ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE ISLAND,...

ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE ISLAND, beyond the bare rock, there was a stand of dead forest. It lay right in the path of the wind and for many hundreds of years had tried to grow directly into the teeth of every storm, and had thus acquired an appearance all its own. From a passing boat it was obvious that each tree was stretching away from the wind; they crouched and twisted, and many of them crept. Eventually the trunks broke or rotted and then sank, the dead trees supporting or crushing those still green at the top. All together they formed a tangled mass of stubborn resignation. The ground was shiny with brown needles, except where the spruces had decided to crawl instead of stand, their greenery luxuriating in a kind of frenzy, damp and glossy as if in a jungle. - P20

This forest was called "the magic forest". It had shaped itself with slow and laborious care, and the balance between survival and extinction was so delicate that even the smallest change was unthinkable. - P20

What they don’t know – and it cannot be repeated too often – is that moss is terribly frail. Step on it once and it rises the next time it rains. The second time, it doesn’t rise back up. And the third time you step on moss, it dies. Eider ducks are the same way – the third time you frighten them up from their nests, they never come back. Sometime in July the moss would adorn itself with a kind of long, light grass. - P21

Grandmother sat in the magic forest and carved outlandish animals. She cut them from branches and driftwood and gave them paws and faces, but she only hinted at what they looked like and never made them too distinct. They retained their wooden souls, and the curve of their backs and legs had the enigmatic shape of growth itself and remained a part of the decaying forest. Sometimes she cut them directly out of a stump or the trunk of a tree. - P21

Gathering is peculiar, because you see nothing but what you’re looking for. If you’re picking raspberries, you see only what’s red, and if you’re looking for bones you see only the white. No matter where you go, the only thing you see is bones. - P22

One morning Sophia found a perfect skull of some large animal – found it all by herself. Grandmother thought it was a seal skull. They hid it in a basket and waited all day until evening. The sunset was in different shades of red, and the light flooded in over the whole island so that even the ground turned scarlet. They put the skull in the magic forest, and it lay on the ground and gleamed with all its teeth. - P22

And so the wooden animals were allowed to vanish into their forest. The arabesques sank into the ground and turned green with moss, and the trees slipped deeper and deeper into each other’s arms as time went by. Grandmother often went to the magic forest when the sun went down. But in the daytime she sat on the veranda steps and made boats of bark. - P23

It’s a funny thing about bogs. You can fill them with rocks and sand and old logs and make a little fenced-in yard on top with a woodpile and a chopping block – but bogs go right on behaving like bogs. Early in the spring they breathe ice and make their own mist, in remembrance of the time when they had black water and their own sedge blossoming untouched. - P24

She heard the cry of the long-tailed ducks. They are called scolders, because their cry is a steady, chiding chatter, farther and farther away, farther and farther out. People rarely see them. They are as secretive as corncrakes. But a corncrake hides in a meadow all alone, while the long-tails are out beyond the farthest islands in enormous wedding flocks, singing all through the spring night. - P24

IT WAS AN EARLY, VERY WARM MO...

IT WAS AN EARLY, VERY WARM MORNING IN JULY, and it had rained during the night. The bare granite steamed, the moss and crevices were drenched with moisture, and all the colours everywhere had deepened. Below the veranda, the vegetation in the morning shade was like a rainforest of lush, evil leaves and flowers, which she had to be careful not to break as she searched. She held one hand in front of her mouth and was constantly afraid of losing her balance. - P15

The first weariness came closer. When we get home, she thought, when we get back I think I’ll take a little nap. And I must remember to tell him this child is still afraid of deep water. - P17

"When are you going to  die?" the child asked. And Grandmother answered, "Soon. But that is not the least concern of yours." - P6

It is a clear, warm day on the Pellinge peninsula, when I stand on the jetty waiting for the real-life Sophia to steer me across to the island in her boat. I feel incredibly privileged, invited to enter the world that inspired this book, and with great anticipation I step aboard. The sea looks calm when we set off but the wind is against us, the water rough, and the boat slams down from the tip of each wave, soaking us with spray. Sophia, fully grown now, has returned every summer of her life to this island, and as one would expect shows not the slightest sign of fear. "Does it ever capsize?" I want to ask but there’s only one answer worth hearing so I stay quiet. - P7

I examine the different coloured mosses, heeding Grandmother’s warning that: "Only farmers and summer guests walk on the moss… The second time it doesn’t rise back up. And the third time you step on moss, it dies. Eider ducks are the same way – the third time you frighten them up from their nests, they never come back." - P10

