Adam Johnson (1) (1967–)

It must be as difficult for a western author to write a novel set in North Korea, as it is for an ocean-dwelling creature to describe life above water. The differences between the two environments are so different, and, like the distortion created by the surface tension of water, the perspective is uncertain and misleading. Few authors attempt the feat, and those that do are hard pressed to avoid the stereotypes. Between research and guided tours to North Korea, Adam Johnson did due show more diligence in trying to write authentically, while at the same time creating a story that is compelling and a protagonist whose nature transcends the specifics of environment.

Pak Jun Do is named after a martyr to the revolution, all orphans are, and yet he doesn't consider himself an orphan. His father was the director of the orphanage and his mother was a singer who must be in Pyongyang even now, though he has never heard from her. Raised in brutal conditions, Jun Do spends his youth as many in his country do, as a faithful believer in the Dear Leader and the glorious purpose to which every life is dedicated. As a soldier, Jun Do learns to fight in preparation for the next American sneak attack, and when chosen for other violent work, he does so without question. But at several points in his life, Jun Do meets someone who represents an alternative mindset. A sea captain who cares for his young sailors more than for the state, or even himself. An old woman who remains true to her ideals and her teaching profession under the most inhumane of circumstances. People who allow him to see a different path for himself.

At first, I found myself constantly searching for the line between North Korean reality and the fictional plot. Do these things actually happen, or is it a plot device? But I remained engaged in the plot throughout, especially with the added complexity when, in the second half, the book shifts from straightforward narration to other perspectives on the plot: the first person narrative of an interrogator and a serialized story broadcast to the nation over loudspeakers. The book ends with a claustrophobic narrowing that intensifies both the inevitable ending and its attendant philosophical questions about heroism, loyalty, and love. For me, however, the story's real power lies with the protagonist and his gradual awakening to the nature of freedom. Although the setting is attention-getting, it became less import to me as a reader as I became more invested in the characters as they confront life's larger questions. show less

The Orphan Master’s Son reads like one of the most horrifying dystopian novels I’ve read, but it isn’t an imaginary place. The setting is North Korea. Adam Johnson spent years compiling research based on defectors testimonies, info released by the US government and one trip to Pyongyang to craft a heartbreaking story. It follows one character Jun Do who lives through so many various experiences but through them shows the desperate lives of the millions of people who live there. I had show more no idea how crazy it was and to read the author interview at the end to learn how much was true blew me away.
I’ve now read all the Pulitzer Prize fiction winners since 1999. Out of all the prizes out there I think I agree most with the Pulitzer. There’s rarely one I haven’t liked/recommended. show less

Pak Jun Do is just your average guy in North Korea. He grows up in an orphanage, works in the mines, kidnaps people, and then is the radio control guy on a fishing boat in Russian waters.

I had a tough time getting into the book and found the beginning very disjointed, but the author does a fantastic job of carrying you along in this dystopic vision of a country that's been in the news a lot lately. Jun Do's (and yes, his name is meant to sound like "John Doe") story is compelling and show more complex, making you question every aspect of "story" and what that means in a propaganda-ridden nation. The importance of "story" - what we tell ourselves, what a nation tells itself and its people, and ultimately how a story can be twisted into propaganda - is huge in this book, and Johnson plays with the storytelling format in his own book to give you a really unsettling account where you don't know exactly what's "true" and what's fabrication. Jun Do's transformation as a character had me riveted in the end, and I highly recommend it to literary fiction fans. show less

Set in North Korea, this book is told in two parts. The first part is relatively straight-forward. It tells the story of Pak Jun Do, the titular orphan master’s son, who took the name of a Korean martyr. He is a loyal citizen who does everything he is told. He is directed to become a tunnel soldier, a kidnapper, a spy on a fishing vessel, a diplomat, and, later, becomes a prisoner in a labor camp. The second part starts with a state-employed interrogator-biographer, and also continues Pak show more Jun Do’s story as he assumes the identity of a high-ranking military leader. Interspersed throughout the narrative are chapters that convey the state’s propaganda.

This book is a criticism of a totalitarian society, where the “Dear Leader,” Kim Jong-Il is revered in the manner of a cult leader. Citizens of the country cannot act upon their own dreams and desires since this can result in imprisonment in the labor camps. Ideals we take for granted in western society are restricted to what the state allows. At the beginning of this novel, Pak Jun Do follows the rules, and by the end, he is changed. The manner in which this turnabout occurs is woven together with threads of tyrannical dictatorship, propaganda, and a mystery that, at times, leaves the reader wondering what is true and what is fabricated.

This is not a quick or easy read. It is filled with descriptions of horrible cruelty, scenes of torture, and other gruesome episodes. The reader must assemble the overarching truth of the storyline from fragments of information. None of it surprised me, since it is consistent with the non-fiction I have read of North Koreans who escaped the country. It is difficult to say I “enjoyed” such a disturbing book. I admired it but am also glad to be finished. show less