1. Learn how to write and explanatory paragraph.

KOREAN LITERATURE

Korean literature was generally unknown to the world until the 1980s

when translations of Korean literary works began to appear in foreign

countries. Since then, various types of literary works that have been

translated in English grew in number and improved steadily. Most of these

translations have been largely published overseas by foreign publishers and

have become available to the English-speaking countries.

Classical and Modern Period

Korea’s classical literature has its roots in traditional beliefs and folktales.

It was also influenced by Taoism, Confucianism, and Buddhism. Among the

three, Buddhism was the most dominant, followed by the enormous influence

from Confucianism (especially Song Confucianism) during the Choson

period.

Korea’s modern literature grew due to modernization and its contact with Western culture and art. As the “New Education” and the “National

Language and Literature Movement” developed, the Chinese writing system,

which had traditionally represented the culture of the dominant upper class,

lost the socio-cultural function it had previously enjoyed. At the same time,

the Korean script, Hangul was being used more and more frequently,

resulting in the growth and development of Korean language and literature

studies. With the advent of the “new novel” (shinsosol) came a surge in

novels written in the Korean script. Music and classical poetry, formerly

fused together in a kind of a song called ch’anggok, were now viewed as

separate endeavors.

The Tiger's Whisker

There was once a woman who was in a desperate situation. For many years she had enjoyed a happy and beautiful marriage. Her husband had always showered her with affection and praise, and songs of love which he would play for her on his flute. But now things were different.

Her husband had been sent to war and since his return he had hardly spoken a word to her. He no longer showed her affection or spoke words of praise, and he would no longer pick up his flute to play for her. Frantic with worry, the woman decided to visit the wise and holy man who lived on the outskirts of the village and to ask for his help.

She found him sitting cross-legged in his hut with his eyes shut next to the burning fire place. "You have to help me", she pleaded, "my husband does not love me anymore. Since his return from war he has completely changed. I make him his favourite food, but he pushes it away. I dance for him and I twirl my fans, but he doesn't even look at me. I give him his flute and I ask him to play our favourite songs, but he walks away. This is why I have come to you wise man, so that you can give me a potion that will bring back my husband's love."

"Hmm", replied the old man, stroking his thin white beard. "Hmm", he continued, twisting his wispy whiskers into shape. "A potion for love is difficult to make. I need a special ingredient." "What is it?" "What I need from you", he said finally, his eyes still closed, "is a whisker from a wild living white tiger."

The woman looked at him in astonishment. How could she get a whisker from a wild white tiger? There was only one white tiger in these parts; he lived in a cave in the forest of the Taebaek mountains, but no one dared go anywhere near there. The old man bowed his head. The conversation was over.

The woman returned home forlorn. That night she prepared her husband's meal and urged him to eat, but he pushed the plate away. She took up her fans and began to dance for him, but once again, he did not look at her. She picked up his bamboo flute and placed it at his feet, but he got up and went to bed. That's it, she thought, I cannot bear this any longer. I will go and find that tiger.

She waited until her husband had fallen asleep and then she began to prepare her finest bibimbap - her special rice and vegetable stew. She threw in chunks of juicy meat, smothered in sesame oil and then she set the bowl over the fire. When it was ready, she took the bowl, crept out of her hut and set off into the night. It was bitterly cold and the ground was covered with snow. She watched the hot, fragrant steam escape into the night air as she crunched her way through the silent village. She soon reached the dark forest and with only the moon as her guide, she began making her way up the Taebaek mountains. She climbed higher and higher until at last she saw the tiger's cave a little way off.

She dared not venture any closer. With trembling fingers she held out the bowl in the direction of the cave, hoping that the tiger would catch a whiff of her stew.

Nothing happened, and so, to calm her nerves, she began to sing. "Tiger, tiger, eat from the stew, so I can get a whisker from you." She took a step closer, but could feel the fear rising up from her belly. Her whole body was shaking. "Tiger, tiger, eat from the stew, so I can get a whisker from..." Oh! She couldn't do it. She dropped her bowl and she sent the stew flying. She scrambled down the mountain and through the village. She ran all the way to her home and slammed the door behind her. Huffing and puffing with exhaustion. I am never doing that again, she thought.

But the next evening, her husband was worse than ever. She prepared his food and she danced with her fans. She handed him his flute and begged him to play, but it was at though he could not even see her. The woman was at her wit's end and decided that she would try her bibimbap stew again, but this time she stirred in chili paste for extra flavour. She let it cook over the fire until the smell of spices filled her little hut, and then she made her way out into the night once more.

With her steaming bowl she padded through the silent village - through the forest where the pines trees swayed and danced in the moonlit night. Scrambling up the mountain once more towards the cave.

The woman gulped and she felt her belly turn with fear. With trembling hands she held out her bowl in the direction of the cave and began to sing: "Tiger, tiger, eat from the stew, so I can get a whisker from you." She took a few steps closer: "Tiger, tiger, eat from the stew, so I can get a whisker from you."

Suddenly she thought she caught a glimpse of a shadow against the cave wall. She thought she saw the twinkle of a white whisker in the moonlight. Her legs gave way, her heart beat wildly, she lost her nerve, dropped her stew and almost fell down the mountain in her haste to escape the wild beast. She ran through the forest, the village and all the way back to her hut where she slammed the door behind her.

