Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} Forgotten Reflections A War Story by Young-Im Lee Interview with Books and Bao. I’m very excited to share my latest interview with Books and Bao! The original interview post can be found here. Interview with Young-Im Lee, Author of Forgotten Reflections: A War Story. Forgotten Reflections is a tale of survival and the ability to flourish through adversity during a devastating period of modern Korean history: The Korean War. Young-Im Lee has painted a truly staggering and diverse world that seems entirely removed from the modern day, and yet is immediately recognisable. I had the opportunity to get in touch with Young-Im Lee and ask her a few questions about her novel, her own life, and her feelings about modern day Korea. Her answers were as thought-provoking and insightful as her fiction. As a Korean national who spent her youth away from home, you have a unique perspective on your own country. Moving to Seoul, what were your initial impressions with regards to social issues, politics, and education? When I first moved to Seoul, I was eighteen, young enough to be enthralled by my prospects of studying in Seoul, but also only viscerally aware of the social issues that made the news. Growing up in the Philippines, our family would often host kids who visited from Korea to study English for a few months. These students tended to be the ones who were having a difficult time adjusting to the rigorous Korean education system and were considering relocating abroad. Because of this, I think had quite a negative impression of the Korean education system from a young age and was quite nervous to relocate to Korea. Nevertheless, I jumped into teaching when I began my studies in Seoul to earn what I could, only to realize that my fears of the Korean education system seemed to be mostly true. Rote memorization was the norm and kids were not encouraged to ask questions. Worse yet, I saw children scolded for asking the same questions that I remember being praised for as a child, and the same seemed to occur at home where the parents’ authority was not to be questioned, so reasons were never given for why certain things were the way they were. I believe a large part of my identity formed around being “different” from these kids, but as I grew older and the kids I taught grew younger, I began seeing the larger social issues that stem from these issues. In an academic setting, I would call this critical thinking (or a lack of imagination), but in a larger social setting, I could see how Korea’s development as a first world country would surely be stunted if the next generation isn’t trained to be leaders, critical thinkers, and imaginative forward-thinkers. This novel, in essence, is my way of showing how various social, historical and cultural issues have led to the modern generation and is also a cautionary tale that urges us to break the trends of our past to move beyond our traumatic history. Reading your novel, it only throws into sharp relief how incredibly far Korea has advanced since the Korean war, especially in terms of politics and economics. We all have ideas on how we would like our own nations to progress; what aspects of Korean life would you like to see develop further (such as in the areas of laws, international relations, feminism, or education)? I can’t say much about the economy and politics, but lately, I have become more acutely aware of issues that stem from our patriarchal social structure. If my early twenties were marked by struggles of national and ethnic identity, my mid-twenties have been marked by a growing awareness of gender inequality in Korea. My first real wake-up call occurred sometime during university. My calculus 101 professor had been extremely generous with his time and had often invited us to expensive lunches. I even went to him for support when my grades were suffering and I didn’t think twice about his generosity other than how impressed I was that an internationally- acclaimed mathematician would be so giving to his students. A few years later, I received news of a math professor—the very same one from my university who was being prosecuted for sexual misconduct! I was confused, grateful nothing had happened to me but mostly shocked. Before then, it never occurred to me that someone in that position would take advantage of the naiveté of those under his supervision. Although I do not claim that this case is solely the product of a patriarchal culture, it opened my eyes to various safety concerns and inequality that could stem from not only the physical differences in strength but also the social conditions that keep women silent. Just a few months ago, I had witnessed first-hand, a couple bickering in the streets outside of my apartment. The conversation became violent and the police were called on to stop the fight. I had walked up to the police officer to make certain he knew the man had beaten her, but the police officer told me (in no uncertain terms) that such cases of domestic violence are never prosecuted and how the woman will not be pressing charges so I shouldn’t bother speaking up. I can only imagine how much courage it takes for a woman in this situation to run from abuse. But to think the social systems in place are more likely to discourage action from women who are already in quite a vulnerable state made me angry. There is certainly a long way to go! I believe