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The Sorcerer of Pyongyang

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Like songbun,” said Jun-su, whose mother had initiated him early into the secrets of his country’s caste system. That evening, seated under the precious single bulb that had been a personal gift from the Dear Leader, Kim Jong-il, Jun-su asked his mother if he could bring some extra food to school for Kang Yeong-nam. “Teacher Kang is hungry,” he said. I’ve got a book,” said Jun-su, getting up. He moved jerkily across to the bedding cupboard and slid the mysterious book out of its hiding place. The book she was referring to was the ledger in which she recorded all the shortcomings of the building’s residents. It meant there would be repercussions at the next Women’s Union self-criticism session and his mother would probably be reprimanded and made to paint something or sweep ash from the building’s boiler room. There was no point arguing.

The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Waterstones The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Waterstones

Dr. Park’s friend was the head of the pediatric department. He was a bony man in his forties called Dr. Ri who smoked the same Chollima brand of cigarettes as Jun-su’s dad. Han-na had brought him a gift of food. He accepted it wordlessly, but closed his eyes and nodded in a way that left no doubt about how welcome it was. That would be the simple one-sentence description of this novel, but it’s really so much more than that. More than a coming-of-age story, too. This novel encompasses an entire life, a life lived in the strangest most isolated and (possibly) most terrifying country on Earth. Jun-su knew that if he told his parents a word of what had happened, that would spell the end of the game. Jun-su repeated his father’s explanation of how the book had come into his possession, from the moment of its discovery by the chambermaid, Kim Bok-mi. The elder Kapsberger was an American citizen who had emigrated in the sixties to avoid the draft for the Vietnam War. He’d begun a new life in England as a graduate student in the political science department at the London School of Economics. Now he was a full professor and the world’s leading English-speaking expert on Juche thought, Kim Il-sung’s unique philosophy of Marxist self-reliance. However, the professor’s expertise was wholly theoretical; this was his first visit to North Korea. And, like all foreign visitors entering the country for the first time, he felt a thrilling combination of fear and curiosity as he handed over his US passport for inspection.Idk how accurate it was, but it very sweetly described the hardships of life in North Korea and the toll it takes on the people. So sad. But also a fun connection to D&D. In March 2006 Theroux presented Death of a Nation on More4, as part of the The State of Russia series. In the program he explored the country's post-Soviet problems including population decline, the growing AIDS epidemic and the persecution of the Meskhetian Turks. She ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry. It just means you need to rest. You can’t work in the fields. We’ll have to find some other things for you to do. I studied in Wonsan and I have a friend at the hospital who can examine you properly when you go home.” A book begging to be read on the beach, with the sun warming the sand and salt in the air: pure escapism.

The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Waterstones

The Dungeon Masters Guide, formerly his talisman, now causes his downfall: it leads to a detention centre and torture by the Thought Examination Committee, until he finally confesses to accusations of counterrevolutionary activities. His past life takes on a surreal, impossible quality during nine gruelling years in the brutal reality of a penal colony. Still, the power of constructed reality is omnipresent: “Even in prison, Jun-su hadn’t let go of the fantasy that the Dear Leader was a loving parent who cared for him. He would tell himself that if Kim Jong-il knew what had befallen the youthful poet whose verses he had praised, he would be outraged and rehabilitate him immediately.” Naturally, there was no one at the assembly point and Jun-su didn’t hurry on his way. He strolled towards the school, knowing they weren’t expecting him until after lunch. Over the subsequent week and a half, the delegation was shown around model farms, a granite quarry, a sewing-machine factory, a youth center containing many preternaturally talented child performers, the Pyongyang Children’s Foodstuffs Factory, and Kim Il-sung University.Tae-il was stunned into silence by the decisiveness of the movement. The handle of Jun-su’s mop clattered onto the floor. Teacher Kang grasped Jun-su’s skinny wrist with his left hand and placed three fingers along his forearm. Then he did the same with Jun-su’s other hand.

The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Goodreads The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Goodreads

His eyes kept stealing enviously towards the half-empty bottle of Japanese perfume in the hand of the chambermaid who had chosen before him. The Sorcerer of Pyongyang is a book that feels both niche and universal -- niche in its subject matter, universal in its themes. No interest in Dungeons & Dragons is required to enjoy this one, although I do think some curiosity about North Korea is necessary. Drawing on his own experiences visiting the country and the testimonies of North Korean refugees, Theroux paints an intimate, vivid portrait of North Korean life, from the famine of the early 1990s to the country's antagonistic, insular present. I've always been fascinated by North Korea, but most documentaries tend to focus on the more sensationalistic aspects of the country and culture, rather than on the day-to-day life of North Koreans like Theroux does here. It's a valuable and important perspective.

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There’s more to it than that,” said Jun-su. “He eats rats and makes shoes out of birch bark.” Trying not to disturb the needles in his chest, Jun-su slid his hand under the mattress to retrieve the mysterious book. He passed it to Teacher Kang. “It’s in here,” he said. Dusk was falling on the low wooded hills that surrounded the airport. The stillness was strangely oppressive. An unsettling silence enveloped the visitors as they shuffled into the arrivals hall, which was austere and cavernous, and smelled faintly of detergent.

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