Published by William Collins, 2015, 304 pages
This is an extraordinary story about a young North Korean woman who managed to get out of the country.
Lee Hyeon-seo was born in Hyesan, a North Korean town near the Chinese border. Her father was in the military, and the family was comfortably off, partly because her mother traded in Chinese goods from across the border.
North Korean society functions on songbun, a caste system based on the deeds of the father’s family, depending on which, the family was classed as loyal, wavering or hostile. Fortunately, Lee’s mother had good songbun, which allowed her to trade without attracting too much official attention. Although the trade was not legal, “[i]n North Korea the only laws that truly matter, and for which extreme penalties are imposed if they are broken, touch on loyalty to the Kim dynasty.”
This is illustrated by a telling image at the beginning of the book. When Lee was a child, their house caught fire. The family got out but her father went back into the burning house to retrieve “two flat, rectangular objects”. Lee says, “He wasn’t thinking of our possessions, or our savings. He’s rescued the portraits.”
The portraits were those of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-Il, the leader of the country and his son. Every house had to have their portraits, hung on a wall by themselves, perfectly lined up and regularly dusted. Any breach of these rules could result in punishment. But eventually, Kim’s father fell out of favour for some perceived contravention, was arrested and died in prison.
People could not leave North Korea without permission but, curious about the outside world, Lee decided to risk the crossing before her 18th birthday, while she was still a minor and could get away without being punished too severely. She was curious about the outside world and saw this as her only chance to learn a little more about it. She slipped away in the evening and went to her uncle and aunt in Shenyang, a nearby Chinese town.
Then things took an unexpected turn. Her mother called her to tell her that there had been a census. She managed to find an excuse for her daughter’s absence but the girl’s return would be dangerous, not only for herself, but for the family.
So Lee spent the next 10 years in China, getting by on a false identity, pretending to be Chinese-Korean. She started to realize how pernicious the North Korean propaganda was and the blatant lies the regime used to subjugate its people. She eventually sought asylum in South Korea and moved there.
Back in North Korea, things were becoming difficult for Lee’s mother. Determined to get her out of the country, Lee went back to Changbai. Her brother smuggled their mother across but then found himself in the same situation as Lee had: he could not go back. The only solution was to ask for asylum in South Korea. But since the South Korean embassies in China were heavily guarded, Lee paid a man to take her mother and brother to Vientiane, Laos.
This is my first real glimpse of life for ordinary North Koreans. People believe what they are told because they have no point of comparison: they know nothing of other governments or societies, and they are unaware that they have rights.
Living in constant fear tends to bring out the worst in people: they learn not to trust anyone—a habit Lee had trouble breaking. In Vientiane, she notices the foreign travellers: “They were inhabitants of that other universe, governed by laws, human rights and welcoming tourist boards. It was oblivious to the one I inhabited, of secret police, assumed IDs and low-life brokers.”
I would recommend reading this book. Because this is also a book of hope: not just the hope of a new life, but also the unexpected kindness from strangers. In Vientiane, Lee is helped by an American man, who gives her money she desperately needs and asks for nothing in return. And it was an act of kindness that first brought her parents together. You can try and stamp out the humanity in people but it still shines through.
A version of this review first appeared on Women on the Road.