issues of gender inequality are entrenched in a system, history, and culture that touches every part of our daily lives. I hope to bring more awareness to this issue as I gain a deeper understanding of it. You’ve cited Murakami as an influence on your writing. Are there any other East Asian authors that have also inspired you as a writer or simply as a reader? Perhaps because of my international upbringing, I have always felt somewhat limited by categories like “Korean Fiction.” (Although I must admit, I still categorize my book under the “Asian Historical fiction” subsection on Amazon). Of course, I admire many East Asian authors for their ability to represent their respective cultures to an English-speaking audience; however, most of all, I appreciate the way in which authors strive to represent universal issues and values that go far beyond their respective geopolitical borders. For instance, I admire Kazuo Ishiguro’schameleon voice that convincingly depicts various ages, genders, and ethnicities. As I develop my next writing project, I am becoming more aware of the expectations a reader might have of a Korean writer. In fact, while I am very happy that so many people enjoyed this story, I am also aware that many of the people who have read and commented on my work were from the U.S. or Europe. While it was always my intention to write for an international audience to encourage those who are coming of age, and to help bring some foreign aspects of Korean culture into context, I had also intended for this book to be read by Koreans or others nation groups who have had a similar historical trajectory of imperialism or colonization to encourage people who have gone through such a turbulent past to understand why we may be having a crisis of identity. Despite the struggles of reaching an international audience (a struggle that I believe is also universal for many writers), I hope to continue to write with universal issues and values in mind. Young-Im Lee has also provided us with a short essay chronicling her own thoughts on the novel, what it speaks of, and where the initial idea came from: I would like to think there are many threads to the story. On the surface level, this book was my attempt to not only shed light on the heroism of women during the war, but also highlight the deep suffering, they experienced and how these unseen joys and sorrows made a mark in the silent records of Korean history—a history that is quick to mark the deeds of men who, more obviously sacrificed their lives as soldiers. Yet, on a more fundamental level, this is the story of men and women who must find a way to bury their childhood dreams as they face the harsh realities of adulthood ahead. This, I believe, is a universal experience that transcends time and place and affects all generations equally. We all grow up, but what happens when our hopes and dreams are met with reality? How do we come of age? And how do we revive our dreams later on in life and in future generations to fulfil the dreams we were never given the chance to pursue? In many ways, this book was quite a self-indulgent project that helped me work through my identity crisis. I left Korea when I was one and have lived outside of my passport country for over 20 years. I had always been a “foreigner” and I was comfortable with that. Like many third culture kids who return to their so-called “home countries,” I was bombarded with assumptions and generalizations from people who probably thought I was strange, developmentally challenged, or just one of those Korean-Americans. Perhaps, it would have been easier if I could just identify as Korean American. But the reality is, I am Korean by ethnicity and by passport. Simple and clear cut. Or so everyone seemed to assume. It then struck me! These entangled struggles of growing up and dealing with an uncertain identity seemed to logically converge during the Korean War, an era that could encapsulate not only dashed childhood dreams but also the same thread of identity crisis I have been experiencing. During this turbulent, confusing, but also hopeful period, I could imagine young adults lived with confused identities in the midst of political agenda (During the Japanese occupation, Korean children were given Japanese names and were not allowed to speak Korean). What happens when children, who are never given the opportunity to discover who they are, are suddenly given hope for a better future (in the form of Korea’s independence from Japan and the subsequent creation of the Korean governments), only for these hopes to be dashed by war less than two years later? A simple line repeats itself throughout the novel: “We were born before our time.” Each generation represented in the novel reiterates this phrase, whether it is from Jung-Soo’s father who declares he is born before his time because no one could understand the grand visions he had of a full-fledged, developed and thriving Korea, or Jung-Soo who spends the entire novel struggling with his identity, only to discover it at the very end, but never get the chance to live out his visions. Tag: History. Literati Painting: A Synthesis of Art and Meditation. This is a digitally constructed collage. I put together pieces from different classic Chinese paintings and tried to mimic the style of a fourteen-century literati artist. I’ve done research on China in the past, especially Chinese traditional art, and have written about