BOOK CLUB KIT
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION 1 2 3 4 5 6
The narrative alternates between Hana and Emi. Did you connect to one woman more than the other? If so, why? What does being a haenyeo mean to Hana? How does this identity inspire her throughout the novel? Had you heard of the haenyeo before reading White Chrysanthemum? Were you surprised by the way the Japanese treated Koreans during World War II? Has your understanding of the war changed after reading this novel? Emi often dreams of a girl swimming in the ocean (such as p. 63). Why does Emi feel haunted by Hana? How does Emi remember her sister, and how does this relationship change throughout the novel? Why do you think Morimoto takes such an interest in Hana? How does his interest hurt her? Does it help her in any way? What did you think would happen to Morimoto? When the novel begins, Emi still lives on Jeju Island. What does Jeju mean for each sister? In what ways does the island change over the decades, and in what ways does it stay the same? How would this story be different if it were set somewhere else?
7 8 9 10 11
How does Emi’s relationship with her son and daughter change over the course of the novel? Why do you think she hasn’t told them about her family? Why do you think she changes her mind? Do you agree with her decision to tell them about her past? Is Keiko a friend to Hana? How does the time Hana’s spends in the brothel change her? How do the women she meets there support one another? Were you surprised by how the Mongolians treated Hana? Why or why not? How does Hana change as she spends time in their camp? Had you heard about the One Thousand Wednesdays gatherings before reading this novel? What do these gatherings mean to Emi? What does she find there? How did you feel about the ending? Were you surprised?
The buoy that marks the haenyeo’s place in the ocean
The goggles a haenyeo uses for diving.
A CONVERSATION WITH
© TIM HALL
MARY LYNN BRACHT
What inspired you to write this story, and what is the significance of its title? The first time I read about Kim Hak-sun, the first “comfort woman” to come forward and reveal her story, in 1991, I was shocked by the fate of Korean women during World War II. The more I learned about the tragic lives of these women who managed to survive the war, and how society treated them, the more emotionally invested I became in their stories and about how history would remember them. I knew I had to tell their story.
“The title refers to the Korean mourning flower. . . . White chrysanthemums are typically brought to graves and used for burial ceremonies.”
The title refers to the Korean mourning flower, as white chrysanthemums are typically brought to graves and used for burial ceremonies. It was interesting for me to learn that the yellow chrysanthemum flower is used in the imperial seal of Japan for the Japanese emperor and the imperial family.
Korea is a fascinating country and its full history might not be familiar to many American readers. Tell us about your connection to Korea, and why you decided to set the novel there.h My mother is South Korean and a vivid storyteller. I grew up in a small Texas suburb listening to her stories about her childhood and the struggles she endured simply because she was female. She was the firstborn daughter in a patriarchal, historically Confucian society that prized male heirs, and she often said that if she had been born a male, her entire life would have turned out differently. I was fascinated by her struggles, and I always felt a compulsion to tell the story of women in Korea, especially women who suffered simply for being female. “[Emi’s] voice I wanted to celgrew through ebrate the lives they led and the my need to strong people they distance myself eventually became from Hana’s despite the odds . . . captivity.” against them.
The novel alternates between the voices of the two sisters, Hana and Emi. Did you always know you wanted to tell both of their stories? Was one story line easier to write than the other? In the beginning, Hana’s was the only voice in my head. I always envisioned her with a sister, but I had not planned on giving Emi a voice. Her voice grew through my need to distance myself from Hana’s difficult scenes. Over the course of writing the book, I began to loathe waking up in the morning knowing
that I would have to write about Hana’s captivity. In order to look forward to the day’s writing, I began to write with Emi’s voice as a sort of motivator, and I could then transition to Hana’s voice. Soon Emi became my favorite character and I decided she had to stay. She was the light in the dark, and I think her chapters give the reader the same feeling of distance that I needed when I was writing.
Are any of the characters based on real historical figures? I tried very hard not to base any of the characters on any particular historical figure. Hana is an amalgamation of all the testimonies I read given by women who came forward and allowed their stories to be published. I wanted her to represent all of them instead of anyone in particular. Emi is a figment of my imagination, a beloved sister left behind in a war-torn country. I have two sisters, and writing Emi and the bond between sisters came very easily to me. Morimoto is all the soldiers who raped these women. He is every man who decided his own needs were worth more than anyone else’s. He is the ultimate villain, and it was so easy to imagine his demise at the end.
Without giving anything away, did you always know how the story would end? Or did the ending change as you followed the sisters? I originally planned for the ending to be darker, but as the novel progressed and as I fell more in love with both sisters, I realized I couldn’t leave them without some sort of resolution. Unlike the remaining “comfort women” still fighting for a resolution, I wanted the sisters to have a better fate.
What was your process for writing this book? How long did it take you? I didn’t have a regimented writing process. Once I had all of the research and background stories settled in my mind, I wrote every day for as long as I could. This meant that I stopped writing only when my vision
began to blur and I could no longer view the computer screen. The first draft took about six months to write. I had suffered a back injury and couldn’t sit for very long in a chair, so most of the first draft was written with the laptop on my chest as I lay flat on the floor. I’m much better now, but in those moments I really connected with Emi and her painful leg. The final draft took another year of revisions with the help of my amazing agent, Rowan Lawton. She gave me helpful criticism and absolute freedom to write the book that I wanted to write.
