Vernacular Visions in North and South Korea: Interlingual Translations of Unyŏng chŏn (The Tale of Unyŏng) and Ideologies of National Literature

Abstract

This article focuses on two translations of The Tale of Unyŏng (Unyŏng chŏn 雲英傳, early seventeenth century) into vernacular Korean in South Korea (1960) and North Korea (1966). Looking beyond the classical paradigm of interlingual and intralingual translation as “translation proper” and “rewording,” respectively, the article argues that translations of classical Korean fiction from Literary Sinitic into vernacular Korean represented a form of transitional intralingual translation as each nation navigated away from active membership in the Sinographic Cosmopolis and attempted to establish a new national literature and literary medium. Whereas the South Korean translation is tethered closely to the Literary Sinitic original in terms of lexicon, orthography, and representation of classical allusions and perpetuates three tiers of literacy, the North Korean translation hews much more closely to spoken vernacular and traditional kungmun manuscript versions of classical fiction and embodies the overriding North Korean policy of sinograph abolition and han'gŭl promotion.

Introduction

Working in translation studies naturally invites us to define what it means to translate, and often Roman Jakobson's ([1959] 2000: 114) classic tripartite definition of translation is invoked. It is worth considering here:

• Intralingual translation or rewording is an interpretation of verbal signs by means of other signs of the same language;

• Interlingual translation or translation proper is an interpretation of verbal signs by means of some other language;

• Intersemiotic or transmutation is an interpretation of verbal signs by means of signs of nonverbal sign systems.

As some scholars have pointed out, the implications of these definitions are potentially vast: “The meaning of any linguistic sign is its translation into some further, alternative sign,” implying that “translation is a component of all language interactions.” Nonetheless, “translation proper” has commanded the vast majority of attention from researchers and translators alike, relegating other forms of language interaction to the domains of semiotics or education and pedagogy (Jakobson [1959] 2000: 114; Zethsen 2009: 797).¹ One goal of this article is therefore to contribute to a reconceptualization of “translation” within the Sinographic Cosmopolis, taking into consideration diverse ecologies of writing in the late nineteenth and well into the twentieth centuries. At the heart of this approach is a reconsideration of what authors at this time considered to be foreign and native written languages. I argue that within the inscriptional practices of the Sinographic Cosmopolis, Literary Sinitic (hereafter LS) was not necessarily considered to be a foreign language in the same way that “source” and “target” languages are understood within the “translation proper” paradigm, nor were the “vernacular” and the “cosmopolitan” fixed concepts during the transitional period under consideration here. Even in the post–language nationalization era of the 1960s and the increasing “hangulization” of South but especially North Korean society, premodern inscriptional practices loomed large and continued to inform modes of translation in both countries. Thus, while metalinguistic conceptions of language in 1960s North and South Korea may have assumed a process of interlingual translation in the conversion of The Tale of Unyŏng to the vernacular, echoes of the LS tradition in terms of lexicon, orthography in the form of sinograph utilization, and the readership's assumed cosmopolitan knowledge and initiation (the decision to gloss Sino-Korean words or explain classical allusions) invoke a lingering tradition of intralingual translation. Language ideologies that arose in North and South Korea, influenced respective language policies, and informed the composition of these translations have moreover grown out of this specific shared tradition of literary production in the Sinographic Cosmopolis, a dialectic distinct from other linguistic relationships constituting classical interlingual modes of translation.²

Therefore, looking beyond the classical paradigm of interlingual translation between two discrete languages, on the one hand, and conceptions of “intralingual translation” as a form of “rewording,” on the other, this article argues that translations of classical Korean fiction in LS into vernacular Korean represented a form of transitional intralingual translation as each nation navigated away from active membership in the Sinographic Cosmopolis and attempted to establish a new national literature and literary medium based in part on appropriation of traditional literary culture and informed by postliberation language policy and nationalist ideology. Whereas the South Korean translation is tethered closely to the LS original in terms of lexicon, orthography, and representation of classical allusions and culture, approximating emergent late nineteenth-century and colonial-era mixed-script translations of classical fiction, the North Korean translation hews much more closely to spoken vernacular and traditional kungmun (國文, “han'gŭl”) manuscript versions of classical fiction. The South Korean translation method embodies a larger paradigm that perpetuated three tiers of literacy: a LS original, a heavily sinicized mixed-script or hancha-infused “high” vernacular translation, and a pure han'gŭl vernacular version often beyond the purview of scholarly consideration. On the other hand, North Korean translations such as this, driven by postliberation nationalist language ideologies supporting the abolition of sinographs and mass literacy campaigns to actualize revolution, embodied a much more unified, universalized literary medium tending toward exclusive han'gŭl use and presenting selective aspects of premodern Korean culture specially curated to legitimize socialist revolution.

Literary analyses of The Tale of Unyŏng in each country moreover reflect disparate ideological approaches. Whereas early studies of the work in South Korea analyzed its literary aspects and turned to its critical potential only in the postdemocratization era, The Tale of Unyŏng in the North was framed from the beginning as a critique of “feudal Chosŏn society” and justification for realizing the ongoing revolution. In this light, the mongyurok (夢遊錄, “dream record”) genre of The Tale of Unyŏng has special significance in the North Korean translation. The otherworldly figures of Unyŏng and Kim chinsa (the female and male protagonists, respectively), who impart wisdom at the conclusion of the tale in the form of their manuscript, may be construed as the vanguard of socialist revolution, presenting an injunction against the evils of “feudal” society and offering guidance to the next generation.

