Perhaps it is an occupational hazard, but whenever I visit a city, whether domestic or foreign, I drop by the major university there. The first place I visit on campus is the main library. 

Surrounded by books and bookshelves, I am thrilled as if I were standing before the infinite universe. In “Nature,” Emerson wrote, “Standing on the bare ground — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space — all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all.”

Whenever I enter a library, I feel exactly the same as Emerson: “Standing in the library, my head bathed by the blithe scent of books, and uplifted into infinite space, all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all.”

Jorge Luis Borges, the great writer who was also the director of the National Public Library of Argentina, left us many memorable quotes on libraries. One famous one is, “I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library.” All librarians would like that phrase.

Borges left famous quotes on books as well. One of them is, “When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation.” The other is, “Of all man’s instruments, the most wondrous, no doubt, is the book. The other instruments are extensions of his body. The microscope, the telescope are extensions of his sight; the telephone is the extension of his voice; then we have the plow and the sword, extensions of the arm. But the book is something else altogether; the book is an extension of memory and imagination.”

I like Borges primarily because he was a precursor of literary postmodernism. He defied conventional realism and came up with magic realism, crisscrossing the boundaries of fantasy and reality. However, when asked, “What do you think the most fantastic thing in the world is?” Borges answered without hesitation, “Reality, of course.” He was a great man of flexibility, playfulness and broad vision.

I also like Borges because, as all great writers would, he advocated anticommunism and antifascism. He also called for anti-Peronism, that is, antimilitary dictatorship and antipopulism. Indeed no great writer or true intellectual would support communism or fascism. How could a writer or an intellectual advocate leftist populism or right-wing military dictatorship in the first place?

When I entered the central library of Duke University a few weeks ago, I thought of Borges. Once again, I was overwhelmed by the sight of countless books, the vast accumulation of human knowledge. I wanted to check the Korean collection first, because I wanted to see how much Korean cultural and scholarly heritage had contributed to human civilization. So I rushed to the East Asian Section.

The bookshelves in the East Asian Section were stacked with Chinese and Japanese scholarly books showcasing their unique civilizations and cultures. Sandwiched between them was a small collection of Korean books. As I browsed them there, my heart sank. Instead of scholarly books, the collection had so many books with titles like “Who’s Who in Korea, a listing of Pro-Japan People.” In fact, a whole shelf was filled with similar books published in Korea. 

Newspapers report that right-wing people in Korea are now in the midst of compiling a “Who’s Who in Korea, a listing of pro-North Korea people” as well. Suddenly I was besieged by sarcasm. When the book comes out and is placed on the bookshelf at Duke University Library, the Korean collection there will be complete. But why stop here? Why not publish and distribute books entitled, “Who’s Who in Korea, a listing of Pro-China People”? Why not a book on pro-America people? That should round off the Korean collection nicely. I left the library with a heavy heart.

At Duke, I also met about 30 Korean-American and American professors who teach Korean literature in North America. I found that most of them had majored either in premodern Korean literature or colonial literature. It was hard to find someone who had majored in contemporary Korean literature, even though Korea has produced a significant number of outstanding writers since its liberation.

There is a compelling reason why studying and teaching contemporary Korean literature is imperative; Korea has undergone rapid and radical social change since independence, and modern Korean literature has brilliantly captured the transformation of Korean society. Another reason is that unlike premodern or colonial literature, contemporary Korean literature is completely free from Chinese and Japanese influence.

What I saw in the Korean collection of the Duke University Library that day was the result of that chronic disease prevalent in Korea called ideological warfare. There I saw the sad destiny of a torn-country, hopelessly caught in ideological brawls, and a peninsula helplessly caught in the cross fire between China and Japan.

Leaving Duke University, I could not but lament silently: “When can we break free from the chains of the dark past and end our chronic ideological skirmishes? When will we soar into the future?”  

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor emeritus of English at Seoul National University and the president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. ― Ed.