Showing posts with label war. Show all posts
Showing posts with label war. Show all posts

Monday, September 18, 2017

Interview with novelist Young-Im Lee

Novelist Young-Im Lee joins me today and we’re chatting about her historical thriller, Forgotten Reflections.

Bio:
Young-Im Lee was born in Mokpo, South Korea and relocated to Manila, Philippines at the age of one where she grew up in an international setting. She graduated with a BA in English Language and Literature from Seoul National University, and a MA in English Literary Studies from the University of York (UK). She currently resides in Seoul, South Korea.

Welcome, Young-Im. What inspired you to write this book?
This story is inspired by an actual event in my grandmother’s life. At around the age of seven, my grandmother stumbled on an underground bunker at her school where she found a particularly white sheet of paper. Without knowing the contents of the page, she had taken that peculiar sheet home. Her brother later discovered it to be a communist pamphlet and contacted the authorities, leading to the arrest and execution of over thirty communists, including my grandmother’s own teacher. For years after, my grandmother’s brother was on the run from family members of those executed that day.

Pieces of the plot have also been taken from my experience translating for U.S. and Filipino veterans of the Korean War who were visiting South Korea at the time. The little boy “Zion” in the story is dedicated to one Filipino soldier who had come back to Korea in search of a Korean boy who had been his “errand boy.” At the time, no newspaper or journalist was interested in an interview with a Filipino soldier. I am indebted to these nameless soldiers.


Excerpt from Forgotten Reflections:

Still to this day, the bright lights blind me. I often forget that there had once been a time when the only bright lights in this beautiful city were the bombs that blanketed the stars with ash and decimated the very ground I stand on. I rarely ever think of our brotherland still plunged in darkness just beyond the lights.
There are no landmarks to tell us what had happened other than a cemetery and museums that come in vogue once a year—a true testament of how our people tried our very best to forget the problems we cannot fix, as if the war isn’t still ongoing, marching to the rhythm of progress made in the past sixty years to eradicate all memories of our most recent trauma.
Make no mistake; the han still burns within us. We are reminded every so often of this unique brand of injustice by the rise in international tension from our non-compliant North Korean neighbors, only to momentarily reflect upon our past and relinquish our reflections as phantoms of a past that we hope will never return.
I miss my grandmother Iseul; I miss my grandfather with a deeper longing of never having known. Still, the bright lights taunt me; they command that I march forward, remember what must not be forgotten, lay to rest that which haunts us, and invent—imagine even—a world we must fight to create.
I promise, I will not forget.


When did you first consider yourself a writer?
I don’t know if I’ve ever considered myself a writer, although I remember feeling like I could become one when my first essay was published in a book.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write?
I am an English teacher here in Korea and feel very lucky to be a part of a child’s formative years! It is a pleasure to see the world as they see it, full of charm and optimism. My students have been my source of inspiration and a part of me writes for them because I know the struggles they will face in the coming years. I am very fortunate that I get to choose my working hours and the number of students I can take on, which has given me the time and space to get into the writing process.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I’m not sure if this is considered a quirk, but I am certainly a slow writer. Most of my writing is done is my head, meaning I spend a lot of time thinking of specific scenes and moments. Writing it down is just one part of the process where I try to connect these moments into a fluid narrative. If you watch me “write,” you’d likely see me on my bed with my eyes closed, or with a book in my hand or a movie playing in the background.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
I grew up in the Philippines around the time pop was beginning to get very popular all over Southeast Asia. I remember singing and dancing to some of these songs, dreaming of being on stage. Now, being on stage terrifies me! Most of all, I remember being so enthralled with stories of all kind, including dramas, Hollywood films and American TV shows. I never thought writing a story could be someone’s job! I think I might have wanted to be a writer had I known.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
I love connecting with readers. It has been a pleasure to get to know people from all over the world. Please feel free to connect with me through my social media sites. Most of all, I’d like to leave you with an encouragement to keep writing and to keep striving to create the world you want to be a part of.

Links:
Website | Amazon | Goodreads | Facebook

Thanks for being here today, Young-Im.

Friday, June 9, 2017

Interview with war writer James Strauss

My special guest today is James Strauss. We’re chatting about his war biography, Thirty Days Has September, the First Ten Days.