This article, informed by contested ideologies related to premodern modes of cosmopolitan inscriptional practice, postcolonial nationalistic language ideologies promoting han'gŭl, and international (Soviet and Western) linguistic theory, places the vernacular translations of The Tale of Unyŏng within the particular language ideological fields of 1960s North and South Korea and examines the textualization of this work of fiction. The particular era of these translations takes on special salience in the discussion. While the South Korean translation in 1960 represents an example of a rather conservative declaration of vernacular literary translation that settled in after an immediate postliberation paroxysm of ultranationalism and pure han'gŭl agitation, the 1966 North Korean translation marks part of a turn from communist internationalism and Soviet linguistic theory of the 1940s and 1950s to chuch'e (主體, “self-reliance”) ideology, which began to dominate society from the late 1960s on and sought to drive out foreign influence while selectively curating traditional Korean culture to justify ongoing socialist revolution.

The Formation of Postliberation Language and Literature Policy in the Koreas

One of the most active areas of reform in the immediate postliberation era was the Korean language, and in this ideologically charged nationalistic atmosphere, the tide turned toward exclusive han'gŭl use after years of mixed-script orthography followed by active suppression of Korean in the late colonial period. Even in the South, where conservative elements championing the continued use of sinographs eventually gained greater influence, calls for full vernacularization of the language were initially irresistible. The Chosŏnŏ hakhoe (朝鮮語學會, “Korean Language Society”)³ took the lead in promoting language reform in the South, prefacing reform proposals with strong doses of nationalistic language ideologies invoking simultaneously the “superior excellence” (ususŏng 優秀性) of the vernacular script and reminders of the unwarranted and unjust persecution of the script, such as in the following preface to a proposal for desyllabified horizontal writing (karo p'urŏssŭgi), a proposal incidentally championed by northern linguists as well:

In a 1947 speech, Kim Ilsŏng 金日成 (1912–94), the mouthpiece for North Korean policy in all fields, similarly highlights the suppression of Korean under Japanese rule, linking this with broader colonial assimilation policy. Reprinted in the inaugural issue of the premier linguistics magazine Cultured Language Learning (Munhwaŏ haksŭp, 1968–) more than twenty years after liberation, his speech shows the clear ideological lineage between colonial-era oppression, immediate postliberation agitation, and ongoing language policy:

While the suppression of education and literacy under Japanese colonialism motivated language and education reform in both North and South Korea, reforms in the North were animated from the beginning with Soviet-infused materialist linguistic theory, which sought to mobilize han'gŭl as a tool for realizing rapid mass literacy and revolution. The “bourgeois” basis for the previous standard language, the “language of the educated elite of Seoul” (churyu sahoe esŏ ssŭnŭn Sŏul mal) at the center of the Unified Orthography (Han'gŭl mach'umpŏp t'ongiran) of 1933 was replaced in North Korea's New Orthography (Chosŏnŏ sin ch’ŏlchapŏp) in 1948 with a standard language “based on the variety of modern Korean that is shared most widely.”⁴ Although both countries achieved impressive advances in eliminating illiteracy in the postliberation years, only in the North was illiteracy virtually eliminated, even before the outbreak of the Korean War, in a campaign driven by a heavily materialist view of language.⁵ Kim Ilsŏng touted proudly the gains in literacy, stating in 1948 that “the thirst for knowledge is increasing daily among the workers after the way of learning was lost for so long. Currently at least 1,394,000 workers are attending literacy schools (han'gŭl hakkyo [sic]) and adult schools, and by 1947 already more than 800,000 have climbed out of illiteracy” (Kim Ilsŏng [1948] 1964; quoted in Kim Ilsŏng 1968: 7). In May 1950, on the eve of invasion, Kim stated that “the illiteracy eradication campaign carried out broadly throughout the population has now fundamentally been completed. Adult primary and middle schools aimed at systematic basic education number more than 2,300, enrolling about 160,000 workers” (Kim Ilsŏng [1950] 1964; quoted in Kim Ilsŏng 1968: 7).

Because of the particular narrative of North Korea's national foundation by Kim Ilsŏng's partisan guerrilla forces, nationalist rhetoric in North Korea has been strongly undergirded by martial overtones, which has also been true of language, literature, and literacy. The following quote, attributed to one of Kim's guerrilla comrades from the 1930s, later DPRK Lieutenant General O Paengnyong 吳白龍 (1913–84), appeared in the inaugural issue of Munhwaŏ haksŭp and shows the intimate connection between literacy and armed struggle:

O continues in this vein, developing an extensive martial rhetoric relating to learning and literacy based on his remembrances from 1930s Manchuria:

Thus language policy in North Korea after liberation moved decidedly toward pure han'gŭl writing, which was officially announced in September 1949 and was more or less achieved in all official publications before the Korean War, driven by a strong reaction against previous Japanese suppression (King 1997: 118–19). This trend was moreover motivated by materialist language ideologies strongly infused with martial rhetoric. In South Korea, while there was a similar initial trend toward pure han'gŭl writing influenced by nationalistic language ideologies, by the late 1940s conservative elements, numerically significant and bolstered by political actualities, staged a challenge to the pure han'gul faction on the basis of practical considerations such as those voiced in the following argument:

Although the Law on Exclusive Han'gŭl Use (Han'gŭl chŏnyong e kwanhan pŏmnyul, 1948) stipulated that “all public documents in the Republic of Korea shall be composed in han'gŭl,” the rider declaring that “for a time when necessary hancha may be used in conjunction” reflected the continuing conservative influence in language policy. The reinstating of 1,000 sinographs for education purposes in 1952 (raised to 1,300 in 1957) then ushered in a prolonged period of mixed-script usage in the South that has defined academic “high-level” writing ever since and provides the backdrop for translations such as Kim Kidong's Tale of Unyŏng in 1960, a translation that displays conscious attachment to an LS original and assumes a high degree of sinographic knowledge on the part of the readership.