it here and here. This week I decided to start writing a new book about China. I will use art as a reference point and bracket that reference between two centuries–the fourteenth and twentieth. And I will focus my attention on one city that just happens to straddle the Yangzte River: Chongqing. It was Chongqing that became the last stronghold of the free Chinese in WWII (Second Sino-Japanese War). And it was there that fierce resistance by the Southern Song Dynasty held invading Mongols off for years. Why art? Because in China, art has been a vessel for culture and tradition. Through conquest and revolution, art has endured. I find that to be especially true in the literati tradition. A Word About the Picture at the Top of the Page. The picture was prompted by a contest on Steemit, which I enter every time it’s open. In the contest we are challenged by a fellow Steemian, @shaka, to make a collage from one of his photos. Rank amateurs (like me) and graphic artists participate. Sometimes a good idea prevails over skill…that gives me hope. However, I don’t enter to win. I enter to have fun. Here’s @shaka’s photo, as it appeared before I made the collage: Here are the elements that went into my collage: [ By the way, emulating, or even copying an artist is considered to be an homage, in the literati tradition ] The tree was extracted from this picture: Fishermen , by Wu Zhen. China, fourteenth century. Public domain. The meditating gentleman was extracted from this picture: Ni_Zan_Portrai_Yuan, unknown author. China, Yuan Dynasty (approximately fourteenth century). Public domain. The lotus flowers were extracted from this picture: Pink and White Lotus , unknown artist. China, Yuan Dynasty. Public domain. The birds were taken from this picture: Loquats and Mountain Bird , by anonymous. China, fourteenth century. Public domain. The ducks, reeds and characters were taken from this picture: Ducks and Reeds , by Lin Liang. China, fifteenth century. Public domain. The hint of chrysanthemum was extracted from this picture: Xian’e Changchun Album 08 , by Guiseppe Castilione. Between 1722-1725. Public domain. If you’d like to see the blog that accompanied this collage, you can find it on Steemit. It’s called The Brain: Meditation, Flow and Literati Art. I’ll try to post a new chapter for my book once a week. That’s going to be a challenge, but I might as well aim high Share this: Like this: Art and Life. Plum Blossoms, by Lu Zhi, Public Domain. Increasingly, I see no distinction between art and life, although there is a sense of the word “art” that suggests fabrication. As a writer, or someone who loves to write (sometimes it feels pompous to call myself a writer), I have found art to be simply another form of expression, one that flows naturally as a complement to my words. This is a view that traditional Chinese artists embrace, particularly those artists known as literati. In literati painting, inscriptions on the work are intrinsic to the art. The literati derive their inspiration from nature, tradition and philosophy. In literati painting, art is an expression of character. Technical skill, or “artifice”, is less important than the genuine inspiration evident in the work. Traditional Chinese art often features one of four themes known as the Four Noble Ones or, the Four Gentlemen . These themes are the plum, orchid, bamboo and chrysanthemum. The essay below is adapted from my book, Four Masters of Yuan and Literati Art: Tradition in China from Mongol Rule to Modern Times. The Four Gentlemen in Chinese Art. Literati artists have an affinity for nature. In their response to nature they believe they are revealing essential qualities about their own character. The qualities they hope to cultivate in themselves, they believe, are innate to certain plants. Four of these, called The Four Gentlemen in Chinese Art – the bamboo, chrysanthemum, plum and orchid–are said to embody different aspects of a noble character. In fact, the plants are also called The Four Noble Ones. Each of these plants has been featured across the centuries in exquisitely expressive art. Wood, Bamboo, and Elegant Stone, Ni Zan Public Domain. Wood, Bamboo and Elegant Stone, a painting by Yuan Dynasty artist Ni Zan (above), is part of a long tradition that reveres this plant. Bamboo is seen as a natural embodiment of longevity, humility and endurance. Chrysanthemum, by Ong Schan Tchow, with an inscription by Lin Sen, President of the Republic of China. Public Domain. Ong Schan Tchow, a twentieth-century painter, devoted a book to the study of chrysanthemums. This flower holds a special place in Chinese culture because the flower was first cultivated there. Chrysanthemums blossom in autumn, when winter is looming and other flowers are fading. It is the flower’s ability to flourish when others perish that makes it a metaphor for withstanding adversity. Lu Zhi, an artist from the Ming Dynasty, was also a calligrapher and poet. His painting, Plum Blossoms , is featured at the top of this page. The plum tree blossoms in winter. This winter bloom, in harsh circumstances, represents to the Chinese the qualities of endurance and prosperity. Orchid, by Hu Zhengyan, Public Domain. Another Ming Dynasty artist, Hu Zhengyan, was also a printer and calligrapher. He was a traditionalist who featured a variety of simple, natural themes in his painting. The image presented here is “Orchid”. In the orchid many see qualities of humility and grace. The orchid blossoms in remote locations and often exudes its fragrance in solitude. The nobility of quiet repose is much admired in classic Chinese art and poetry. Share this: Like this: Forgotten Reflections: A War Story, By Young-Im Lee. The photo was taken by an employee of the United States government and is therefore free of copyright restriction. Some books are read hurriedly. We rush through the pages to get to the end and find out ‘what happened’. Some books invite us to linger, as descriptions of exotic backgrounds and high-energy exploits demand attention. