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2.5 

Wafers

By Seong-nan Ha & Janet Hong
Wafers by Seong-nan Ha & Janet Hong digital book - Fable

Publisher Description

“Daydreams of a River” 


 The director’s car was the first to leave the factory. Those returning to Seoul on the tour bus scrambled down to the factory entrance where the bus was parked. The yard offered a clear view of the people climbing aboard the bus. Drunk men staggered to the side of the road and urinated for a long time. Their suit trousers were wrinkled and the shirt collars grubby. Darkness was making its way up from the direction of the bus. The stray dogs from the village roamed the factory yard, thrusting their noses into the ground and sniffing around for meat. The rest of the city people split off into different cars. The woman and Y were supposed to catch a ride with Mr. Lee, the assistant manager, but Y was still taking pictures of the factory. Loosened up by drink, the factory owner had taken his hands out of his pockets and now went so far as to wave at the camera. Less than a year later from this day, he would lose two more fingers from the remaining four on his left hand to a circular saw blade. The saw was cutting through a cherry tree when it hit a woodgrain that ran a different direction and jerked up, and in the blink of an eye, two of the factory owner’s fingers sprayed like sawdust. The accident threw the main office into chaos. Upon receiving news of the accident, the CEO called the factory owner a fucking idiot, the owner who was older than him by twenty years. He then made all kinds of calls to check if the owner had broken the law by not using a safety device. He also asked Mr. Lee to secretly investigate whether he’d been drinking on the job. 


The woman called out to Y, who was taking his sweet time. As she was getting in Mr. Lee’s car, she looked toward the livestock pens, as well as the workshop, but A was nowhere in sight. The village women were clearing away the mats from one side of the yard. The stray dogs swarmed toward dropped morsels of food. The factory workers stationed on one side of the yard will probably keep drinking well into the night. The tall young man in a Yankees cap wasn’t by the factory entrance either. The bus pulled farther away from the factory. The woman continued to scan the surrounding area for A, like a farmer looking for a cow that had escaped from his fenced field. Wondering if he was hiding, she scrutinized the trees and then laughed at herself. Since he was tall, A would never be able to hide behind those small trees. She had wanted to wish him good luck at sea, but she didn’t see him. She’d even clicked her tongue for Yeller, but she didn’t see him either. 


It quickly grew dark. Livestock pens flickered in the darkness. There wasn’t a single street light on the road. They had to go slowly, since the headlights lit only a short distance ahead. Mr. Lee kept sticking out his tongue to lick his dry lips, as if he were thirsty. The road had many sharp curves. Mr. Lee hit the brakes at every curve. Y seemed tired; sitting in the backseat, he was sleeping with his head bowed. Though they weren’t able to catch up to the tour bus that had left much earlier, they should have been able to see the lights of the cars that had left before them. At first, they thought nothing of it, assuming they couldn’t see the cars ahead because of the curves in the road. They realized they must have taken a wrong turn twenty minutes after they had left the factory. The road was completely empty. Theirs was the only car on the road. All around was deep darkness, with no sign of houses. They had no choice but to keep going until they came to a sign. Mr. Lee started driving a little faster. Just as they were going around a curve, a white object darted them from the opposite side of the road. Mr. Lee slammed on the brakes, but there wasn’t enough time. The object hit the bumper and flew into the dark rush field. The car was able to stop after it had hurtled forward for another five meters. Mr. Lee peered at the road behind them through his rearview mirror. He couldn’t see much by the glow of the taillight. Y, who had just woken up, glanced about with puffy eyes. Mr. Lee made a face. He rolled down his window and spat outside. “Shit.” 


He left the engine running and climbed out of the car. Through the rearview mirror, she saw him move farther away from the car. Soon he was swallowed up by darkness. 


Y said it was most likely nothing, and yawned. “It was probably a badger or squirrel.” 


She’d caught only a flash, but it had seemed much too big for it to be a badger or squirrel. The object reflected in the headlights had been white. 


About ten minutes later, Mr. Lee came back to the car. Instead of getting back into the driver’s seat, he stood beside the car and smoked. When he climbed into the car, he reeked of liquor and cigarettes. 


“It was a dog,” he said. 


The village had an unusual number of stray dogs, but the woman’s gut feeling was that it hadn’t been a dog. Back at the factory, she’d seen elderly people dressed in white. They flashed across her mind, and then vanished. Mr. Lee scrubbed his face with both hands. “No, no, it’s too dark to see anything.” 


The bottom of the hill about three meters below was as dark as a well. It was impossible to search out every spot with a flashlight. 


