The Sorcerer of Pyongyang

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Dr. Park seemed to read his mind. “I won’t tell the bowibu,” she whispered. “Also it will increase your vital energy.” There was a noise behind him and he turned his head. Teacher Kang had opened his eyes and said in a confused and croaky voice: “Plum blossom, is that you?” He sat up and reached beside him for a glass with some murky liquid inside. He swallowed it, belched lightly, and gazed in perplexity at Jun-su.

THE SORCERER OF PYONGYANG | Kirkus Reviews

At that moment, Teacher Kang opened the door of the classroom, bowed to Jun-su’s mother, and motioned them in. Growing up amid the starvation and oppression of 1990s North Korea, 10-year-old Cho Jun-su stumbles upon a mysterious game, left behind in a hotel room by a rare foreign visitor. There was a noise behind him and he turned his head. Teacher Kang had opened his eyes and said in a confused and croaky voice:“Plum blossom, is that you?” He sat up and reached beside him for a glass with some murky liquid inside. He swallowed it, belched lightly, and gazed in perplexity at Jun-su. I know what happens in that one without even reading it,” said Teacher Kang. “Does he crash his plane and survive terrible hardship? Is his bravery held up to the people as an example of socialist heroism?” 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.Kang Yeong-nam has done many things. He’s had a complicated life. But he knows a lot and he says he can help make you better. He says it’s important to do something...” Han-na trailed off. Jun-su’s character was a sorcerer called Bong Chon-ju. Teacher Kang began the game by telling a story about a village that had been overrun with skeletons and whose inhabitants, desperate for help, had turned to the magician. Teacher Kang raised his head from the book and gave Jun-su a careful sideways glance. For a moment, it seemed to Jun-su that he’d gone too far and was about to get a telling off. Then the old man began to read aloud.

The Sorcerer of Pyongyang by Marcel Theroux | Waterstones

Jun-su’s mother exchanged a glance with his father and told Jun-su to finish his food. Talk of hunger made her uncomfortable. It implied criticism of the government. Citizens were careful to speak of pain instead of hunger. The official causes of death on medical certificates attributed fatalities to food poisoning rather than starvation. The state-run media referred obliquely to a “food ration downturn.”Even after Jun-su’s fever abated, he was too fragile to attend school. Seo Tae-il, the class representative, paid another visit. This time he was accompanied by a second boy. They brought a bouquet of Kimjongilia flowers and a card made by Jun-su’s classmates that was signed by all of them and said: We salute Cho Jun-su for the bravery and compassion he has learned from our Dear Leader. A maid, Kim Bok-mi, who found the rule book under the bed when she was preparing the hotel room for a visiting Soviet astrophysicist, was alarmed by the cover. She assumed it to be some form of American propaganda and handed it in to the hotel manager, with many words of apology. The thing is, he’s not a normal fellow,” said Jun-su’s father, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor polishing his work shoes for the next day. In between polishes, he’d hold them up to the bulb to assess the shine. “Too much time studying books has given him crazy ideas. It’s made him—” So-dok hesitated. Han-na had caught his eye with a warning look. “Your mother just wants to know that he hasn’t done anything he shouldn’t have. We wouldn’t blame you if he had.”