How would I, when it’s nothing to do with my work, and I don’t know anyone at the foundation? I’ve never even been there.’ They hailed a taxi, which took them through the deep night streets. As though photographed at a slow shutter speed, the city lights were elongated into multicoloured ribbons, streaming past the window. No one had come to meet her on her first visit to the audio theatre, and she hadn’t received any guidance about where she was supposed to go. She’d entered the deserted auditorium and waited until someone appeared – the director. She’d been sitting facing the entrance, but still hadn’t noticed him come in. He seemed to have materialised through a door made of light, which hovered amid the floating dust motes and shafts of sun. The director sat with Ayami on the auditorium’s second flight of stairs, conducted a brief interview, and announced that she was hired. Even if she had, she’d still answer the phone. She told me to call again tonight, and that she would tell me in more detail about the poet I’m meeting at the airport. Apparently they met entirely by chance, sitting next to each other on a train in Europe.’ The man clenched his fists and waved them about as though he was going to batter down the glass door.

If you do nothing, you will be auto-enrolled in our premium digital monthly subscription plan and retain complete access for 65 € per month. Really? A temporary secretary – perhaps that’s the proper name for the work I’ll end up doing. But I can’t think of any theme I’d be especially suited to.’ Ayami is a former actress who has of late been working in an audio theater, a small entertainment venue that specializes in playing recordings of dramatic works for an audience made up of blind people and high school students. She is sighted, but seems to stumble forward, uncertain of where she’s been or where she’s going, and when the theater unexpectedly closes, she’s even more lost. There are men in her life, however, and in her aimlessness she spends time with, or recalls spending time with, her boss, a man who may be her former husband or lover, and a foreign writer. She also seeks out the company of Yeoni, a woman whose identity is one of the novel’s many mysteries, but with whom Ayami is studying German. Kim, is it OK if I sit with you?’ When he told her to go ahead, she said, ‘Just buy me a Coke, I won’t bother you for long.’ Maria’s childish voice stirring some sympathy in him, Buha bought her a Coke as she requested.The former actress Ayami was sitting on the second flight of stairs in the audio theatre, with the guestbook in her hand. literally: Essayist's Desk) translated by Deborah Smith as A Greater Music: https://www.goodreads.com/review/show... One of the most strikingly different writers around - recommended and one I hope to see feature on the MBI.

Though Buha neither read nor wrote poetry, he did sometimes draw. His mother had been an artist. His father, a civil servant, had retired from the Ministry of Culture, and was around fifteen years older than his mother. He was a bigot and conservative in thinking and appearance. On afternoons where she had been starved for conversation Buha's mother would say to her young son: 'What an artist really needs is not a husband but a sponsor.' I can safely say that I did not get this novel. While I usually like surrealist narratives but here...well, I just did not care. If you are looking for an experimental read and you have a higher tolerance for novels that are confusing for the sake of being confusing, well, you should give this one a try. Early tomorrow morning so, really, you could say later tonight. That’s when I have to go to the airport.’ Ayami didn’t laugh. Her attention was concentrated on making careful forays with her fork, until she finally succeeded in spearing a piece of lamb and bringing it to her mouth. The radio … the switch is broken, you see. So it turns itself on, and then turns itself off again.’

At the riverside was a wharf where couples on dates could rent a boat. Though Buha was alone, he asked to take a boat. He had nothing else to do. This was something else and not at all what I expected before based on the cover or the slim size of this book. The fact that the women are using a German translation of the great Persian novel The Blind Owl by Sadegh Hedayat as a text for their lessons may provide a clue to Bae Suah’s purpose in this work. The Blind Owl, first published in 1937, is about a craftsman who, in an opium-induced haze, reflects on the meaning of death and the re-occurring patterns of life. The paintings he creates on pen cases unintentionally reflect the scene outside his window and the painting on an urn he acquires from a junk dealer. In the end, the cycle of life and death is relentless and reality is called into question. In fact, it is never clear where reality ends and the painter’s dream begins.

No.’ Ayami shook her head, but stopped as soon as she realised the pointlessness of such a gesture. The 2nd section is narrated from the perspective of Buha (부하), who is obsessed with poetry, and one particular poet in particular, except he has no desire to read or write it: One time, Ayami had wanted to tell the director about the radio, how it switched itself on and off again. It hadn’t yet happened during a performance, but there would be a problem if it did, and Ayami felt the director ought to be informed, given that he was her only colleague and superior. It’s not despair over my job prospects that’s making me pessimistic. It just came over me all of a sudden. Though, in fact, ever since the German-language teacher … ever since Yeoni postponed our lessons because of her illness, I’ve found myself becoming depressed every now and then.’He’s just a bit different … but he’s not violent. He certainly wouldn’t harm someone for no reason. And if you didn’t open the door, how could you have understood everything he said?’ A seductive, disorienting, & wholly original story about parallel lives, unfolding over a day & a night in the sweltering heat of Seoul's summer.

So you wanted to let me know that you’ve been hearing some mysterious radio broadcast, but that it’s not disturbing you?’ But Ayami probably wouldn’t be able to visit the tropics this year, because the theatre would be closing down before the usual holiday period, and the possibility of her finding another job before then looked slim. Maybe poets have just never been concerned about dressing smartly? I’ve never met any writers, apart from a playwright at the theatre, ages ago. He always wore ordinary jeans and a T-shirt. There was nothing to distinguish him from the actors. Now I think of it, he did act sometimes as well. And he didn’t even have long hair. Well, no longer than the actors, I mean. Anyhow, he was no different from us. But, judging from books and films, a lot of artists like to look distinctive, so I think I understand what you mean.’ No.’ Ayami shook her head vigorously but, again, pointlessly. ‘She said it was a secret. She said she’d signed a written pledge to keep it absolutely confidential until the product came on the market. She can’t hold them responsible for anything, either. Not any side effects – nothing. In fact, she shouldn’t even have told me that.’ He must like you – didn’t I say so? But he isn’t a salesman, Blind Owl.’ The German-language teacher generally chose a name for Ayami culled from whichever novel they were reading. She found Ayami’s real name much too strange, and not at all to her liking. She’d told Ayami that her real name made her uncomfortable and that, where possible, she wanted to avoid having to pronounce it. She had also asked not to hear it pronounced: ‘Whatever you do,’ she said, ‘just don’t say “Ayami”. And the same goes for calling me “Yeoni”.’

The acclaimed Korean author weaves a “disturbing, beautifully controlled” metaphysical detective story “of doubles, shadows, and parallel worlds” (Financial Times). The engineer wore a baseball cap jammed right down on his head, obscuring his face and making him look like a shadow of himself. He always came on the shuttle bus, even though he never brought any heavy equipment, and there was never anyone else with him. The bus was white, and emblazoned with the foundation’s logo. The theatre director was informed in advance of the precise time of the engineer’s visit, so that any issues could be discussed in person. The director came out to greet the engineer when he arrived, and saw the bus off when he left.