“Mr. Lee, are you sure it was in that direction?” Y called out from the dark. “I don’t think it was over there.” 


The dark was disorienting. They couldn’t tell where they’d hit the object. The impact of crashing into the bumper of the car had sent it hurtling off the road. It wouldn’t be easy to find where it had landed. Mr. Lee raised the flashlight above his head and raked the light over the field. The light punched holes in the darkness that resembled a wide stretch of carpet. Clumps of rushes. Dry bonsai trees. Livestock pens. The flashlight moved over the rushes again. Right then in the light, the woman saw the rushes shake. “Over there! It’s alive!” 


She started moving before she finished speaking. The slope wasn’t steep, but the soil was so dry she slipped and tumbled down. She shouted without looking back, “Don’t move the light! Yes, there! Hold it there!” 


Because it was the dry season, the rush and grass were dry. They wrapped around her legs. She heard Y come up behind her. The ground was firm underfoot, but it would give way all of a sudden into spongy spots. She recalled A’s words. He’d said that there were many holes throughout the village where dead cows had been buried. As the bodies decomposed, the holes that had been covered with dirt turned soft. Maybe it had been a joke to scare a city girl. She walked toward the spot revealed by the flashlight. The rushes were trampled. The broken grass shook. It was a dog. Thinking it looked like Yeller, she brought her face close, but it wasn’t him. The dog was panting. The tongue that lolled out of its open mouth looked too long. 


“So it actually was a dog?” Y said, catching his breath. He then yelled in Mr. Lee’s direction. “It’s a dog! A dog!” 


The dog was still warm. When she touched the dog, its breathing grew quieter. She buried her fingers in its ruff and stroked its fur. It seemed to have been hit in the stomach. Every time her hand went near its stomach, the dog soundlessly bared its teeth. The trampled grass was sticky. She felt something mushy next to her. The entrails that had spilled from its stomach were splayed out on the field. 


“Let’s go.” Y said, turning around. 


The dog’s eyes that had rolled back in its head flashed toward Y. It suddenly shot up and clamped down on the woman’s wrist with every last bit of its strength. Its canines pierced the woman’s flesh. Her arm turned numb. When she raised her arm, the dog’s head came up as well. Her arm felt so heavy she felt as if it were going to snap off. Once it had latched onto her wrist, it didn’t let go. She saw its eyes then. Rolled back to show mostly whites, its eyes were welled up with tears. The dog’s saliva seeped into her veins. 


She remembered those eyes about ten years later, when she herself came to bite down on someone’s arm. The man clobbered her repeatedly in the face with her purse he’d been stealing. The buckles on the purse whacked her in the eye. She tried to get a good look at his face, but she couldn’t, because one of her eyes swelled shut. Even as she was dragged along the side street, she clamped down on his arm and refused to let go.

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1 Review

2.5
Expressionless Face“Being a fan of Ha Seong-Nan's "Bluebeard's First Wife" "Flowers Of Mold," I was eager to dive into this collection of short stories. I have grievances. The vast majority of these stories feel like writing prompt exercises in preparation for the third entry, "Daydreams Of A River," where the narrator simultaneously experiences 3 moments in her lifetime. "Daydreams" initially feels uncomfortably disorienting, but Ha manages to braid these three moments succinctly. This cannot be said for the rest of the book. Time doesn't flow through these stories so much as blend. I was forever confused by the past v. the present v. the future, how much time had passed, or even who was narrating the story. In "Button," not only were there sudden time jumps forward and backward, but also abrupt shifts from third to first person. I was SOOO close to leaving this as a DNF. The somewhat better stories: Autobiography Daydreams Of A River House Of Wafers (in spite of frustrating time shifts) Shadow Child”
DarkAnimal abuseMisogynySexual assaultViolenceBad writingUnsatisfying endingUnsatisfying plot

About Seong-nan Ha

Ha Seong-nan is the author of five short story collections—including Bluebeard's First Wife and Flowers of Mold—and three novels. Over her career, she's received a number of prestigious awards, such as the Dong-in Literary Award in 1999, Hankook Ilbo Literary Prize in 2000, the Isu Literature Prize in 2004, the Oh Yeong-su Literary Award in 2008, and the Contemporary Literature (Hyundae Munhak) Award in 2009.

Janet Hong

Janet Hong is a writer and translator based in Vancouver, Canada. Her work has appeared in Brick: A Literary JournalLiterary HubAsia Literary ReviewWords Without Borders, and the Korea Times. Her other translations include Han Yujoo's The Impossible Fairy Tale and Ancco's Bad Friends.

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