ONE TIME IN APRIL THERE WAS A FULL MOON, and the sea was covered with ice. Sophia woke up and remembered that they had come back to the island and that she had a bed to herself because her mother was dead. The fire was still burning in the stove, and the flames flickered on the ceiling, where the boots were hung up to dry. She climbed down to the floor, which was very cold, and looked out through the window. - P18

The ice was black, and in the middle of the ice she saw the open stove door and the fire – in fact she saw two stove doors, very close together. In the second window, the two fires were burning underground, and through the third window she saw a double reflection of the whole room, trunks and chests and boxes with gaping lids. They were filled with moss and snow and dry grass, all of them open, with bottoms of coal-black shadow. - P18

She lay down in her bed and looked at the fire dancing on the ceiling, and all the time the island seemed to be coming closer and closer to the house. They were sleeping by a meadow near the shore, with patches of snow on the covers, and under them the ice darkened and began to glide. A channel opened very slowly in the floor, and all their luggage floated out in the river of moonlight. All the suitcases were open and full of darkness and moss, and none of them ever came back. - P18

Sophia rolled up in the quilt. She let the whole island float out on the ice and on to the horizon. Just before she fell asleep, her father got up and put more wood in the stove. - P19

[오늘의 한문장] 토막 난 우주를 안고서

한국전쟁 동안우리는 정의하기 어려운 모호한 개념이었다. 그것은 북한 사람과 남한 사람 모두를 의미할 수도 있었고, 공산주의자냐 자본주의자냐는 중요하지 않았다. 매일 밤 나는 체온을 유지하고 외로움을 견뎌내기 위해, 낯선 사람, 창백한 어둠 속에서 내 옆에 누워 있는 또 다른 인간과우리를 이루려 했다. 처음에는 몸을 웅크리고 팔뚝과 정강이를 옆 사람의 등에 살포시 대곤 했다. 그리고 상대가 움찔하지 않으면, 천천히 두 손으로 그의 어깨를 감싸며 따뜻한 벽 같은 그의 등에 배를 댔다. 놀랍게도 대부분의 사람들은 저항하지 않았다.

-알라딘 eBook <이름 없는 여자의 여덟 가지 인생> (이미리내 지음, 정해영 옮김) 중에서 - P67

히로코는 그 애를 조선 침략의 피해자라고 부른다. 십...

히로코는 그 애를 조선 침략의 피해자라고 부른다. 십 년 전, 우리는 갓난아이였던 그 애를 조선에서 데려왔다. 당시의 혼돈 속에서 나는 그 애를 어찌해야 좋을지 몰랐다. 내가 제대로 상황을 깨닫고 인지하기도 전에 내 두 팔은 주군의 자제의 명령에 따라 그 애를 안아 들고 말을 탄 그에게 데려가고 있었다. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P70

내 이름은 야마시타 도시오. 스물아홉 살이고, 주군을 모시고 있다. 우리는 미카와국 동쪽 가장자리에서 왔고, 도카이도를 따라 여행한 지 이제 일주일째이며, 무사시국으로 넘어와 아이가 지치는지 보아가며 하루에 대략 평균 12리✻씩, 때로는 그 이상씩 여행하고 있다. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P74

우린 이 생을 살다가 또 다른 무언가가 되는 거야. 네 생각도 그렇지 않니? 너는 이 생을 살았지만, 내일이면 금방 또 다른 누군가가 돼서 또 다른 누군가와 살게 될 거잖아. 그런 변화를 두려워해선 안 되는 거야. 그걸 받아들이고 더 강해져야 돼. 지금 이 남자의 혼이 그늘 밑에서, 새로 피어난 이 색색깔의 꽃잎들 아래서, 비와 눈으로부터 보호해주는 가지들 아래서 잘 지내고 있는 것처럼 말이야." - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P72

가슴속에서 뜨거운 것이 타오른다. 나는 그곳을 긁는다. 히로코는 자신의 요 위에 누운 채 고개를 뒤로 젖혀 창문을 쳐다보며, 유곽에 가고 싶지만 가고 싶지 않은 척한다. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P81

아니면 고향 꿈을 꾸는 걸까? 어머니 꿈을? 아기 때 본 어머니가 기억날까? 기억이 난다면 어머니의 체취일까, 심장박동일까? 나는 유미가 이 모든 것을 어떻게 생각하는지 한 번도 물어본 적이 없다. 이번 주에 하게 된 여행이나 주군의 결정뿐 아니라 다른 모든 것에 대해서도 그렇다. 이 모든 세월. 시작되기도 전이었던 첫 번째 삶을 우리가 빼앗아버리는 바람에 대신 주어진 이 삶. 이 아이는 지금껏 나를 순순히 따라왔다. 언제나 그래왔기에. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P88