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story holds the reader’s attention in both ways. It is a thriller, with a mystery that is not solved until the very end. It is also a moving love story, and character study. Author Young-Im Lee has woven a tale that takes place mostly in wartime. This is the Korean War, but the situation evoked is universal. Even well-planned wars are chaotic for those at the center, civilians and foot soldiers. Their challenges are universal: How do they survive the violence? How do they eat? Who can be trusted and who is a traitor? Much of what Miss Lee writes may be familiar to Korean readers. Western readers, however, will be introduced to contemporary Korean culture and its foundational myths. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story is a considerable achievement. Using flashbacks and flash-forwards, Ms. Lee nimbly manages a narrative that spans half a century. She accomplishes this without ever breaking the thread of the story. I admire Ms. Lee’s skill as a writer and her apparent passion to explore ideas central to the identity of her country. There is no need here to belabor the importance of the Korean peninsula in world affairs. Many people in the West are perplexed by how this relatively small area came to be a tinderbox that threatens to explode into a global conflagration. Reading Forgotten Reflections: A War Story will help to explain the origins of the conflict. The book accomplishes this in a way that is entertaining and credible. Ms. Lee’s book is well-worth a reader’s investment of time and money. I highly recommend it. About the picture: South Koreans are harvesting rice near the Demilitarized Zone. The picture is appropriate for this review because so much of the people’s energy during the war was spent in trying to feed themselves and in trying to preserve rice stores for the future. After reading the book, I find it hard to look at the bounty in the picture without reflecting on the struggles of the South Korean people during the war. Literature. One thing that is globally known about China, and is undeniably true, is its strict censorship laws and the control which the government has over its media, stretching as far as its social networks. Censorship in China I remember being in Shanghai in 2015 when a tragic accident occurred in Tianjin as an explosion took … Review: Lost Japan by Alex Kerr. Wherever you were born and raised, you know that World War II changed everything. You may not have been alive before WWII to know this first hand, but you studied history and you spoke to your grandparents who likely lived through a recession, and possibly a subsequent economic boom depending on where you are from. … Review: The Stolen Bicycle by Wu Ming-Yi. Wu Ming-Yi is Taiwan’s most celebrated author, and at the time of writing, only two of his novels have been translated into English (The Stolen Bicycle, and The Man with the Compound Eyes). Longlisted for the Man Booker International Prize 2018 (alongside Han Kang’s illustrious The White Book), it’s certainly my hope that the … Review: Sweet Potato by Kim Tongin from Honford Star. It’s troubling to think on what we’ll miss when we’re gone, and what we may never know about what has already passed. How much of history is lost to us? How many wonderful and terrible things will we never live to see? Both of these questions were in mind as I pored through the stories … Review: My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness by Kabi Nagata (Manga) My Lesbian Experience with Loneliness is a graphic memoir composed with raw and honest pain. It opens your eyes to an important yet painful reality in Japan, all through the use of dark humour, minimalist art, and queer honesty. Back in the summer of 2016 I was walking through Tokyo, somewhere near the Shibuya district, … Review: The Three Body Problem by Cixin Liu. “In science fiction, humanity is often described as a collective. In this book, a man named ‘humanity’ confronts a disaster, and everything he demonstrates in the face of existence and annihilation undoubtedly has sources in the reality that I experienced.” – Cixin Liu, author’s note, The Three Body Problem The Three Body Problem poses questions that are familiar … Review: Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life by Yiyun Li. In an interview with fivebooks.com, Yiyun Li discussed the concept of the ‘anti-memoir’. This term came around because, as Li put it in the interview, “[…] there has to be a ‘before’ and an ‘after’ – an epiphany. But to me, all these things are artificial. Life is lived in a much messier way.” This … Review: The Accusation by Bandi. It is difficult to know where to start when discussing a book like The Accusation. Smuggled one by one out of North Korea and into China as scribbled manuscripts, and here