North and South Korean Interlingual Translation in the 1960s

North Korea is commonly conceptualized as a static relic of communism, trapped in time and devoid of history, save the history of the “Kim dynasty.” However, as Suzy Kim (2016: 3) reminds us, “North Korea's history is not simply the history of one man or the party, but part and parcel of the history of modernity, not ‘suspended in time’ but part of the global history of decolonization.”⁶ Kim's attempt to “restore North Korea's historicity and its place within the history of modernity” (2) informs this current article as well, as I position the translation of The Tale of Unyŏng within a dynamic political and ideological field borne out of a rich history of cosmopolitan and vernacular interaction and evolution. Although a single family has ruled the country since its inception, this does not suggest that internal politics have remained static. Careful studies of North Korea have demonstrated not only the gradual consolidation of power by Kim Ilsŏng and his Manchurian guerrilla clique against the competing Soviet Koreans (Koryŏ saram), Yanan faction, and domestic communists, but also the gradual turn from Communist internationalism in the 1940s, 1950s, and early 1960s to an inward-oriented chuch'e philosophy from the late 1960s, which had a combined transformative effect on North Korean language and literature that challenges the notion of a static relic of communism “frozen in time.” In terms of language and literature during the first decades after liberation, it may be argued that North Korea was in fact the more dynamic locus of change. South Korea, despite an initial impetus for nationalist vernacularization, ended up preserving a rather conservative vision of inscriptional practices that resulted in a very protracted process of desinicization, vernacularization, and reification of multiple levels of literacy that unfolded over many decades and in some ways continues today.

Han Chŏngho (2007: 319) puts forth the following periodization of North Korean literature, which helps us conceptualize changes in the literary field in response to political exigencies: “1945–50: Constructing a new fatherland (literature of the liberation space); 1950–55: Liberating the fatherland (wartime literature); 1956–60: Postwar recovery (postwar literature); 1960s: Ch’ŏllima Campaign period; and 1970–: Uniqueness philosophy/self-reliance (yuil sasang/chuch'e sasang 唯一思想/主體思想).” Linguistic theories embraced by North Korea underwent similar dynamism during the first three decades after liberation and likewise heavily influenced the direction of literature in the country because of the universalized and centralized nature of state philosophy. Ko Yŏnggŭn (1992: 430) suggests this in the following periodization: “1946–50: The embracing of [Nikolai Iakovlevich] Marr's [1865–34] linguistic theory and the foundation of North Korean linguistics; 1950–66: The embracing of Stalinist linguistic theory and the further development North Korean linguistics; 1966–present: The formation and development of chuch'e linguistic theory.”⁷ Scholars have pointed in particular to Kim Ilsŏng's “Conversations with Linguists” (1964, 1966) as turning points in North Korea's language policy that marked a shift toward inward orientation and reflected an embracing and deepening of chuch'e philosophy more generally (King 1997: 124–29).

The “chuch'e turn” in the late 1960s and early 1970s in North Korea encompassed two major transformations that affected the direction of language and literature thereafter. First, the Soviet contribution to liberation was written out of the national foundation narrative and replaced by a unified, exclusivist narrative of national liberation centered solely on Kim Ilsŏng and his partisan guerrilla forces. This rhetorical shift was accompanied by a turn away from the Marxist-Leninist linguistic theory of the 1950s and 1960s, which recognized the concept of an ethno-language (minjogŏ 民族語) common to all members of each nation and acknowledged syncretism between Soviet and indigenous linguistic development. A turn toward exclusivist chuch'e linguistic theory, spearheaded by Kim Ilsŏng's “Conversations with Linguists,” focused on the state-led development of a new cultured language (munhwaŏ 文化語) centered on P'yŏngyang. Second, the field of North Korean literature turned away from active engagement with the literature of the Communist bloc in translation and turned toward the native literature of traditional Korea, selectively embracing works of premodern fiction as ideological tabulae for actualizing revolution through alternating praise and condemnation of traditional Korean society. The first transformation concerned a change in language policy and ideology, while the second may be viewed as a shift in literary and cultural theory. Both were highly influenced by state-led conceptualizations of North Korean nationalism within the ongoing socialist revolution.

The Soviet contribution to liberation loomed large in North Korea's national narrative in the late 1940s and 1950s, appearing even in language-related documents. For example, the preface to North Korea's New Orthography not only mentions the Soviet contribution to liberation but also relegates North Korea to a position as passive recipient of Soviet benevolence, while the Soviet military is described with the same adjective, widaehan, that was later exclusively reserved for Kim Ilsŏng: “Thanks to the heroic victory of the great [widaehan] Soviet military, our fatherland was liberated from the clutches of Imperial Japan, we were finally able to use our language and writing freely, and we now feel even more urgently the need to devise every method to unify our language even further” (Chosŏn ŏmun yŏn'guhoe 1948). North Korean authors translated works of Soviet linguistics heavily in the 1950s and early 1960s and freely acknowledged a syncretic relationship between the contributions of indigenous and Soviet linguists.⁸ The North Korean linguist Song Sŏryong (1957) wrote the following on the influence of Soviet language debates on North Korean linguistics: “The great linguistic debate in the Soviet Union in (June–July) 1950 brought about a decisive turn in the development of Chosŏn linguistics. This great debate over how to introduce genuine Marxism into linguistics opened the path to creatively solving all of the complex problems in linguistic science based on a Marxist-Leninist framework.” He went on to state:

The foreword to the Abridged Dictionary of the Chosŏn Language (Chosŏnŏ sosajŏn 朝鮮語 小辭典, 1956) reiterated this syncretic relationship, stating plainly: “The compilation of the Abridged Dictionary was based on the principles of Marxist-Leninist linguistics along with the considerable experience of our native Korean language scholars in compiling dictionaries in the past” (Chosŏnŏ sosajŏn 1961, quoted in Ko Yŏnggŭn 1992: 438).

