This year, Japan invited South Korea as the country of honor at the 2013 Tokyo International Book Fair. I flew to Tokyo together with First Vice-Minister of Culture Cho Hyun-jae and a group of major Korean publishers. At the opening ceremony, the prince and princess from the Japanese Royal Palace paid a surprise visit to the Korea Exhibit Center, and their fine gesture of friendship and goodwill touched the Korean participants. The prince and princess were especially intrigued by memos written in classical Chinese that were exchanged between Joseon Dynasty envoys and Japanese officials in the 16th century.

We witnessed another symbolic gesture of friendship and goodwill between Korea and Japan at the Korean ambassador’s residence. Ambassador Lee Byung-kee’s newly built residence was spacious and beautiful, showcasing traditional Korean architecture and a gorgeous garden with a small pond.

At the dinner reception hosted by the embassy, Lee revealed his plan to release two types of carp ― Korean and Japanese ― into the pond at the opening ceremony of his residence so they could peacefully swim together and coexist. He told us that he was still contemplating the plan, and yet it sounded like a splendid idea. Since carp are regarded as auspicious in both countries, we all agreed that the symbolic gesture would be meaningful, especially in this difficult time of international conflict and friction.

To celebrate the international book fair, I invited 10 representative Korean writers so they could meet their counterparts in Japan at various literary events hosted by LTI Korea. The Korean and Japanese writers struck friendships and conversed on promoting cultural exchange through creative literary works, books, and publications. Indeed, the Tokyo International Book Fair provided a collegiate arena and an intellectual feast at which writers, editors and publishers could work together to stimulate cultural understanding through intellectual endeavors and imagination.

On a personal level, I had the chance to see my Japanese friends who came all the way to see me from the University of Tokyo. For example, my best friend, Sato Yoshiaki, a celebrated Japanese culture critic and professor emeritus at the University of Tokyo, came to see me from out of town even though his mother-in-law passed away the day before I flew to Japan. We, the culture-oriented people, gathered together to celebrate our friendships and to try to heal the wounds inflicted by inconsiderate politicians during their recent political quarrels.

While in Tokyo, I was quite comfortable as I could read many street signs written in Kanji. But my young staff members were not; they could not read a single Chinese character and therefore were hopelessly cut off from their surroundings.

In his panel with Professor Lee O-young, Professor Tachibana Takashi pointed out that classical Chinese characters are no longer the language of China, but a cultural, intellectual heritage for East Asians, just like Latin is for Europeans. He also pointed out that the moment South Korea abolished classical Chinese characters, Korea became isolated in East Asia, unable to communicate. By abolishing classical Chinese characters, indeed, Korea has not only abandoned her cultural heritage, but also lost a linguistic means to communicate with other East Asian countries. Once again, ultra-nationalism seems to have misguided the Korean people.

At the book fair, I also noticed the irreducible gap between old-fashioned people and innovative people. For example, older publishers deplored the younger generation’s indifference to reading books and stubbornly asserted that we should force young people to read books through a series of national campaigns.

They lamented the lack of intellect and imagination among younger people who no longer read books these days. However, the older publishers did not seem to know that the times have changed, as well as the medium of communication. Most young people probably agree that iPads and smartphones have now replaced books, and thus, paper books are not the only form of books today.

Professor Kim Uchang aptly argued that we cannot force young people to read books through government-led campaigns. Professor Lee O-young, too, pointed out that in Korea the college entrance exam has completely destroyed the pleasure of reading. Indeed, today’s Korean students read books mainly to prepare for standardized tests and only seek to memorize formulated answers.

In addition, Lee also pointed out that every generation has those who cling to old traditions and criticize the new. For example, just as those who are used to writing with pens do not approve of typing on the keyboard, those who clung to calligraphy in the past would not have approved of writing with a pen. Likewise, those who thought of papyrus as the only appropriate medium for recording in ancient times would not have approved of the use of paper for books.

At the Tokyo International Book Fair, I realized that we should try very hard to understand others. Indeed, communication is the master key to many problems we now have. 

By Kim Seong-kon

Kim Seong-kon is a professor of English at Seoul National University and president of the Literature Translation Institute of Korea. He can be reached at sukim@snu.ac.kr. ― Ed.