collected at last as a gorgeous hardcopy. Bandi’s collection of short stories, The Accusation, is not just a valuable insight into ordinary (read: terrifying) … How Jung Chang’s ‘Wild Swans’ Made Me A Better Laowai. Before I lived in Tokyo and Seoul, I lived in Shanghai. Expats and locals alike in Tokyo and Seoul have joked with me more than once about the harshness of Chinese culture and the unpleasantness of life there; jokes such as: ‘On the Seoul subway, keep your voice down. You don’t want to be a … Review: Kitchen by Banana Yoshimoto. Translated from the Japanese by Megan Backus Every great novelist has pinned a theme to a punching bag and attempted to tackle it. And every theme has been tackled numerous times. ‘The lengths we go to for love’ as a theme, for example, has been thoroughly exhausted; this dead horse has been beaten black and … Translated Literature & Cultural Travel. Welcome to Books and Bao! We help to expand your horizons with reviews of the latest fiction and poetry from around the world and showcase cultural adventures that inspire. We specialise in unique travel guides, delicious culinary experiences, and everything art and literature related. Category: Book Review. Susan: Convict’s daughter, soldier’s wife, nobody’s fool, By Stella Budrikis. Book Review by A. G. Moore. Stella Budrikis’ excellent biography, Susan , takes readers on a journey through the hardscrabble existence of Australia’s early European settlers. The eponymous Susan is Susan Mason, the author’s great–great grandmother. The characters in this book are real people who struggle in the harshest of circumstances. Fortune, will and physical endurance allow some to reach maturity and raise families. Survival is a lottery in which perseverance and serendipity play equal roles. Nature granted Susan the ability to bear numerous children. Fortune took many of these from her. This was a common occurrence at that time, but more likely to befall those who were crowded into the hull of a ship or crammed into a fetid slum where immigrants congregated. Susan eventually migrated to England, where she settled with her husband, David Whybrew, a soldier in the British army. David’s income barely supported the growing Whybrew family. Throughout her sojourn in Australia and England, Susan had repeated contact with the police. Indeed much of the record cited in this book is derived from official court records. Budrikis does not shrink from the less attractive aspects of Susan’s life. It is the author’s unflinching treatment of her subject that renders her narrative credible. One of the several Whybrew children who did reach maturity, Eliza, was destined to be the author’s great grandmother. Eliza’s life followed a very different path from Susan’s. This may have been partly due to temperament and partly to the influence of her husband, William Beales. Beales and his family were active in the Salvation Army. This involvement likely offered Eliza the sort of stable guidance that had not been available to Susan. In the “Afterword” to Susan , Budrikis wonders if she’s done right by her forbear in telling this story without attempting to conceal blemishes. Budrikis writes, “I hope that by telling her story I have given her, and other women like her, a recognition that they were denied in their lifetime”. Indeed she has. Susan Mason made choices that put her afoul of the law and forged for her a chaotic path through life. But those choices also helped her to survive. Susan Mason and thousands of others had only their wits and their determination to help them prevail over daunting odds. They survived. When life is stripped to its barest essentials, that becomes the ultimate test of character. Stella Budrikis has written a book about more than family legacy. It is about a time and place in history, about pioneers who were essential to the foundation of Australia. The book is informative and entertaining. I highly recommend it. Ms. Budrikis maintains a website that traces her family history. It is a fascinating read. Share this: Like this: Forgotten Reflections: A War Story, By Young-Im Lee. The photo was taken by an employee of the United States government and is therefore free of copyright restriction. Some books are read hurriedly. We rush through the pages to get to the end and find out ‘what happened’. Some books invite us to linger, as descriptions of exotic backgrounds and high-energy exploits demand attention. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story holds the reader’s attention in both ways. It is a thriller, with a mystery that is not solved until the very end. It is also a moving love story, and character study. Author Young-Im Lee has woven a tale that takes place mostly in wartime. This is the Korean War, but the situation evoked is universal. Even well-planned wars are chaotic for those at the center, civilians and foot soldiers. Their challenges are universal: How do they survive the violence? How do they eat? Who can be trusted and who is a traitor? Much of what Miss Lee writes may be familiar to Korean readers. Western readers, however, will be introduced to contemporary Korean culture and its foundational myths. