Chang-rae Lee, author of "Native Speaker" / Courtesy of Chang-rae Lee



'Native Speaker' unravels Korean immigrant who feels alien in US



By Irene Sung



Chang-rae Lee's award-winning fiction "Native Speaker" unravels the Korean-American protagonist's journey to search for his cultural identity while striving to assimilate into the mainstream of American society.



Although released in 1996, more than two decades ago, the best-seller still resonates with many immigrants in the United States as it delves into the lingering issue they face _ feeling alien in the country where they were born and raised.



"Native Speaker" is the story of Korean-American industrial spy Henry Park, who was raised in New York by his immigrant parents, and depicts his struggles at home and outside his family to narrow the gap between the two cultures, two languages and two worlds.



Park is married to Lelia, a speech therapist, who immediately notices Park's conscious and carefully spoken language, how each syllable is so intricately deliberate. Their marriage faces trouble when their son Mitt dies when he is suffocated in a dog pile by other kids. To Park, Mitt's death represents the clash between Asian and white Americans, also awakening Lelia's awareness of the harsh implications of race, that perhaps even Mitt's half-whiteness cannot be recognized as American.



Their son's death catalyzes an unspoken quarrel between them as they do not know how to grieve and face the loss together. Park represses and bottles up his emotions and thoughts whereas Lelia depends on Park to seek comfort through communication.



Believing it would be better to leave Lelia alone, Park remains silent and does not talk to her, which is where their cultural differences surface.



Unlike the white American Lelia, Park grew up in a traditional Korean household; throughout the book, Lelia cannot understand the tacit nature of Park's relationship with his father or why Park never knew or bothered to find out the name of his nanny who helped raise and feed him after his mother died, even though Koreans will know that silent gratitude is a form of respect. Here, the readers are able to grasp the inherent and distinct Koreanness within Park _ the remnants of Park's Korean childhood. This is where a louder, more expressive American culture clashes with the quieter, silent nature of Korean culture.



Park's extreme consciousness of his Asian identity is revealed through his role as an industrial spy, with his sensitive awareness of nuance expressed through gestures and paralanguage.



His job requires him to write reports on assigned people for potential suspicious activity requested by anonymous clients. This, in a way, propels Park's confusion about where he stands in terms of his cultural identity as he has to fabricate multiple life stories and personalities, left with an alienated, multifaceted sense of self, making Park's search for his identity much more complex and unstable. For example, he understands both Korean and American culture, but has trouble picking a side, whether he should act more Korean or more American, depending on who he is assigned to. His most significant assignment is to John Kwang, an aspiring Korean-American councilman, where Park observes him from close and afar.



Through the character of Kwang, author Lee sheds light on being non-white in an American political realm and having power and voice in American communities. Kwang's political career is what differentiates him from Park, as Kwang showcases a clearer, divided sense of cultural identity; in public, Kwang molds a pure American facade while his Korean tendencies only surface in his private life during his drunken slurs and family interactions.



Park, on the other hand, has scattered aspects of both cultures that emerge in random, unknown situations, which are mainly the reasons behind his unknown cultural identity. However, as Park manages to get glimpses of Kwang's private character, he sees parallels between Kwang and his father, which brings him to reflect on his own childhood and household, recognizing an inevitable Korean mentality buried within him.



What is so remarkable about this novel is the subtle, yet keen approach to culture that steers away from cliched sentimentalism. Henry Park is the epitome of success in the perspective of a Korean immigrant: he happily marries into a white American family, speaks unaccented English and balances a steady job with an extended social circle.



He is not the stereotypical representation of an outsider, someone who struggles finding their way into the crowd. Park is authentically American, yet still feels like an alien, navigating through American grounds. He desperately seeks to feel the borders and walls of his identity, one with a guarantee, security and familiarity.



Park depends on others to grasp his own sense of self, especially Lelia, who describes Park as a "B+ student of life, emotional alien, Yellow peril: neo-American, anti-romantic, stranger, follower, traitor, spy."



What Lee emphasizes in "Native Speaker" is that no matter how much Asian-Americans become immersed into American culture, they still feel a sense of ambiguity and uncertainty when it comes to who they are and where they belong.



Lee's lyricism and poignancy threaded into the novel creates a sense of understanding within the readers that enables them to empathize with Park's journey as he discovers not only chaos and pain, but also love and new revelations with a Korean-American perspective. It is crucial to note that Park's obscure and vulnerable cultural identity is not one of his shortcomings throughout the book. Rather, it gives Park a balance between his soft gentleness and strong rectitude.



"Native Speaker" weaves every aspect of Park's life through a delicate cultural lens, portraying how Park faces workplace troubles, politics, family and loss. Author Chang-rae Lee, who was born in Seoul and moved to the suburbs of New York with his family at age three, provides fresh perspective on the Asian-American experience and the American Dream with the themes of identity, heritage and exile.



Irene Sung is a Korea Times intern.

