Memoir

Currently Reading: Without You, There Is No Us


 

I am far further into Without You, There Is No Us by Suki Kim than I typically find myself in a book when pausing to write a “currently reading.” This is the final of the three memoirs that I had planned to read, and after the indulgences of My Salinger Year and Not That Kind of Girl, I was eager to read a book offering heavier things. Kim is originally from Seoul and living in New York when she pursues a teaching position at Pyongyang University of Science and Technology in North Korea, a school strangely funded by donations from evangelical churches worldwide. PUST is a school attended only by the sons of North Korea’s most privileged and elite. Kim spends six months not only teaching English at PUST, but also secretly taking notes for what will become this memoir. “Without You, There Is No Us” is in reference to one of North Korea’s many military-style songs, with “you” referring to Kim Jong-il.

Kim’s account of her time with her North Korean students reveals how thoroughly restricted and deprived their lives are, yet despite how many details tumble from the pages, each one feels newly sad and shocking. But every moment of shock involves the inevitable reminder that these are the sons of the most powerful men in North Korea. These are the 19 and 20-year-old boys who attend the only university in North Korea that remains open during a time when all others have been mysteriously shut down, with those students sent to “construction sites.” It is strange to feel haunted by life at PUST, only to think that these are some of the country’s most fortunate. There are no human rights in North Korea, and Kim’s examination of the country’s elite unexpectedly brings that reality into sharp focus.
 
Author Suki Kim talks about her time in North Korea in the video below:
 

Post-Reading: Not That Kind of Girl

A basic communication theory that I too-often recite is that self-disclosure breeds intimacy. We enter relationships and begin this choreography in which the more we reveal, the closer we become. Not That Kind of Girl is the perfect case study for this, as Lena Dunham welcomes readers into a deeply personal realm, and soon every story carries the charm of an effusive best friend.
 
One of the most common criticisms that Dunham’s work receives is that it is far too self-absorbed. Her creative life is centered on her personal life, and what exactly that contributes to our cultural canon is practically a topic of obsession. Perhaps there is resistance to her work because its impact is counterintuitive; often, universal experiences are expressed and felt most strongly within the details of a single individual’s life. This is proven time and time again in how we respond to books, music, the news, and more. Not That Kind of Girl embraces a willingness to share that feels far from self-absorbed; it comes off bold and even a little brave. Difficult or awkward moments are tempered by a strong sense of humor, often self-deprecating, which along with sarcasm happens to be my favorite brand of humor.
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Currently Reading: Not That Kind of Girl

I am in Urban Outfitters and I really do not like that copies of Not That Kind of Girl are found in tall, neat stacks next to every cash register. I feel a healthy degree of guilt and distress whenever I embrace a trend that has long been adopted en masse.
 
I am in the library and there is a boy sitting across from me who is studying some version of math, though the text that is not numbers or brackets or Greek letters is in Chinese, so it is difficult to say. I feel alarmed that I understand nothing of what he is reading. Then again, he may feel the same way about my reading Not That Kind of Girl.