In “Conversations with Linguists,” especially the 1966 “On Properly Reviving the Ethno-national Characteristics of Our Language,” Kim Ilsŏng consciously directed a course for the North Korean language away from Soviet linguistic theory and toward a nativist, prescriptivist view of the language that sought to construct a pure, uncontaminated North Korean language internally. Importantly, the language ideology expressed by Kim went a step further than the pure han'gŭl orthography championed up until that time, criticizing the use of loan words from neighboring countries in the North Korean language, but especially targeting the continued saturation of the language with Sino-Korean vocabulary. According to Kim:

Kim Ilsŏng then proceeds to outline the rudimentary principles of what would become North Korea's language nativization campaign, characterized by the replacement of foreign loan words and Sino-Korean vocabulary (not of a strictly political nature) with native Korean alternatives or newly coined words based on native etymology.¹⁰ Importantly, this was a reaction not only against perceived influence of foreign elements on the North Korean language variety but the supposed contamination of the South Korean variety, especially by English and Japanese (Kim Ilsŏng [1966] 1989). The initial influence of this policy can already be seen in the October 1966 publication of The Tale of Unyŏng, where not only are hancha relegated to a strictly perfunctory role but Sino-Korean vocabulary is also limited, in comparison with the South Korean translation, and replaced with vernacular alternatives.¹¹

The second major transformation that characterized the “chuch'e turn” occurred in the fields of literature and culture and involved a shift away from international (mostly Communist bloc) literature in translation to a greater focus on native literature, including selective translation of and engagement with classical Korean fiction (kojŏn sosŏl). Although translations of classical fiction in North Korea began to appear from the mid-1950s, these were few and far between, were either obviously subversive, such as The Tale of Rim kkŏkchŏng (Rim kkŏkchŏng, 1955) and The Tale of Hong Kyŏngnae (Hong Kyŏngnae, 1955), or highly criticized according to the party line, such as The Tale of Ch'unhyang (Ch'unhyang chŏn [film], 1959), and did not represent a coordinated effort to mobilize traditional cultural artifacts for revolutionary purposes.¹² While selective curation and analysis of such fiction is usually dated to the early 1970s and is understood as part of a chuch'e-inspired project to engage with “ethno-national cultural heritage” (minjok munhwa yusan), the 1966 translation of The Tale of Unyŏng represents an early effort in this area reflecting recent pronouncements in North Korean language policy (“Conversations with Linguists”) and signaling changes on the horizon, most notably the 1970 pronouncement by Kim Jong-Il (Kim Chŏngil) 金正日 (1942–2011) on “minjok cultural heritage” that did for North Korea's traditional culture what his father's 1966 “Conversation with Linguists” did for its language (Kim Chŏngil, March 4, 1970, quoted in Chŏn Yŏngsŏn 2000: 297). Kim Chŏngil stated in this pronouncement:

Hence the 1966 translation signals pivotal changes in North Korean language and literary policy. The text shows evidence of vernacularization in orthography and word choice, while its critical discussion in the introduction evinces the early stages of literary reevaluation of classical literature before the more fundamental pronouncement and framing of the policy in 1970. An additional translation of The Tale of Unyŏng in 1987 moreover demonstrates a deepening of this policy of engagement with and mobilization of classical Korean fiction. This translation, which will be considered briefly below following discussion of the 1966 translation, displayed an even greater degree of vernacularization and more fully integrated the work within the growing pantheon of “classic socialist-realist” works according to chuch'e literary and cultural theory.

As mentioned above, the turn toward native literature was accompanied by a de-emphasis on foreign literature in translation. Although a comprehensive analysis of this phenomenon is beyond the scope of this article, a cursory examination of titles appearing in Children's Literature (Adong munhak, 1946–present), the premiere North Korean publication since liberation for such literature, shows a sharp decline in literature in translation in the late 1950s and into the 1960s. While three to four works of literature in translation appear on average in each issue through the 1950s—tending heavily toward the Soviet Union and China but also originating from Hungary, Romania, Mongolia, Georgia, and even ancient Greece (Aesop's fables), Germany (Grimm's fairy tales), and Denmark (Hans [Christian] Andersen's “The Ugly Duckling”)—from the early 1960s the number drops to an average of less than one per issue, and by the mid-1960s works in translation are difficult to locate at all.¹³

In the next section I analyze the place of The Tale of Unyŏng in broader North and South Korean society and highlight the disparate literary engagement with the work in each country. I then compare the translations in terms of lexicon, orthography, and representation of traditional Korean culture, paying special attention to the role of these works as forms of intralingual translations from an LS original. I then briefly consider subsequent vernacular translations of the work (South Korea, 1978; North Korea, 1987) that represent a further separation of inscriptional practice in the South between LS, hancha-infused “high” translation and pure han'gŭl (Kim Tonguk 1978), and a further vernacularization in the North through a complete extirpation of already minimized hancha along with a deeper elaboration of The Tale of Unyŏng's revolutionary potential through its inclusion and discussion by the author of the introduction into a broader “classical socialist-realist” literary field (Ri Ch'angyu 1987b).

