By Cho Nam-Joo

I’m not even sure what genre to give Saha: novel seems too bland, and while it is certainly dystopian, it is neither futuristic scifi or magical fantasy. It is nominally a mystery as the protagonist searches for her missing brother after his girlfriend is found dead, but there’s little hope of a pat solution for either Jin-kyung or the reader. It is also a searing indictment of capitalism and the corporatization of society.

The novel mostly takes place in Saha, a block of decaying apartments that are the only home permitted to those not granted citizenship in the corporate-owned Town. Though Jin-kyung and her brother kick off the novel, it jumps around between different characters and time-periods at breakneck speed. Many of the scenes reflect bits and pieces of real news stories in haunting detail: a ship full of refugees/deportees ‘disappearing’ into the sea and being forgotten as the news cycle changed; ‘free’ medical treatment but with insurance premiums so high they bankrupt people; the non-citizens only permitted to scrabble for the most difficult and dangerous jobs:

“A life of doing repetitive menial labor without any assurance of compensation was like walking down a path backward. Life was terrifying and tedious. Every time they paused to take stock of their lives, they found themselves unfailingly worse off than before; Saha residents thus grew more childish, petty, and simpleminded.”

I think I’ve mentioned before that I’m not particularly affected by horror novels, but Saha’s scenes were so gripping that I struggled to put the book down and then carried the tension of the book with me through several restless nights. It is not a comfortable book, but it is an excellent one.

About two-thirds through the book, I had an inkling of the thesis: the majority of the society of trapped into these strict castes, and the people are either uninterested or unable to combat the systemic structure. A few people try, though: one of which, without spoilers, is a do-gooder upper caste Citizen who tries to help the lowest caste of illegal Saha, but through her own inexperience and ignorance of their life, oversteps and makes things worse for herself and those around her. At the same time, scenes from the book that seemed to jump around time and place all start to circle around how the Saha slowly built up their society for themselves, based on mutual aid between what each needed and could offer.

It’s such a difficult theme to discuss and dissect, that outsiders often can’t help at all, no matter how well-intentioned, while those inside the oppressed group are prevented as much as possible from helping themselves—that this is how systemic oppression works, and it is very, very hard to deconstruct. It is perhaps more accessible to read about in an allegorical novel set in a fictional setting than to try to delve into the many real-world examples. On a more hopeful note, it does also portray that those who fight the oppression from within, even if they don’t manage to accomplish all that they’d hoped, can push progress forward in ways they wouldn’t have imagined.