My Name is Sunflower - A Fairy Tale for Adults 16 (2024 Nobel Prize in Literature Winner)

Author Han Kang · Publisher Munhakdongne · Published 2002-03-09 · ISBN 9788982814792

About the Book

The Miracle of Life Flowing in a Low and Dark Place

Since her literary debut with poetry in 1993 and fiction in 1994, novelist Han Kang has developed a unique literary world, persistently exploring the innate darkness and the origins of solitude within the human psyche. In her first children's book, 『My Name is Sunflower』, she carefully uncovers the reality of light latent in darkness. Through the intense heartache endured by a humble weed to grow into a flower brighter than the sun and more radiant than light, the author reveals the miraculous wonder of life encountered at the extremes of pain and despair. Harmonizing with the author's uniquely delicate prose, which is sorrowfully beautiful, and Kim Se-hyun's soft illustrations, this children's story, as noted by novelist Kim Yeon-su, is "a tale that answers the questions everyone asks when they enter the darkness" and one that quietly prompts us to reflect on "what exactly we learn in that low and dark place."

"Why don't I grieve? Because now I know. Even before my flower bloomed,
and after it bloomed, and even after I lose it forever,
my name will always be Sunflower."

The story begins with a small sprout pushing its head out from under a dark and damp wall. The young sprout, expecting a world full of bright light once it emerged from the ground, finds only dark colors. The ivy diligently grows and overtakes the wall, while the young sprout, realizing it cannot surmount the wall, merely bows its head. After enduring solitude and growing 'a little' taller, the sprout experiences a "tingling in its roots, a sudden jolt, a flush of heat on its forehead that soon subsides" and gains petals. "My flower has bloomed!" The joy is fleeting; the petals that emerge on the young sprout are colorless, transparent like a dragonfly's wings, jellyfish, or sea anemone tentacles. "The petals are so strange, I can't call them pretty. Rather than ugly, they're just... strangely shaped." Since the petals are invisible, the evening wind buffets them fiercely, and butterflies and bees suck the nectar, leaving behind deepened wounds before flying away. "Everyone, everyone! Get away from me!" The nectar of the wounded flower no longer emits a fragrant scent, and the honey loses its taste.

One night, as I silently grit my teeth in pain, an unfamiliar voice reaches my ears. It's the voice of a small plant struggling to sprout directly beneath the wall. A plant that could never properly emerge into the world because "whenever it tried to push its eyes and ears out of the soil, it would always rain," blocking the holes in the earth. "When I open my eyes underground, the memory of what I briefly saw is so dazzling. There's wind in the world, and smells carried by the wind, and sounds made by all sorts of insects, and stars and the moon, and the deep black night sky. I long to see them so intensely. When I think I might never see them again, that longing grows even stronger. (...) You must love yourself."

Another rain falls, and seeing the traces of the plant that ultimately could not emerge into the world, the flower no longer cries. Even as it sees roses, impatiens, and cockscombs mercilessly broken by the rain, and even when people call it a shabby, hideous, and dirty flower, it opens its eyes wide and gazes at the world. It has learned how to love everything in the world with vivid eyes. For the first time, the flower comes to love the noisy songs of sparrows, the gentle morning breeze, the diligent little ants, the scent of pine needles carried by the mountain wind, and the white clouds drifting like soft bird feathers. It regains its sweet nectar, and with a 'thwack' sound and a burning pain somewhere in its body, like a match being struck, it also acquires color in its petals. The moment it confirms the brilliant yellow color, brighter than the sun, a gust of wind swirls by, causing a sharp pain. The flower raises its head erect and watches its splendid petals soar into the air, its golden pollen scatter into tiny fragments, and its calyx fall away. Now the flower knows. Even before the flower bloomed, and after it bloomed, and even after it loses it forever, its name will always be Sunflower.

Birds cry and flowers bloom. That is all that matters. -- From Jeong Hyeon-jong's poetry collection, 『I Am Mr. Star』

"There are things like that. Things that, no matter how much one tries to despair, one cannot despair. Rather, they quietly halt my despair, revealing the vividly shimmering 'this very moment.' And with tenacious persuasive power, they teach me the miracle of being alive." As the author says, this children's story speaks of the 'joy of life' found at the bottom of extreme sorrow and despair. Facing time that shatters everything while simultaneously unfolding everything before us, overcoming the painful process of growth to find one's name, and instead of hurting and despairing, loving everything in the world with vivid eyes. The reason the Sunflower's petals are dazzlingly beautiful must be because the author tells the story with the heart of a Sunflower. How deep the dark sky is, how soft the moonlight, how moist the night air is—now it's the readers' turn to open their eyes wide and observe.