Hong Gildong as the ‘Impossible Key’ to Korean Literature

Hong Gildong

Hong Gildong (by Jang Soohye)

In Korean literature Hong Gildong is legion. He is a fixture from one of the most important early novels in Hangul – he is the first truly “Korean” main character. Hong Gildong is a character in at least one modern novel, a movie, and a musical. Hong Gildong lies, as you read this, in the morgues of Korea, for in Korea the name “Hong Gildong” functions very similarly to the name “John Doe” in English. Hong Gildong was a man of flesh, a man of straw, and was capable of cloning himself. Hong Gildong is, as I said, legion and his mutability and omnipresence, combined with his essential unknowability lead me to see him as a representative figure in Korean literature while also a figure who represents its incredible breadth and depth, and the many shades and shadows the literature, and the character, contains.

Who was Hong Gildong?

Hong Gildong was one of Korea’s first literary heroes (Although the Korean “hero” is a far different critter from the Western one). Hong Gildong was an illegitimate child, whose father is persuaded by a shaman to kill Gildong. Horrified, Gildong ventures into the world as a bandit, and becomes a Korean version of Robin Hood, fighting against the rich and entrenched. He is capable of banditry, acts of great strength, and tricks of impressive legerdemain, including creating multiple manifestations of himself. When the government turns its attention to capturing and punishing Hong Gildong, they find themselves only capable of capturing versions of his doppleganger. The ‘original’ Hong Gildong remains elusive, and at large. Of course this multiplicity and elusiveness appeals to me, and reminds me of my own efforts to ‘pin down’ Korean literature. Each time I think I have the thing in my grasp, it turned out that I have grasped a straw-man. Korean literature has been far greater, more complicated, more tricky even, than I had ever imagined.

In the novel Hong Gildong, the government eventually offers Gildong a job as Minister of War, a position he holds until he realizes that the common man continues to labor under an unfair yoke. Gildong leaves for Nanjing, and comes across the nation of Yul-do (which may seem very similar to Jeju-do to a foreign reader aware of Korean geography), and frees it from an oppression of demons. Through this he becomes King of his own land. While King, he hears of his father’s death, and despite his father’s desire to kill him, returns home to do the traditional three years service for his father’s death.

This contradiction, the son who ran for his life, but returns to honor him in death was startling when I first read it. Yet, it seemed representative of Korean fiction in many ways – representative of social rigidity, extremely attentive to the importance of the family, and dedicated to unification no matter what the cost.

Now, some seven years after beginning my explorations into Korean literature, four years after first meeting the character Hong Gildong (in a modern Korean novel by Seo Hajin, and then in the legend that built his name), I have the same relationship to it as the old Government had to Hong Gildong; I can only try to control it (probably not gonna happen^^), appreciate it and understand some aspects of it, but be content to also know that it will always surprise and astound me.