Bio:
Former Officer in the Marine Corps, CIA field agent, college professor, deep sea diver and expedition ship anthropology lecturer.

Welcome, James. Please tell us about your current release.
His only fear was not knowing if he had what it took to be a Marine Officer...that is, until the day they sent him to the Nam. A second lieutenant, fresh out of training, lands in Vietnam full of wonder and a consuming awe that quickly descends into dread at the deplorable conditions he, as an officer, has to endure. Speaking his mind to a superior officer only makes matters worse, as he is ordered to take command of a company of misfit Marines...men who have no respect for their newest untested commander, and whom they unaffectionately nickname, Junior. He quickly realizes the Marine company is not only fighting the external North Vietnamese Army but the internal racial divide amongst them.

There's no going to the rear and certainly no going home. The only choice they have is to go deeper into the valley of death, known as the A Shau. One thing is certain, death will come, but will it come from the enemy or from within? Superbly vivid scenes and ultra-realistic portrayals give this book stunning authenticity and depth. Thirty Days Has September, the First Ten Days is a riveting tale of impossible choices that flawlessly captures you in the moment and refuses to let go, even long after the final page is turned.”

What inspired you to write this book? 
My experiences as a young Marine Corps Company Commander in Vietnam.


Excerpt from Thirty Days Has September, the First Ten Days:
I heard Fusner turn on his little transistor radio and fiddle with the dial. I looked over at him from where I crouched across our tiny clearing in the jungle bracken. I leaned against the hard surface of an overly thick bamboo stalk. There was only one station to listen to. It took Fusner almost a minute to find it, however. I closed my eyes. Brother John spoke, as if he’d been inside Fusner's little plastic box just waiting to be let out. “This is Brother John, coming to you from Nah Trang on the Armed Forces Radio Network, and here’s a selection for you guys out there in the bush wondering about those you love and miss back home. It’s Tim Hardin giving you all a reason to believe.” The song played: “If I listened long enough to you…I’d find a way to believe that it’s all true…knowing that you lied straight-faced while I cried, still I look to find a reason to believe…” The words bit into me, the melody driving them ever deeper with each line of lyrics Hardin sang. I knew my wife was true, but I didn’t think the song was about her. I’d get home, if I made it, and there we would be. And I’d stand there, looking at her, and then I’d lie straight-faced, and she’d cry. She’d know, and we’d live with her knowing, that I lied. She wouldn’t leave me because of who she was and who she thought I was. And I knew I could never tell her the truth, unless I wanted to lose her. The song continued to play, like it was being strummed on the damaged instrument of my soul, until I couldn’t listen anymore. I closed my eyes and it all started to go away, as I drifted to somewhere else inside my mind. It didn't matter where it was because I went there knowing somehow my wife would find a reason to believe.


What exciting story are you working on next?
Thirty Days Has September, The Second Ten Days

When did you first consider yourself a writer?
When I was a young child writing and directing the other kids in the neighborhood at making plays for family, relatives and neighbors.

Do you write full-time? If so, what's your work day like? If not, what do you do other than write and how do you find time to write? 
I write full time. I publish a weekly newspaper and write most all of the copy, although I have three reporters contributing. I correspond regularly in long hand with three friends geographically distant. I, like almost all writers, must wedge writing into what time I have from living, errands and other pursuits. Post Traumatic Stress allows me to write in the night hours when everyone else is asleep. I only sleep about five hours a night.

What would you say is your interesting writing quirk?
I use a self-invented Da Vinci kind of code to write my journals, that I must put on a Rosetta Stone for someone coming later to interpret…if it might be worth it for anybody to interpret and read.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up?
A fighter pilot, but I did not have the eyes when the time came.

Anything additional you want to share with the readers?
Writing something original, cogent, and refined is very difficult when working alone, as almost all unpublished writers must do today. What is even harder is coming to accept that it is much more difficult to get read, either by agents, editors or publishers than it is to write the book in the first place. It is a closed system, open to mostly family, friends, relatives and cronies…more like Hollywood than any novitiate is likely to believe. Rejection is almost automatic in the literary world of today and even the most gifted of writer’s must accommodate that and then respond by finding some other arcane way to get the writing in front of any real measure of the public.

Links:

Thanks for being here today, James.