The next day she made every effort she could think of to provoke any thought of reaction from her husband. She cooked her best dishes, she carried her fans about all day long and danced like she had never danced before. She even tried to play the flute herself, desperate for him to notice her.

Oh, but her husband was as cold and stone-faced as ever. There was no life in his face, no light in his eyes at all. I can't give up, thought the woman. Life is not worth living without my husband's love - I have to try again.

She set the bowl of bibimbap on the fire. She cut up chunks of meat and added them to the rice and vegetables. Then she stirred in the sesame oil and chili paste and finally she cracked an egg over the top. The smell....

All at once she saw a shadow on the cave wall and held her breath. She saw the flicker of a whisker, but she stayed statue-still. She saw hot breath hitting the cold night air, but she did not move a muscle.

And then, one white paw stepped out of the cave. Then another, and suddenly, there he was! The wild white tiger looking huge and majestic in the moonlit night. The woman could not believe her eyes; she stared at him frozen in horror. The tiger began walking towards her, circling her slowly. Once, twice and three times. He began to close in around her, closer and closer. Then, very slowly, he opened his mouth, uncurled his long pink tongue and reached into the bowl of stew that the woman was still clutching in her hands.

He began to lick up the contents, gulping down the chunks of meat and working his tongue around the bowl until he had finished every last drop. And then, he stood opposite the woman, and stared at her with his piercing blue eyes, waving his spray of white whiskers enticingly.

The two gazed at one another in silence before the woman found herself singing once more. "Tiger, tiger, my hope is in you. Please can I have a whisker from you. I am a lonely, miserable wife. Please help me bring my husband to life."

The tiger continued to stare at her. The woman realized that her legs had stopped shaking. She released her grip on the bowl and gently put it down. Very slowly and deliberately she began to stretch out her hand towards the tiger's face. He did not move. She reached for a single whisker and held it between her finger and thumb. The tiger did not stir. The woman began to pull. The tiger's lip twitched. She pulled a little harder. The tiger's lip rose. She could now see his teeth and gums. She closed her eyes and with a shriek she yanked at the whisker with al her might.

And suddenly there it was, between her trembling fingers - white and wiry, quivering the moonlight. A whisker from a wild, living, white tiger. The woman turned to thank the tiger, but he was already making his way back into his cave. So the woman began to run.

She tumbled the mountain side, she ran through the forest, she raced through the village, her whole being filled with elation. She burst into the hut of the wise and holy man and found him sitting cross-legged by the fire place just as she had left him three days earlier. The whisker was still pressed between her finger and thumb and now she waved in front of the old man's face "I've got it, I've got it", she cried, bouncing around with joy. "The whisker from a white tiger! Now you can make me a potion that will bring back the love of my husband. Here, take it."

The old man sat very still and then slowly stretched out his hand and took the whisker. He turned it carefully between his fingers. He smelled it. He ran his tongue along it. He nodded with approval and then he flicked the whisker into the air. The whisker circled slowly in mid-air before landing in the burning fire and then with a hisss it disappeared.

The woman was aghast. "What have you done", she gasped, suddenly depleted of all her energy. "Why did you do that? Do you know what it took for me to get that whisker from the wild white tiger?"

"What did it take, hmm", the old man asked. "It...it took....it took...", stammered the woman, but she couldn't speak. She felt like bursting into tears as she remembered all those nights of hard work. All her efforts now gone to waste.

"Patience", the old man smiled. "It took patience. A man who goes to war sees terrible things. Your husband needs your patience."

The holy man now opened his eyes for the first time. They were a piercing blue. He looked at the woman with compassion. "Don't you see that you are the potion", he continued, "and inside you, you carry all the ingredients needed to bring back your husband's love." Then he stroke his wispy white beard, twisted his whiskers into shape and closed his eyes once again.

The woman gazed into the fire for a while, and then slowly, a smile began to spread across her face. She walked out of the hut, feeling as though a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. She went home and found her husband sitting by the window and staring into the distance, but she continued to care for him without expecting anything in return. She cooked and she danced and she waited.

A few months later as she was preparing dinner she thought she heard the gentle whistle of a flute in the next door room. She ran inside and there was her husband with a bamboo flute in his hands. He looked up as she came in and he smiled at her. Then he put the flute to his lips and he began to play.

QUESTIONS TO ASK

1. Who is the main character in the story?

2. What is the theme of the story?

3. Why do you think the husband changed?

4. Is the woman a flat (stays the same) or round (changes) character?

5. Did the mood of the story change?

Hyperbole

1. My grandfather is older than the moon.

2. She was so mad; she can kill tiger.

3. The wind swept the whole neighborhood.

4. It took a hundred years for him to get his homework completed.

5. He’s got tons of money.

6. Her brain is the size of a pea.

7. His head was packed with ideas that it was ready to burst wide open.

8. I will die if she asks me to dance.

9. My feet have grown roots while I was waiting for you.

10. My uncle is very strong; he can carry a mountain.

Litotes

1. “I am not as young as I used to be.” (Said in order to avoid saying “I am old”.)

2. “She is not a beauty queen.” (It means, “She’s ugly.”)

3. “She is not the friendliest person.” (She is actually a very unfriendly person.)

Let's Practice!

Hyperbole or Litotes?

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