The Tale of Unyŏng in the South Korean and North Korean Literary Fields

The Tale of Unyŏng has garnered considerable attention in South Korean academic circles, especially since the 1990s.¹⁴ Some of the major themes examined have been the identity of the author, influences from other genres, the effect and purpose of vernacularization in the han'gŭl versions, conflict between characters' desires and social realities, the nature and source of tragedy in the story, and the significance of the Susŏng Palace setting. The first study, conducted by Ōtani Morishige in 1966 and examining two han'gŭl and three hanmun versions of the work, presented the hypothesis that the tale was written by none other than Yu Yŏng, the narrator of the story, who receives the manuscript from the phantom main characters, Unyŏng and Kim chinsa. Ōtani also proposes that The Tale of Unyŏng demonstrated influence from Chinese chuanqi (傳奇, “tales of the strange”), a genre of fiction dating mainly from the Tang dynasty, although the evidence for each of these claims is inconclusive (Ōtani Morishige 1966, quoted in Yang Sŭngmin 2008: 137–39). Subsequent studies by Kim Ilyŏl (1972) have focused on the specter of Prince Anp'yŏng 安平大君 (1418–53) from a psychological perspective. Kim writes that, rather than a mere individual who foils the affections of Unyŏng and Kim chinsa, Prince Anp'yŏng symbolizes the systematic moral reality of the Chosŏn era. Yi Sanggu (1998: 135–38), however, portrays Prince Anp'yŏng in a more sympathetic light, as something of a tragic figure who fell victim to the political factionalism and social realities of his time. Noting his progressive belief in the potential of women for higher learning, Yi describes Susŏng Palace as a “parallel world” that seeks to transcend social and political realities by providing a clandestine space for the idealized rule denied him by political exigencies. The inability to realize this ideal for rule, moreover, caused tension between the prince and the palace women and ultimately resulted in the demise of Unyŏng and Kim chinsa.

Other studies have delved into the relationship between the hanmun and han'gŭl versions of The Tale of Unyŏng in terms of style, content, and readership. For example, Pak Kisŏk (1980: 94), in his comparison of original and translated versions of the work, argues that through the process of translation into han'gŭl, the readership and possible authorship of The Tale of Unyŏng gradually shifted to a still limited group of upper-class women, as demonstrated by the augmented dialogic passages among palace women evident in vernacular versions. Yang (2008: 144–45), however, suggests that, given the considerable number of han'gŭl versions extant today, the readership was not quite as limited as Pak contends, and that considering the already significant role of palace women and women's dialogue in the original versions, the changes evident in the vernacular versions should not be considered a major shift in form or content.¹⁵

For our purposes, it is important to note that detailed literary analyses such as these began well after the modern vernacular translation appeared in 1960 and, until quite recently, ignored or glossed over the potentially socially critical or subversive elements of the work, unlike the North Korean version, which shows evidence of conscious curating according to a very specific, centralized policy of social critique and socialist revolution (Pak Iryŏng 1987; Chŏng Kilsu 2009; Ŏm T'aesik 2015: 165–92, 337–67; Ŏm T'aesik 2017: 145–61). Both versions are prefaced with introductions, but of a fundamentally different nature. While the South Korean introduction gives perfunctory information on variant titles, possible authorship, genre, themes, various versions, and translations, along with a short synopsis, the North Korean introduction is methodical in its delivery, highlighting the ills of “feudalistic” Chosŏn society that the North Korean revolution is ostensibly correcting. The only portion of the introduction to the South Korean version that includes subjective literary critique is as follows:

While the South Korean analysis is concerned mainly with the genre of the work and its artistic value, the North Korean introduction, true to the state's lack of a distinction between politics, revolution, and literature, eschews sober literary analysis and instead evaluates the work on its ability to expose the ills of Chosŏn society:

Each character is in turn interpreted as a symbol for a specific shortcoming of feudal society, a figure through which presocialist society may be “correctly” critiqued and the socialist revolution may be indirectly (and at times directly) justified. For example, the figure of Prince Anp'yŏng represents the depravity of the Chosŏn royal family and the monarchical system more generally: “The actions and ambitions of Prince Anp'yŏng, portrayed as a ‘superior’ representative of the ruling class, are in essence despicable and hideous. Although he behaves as if he is a gentle, generous person, he is the source of misfortune for Unyŏng and all of her companions” (Kim Hamyŏng 1966: 4). Through the figures of Unyŏng and Charan, the author offers a critique not only of the suppression of friendship, a relationship that would have resonated with comradeship in North Korean society, but of the plight of women in traditional society more generally:

Kim chinsa, on the other hand, represents a “victim of the feudal social system . . . possessing amazing talents, who is good-natured and finds pure love, but turns to deceiving others like a criminal and is felled in the prime of his life before achieving his sought-after true love” (Kim Hamyŏng 1966: 5). Kim chinsa's conniving servant T’ŭk, a member of the most downtrodden class of slaves, for whom we might expect sympathy from the state's critics, is indeed not blamed personally for his shortcomings but instead, in true class-based analysis, is portrayed as a victim of the system: “In the feudal society of the day that was built on human exploitation, the insidious criminal acts of Kim chinsa's servant T’ŭgi are not unexpected. T’ŭgi's theft of Unyŏng's possessions sent to Kim chinsa and his plot to even abscond with Unyŏng herself were modeled after the thieving morals of the yangban ruling class in the feudal society in which he was brought up” (Kim Hamyŏng 1966: 5). The introduction concludes with a direct statement on the implications of this work of classical fiction for the ongoing revolution:

