“I am a failed writer who wrote a novel about failure. (But) I hope that through this book, those who have failed can live a bit more freely. I want to tell them that it’s okay to cry loudly if it’s hard,” said Kevin Chen, or Chen Shih-hung, the award-winning Taiwanese author, during an interview with reporters in Seoul on Monday. Currently based in Berlin, he is also a columnist, translator and actor.
Chen, visiting Korea for the first time, participated in a talk program with Korean writers Lee Jang-wook and Son Bo-mi on Sunday at the 2024 Seoul International Writers' Festival.
“I am a sexual minority and a liberal arts graduate who writes fiction, so I’m not traditionally considered 'successful' or someone who would be celebrated for landing a big corporate job and returning to my hometown with honors,” Chen said.
“However, through reading and writing novels, I’ve slowly gained confidence and made it here. I sometimes feel liberated, but also it often doesn’t seem like I’m fully there yet.”
His award-winning novel "Ghost Town" has been translated into 12 languages, won the prestigious Taiwan Literature Award, and received both public and critical acclaim.
Set in Yongjing, a small town in central Taiwan during the 1980s, the novel intertwines Taiwan’s traumatic modern history of the White Terror with a web of family secrets and countryside superstitions. (The White Terror refers to a period of authoritarian rule and political repression in Taiwan from 1949 to 1992.)
Chen said he began working on the novel at age 33 and spent a decade on it, completing it at 43.
“This work is, in a way, a book about failures. The protagonist is a sexual minority. Even though Taiwan has made some progress with the legalization of same-sex marriage, there are still rural areas where sexual minorities struggle to survive," said the author.
"Just last night, several Korean readers approached me to share that they, too, are sexual minorities. Such experiences are very precious to me.”
His latest novel, "The 67th Pangolin" (not yet translated into English), further explores sexual identity. It delves into themes of loneliness, pain, healing and recovery through the complex relationship between a gay man and a heterosexual woman.
“I apologize in advance for the sad and dark content of the novel,” Chen said. “But I believe in the power of tears. Crying is not something to be ashamed of. It’s a novel that tells readers, ‘If you want to cry, cry loudly.’”
Chen urged sexual minorities in Korea to have courage and hope, stressing that literature and film can (and should) offer a broader perspective on the world.
“I tried to hide my identity from a young age, but by reading (world) literature and watching films, I realized that there are diverse voices out there and that I can also reveal my own colors. In a conservative society, literature and film can indeed save the souls of wounded youth.”
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