This nonfiction book is an account of the life of Shin Dong-Hyuk, a North Korean man who has the distinction of being the only North Korean born into servitude in a North Korean concentration camp who escaped to the West (or the east, depending on your point of view).
Camp 14 is a very large concentration camp located in the mountains of North Korea. The North Korean government denies the existence of these camps, but their existence has been verified through satellite photographs.
There are a few former North Koreans who have given accounts of these camps; Shin Dong-Hyuk has the distinction of having escaped from North Korea with very little knowledge of North Korea as a country or of the propaganda surrounding its ruling dynasty and the ruling party.
Blaine Harden, the journalist who wrote this book, presents a narrative that is short, incredibly easy to read, and one in which he seems to strain to be objective. I think he himself does not know exactly what to make of Shin Dong-Hyuk. Harden resists shaping the narrative. I admire his integrity and restraint; I found myself feeling a little confused.
Harden clearly feels that Shin Dong-Hyuk may have a credibility problem in the eyes of some readers and goes to great pains to talk about any corroboration our current knowledge of North Korean labor camps gives Dong-Hyuk's report.
As a journalist, he may also be troubled about the difficulty of simply corroborating most of Dong-Hyuk's story, something that would normally not only be relatively easy but not nearly as important. As it is, Harden and the reader are forced to acknowledge that it's difficult to know if Dong-Hyuk is telling the truth.
On the one hand, the story of his escape is both far-fetched and gruesome. Its horror seems unlikely. It's so horrifying that it seems natural to me that some readers would question its veracity.
On the other hand, Dong-Hyuk's account includes admissions so shameful that they support the idea that this is an honest account. Dong-Hyuk was ignorant of the kind of knowledge of his world that we take for granted. Nevertheless, he sometimes succeeded in manipulating camp officials to his own personal benefit, so he did not seem innocent.
This book does offer a view of a chaotic society roiled by starvation. Oddly, I think that had I been asked to guess whether widespread starvation would lead to the collapse of the state, I would have said yes. North Korea has not collapsed. (Clearly, I would have been wrong. Had someone else been present, I'm sure they would have said something like, "You're a very poor student of Irish history," and I would have had to agree.) I have been wondering, "What's the secret of this dictatorship's success?" Perhaps it is the combination of manipulation of information and communication so effective it would make Stalin blush, poverty, and lack of education.
Harden asserts that North Korean authorities have at times, during these recent years of famine, permitted black market trading, and even a porous border with China, He argues that the government's granting of this level of freedom may have been a "safety valve" tactics that removed some of the motivation for unifying against the government.
Harden seems to have become interested in the story of Shin Dong-Hyuk because of the scarcity of any information about North Korea. Ironically, as Harden points out several times in this account, Dong-Hyuk knew next to nothing about the world outside his labor camp before he escaped and is therefore not in a position to offer much insight about his country or its government.
Remembering Dong-Hyuk's escape I am astounded at his success in undertaking a cross-country journey and crossing the border without being caught and without having much help. I am astounded at how well and quickly he adapted to life in northeast China (which has a large ethnic Korean population).
This book reminded me of Jerzy Kosinski's The Painted Bird and Elie Wiesel's Night. It also reminded of Truffaut's L'Enfant Sauvage, which I think was based on a nonfiction account of a doctor to attempted raise a boy who had been found living in the woods as an animal, without human contact. My recollection is that in real life, the child died before reaching adulthood.
I cannot offer an unbiased opinion of this book myself, however. I do not enjoy books that recount traumatic events. In fact, I do not understand their appeal.
Gretchen Rubin talked a little bit about "catastrophe memoirs" in her book, The Happiness Project. I believe that she viewed them as having a salutary effect and the power to give the reader a greater sense of perspective, as the saying goes, and an appreciation for the comforts and joys of his or her own life. Interestingly, some of the memoirs she mentioned were memoirs of divorce.
