecerles. Pero ellos sí tienen algo para dar: les sale bien pedir perdón, y comienzan brindar sus servicios de disculpas por las malas acciones de los demás.  

El autor consigue sumergirnos en una historia que oscila entre lo real y lo surreal, y a la vez no es lejana ni ajena, hasta el punto de encariñarnos con sus personajes y apenarnos por que se acabe, por no poder seguir acompañándolxs, ni saber qué será de ellxs.

Novela muy original y dinámica. Sentí como si estuviera viendo una película, una excelente película (de hecho me encantaría que se llevara a la pantalla grande).  Otro acierto de Hwarang. ¡A seguir leyendo su cuidadosamente seleccionado catálogo!

[Belén · Rating 4 out of 5]

Después de leer varios libros de esta editorial y que me gustaran tanto. No lo pense mucho y en la fil adquirí este título. Es una lectura sencilla, de varios capítulos pero cortos y que se podría leer en poco tiempo.
Me gustaba la sencillez del narrador porque el veía las cosas asi, y con su amigo, que se tomaban las cosas bastante literal, tienen varias experiencias que ellos no terminan de entender pero al lector le muestra las vivencias de los demas personajes, que varian de tristes a egoístas. Pero creo que lo que mas abunda es una desolación sobretodo con un personaje que se conoce mas en la última parte. Me gusto mucho la lectura, pero aunque había partes simpáticas tal vez por como se contaba, en general es una lectura triste por lo que pasan los personajes y me dejo así, como bajón. Pero no por eso dejo de gustarme. Bien masoquista. Pero es que la forma de narrar y lo que pasa es interesante. Situaciones crudas que tranquilamente pueden pasar contadas con cierto humor e inocencia.

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

Perfectly pitched allegorical novel in which two characters survive by offering to make apologies for a small fee. The author creates a darkly comic blend of Kafka and Beckett that I think captures both the specific traumas and symptoms of Korea's history of brutal oppression, as well as human history in general, and how each successive generation pays for it. The execution is rigorous and inspired.