We can sense in this introduction an emergent approach to classical literature through a socialist lens in North Korea. While traditional society is heavily criticized for its systematic stifling of freedom, failure to recognize talent, and corruptive tendencies, the society that produced this work is somewhat paradoxically praised for exposing these same societal ills through such literature. In this sense, classical literature such as this fulfilled a dual purpose by presenting an easy foil for socialist critique while also representing a people-centered (inminjŏk) historical link to traditional Korean culture through historical dialecticism. The very selection of a classical love story such as The Tale of Unyŏng without obvious revolutionary potential for socialist propaganda meanwhile embodies the emergent “chuch'e turn” toward traditional culture that would come to characterize the Kim Chŏngil era. Whereas the political and literary import of this work were outlined explicitly in the introduction, the actual text of the work, to which we now turn, embodied a more subtle pronouncement of North Korean nationalism in the form of language ideology in action.

The 1960 and 1966 translations are both based on the National Library of Korea (Kungnip tosŏgwan) version of the text in LS, the most widely circulated version.¹⁶ The English translation is based on the same LS original and is taken from James Scarth Gale's translation dating to May 1918 but was first published in Redemption and Regret: Modernizing Korea in the Writing of James Scarth Gale (2021).¹⁷ The following comparison between these translations is divided into three main categories: orthography, lexicon, and the readership's assumed (or prescribed) cosmopolitan knowledge and initiation. The first category refers to the most conspicuous difference between the translations, that is, the preponderance of sinographs appearing in each.¹⁸ An examination of the translations reveals a much higher number of sinographs in the South Korean translation. This version, which was published in four parts in the literary magazine Free Literature (Chayu munhak, 1956–63), displays the following breakdown.

The North Korean translation, on the other hand, shows a total of just 172 individual sinographs, a strikingly smaller number, but considering the North Korean policy of near-universal employment of han'gŭl only in publications since 1948, perhaps the most notable aspect is the presence of sinographs in the North Korean translation at all. Investigating further, we see a fundamental difference in the way that sinographs are used in the two translations in terms of parts of speech. In the North Korean version, forty-one Sino-Korean words fall under the category of proper nouns and twenty under the category of nouns, while there are just two adjective stems and one preposition. In contrast, the South Korean translation displays much more diversity in the employment of Sino-Korean vocabulary: an analysis of the first portion of Part 1, containing a number of sinographs analogous to the North Korean translation as a whole, shows nine proper nouns, twenty-three nouns, four adjectives, and even one verb stem. The employment of sinographs in the North Korean translation therefore seems to aim at clarifying possibly opaque meanings for a broader audience. The differing orthographic strategies are displayed in the following excerpt:

Whereas in the North Korean translation, sinographs are limited to reinforcing the meaning of potentially opaque words, even adding the character tan (壇, “altar”) to further explicate the meaning of “sajiktan,” the South Korean translation includes Sino-Korean nouns chŏt'aek (邸宅, “large residence, manor”) and adjective stems wanyŏn (宛然, “certainty, clearness”) and chŏngyŏn (整然, “order, regularity”) that could readily have been replaced with more familiar vernacular alternatives. The latter adjective stem moreover summarizes the orderliness of the loom in the original but is based on a Sino-Korean vocable not actually present in the original, suggesting a lateral intralingual translation rather than an expected vernacularization. Therefore, while the South Korean translation strategy suggests a relatively high degree of fidelity to an LS original through employment of more sinographs in more diverse roles, constituting a form of transitional intralingual translation operating within premodern inscriptional practices in the Sinographic Cosmopolis, the North Korean translation reflects the state language policy promoting han'gŭl and a more universalized readership, perhaps including young readers in the school setting.

Differences may also be noted in lexicon. The following excerpt shows not only a greater number of sinographs in the South Korean translation, but also the absence of equivalent Sino-Korean vocabulary in the North Korean version. In other words, not only did the translator of the former version make the decision to include sinographs ostensibly for greater semantic transparency, but they also chose to employ the same vocabulary as the original in a form of intralingual translation, contrasting with the North Korean translation that opts for a much more colloquial vocabulary:

Comparing the sinograph-accompanied Sino-Korean vocabulary in the South Korean translation with the equivalents in the northern version, we have the following.

At times, the employment of more vernacular word choice in the North Korea translation is accompanied by other translation strategies that function indexically, suggesting the degree of perceived vernacularization of particular words and the sinographic knowledge of the intended readership. In the North Korean example that follows, two strategies have been employed to domesticate the LS translation for a vernacular audience: parenthetical explanation and simple glossing.

This is one of the few examples where the North Korean translation includes more sinographs than its South Korean counterpart. However, whereas throughout most of the translation the absence of sinographs functions to enhance transparency and broaden the potential readership, here the presence of sinographs coupled with the parenthetical explication of “sain” and the glossing of Changsin'gung (長信宮) as the palace of “Han nara Pan Ch'om yŏ” (Consort Ban Jieyu 班婕妤 [206 BCE–23 CE] of the Han dynasty) serves to index these terms and the associated allusion with classical literary culture beyond the expected or prescribed literacy of the readership. In the South Korean translation, on the other hand, the classical allusion is integrated into the assumed language and cultural literacy of the target audience, indexed by the absence of the sinographs for sain (舍人, “traditional servants of the king”) and yŏsŭng (女僧, “bhikkhuni”) and the eschewing of parenthetical explanations or glosses. In other words, the proper noun “changsin'gung” with the reinforcing sinographs 長信宮 is expected to convey the necessary meaning, given the assumed level of cosmopolitan linguistic and cultural knowledge of the intended audience.

