Thoughts on “Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea” by Barbara Demick from the granddaughter of a defector

Most recently finished Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick. I’ve read a few books about Korea, and I admit that this one has me shook. I’m not sure if it’s just me going in with my specific POV, or if it’s a real testament to the book, but I imagine it’s a bit of both, but I am really curious about what other readers have thought of this book and what their views are— I was somehow simultaneously in disbelief but also not surprised if that makes sense at all.

Reading this has been part of a larger research project I’ve been working on, so I’ve been reading lots of different things and there are several passages across different texts that have stuck with me that really fit into this book well. 

In a collection of oral histories (“East to America”) edited by a UC Berkeley professor, Elaine H. Kim, one of her interviewees who defected and moved to California says, “Koreans are fatalistic, so we have no heroes, only scoundrels or martyrs.” That’s a line that came back to me frequently as well. And then, most uncanny of all— a piece from The Atlantic published in a 1922 issue remarked that if Korea continued to live under policies of repression and oppression, its next chapter would be written in blood. This was referring to the Japanese regime at the time, but this travel journalist was correct and Korea’s troubles continued.

Uttering the statement, “The DPRK has the worst record of human rights violations of any country right now,” is upsetting, but saying it aloud doesn’t really penetrate until you read the discrete narratives of any one of those individual people. It’s kind of in line with a phrase used by Demick in an early chapter in the book: “One death is a tragedy; a thousand deaths is a statistic.”

The book is written in a mostly chronological narrative that moves back and forth between several people, some of whom are connected to each other. Some we already know will successfully escape as Demick met with them in South Korea where she was stationed as a correspondent by the LA Times. I think this book could be separated kind of into 3 parts. The first part is a bit slow as the background and histories of the people she focuses on are established. 

For those who are interested in the people who she focused on: 

Mrs. Song, a resourceful mother and wife of a North Korean “journalist” (putting the word in quotes because his job was mostly to write propaganda) and initially a true believer; 

her daughter “Ok-Hee” who seems to be the most rebellious and jaded anti-DPRK person in the book; 

Dr. Kim Ji-Eun, a physician, highly-educated and strong devotee of the party; 

“Mi-Ran”, a young woman belonging to lower class (due to having a father from South Korea who was a POW) who becomes a teacher; 

“Jun-sang”, her childhood sweetheart of much “higher” birth who studies at a top university in Pyongyang; 

Kim Hyuck, a boy left to fend for himself from a young age who survived through theft and other illegal means. 

The second part is an unraveling as bit by bit, circumstances changed (mostly got worse) for these individuals. The senselessness of the suffering during their time in the DPRK made me feel deeply depressed. My jaw hung open at times, mostly when the subjects recounted the abject poverty and dire health conditions. I unwittingly started exclaiming the Korean “oh my goodness!” And tsk-tsk-ing the way my mom/grandma always used to (which I used to think was exaggerated and theatrical— but maybe it’s due to history like this that Koreans do this?). But truly, it’s probably worse than you think. 

The last third of the book focuses on escaping and rebuilding. She captures the lose-lose situation of these people so well. Getting out doesn’t mean getting better, especially not immediately. It’s hard enough that, as she writes, most if not all North Koreans think about going back. They were all convinced at the time of their leaving that they would be reunited with the family they left behind in a few short years. 

I don’t know if my reaction was exacerbated (probably) because I have personal ties through my heritage, but this was one of the most horrifying books I’ve read in a long time. It’s difficult to wrap your head around the idea that that there are people in the world right now who are held hostage by governments that are this brutal. This book told their story, and Demick’s reporting struck me as factual and thorough. What I appreciate is that her book didn’t sensationalize these events or exploit the horror; her writing was made of straightforward narratives, lived experiences presented as true to each person who shared their story. Her writing didn’t feel embellished in any way that was emotionally manipulative. I think another sort of writer might have shaped this narrative into the form of a thriller, building up artificial tension as the walls close in, but I really appreciate that she didn’t. And they didn’t really need to be shaped; they come right at you, just like real life. 

I admit that as I was reading, I couldn’t stop thinking about relatives I might still have there. To be clear, my grandpa left during the sacking of Hamhung, so before the country went dark (literally— there’s very limited electricity there; part of the book talks about people stripping the now defunct cables for copper wire in order to make money), but there are people, I’m sure, who are blood relatives who survived the 90s famine(s) while I’m living on a different continent and can easily drive over to a Kyopo market and buy red bean sweets or extra fancy pre-washed white rice. 

There were a few things I wish Demick gone into a bit more, like South Korea’s efforts to help families contact each other, especially in the 90s, the sunshine policy, and some of the support groups, but I realize this book was meant to focus on these individuals, rightly so. Still, I’d love it if Demick could ever write a follow-up. One of the people she wrote about (Kim Hyuck) is a semi-public figure who can easily be looked up, but it’s been a while since the book was first published and I still wonder how these people are doing. All of them stuck with me. 

So, in summary— this is a nonfiction narrative book about the lives of six people from North Korea. Many of them were true believers. I appreciated this book and it hit me hard. The no-frills, no unnecessary sentimentalism or emotionally manipulative appeals, no sensationalizing or shock horror approach was really effective. These life stories speak for themselves. Highly recommend for anyone who is interested in personal nonfiction narratives, especially ones about people escaping repressive regimes. 

To be honest, I was going to get some more work done, but this book kind of deflated me. An important book, to be sure.