This is a memoir of murder, abuse, corruption, starvation, theft and moral degradation. Perhaps it could not be termed a "catastrophe memoir".
Camp 14 is a very large concentration camp located in the mountains of North Korea. The North Korean government denies the existence of these camps, but their existence has been verified through satellite photographs.
There are a few former North Koreans who have given accounts of these camps; Shin Dong-Hyuk has the distinction of having escaped from North Korea with very little knowledge of North Korea as a country or of the propaganda surrounding its ruling dynasty and the ruling party.
Blaine Harden, the journalist who wrote this book, presents a narrative that is short, incredibly easy to read, and one in which he seems to strain to be objective. I think he himself does not know exactly what to make of Shin Dong-Hyuk. Harden resists shaping the narrative. I admire his integrity and restraint; I found myself feeling a little confused.
Harden clearly feels that Shin Dong-Hyuk may have a credibility problem in the eyes of some readers and goes to great pains to talk about any corroboration our current knowledge of North Korean labor camps gives Dong-Hyuk's report.
As a journalist, he may also be troubled about the difficulty of simply corroborating most of Dong-Hyuk's story, something that would normally not only be relatively easy but not nearly as important. As it is, Harden and the reader are forced to acknowledge that it's difficult to know if Dong-Hyuk is telling the truth.
On the one hand, the story of his escape is both far-fetched and gruesome. Its horror seems unlikely. It's so horrifying that it seems natural to me that some readers would question its veracity.
On the other hand, Dong-Hyuk's account includes admissions so shameful that they support the idea that this is an honest account. Dong-Hyuk was ignorant of the kind of knowledge of his world that we take for granted. Nevertheless, he sometimes succeeded in manipulating camp officials to his own personal benefit, so he did not seem innocent.
This book does offer a view of a chaotic society roiled by starvation. Oddly, I think that had I been asked to guess whether widespread starvation would lead to the collapse of the state, I would have said yes. North Korea has not collapsed. (Clearly, I would have been wrong. Had someone else been present, I'm sure they would have said something like, "You're a very poor student of Irish history," and I would have had to agree.) I have been wondering, "What's the secret of this dictatorship's success?" Perhaps it is the combination of manipulation of information and communication so effective it would make Stalin blush, poverty, and lack of education.
Harden asserts that North Korean authorities have at times, during these recent years of famine, permitted black market trading, and even a porous border with China, He argues that the government's granting of this level of freedom may have been a "safety valve" tactics that removed some of the motivation for unifying against the government.
Harden seems to have become interested in the story of Shin Dong-Hyuk because of the scarcity of any information about North Korea. Ironically, as Harden points out several times in this account, Dong-Hyuk knew next to nothing about the world outside his labor camp before he escaped and is therefore not in a position to offer much insight about his country or its government.
Remembering Dong-Hyuk's escape I am astounded at his success in undertaking a cross-country journey and crossing the border without being caught and without having much help. I am astounded at how well and quickly he adapted to life in northeast China (which has a large ethnic Korean population).
This book reminded me of Jerzy Kosinski's The Painted Bird and Elie Wiesel's Night. It also reminded of Truffaut's L'Enfant Sauvage, which I think was based on a nonfiction account of a doctor to attempted raise a boy who had been found living in the woods as an animal, without human contact. My recollection is that in real life, the child died before reaching adulthood.
I cannot offer an unbiased opinion of this book myself, however. I do not enjoy books that recount traumatic events. In fact, I do not understand their appeal.
Gretchen Rubin talked a little bit about "catastrophe memoirs" in her book, The Happiness Project. I believe that she viewed them as having a salutary effect and the power to give the reader a greater sense of perspective, as the saying goes, and an appreciation for the comforts and joys of his or her own life. Interestingly, some of the memoirs she mentioned were memoirs of divorce.
This is a memoir of murder, abuse, corruption, starvation, theft and moral degradation. Perhaps it could not be termed a "catastrophe memoir".