In this case, the inclusion of sinographs coupled with explanations and glosses serves to convey information perceived as necessary to the reader, in particular with classical allusions. In various other cases, however, where information is not regarded as necessary for conveying the basic elements of the plot, it is omitted or simplified, a strategy that characterizes the North Korean translation in the vast majority of cases. The following examples display significant divergences in their approach to the Confucian classics and what they index as “necessary” knowledge:

This is perhaps the most dramatic example of “domestication” in the North Korean translation. Whereas the South Korean translation lists the specific works of the Confucian canon studied by the palace women, a list which would have had special resonance with any classically trained reader of the text in premodern times but also a level of familiarity with a South Korean readership, the North Korean version writes only that “ten [women] were selected and made to study.” This version is completely unconcerned with the content of classical education, conveying only the portion needed to further the plot. The North Korean version, characteristic of most of the translation, is likewise unconcerned with the specific poets' names, Yi T'aebaek (Ch. Li Bai) 李白 (701–62 AD) and Tu Chami (Ch. Du Fu) 杜甫 (712–70 AD), and omits these names entirely. It is telling that even Gale's English translation, ostensibly aimed at an audience with even less prescribed and assumed cosmopolitan knowledge, faithfully includes all of the specific titles of the classics as well as the poets' names.

The following examples demonstrate similar divergences in their approach not only to classical knowledge but to poetry more generally:

Whereas the South Korean translation names the specific poet of Song-era China reinforced by the accompanying sinographs, the North Korean translation seems unconcerned by the name of the poet and records only that Yu Yŏng recited “a verse from a long-ago poet's work” (yet siin ŭi si han kujŏl). More importantly, however, the two versions approach the vernacularization of poetry differently. Whereas the North Korean translation offers a completely vernacular version of the poem, replacing the original LS, the South Korean translation not only offers no such parallel vernacular version but no vernacular at all, giving only a Sino-Korean reading of the characters without even the minimal parsing-cum-translation method of t'o reading, offering a truly intralingual method of translation that presupposes a high level of cosmopolitan knowledge. This is perhaps a level of cosmopolitan literacy above the level of some readers, and it may be argued that it is here invoked more for its visual aesthetic than for its exact literal meaning.

Although examples abound of such excision of the titles of classics, specific poets' names, and the simplification or explanation of classical allusions, there are extremely few examples of what may be construed as “mistranslations,” “embellishments,” or “inaccuracies,” which runs counter to my initial expectations. For example, in one example toward the beginning of the story, Yu Yŏng's clothing is described as old and tattered (ŭisang namnu 衣裳藍縷) and his face as not presentable (yongsaek maemol 容色埋沒), but the North Korean version explicitly emphasizes the character's poverty “kŭrŏna kananhayŏ” (Han Chinsik 1966: 8).²¹ This could be an attempt to emphasize the economic class of the character and in turn the unjust nature of the feudal Chosŏn system. In another passage toward the beginning of the story, while the original describes the damage to Susŏng Palace caused by the fires of war (pyŏngsŏn 兵燹), the North Korean version refers to the “damage left behind by the invasion of the imjin year (Imjin waeran),” which would serve to embellish the national narrative of Japanese oppression (Han Chinsik 1966: 8). In a final example, whereas the LS version describes the shaman character in the story with the term ŭmnyŏ (淫女, “lewd, licentious woman”), only the North Korean translation omits this term, perhaps displaying a level of sympathy for the downtrodden munyŏ (巫女, “shaman”), a member of the lowest class in Chosŏn society.

These examples, however, are quite few in number and so slight that one could argue they do not rise to the level of “mistranslation” but rather represent examples of artistic license. The most significant differences between the translations instead concern matters of orthography (the role and preponderance of sinographs), word choice, and assumed and prescribed level of cosmopolitan knowledge embodied in the representation of classical literature and allusions. In terms of content, adherence to the basic plotlines of the story, and faithfulness in translation, however, there is minimal divergence. This may be explained by the differing reasons for appropriation of the story in each country; while roughly equivalent versions of the story in terms of basic content were being read in North and South Korea, each reader is primed by state ideology for a specific understanding of the story. While the South Korean reader is guided through an orthographically, lexigraphically, and culturally “close” version of the original that reproduces as much as possible the mood and tone of classical Chosŏn society, the North Korean reader is directed through a more vernacularized, “nationalized” form of literature that attenuates the nuances of classical culture and instead emphasizes the broad strokes as a ready foil for justifying socialist revolution. The northern version thus performs a balancing act between sterilizing superfluous classical knowledge and preserving enough premodern authenticity for informed and useful criticism, while also maintaining the bedrock thematic bonds of human will, emotion, and comradery that connect with the readership.

Further Translations and Interpretations of The Tale of Unyŏng: North Korea (1987) and South Korea (1978)

In the 1970s and 1980s North Korea continued to engage critically with classical literature while furthering a nationalist language policy of han'gŭl-only orthography and lexical vernacularization. In South Korea, on the other hand, influenced by linguistic theory hostile to or skeptical of active state language planning, the state had much less consistent intervention in language policy, and hence a form of literary translation and analysis were conducted that adhered closely to premodern cosmopolitan knowledge and operated as a mode closer to “intralingual” translation.

