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  • Seoul: Memory, Reinvention, and the Korean Wave by Ross King
  • Pil Ho Kim
Seoul: Memory, Reinvention, and the Korean Wave. By Ross King. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2018. 330 pp. (ISBN: 9780824872052)

Ross King’s Seoul: Memory, Reinvention, and the Korean Wave is a very ambitious book in its scope. Sprawling, erudite, and peripatetic, it covers a historical timeline stretching from ancient times to the Chosŏn era (朝鮮, 1392–1897) to the present, and touches on many controversial issues regarding national historiography, economic development, urban planning, architectural styles, and last but not least, popular culture. Geographically, its reach extends far beyond the [End Page 166] city, which is understandable as the city has rapidly incorporated almost all of the surrounding Kyŏnggi Province (京畿道) into the massive Seoul Capital Area (Sudogwŏn 首都圈) with 26 million residents, more than half the population of the country. It is in this context of urban expansion that King’s inclusion of P’aju 坡州 and Yongin 龍仁 as Seoul exurbs makes sense. Inch’ŏn 仁川, including Songdo 松島, might be a little problematic given its considerable size and historical significance (Is Yokohama part of Tokyo?). And then there is Sejong 世宗, a brand-new city that was built some 120 kilometers from Seoul with the intention of making it the new (administrative) capital of South Korea (Is Sejong to Seoul what Brasília is to Rio?). These are some of the difficulties one faces when delineating the boundaries of Seoul the megacity.

King devotes a substantial amount of Chapter One and Two to Korean nationalist historiographical debates and in particular to the thorny subject of “colonial modernity” during the Japanese rule of the early twentieth century. One can sense the author’s desire to assemble a magisterial work on Korean historical memory, à la Pierre Nora’s seven-volume project Realms of Memory (see pp. 11–13), although there is not enough space in this single volume to accomplish such a feat. What appears in these chapters instead is a nicely summarized overview of national history focused on Seoul and the still ongoing debate on nationalist historiography. A well-informed reader would breeze through this part without much to ponder, while a neophyte might want to delve into the cited literature and more to fully appreciate the political gravity of historical memory in the Korean and East Asian context. For the urban history of Seoul in the colonial period, King relies heavily on the English-language works of Hong Kal and Todd Henry.1 In addition, I would highly recommend the Korean-language books by Kim Paegyŏng and Yŏm Pokkyu for those who are especially interested in this period.2

Chapter Three moves to a discussion of the architecture of the city. Despite the author’s much stated attention to history and memory, it is rather surprising to read a blanket judgment such as this:

Seoul is a city of blank space–space without purposive architectural signification. There are ancient survivals, also ancient reproductions, and blank modernist boxes, with very little “in between” that can indicate a continuum of history. The very few “in-between” monuments are principally associated with the Japanese modernization

(p. 99)

At least three issues come to mind immediately. First, when is “ancient” exactly? Does King [End Page 167] consider Chosŏn-era monuments in general ancient even though some of them–take Hwasŏng Fortress (華城) in Suwŏn 水原, for example–were built as late as the eighteenth century? Second, what about Independence Gate (Tongnimmun 獨立門) and the Stone Hall (Sŏkchojŏn 石造殿) of Kyŏngun (Tŏksu 德壽) Palace (慶運宮), two of the most recognizable monuments in fin-de-siècle Seoul? Do they not signify the modernization campaign of the Great Han Empire (Taehan Cheguk 大韓帝國) “in between” the Chosŏn era and Japanese colonial rule? Third, even King’s prime example, the National Assembly Building, has a peculiar look because of the visual discordance between the Renaissance-style dome on top and the Korean traditional pavilion-style columns around the main structure. It may be an architectural travesty as many critics have pointed out since its inception, but a “blank modernist box” it is not.

The most novel aspect of this book...

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