When did you decide to become a writer? Was it something you always aspired to? What writers have inspired or influenced your work? I had decided to become a writer in high school, until my mother convinced me that I would be a pauper and getting a “real” job would be more sensible. In my small town, no one “became” a writer or anything else creative, so it was impossible to believe that I could become one. So I wrote my little stories in the margins of my notes all through college and even throughout my first jobs after graduation. It wasn’t until I turned thirty that I looked back on my life and realized that the only thing I had ever wanted to be was a writer, and that I would regret it if I never tried. So I took my first writing class and started the long journey of “becoming a writer.” It took a very long nine years to realize this dream. The writers who most influenced me as I wrote this novel are Toni Morrison, Kyung-sook Shin, Annie Proulx, Muriel Barbery, Marilynne Robinson, Maya Angelou, Michael Ondaatje, George Orwell, Helen Dunmore, Kimiko Hahn, and Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. I read them before I began writing, after completing a draft, or during the editing phase. Reading after each “stage” of the book-writing process kept me sane, and helped me “see” where I wanted my book to go and also how to get there. Anytime I’m stuck, I pick up a book and read. I recently finished a book by Claudia Rankine, and the moment I finished it, I began writing my next novel. Good writing inspires creativity. If you want to be a writer, read everything!
“It wasn’t until I turned thirty that I looked back on my life and realized that the only thing I had ever wanted to be was a writer, and that I would regret it if I never tried.”
A BRIEF HAENYEO HISTORY Haenyeo literally means “sea women”, and on Jeju Island, the sea women have been famous for free diving in perilous seas for long hours to harvest their catch for more than four hundred years. Jeju is South Korea’s largest island, nestled in the cold waters of the Korean Strait. Jeju’s most prominent feature, Mount Halla, is a dormant volcano rising nearly two thousand meters above sea level. Jeju is historically known for its wind, rocks, and women, and a constant wind sweeps across the island, blocked by zigzagging rock walls built hundreds of years ago to shield crops, homes, and animals. The women the island is famous for are the haenyeo, Korea’s mermaids, who dive for abalone, conch, octopus, sea urchins, seaweed, and the right to live on their own terms. Korea was a traditionally patriarchal society, and haenyeo divers were the first working women who earned enough money to keep their families fed and their taxes paid. This transformed Jeju Island into a semi-matriarchal society— very different from the rest of Korea, where daughters were sent to live with their husbands’ families, their children raised by first wives or even mothers-in-law and their long lives measured for success by the birth of sons. On Jeju Island, a haenyeo’s success was measured on a scale with the weight of each net she hauled in from the sea. The money was used to feed her family, send her children to school, and even build schools in the community when needed. Today, the haenyeo still live symbiotically with the sea as they did hundreds of years ago. They continue to free dive without breathing apparatuses, so they do not overfish. They work with the ocean’s natural ecosystem and harvest each sea creature on a rotating basis, they reseed molluscs and seaweed for sustainability, and they schedule routine cleaning days to pick up industrial and local litter. Their
courage in the waters is legendary in South Korea. The haenyeo dive into the cold ocean each day not knowing whether it will be their last, with attacks by predators and drowning the most feared deaths. Because of the dangers of the profession, and the growth of opportunities with increased tourism, the daughters of haenyeo rarely follow their mothers into the sea; and the population is aging. More than two-thirds of haenyeo are over the age of sixty, with many in that group over eighty. Five to ten haenyeo die each year, with even fewer to replace them. Today, fewer than five thousand haenyeo remain, compared with nearly twenty-four thousand registered five decades ago. Many believe that in twenty to thirty years, there will be no haenyeo left to dive in the sea. The orange buoys that mark their place in the ocean, the familiar sumbisori whistles that sound each time they resurface and expel the air from their lungs, and the traditional songs that give them the strength to face the perils of their job each day may all disappear from Jeju’s shores. The South Korean government is doing what it can to preserve the haenyeo tradition. In recent years the women have been designated as Intangible Cultural Heritage by UNESCO, and the government subsidizes their wet suits, medical bills, and insurance to help keep their tradition alive. With the establishment of the Haenyeo Museum and two haenyeo diving schools, there is some hope for their way of life to carry on. They even welcome Westerners to learn to dive in their Saturday schools in the spring.
Five to ten haenyeo die each year, with even fewer to replace them. Today, fewer than five thousand remain, compared with nearly twentyfour thousand five decades ago.
I first learned of the haenyeo divers while researching Korea’s history for my novel, and last summer I had the opportunity to visit Jeju Island and see them in those black waters firsthand. After writing about them for three years, I was witnessing a centuries-old tradition carried on by these strong, brave women. Even in their old age, they will not give up living the life they chose, until they pass into the next life—not at home, warm in their beds, but at work, diving in the cold, restless sea. —Mary Lynn Bracht