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story is a considerable achievement. Using flashbacks and flash-forwards, Ms. Lee nimbly manages a narrative that spans half a century. She accomplishes this without ever breaking the thread of the story. I admire Ms. Lee’s skill as a writer and her apparent passion to explore ideas central to the identity of her country. There is no need here to belabor the importance of the Korean peninsula in world affairs. Many people in the West are perplexed by how this relatively small area came to be a tinderbox that threatens to explode into a global conflagration. Reading Forgotten Reflections: A War Story will help to explain the origins of the conflict. The book accomplishes this in a way that is entertaining and credible. Ms. Lee’s book is well-worth a reader’s investment of time and money. I highly recommend it. About the picture: South Koreans are harvesting rice near the Demilitarized Zone. The picture is appropriate for this review because so much of the people’s energy during the war was spent in trying to feed themselves and in trying to preserve rice stores for the future. After reading the book, I find it hard to look at the bounty in the picture without reflecting on the struggles of the South Korean people during the war. Share this: Like this: On an Acre Shy of Eternity: Micro Landscapes at the Edge, By Robert Dash, Book Review. In On an Acre Shy of Eternity: Micro Landscapes at the Edge , Robert Dash directs the lens of an electron microscope toward the universe on his doorstep. This enables him to bring into view an otherwise invisible world. He describes his impression of this vision: “I am stunned that a space this small can have a library this large.” In the preface to his book, Dash suggests that he considers the book to be a sequel to Blake’s lines, “To see the world in a grain of sand”. If Dash’s intention is to inspire awareness in readers, he has realized his wish. I, personally, was spellbound by the vitality evident in a speck of pollen. My awe was intensified by successive pictures that together revealed the logic in nature’s purpose. It is often suggested, by medical professionals and seers, that people look inwards to understand themselves, and to find peace. Mr. Dash demonstrates that perhaps looking out, very closely, may be as inspiring an exercise. There, on our doorsteps, an extension of our own existence may be discovered. One photo that is particularly effective shows the underside of a tree leaf. In vivid color, we see stomata carrying on their function. This function is as essential to human life as it is to the life of the tree. Stomata inhale as we exhale, and exhale as we inhale. It is the same breath, exchanged and returned, between plant and human. We sustain each other. Mr. Dash writes poetry to accompany his pictures. The poetry is unaffected and expressive. I especially enjoyed “Moon Came By”, in which the moon drops “gold light on rowdy black waves”. The imagery is original, and memorable. As charming as the writing is, though, it is not necessary to the book. The heart of this book, its life, is in the pictures. On an Acre Shy of Eternity: Micro Landscapes at the Edge is a visually striking and conceptually unique book. I highly recommend it. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story, By Young-Im Lee. The photo was taken by an employee of the United States government and is therefore free of copyright restriction. Some books are read hurriedly. We rush through the pages to get to the end and find out ‘what happened’. Some books invite us to linger, as descriptions of exotic backgrounds and high-energy exploits demand attention. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story holds the reader’s attention in both ways. It is a thriller, with a mystery that is not solved until the very end. It is also a moving love story, and character study. Author Young-Im Lee has woven a tale that takes place mostly in wartime. This is the Korean War, but the situation evoked is universal. Even well-planned wars are chaotic for those at the center, civilians and foot soldiers. Their challenges are universal: How do they survive the violence? How do they eat? Who can be trusted and who is a traitor? Much of what Miss Lee writes may be familiar to Korean readers. Western readers, however, will be introduced to contemporary Korean culture and its foundational myths. Forgotten Reflections: A War Story is a considerable achievement. Using flashbacks and flash-forwards, Ms. Lee nimbly manages a narrative that spans half a century. She accomplishes this without ever breaking the thread of the story. I admire Ms. Lee’s skill as a writer and her apparent passion to explore ideas central to the identity of her country. There is no need here to belabor the importance of the Korean peninsula in world affairs. Many people in the West are perplexed by how this relatively small area came to be a tinderbox that threatens to explode into a global conflagration. Reading Forgotten Reflections: A War Story will help to explain the origins of the conflict. The book accomplishes this in a way that is entertaining and credible. Ms. Lee’s book is well-worth a reader’s investment of time and money. I highly recommend it. About the picture: South Koreans are harvesting rice near the Demilitarized Zone. The picture is appropriate for this review because so much of the people’s energy during the war was spent in trying to feed themselves and in trying to preserve rice stores for the future. After reading the book, I find it hard to look at the bounty in the picture without reflecting on the struggles of the South Korean people during the war.