A review of Hysteria by Yideum Kim
Translated by Jack Levine, Soeun Seo, & Hedgie Choi
#review_k_literature
I teach creative writing (specifically poetry) to high school juniors and seniors and Hysteria is a book they would devour. Yideum Kim’s chapbook opens with this bang: “Shit. What’s this expensive dish? I didn’t order this” (1). Throughout the next 104 pages, Yideum Kim opens the “garden of [her] mind” in wide-ranging formats, from stanzas and prose poems to vignettes.
In “The Pleasure of Not Knowing,” Yideum Kim writes that “Really, it’s none of my business. Really, more than half of what I think about has nothing to do with me” (24). But somehow she presents her poems and stories in a way that makes them my business; she makes her words have everything to do with me, through stories of love interests, through menstruation, through poetry and family history. Her poems are about both of our lives, mundane and horrific; surprising and entertaining; shocking and sedate.
Jake Levine, in his translator’s note, writes that Kim’s “poems are often intentionally excessive, awkward and irrational...She uses long accumulations of adjectives, excessive adverbs. The speaker interrupts herself in thought. Contradicts. Uses naugthy puns.” These are the cornerstones of both literature and life: seeing the mundane in the extraordinary, the contradictions in the similar.
I have an affinity for poems of contradiction; these pieces call me to multiple readings, to discover and unfold nuanced layers. One of my favorite poems is by Hye In Lee—a high school student who wrote “A Kisaeng’s Sijo” (which won second place in the 2019 Sejong Writing Competition). Like Hye In Lee did in her poem, Kim’s poems, call me to return, to discover a deeper subtlety, a more artful craft. How tickled I was, then, to find a poem referencing kisaeng in “Country Whore”.
Kisaeng can be seen as a contradiction: controlled by men, yet also ambassadors for their own independence and art. Korean culture insists that the kisaeng is not a prostitute. And conversely, all prostitutes claim they are kisaeng (lifting their status, but tarnishing true kisaeng). In “Country Whore”, Kim’s father says her family lineage shows no kisaeng. Although scholars suggest the number of kisaeng working as prostitutes is exaggerated, they agree these young women (often teenagers) were highly skilled in poetry, dance, music and art. For her father to deny any kisaeng, he perhaps is also denying Kim’s own pain or valediction. It makes me wonder about the stories told in my family, both true and exaggerated, filled with contradictions and inconsistencies.
It would feel incomplete to say Yideum Kim’s Hysteria is successful because she tells emotional stories; or because she is thought-provoking, visual, and culturally significant; her poems are all of these things and thus deeply connect with readers.
Although she writes, “I don’t understand why this poem is good just like how I don’t understand why name brand bags are expensive. Not. At. All,” (67), I get why her book of poems is good; Yideum Kim is entertaining, jarring and surprising, in the most perfect way.
One of my favorite poems (“Fan Letter”) is about fan letters she receives: all from the penitentiary. Yet, she writes, “I don’t want to be treated like a poet only criminals are into.”
Although Yideum Kim is halfway across the world from me, I feel she and I are kindred spirits, destined to be friends. I should send her a fan letter, just so she receives one from a person who’s not incarcerated. Or maybe, after I share her poetry with my students, they too will feel more alive and uniquely present in the world—and inspired to write her fan letters of their own.