그때, 놀랍게도 히로코의 표정이 변한다. 그의 마음속에 어떤 욕망이 있었든 그것이 달라진다. 들판을 스치는 새 그림자처럼 빠르게 모습을 바꾼다. 히로코는 두 눈을 감더니 울기 시작한다. 물 밖으로 들어올린 두 손에 고개를 파묻고는 어깨를 들썩이며 운다. 하지만 그리 오래 울지는 않는다. 마음을 추스른 그는 저쪽 둑 위에 머리를 올려놓는다. 입을 살짝 벌리고, 얼굴은 하늘을 향한 채로. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P102

나는 꽃이 아직 피지 않은 나무 곁에 서 있다. 겉옷을 벗고 무릎을 꿇는다. 수면에 서린 김을 밀어내며 왼손으로 물을 조금 떠낸다. 목욕하던 여자가 잠시 움직임을 멈춘다. 엄지손가락 없는 손이 잔 구실을 하기엔 얼마나 쓸모없는지 알아챈 모양이다. 바로 그 순간, 마치 새로운 생각이 떠오르듯 나비 한 마리가 모습을 드러낸다. 내 그림자에 닿을 듯 말 듯 닿지 않는 곳에서 날개를 치며. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P103

마치 그즈음의 날들과 그날들을 이루는 모든 시간이 그들을 둘러싸고 고리 모양으로 굳어져버린 것 같았다. 해리는 무언가가 그 경계 밑을 파고들어 모습을 드러내주기를 계속 기다렸다.

- <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P109

달라진 건 아무것도 없었다. 어느 날 밤 침실에서 해리는 완전히 지친 채 옆으로 돌아누웠고, 곁에 누운 여자가 자신의 가족이라고 할 직접적인 범주 내에 남아 있는 유일한 사람이라는 사실에 또다시 놀랐다. 어쩌면 아이를 갖지 않기로 한 그들의 결정은 잘못된 것이었는지도 몰랐다. 이제 아이를 갖기엔 너무 늦은 걸까? - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P110

기억들이 돌아오고는 있는데 전부 한 걸음씩 떨어져 있는 것 같다고, 자기가 그 기억들에 닿으려고 애쓰는 걸 기억들이 알고 있기라도 한 것처럼 그렇다고 아이는 말했다. - <벌집과 꿀>, 폴 윤 지음 / 서제인 옮김 - 밀리의 서재
https://www.millie.co.kr/v3/bookDetail/a33d594ec2c34d6a - P113

She had been in Spain now for...

She had been in Spain now for five years. Before that she worked in Hamburg, Germany, where she cleaned rooms at a hotel, which was what she did in Seoul before that. In Barcelona, Jooyun lived in a rooming house with other women from China, North Africa, and the Ukraine. They all cleaned houses and hotels and office buildings and museums. They came and went. They left bath products in the shared bathrooms for others to use and sometimes books or a video they could play on the television downstairs. Jooyun had been there the longest. - P30

Her first thought when they began to speak was that someone had finally come to bring her back or to punish her for leaving. She had spent the war and after hearing about things like this. It didn’t matter if you never went in and answered any questions the South might have for you—she never had—it didn’t matter because you were a traitor. You had vanished once by running away, which gave them permission to erase you a second time—completely, wholly. - P30

On the Tokaido, on the last day of our journey, we come upon a tree that has flowered early. It stands alone amid the endless row of cedars that line the road, its bright red color so sudden and distracting—like the appearance of a door among the evergreens—that we fail to notice at first the corpse not too far away, lying in a ditch. - P45

Hiroko calls him a casualty of the invasion of Korea, where we took him, ten years ago, when he was an infant. In the chaos, I had been unsure what else to do with him, my arms listening to the command of my lord’s son before fully understanding and coming to the awareness that I was lifting the boy toward him and his horse. - P46

My name is Toshio Yamashita and I am twenty-nine years old and in service to my lord. We are from the eastern edge of the Mikawa province and have been traveling now for a week on the Tokaido, having entered the Musashi province, averaging about twelve ri per day, sometimes more, depending on the tiredness of the boy. - P50

A heat flares inside my chest. I scratch at it. Hiroko is lying on his mat, looking upside down at the window, wanting to visit the brothel, but pretending he doesn’t want to. - P54

