This discourse revolves around a literary debate sparked by critic Mikaela Blomqvist, who laments the lack of robust aesthetic discussion in contemporary literary criticism. She criticizes what she perceives as a prevailing tendency toward monologue and unsubstantiated opinion, citing her own negative review of Nobel laureate Han Kang’s work as a prime example. Blomqvist feels her critique, which dismissed Kang’s writing as clichéd, sentimental, and bordering on kitsch, was never adequately addressed on a literary or aesthetic level. This essay attempts to engage with Blomqvist’s critique and offer a counterperspective on Han Kang’s literary merit. Both critics, it seems, share a fundamental expectation of literature: to encounter something entirely new, something previously unexperienced. However, their interpretations of Han Kang’s work diverge dramatically.
The crux of the disagreement lies in their differing perceptions of Han Kang’s writing. While Blomqvist points to overwrought metaphors, genre-fiction tropes, and pervasive sentimentality, the author of this essay finds a nuanced and powerful literary style. They perceive meaning crafted through concentrated form, evocative tonal shifts that reveal unseen layers of experience, and juxtapositions that offer unsettling yet profound perspectives on the human condition. This stark contrast in interpretation might be attributed to the specific works they’ve encountered. Blomqvist primarily references “The Vegetarian” (titled ”Levande och döda” in Swedish), one of Han Kang’s more widely read books in Sweden. The counter-argument focuses on “Greek Lessons,” a work that explores language itself through the lens of loss and displacement.
“Greek Lessons” centers on a woman who has lost the ability to speak, taking lessons in ancient Greek, a language geographically and temporally removed from her present reality. These lessons are conducted by a man gradually losing his sight, the very sense required to engage with written language. This layered alienation of language is further intensified by the woman’s heightened sensitivity to its nuances. The loss of language is described as excruciating, like the removal of a garment made of thousands of needles. This narrative framework creates a Brechtian estrangement effect, forcing the reader to confront language anew, as if encountering it for the first time. Han Kang’s inclusion of Hangul, the Korean alphabet, further accentuates this effect. However, it’s the narrative’s unique blending of dissolution and precision, concentrated focus and disorienting uncertainty, that truly drives the linguistic exploration.
While there have been some aesthetic arguments challenging Blomqvist’s initial critique of Han Kang, she maintains her position, viewing Han Kang, along with Nobel laureate Annie Ernaux, as emblematic of mediocre literature unfairly elevated in the public sphere. She dismisses both authors as purveyors of kitsch, unworthy of serious consideration. The author of this essay finds more common ground with Blomqvist’s assessment of Ernaux, acknowledging her skill in vividly depicting historical periods and situating individual destinies within collective experiences. However, they suggest that Ernaux’s strength lies perhaps more in journalistic prowess than literary artistry. In contrast, Han Kang’s work resonates deeply with the author’s personal expectations of literature: to be confronted with something genuinely novel and transformative.
The core of this debate lies in the subjective nature of aesthetic judgment and the diverse criteria used to evaluate literary merit. Blomqvist emphasizes clarity and coherence, condemning what she perceives as excessive stylistic embellishment and emotional manipulation. Conversely, the author of this essay values the exploration of language itself as a powerful literary tool. They appreciate Han Kang’s intricate use of language to create a sense of estrangement and explore profound themes of loss, displacement, and the fragility of human communication. This disagreement highlights the complex interplay between form and content, and the subjective interpretation of literary devices.
Ultimately, the question remains: what constitutes “good” literature? Is it clarity and adherence to established conventions, or the ability to disrupt and challenge our perceptions of language and experience? Blomqvist’s call for a more rigorous aesthetic discourse is valuable, as it encourages deeper engagement with literary texts and fosters the articulation of diverse perspectives. While there may be no definitive answer to the question of literary merit, engaging in thoughtful and nuanced discussions, like this one, enriches our understanding and appreciation of literature’s multifaceted nature. The divergent interpretations of Han Kang’s work underscore the importance of critical dialogue and the subjective experience of reading, reminding us that literature’s power lies not only in the text itself but also in the individual reader’s engagement with it.