The 1987 translation of The Tale of Unyŏng is published along with translations of the vernacular fiction works The Story of Hwang Paekho (Hwang Paekho chŏn 黃白虎傳, eighteenth–nineteenth centuries) and The Story of Hwang Wŏlsŏn (Hwang Wŏlsŏn chŏn 黃月仙傳). In the introduction to this collection, the North Korean critical approach to classical literature and culture is developed even more deeply. Kim Ilsŏng reiterates this approach, stating: “A new socialist national culture is by no means built from the ground up but constructed through a process of selectively inheriting and developing the superior traditions of our ancestral national culture. In order to gradually build our national socialist culture, we must become aware of the excellent aspects of our traditional culture and be able to critically analyze and evaluate them” (Kim Ilsŏng 1979: 233, quoted in Ri Ch'angyu 1987a). The author of the introduction then writes, “These three works have unique characteristics that differ in content and method of composition, [but] because all three reflect the realities of feudal society and present urgent social problems as ideological themes . . . we may say they are works of great significance in literary history,” thus linking the content of these three disparate works through their ability to display “realist” imagery in a manner critical of the traditional order.

The author goes on to develop this line of critique, claiming, “The Story of Unyŏng was a ground-breaking and highly significant work of literature, standing as an early example of realist (sasiljuŭi) literature in medieval Korea. The most prominent realist aspect of the work is the eschewing of subjective intervention by the author, but rather objectively and truthfully depicting the personalities of Unyŏng and her friends in relationships of social hierarchy” (Ri Ch'angyu 1987a: 9). Thus, whereas most classical works of Chosŏn-era fiction were disregarded in the early years after North Korea's founding, under the chuch'e turn the absence of the so-called praise and blame mode of traditional writing according to Confucian morality is interpreted as a progressive socialist trait, representing a form of realist literature that accurately depicts the morally corrupt traditional society as it was. The author concludes with a positive assessment of the work regarding broader questions of human rights, writing, “The Story of Unyŏng should be evaluated as a work with great literary significance, fervently defending the liberation of human individuality and opening the path to realism in our country's literature” (Ri Ch'angyu 1987a: 11).

In terms of linguistics, the 1987 translation of The Story of Unyŏng furthers the state language policy regarding han'gŭl only in publications. While a comparative analysis of lexicon and assumed cosmopolitan knowledge of the readership like that conducted above is beyond the scope of this article, the stark contrast in orthography invites a brief comparison. Whereas the 1966 vernacular translation employs a limited number of sinographs and appears by itself, the 1987 translation completely removes all sinographs and instead places the original LS version at the end. This suggests not only the further universalization of vernacular North Korean for a unified popular readership, but also progress toward another goal of North Korean language policy: the curricularization of LS study as a specialized field separate from the vernacular even in the residual form of Sino-Korean lexigraphic mediation. This may also be interpreted as a final transition away from the realm of “intralingual” translation to interlingual translation between two discrete foreign languages perceived as such, if the Jakobsonian paradigm of translation may be salvaged at all.

The 1978 South Korean translation of The Story of Unyŏng similarly appears with other classical works of fiction. However, this translation displays not a critical stance toward classical fiction or evidence of vernacularization toward interlingual translation, but a further dissecting of the literary field into three tiers of literacy: an LS original, a heavily sinicized mixed-script or hancha-infused “high” vernacular translation, and a pure han'gŭl vernacular version. Moreover, unlike the LS original, which is placed seemingly for reference purposes at the end of the North Korean version, the three tiers of literacy are juxtaposed on a single page in the South Korean translation, suggesting the integration of these inscriptional practices within a continuing intralingual translational paradigm (fig. 1). The intention of drawing the reader closer to the original is expressed in the opening lines of the introduction: “The works of classical fiction collected here represent an attempt to organize our precious literary legacy into a still incomplete national literature (kungmunhak 國文學). As we reveal such literature on the national stage, as a cornucopia-like feast for all, it's almost as if we can hear our literary predecessors behind us, whispering their approval” (Kim Tonguk 1978: 1). The respective approaches to traditional literature in North and South Korea thus function both pragmatically and metapragmatically, governed by conscious, prescriptive nationalist language ideologies.

Conclusion

In these disparate North and South Korean translations, we can detect the fruits of starkly different approaches to classical literature and language policy. The South Korean translations attempt to adhere closely to the LS original, include a high number of sinographs and Sino-Korean vocabulary, assume a high level of cosmopolitan knowledge in a form of literacy that is exclusive and academic-oriented, and may be interpreted as a form of intralingual translation; the North Korean translations, in contrast, reflect a nationalistic language policy tending toward complete hangulization coupled with a propagandistic literary theory mobilizing classical literature for socialist revolution and producing an inclusive, universalizing form of literacy that simplifies the linguistic field and curricularizes LS literature as specialized knowledge. Although, textually speaking, the South Korean translations may be considered forms of intralingual translation more so than their North Korean counterparts, discursively the language debates and specific language ideologies and policies that arose in both North and South Korea emerged from a shared sinographic cosmopolitan space and invoke a lingering tradition of intralingual translation, even as both translation traditions charted independent paths away from LS literacy. There is fertile ground for future research to examine the ongoing processes of national literary vernacularization on the Korean peninsula, as South Korea has continued to intralingually negotiate the relationship between cosmopolitan and vernacular literacy, and North Korea has deepened its chuch'e-oriented approach to LS literature.

Notes

References