Yeonnam-Dong's Smiley Laundromat: A Novel
“This novel is best enjoyed from a framework of believing that fairy tales and dreams can indeed come true—and that a community center, even a laundromat, can be the seed for healing.”
What are the small things that block our dreams from ever coming true? Things like an education that isn’t quite good enough, an accent that can’t be left behind, a family willing to stand behind us but without enough funding to open the next door along the way—or no family willing to see us go our own way? These are the questions and painful conditions that abound in this Korean novel, starting with Old Jang, an elderly man trying to hold onto the home he shared with his late wife, while his son and daughter-in-law press him to take advantage of the real estate market and, in the process, fund their own effort to rise socially.
Kim Jiyun provides the golden mellow atmosphere of an all-night laundromat as a place where her Korean characters can face their grief and sometimes anguish, writing about themselves in a public diary (anonymously, of course). And this makes room sometimes for people like Old Jang to realize there’s another path to the comfort and affection he desires. His solution will also solve the anguish of a small family living nearby, unable to make ends meet.
Translation by Shanna Tan provides a slightly dated style of narrative, with simplified sentences that fit the book’s design but can feel at odds with the Korean culture being portrayed. A sample is when assistant (script) writer Han Yeoreum sees an entry in the laundromat diary that attracts her: “I’m tired of busking to an empty audience. What should I try singing to get people to listen to my voice?” She can’t resist replying, seeing a parallel with herself: “Yeoreum’s heart went out to him. A busker without an audience, a writer without readers, a scriptwriter whose work never made it to the screen.” She offers suggestions, makes a song request, totes her clean clothes home—and soon crosses paths with that very busker. “In a scene straight out of a movie, Yeoreum was the only one to stop in front of him.”
But the romances and comfort of the laundromat’s users can’t keep out the real evil that exists among some people, and the discovery of a money scam pulls one of the caring characters into deep danger. Will she have to yield and join the dark side? “Are you mad? If I work with you, I’ll end up rotting in prison, never to see my family again for the rest of my life. . . . Do you know what’s really scary? It’s the moment you realise you’re at rock bottom. See, you’re trembling. Don’t be afraid. You need to hit the ground to find your way up.”
That angle to the plot has pulled Yeonnam-Dong’s Smiley Laundromat into a suggestion of crime fiction and dark twists—but it’s actually very brief in the context of neighbor saving neighbor through raw hearts and compassion, the real genre of the novel. Kim Jiyun’s portrait of a lower middle class that might almost have vanished is intended to be heartwarming and encouraging. This novel is best enjoyed from a framework of believing that fairy tales and dreams can indeed come true—and that a community center, even a laundromat, can be the seed for healing.