Or is he dreaming of his home? His mother? Would an infant remember her? Would it be the smell of her or her heartbeat? I have not once asked what he thinks of all this. Not just of this week on the road and the lord’s decision, but of everything. All these years. This life that was given to him because we took his first one before it even started. He has followed me obediently because he always has. - P58

To my surprise, Hiroko’s expression changes; whatever desire has been on his mind alters. The change is as swift as the shadow of a bird on a field. Hiroko shuts his eyes and begins to cry. He lifts his hands out of the water and buries his head into them and, as his shoulders shake, he cries. It does not last long. He composes himself and then rests his head against the far bank, his mouth slightly open, and faces the sky. - P68

I am by a tree that has yet to flower. I take off my robe and kneel. I push the mist away and collect some water with my left hand. Just as the bathing woman pauses, noticing what a useless cup a hand makes without a thumb, a butterfly appears, like a new thought, its wings almost touching my shadow, but not quite. - P68

In New Malden, they owned a corner shop together. It was the place where you could get the gossip magazines and newspapers from Seoul. Then when everyone got smartphones, it became the place to get your smartphone cases. Cute cats, cows, and hippos. Gel pens too. The students picked up a few colors while they got their fizzy drinks or, when it grew warmer, waited their turn at the shaved ice machine Harry convinced his wife they should get. At first Harry wanted a pinball machine, and Grace had to tell him that was ridiculous. What kid played pinball these days? - P69

It was as if the days and all the hours in those days hardened into a ring around them. He kept waiting for something to duck under the perimeter and reveal itself. - P74

He watched her mouth move in shapes and then, giving in to an urge, he stuck his finger inside, gently, feeling her lips graze his fingertip. Her mouth moving like that aroused him. He looked down at her soft belly and the maze of veins on her thigh, growing convinced she wasn’t really asleep, and then realizing she really was. - P86

A buzzing flashes over me. For a moment I brace myself, waiting for the woman to appear for the first time in this house, but it is only a bee that has managed to find its way inside. I watch as it flits about, on the scent of something, and then it settles into my teacup where I used the last of my honey today. - P101

A few minutes later, a bee appears, hovering, circling, then dips into the cup. Then it flies away into the woods. I follow it. She follows me. When I can’t see it anymore or hear it anymore, I stand still and hold up the cup and wait for the bee to come back. Which it does. So we move on, and as we head farther into the woods, I tell the daughter that it is a trick I learned from the missionary. We’re creating a trail. "To the hive," I say. "And the honey." - P103

She is in the distance now. All sunlight. Only a sliver. The bee comes back from its hidden kingdom, and then it doesn’t. - P103

He waits three weeks for his father to respond. During that time, whenever he checks the mail for a reply, the dog follows him. She eyes the birds on the telephone wires. Then the migrant workers in the fields. - P105

Maksim is like the dog. He does what he wants. He wears what he wants to wear and eats when he wants to eat. He doesn’t make up the mattress on the floor, and it doesn’t matter if he knocks over a glass, startling himself awake from a dream he keeps having in which people are speaking to him in different languages he has never heard before. There is no one to explain the dream or to chastise him or to tell him to go to the corner store and see if there is work so that he can earn some money for the house. - P108

Now he is alone. He and the dog. He approaches the large rocks he passed and begins to walk out into the water. From the shore, the dog watches. The rocks are slippery, but Maksim keeps going, treading carefully. He goes as far as he can without the waves splashing all over him and squints out into the vast nothing, searching for the island or even Japan. - P113

He smiles. He hops back toward the sand where the dog is waiting, wagging her tail. Otherwise, the beach is empty. Stars are now visible and the sunset water is thick and undulating. He feels the strange pull of it. He asks the dog, "What next?" - P113

Maksim has stopped listening to his father. He is thinking of the two men he ran into on the trail. The duffel bag. One of the men grinning at him. The cadence of their language. Nivkh. - P122

Vasily goes on: "Do you know? All they ever do is go home. The world changes, it will always change, and they will always stay the same. Why do you think that is? Stubborn fools." - P122

Two years later, he left the settlement. He took the bus heading north and then hitchhiked on the back of a repurposed US Army truck that was filled with others like him who all said the same thing: they were heading home. - P125

When he did, it had grown dark, only the moonlight to guide him through this house he had not seen in a lifetime, where in the one room that remained intact he found only a cup on the floor brimming with old dirt and rainfall. - P128

"It’s good to see someone again," the tinker said. "In the Valley of the Moon." - P128

Every night, the moon rose from here, and fell, and shattered. And then built itself back up again. - P130