Kim Seung-jong's Literary Miscellany (163) 'Skid Marks'

In any field—economics, politics, and beyond—new talents and works must continually emerge for us to anticipate the future and expect progress. We know well that as history advances, science improves beyond previous generations, but art does not. Western literary historians say that Sophocles' "Oedipus Rex" is the supreme masterpiece that surpasses later masterworks. However, there are dissenting views, and it is desirable that literature should reflect the progress of history and social change, prompting readers to reflect, above all presenting a world with which people can resonate, and raising questions that urge the pursuit of that world. This includes the presentation of new themes and perspectives. Recently, I read a poem by a poet who won a newcomer award in a poetry journal.

Strangely bereft of cars

On the highway at 1:20 a.m.

Bowing the head and closing the eyes

The streetlight

Like joining hands in prayer

Even when desiring nothing

What kind of heart prays?

I didn't think

Such a thing could truly exist

The highway stands still

And within it I run freely

When I press the accelerator

The night sky swells

And when I turn the wheel

Gemini twists

Even without my wanting it

The wheel returns to its original place

Without thinking, as if aligning the lane

The moment the tire becomes tire again

Why can't I be seen here?

The headlights brightly illuminate the rear bumper

The horn following me

As I run as if being chased

The windshield wipers begin to move

When raindrops touch, the windshield blurs

Like this sudden downpour

As other cars overtake my car

I am overtaken by myself

The RPM on the dashboard can't endure it

I press the accelerator harder

Yet I am still not visible there

Where I approach and will approach

If only skid marks remain

Where should I say such traces come from?

In the rearview mirror I glanced at

It seems I saw myself

They say there's a camera ahead five hundred meters

I must slow down now

Whether I slow down or not

Even if I did slow down

What remains is only one thing

Is that place

Merely the imagination of this highway?

If intentionally blocking my way

Pressing the emergency brake

And unnoticed, calmly

Exiting the highway

- "Prayer is Actually a Highway with Nothing" / Yang Seon-gu

The speaker, racing down the highway in the middle of the night, associates the streetlight with the image of bowing one's head, closing one's eyes, and joining hands in prayer. Though the surrounding context is omitted, the speaker raises a question—a topic—related to some personal issue. As highlighted in the third stanza, it is: What kind of mind prays while desiring nothing?

This question is unfamiliar to us. We are inclined to quickly question: if one desires nothing, why pray at all? But then we pause, recognizing that we desire to desire nothing ourselves, and we can accept that there exists a mind that prays in such a way, even without appeal to an absolute being or such a premise. We cannot help but find such prayer attractive. Yes, for that, a more fervent prayer would be necessary! At this point, we add two more understandings. One, as evident from "I didn't think / such a thing could truly exist," the speaker's topic is not an original thought arising for the first time at this midnight hour. The other is an inference that the speaker is in conflict with some desire compelling enough to drive this midnight speed. We now feel we somewhat understand the speaker's circumstances and state, and the scene of "when I press the accelerator / the night sky swells / and when I turn the wheel / Gemini twists" allows us to feel as if we were sitting in the back seat of that car, granting us the same feeling.

But immediately after, the speaker's inner conflict returns. First, the fifth and sixth stanzas are both its expression and depiction. We might well read "even without my wanting it / the wheel returns to its original place" as a metonymy—actual depiction of driving on the highway yet also allusively recalling that conflict. The two lines of the following sixth stanza, "without thinking, as if aligning the lane / the moment the tire becomes tire again," are also actual circumstances yet an emphasis of that, directing further attention to the sigh that follows: "Why can't I be seen here?"

This transformation occurred just before these lines in the poem, but appears thereafter through inversion: the headlights brightly illuminating the rear bumper and the horn following me are the situation that has come upon the speaker through running "as if being chased." Moreover, rain suddenly pours, and the windshield is blurred by moving wipers; we imagine the speaker's inner state is similarly disturbed. The situation on the highway also changes. Other cars overtake my car, and I am overtaken by myself... The "I" that overtakes "me," contextually, is likely the "I" that was troubled by some desire, thinking such a thing—the prayer desiring nothing—could not truly exist, as suggested before. Thus the speaker presses the accelerator harder, so much that the RPM on the dashboard cannot sustain it, yet to no avail.

After that, we cannot clearly determine whether the overtaking succeeded, but reading the tenth stanza, "in the rearview mirror I glanced at / it seems I saw myself," we must see it as an overtaking that did occur. In any case, in that nighttime chase, whether the overtaking actually happened is less important than the speaker's perception of it. Meanwhile, the speaker perceives the camera ahead and thinks "I must slow down now," yet unexpectedly, the speaker resolves that "whether I slow down or not / even if I did slow down / what remains is only one thing."

That sole option, as shown in the final stanza, is "pressing the emergency brake / and unnoticed, calmly / exiting the highway." But this is not action—it is thought. Moreover, we cannot know whether the evidence of executing this thought—the skid mark—will actually exist in the future. Thus we must fittingly end our appreciation at that thought. This kind of ending is also unfamiliar to us, but certain dimensions of our lives may be its continuation.

Meanwhile, we are curious about what message the speaker running leaves behind, though it is difficult to infer. We can only note the self-questioning in the ninth stanza: "where should I say such traces come from?" and infer that the speaker hints at seeking an answer—the "word" of self-response—from a coordinate where the speaker's two "selves" exchange and intersect. The speaker has one more weighty task. The "place" mentioned in the ninth stanza—"I am still not visible there / where I approach and will approach"—and in the thirteenth stanza, where the speaker wonders "is that place / merely the imagination of this highway?" and where "only skid marks remain," what kind of place is it really? Perhaps in a subsequent work, the speaker should allude to or reveal it. Could it be a "utopia," a non-existent ideal space in reality? Could it be a "heterotopia," a heterogeneous space that actually exists in reality?