The TS Memoir of a Misogynistic Novelist

“Yeah, when was that incident again?”

“It was probably when I was halfway through my first semester of my fourth year.”

Back then, I was completely oblivious to the realities of the world, a real naive person who just went with the flow. That’s probably why I could speak so freely about things I knew nothing about.

“What are you talking about?”

Isn’t it obvious? I’m talking about stories, about novels.

And novels are, after all, reality.

Over there are sparrows, over there are owls, and over there are sandpipers. Regardless of who these people were, their chatter was no different from the chirping of birds. I nodded along, listening through one ear and letting it slip out the other.

“Are you listening to me right now?”

“Ah, of course.”

I was definitely not listening, despite it being a critique about my own story.

It was a class where we presented short stories and critiqued each other. Naturally, being in a literature department, the classroom was about 70 percent female. In other words, there were more than ten birds chirping away in the lecture hall.

Among those, one sparrow was chirping passionately about my story. I wasn’t sure if a sparrow was even capable of critiquing.

“So, can I ask which part of my senior’s writing you found problematic?”

“I’m sorry, I momentarily lost my thoughts.”

I admitted I hadn’t been paying attention. Saying, “Are you saying there’s something wrong with my story?” would only make me look bad. The sparrow’s face turned slightly red in agitation, but she wouldn’t be able to spit at me while apologizing.

“…Please pay attention from now on. What I mean is, the perspectives of the characters in your story are a bit narrow, and it gives off the impression that the world view of the novel supports this narrowness. You describe a character with excessive peculiarity as if it represents an entire group, presenting it as an obvious fact…”

“So you’re saying that the scene where the high school girl sister has an abortion and goes back to dating as if nothing happened makes the male protagonist’s dislike of women uncomfortable, right?”

“…That’s one way to put it, but it’s not that simple.”

“Thank you for the good insight. I’ll take it into consideration.”

Of course, I wouldn’t actually do that.

As the conversation halted, the sparrow, whose name was probably Yoon Sua, sat down with a visibly displeased expression aimed at me. From the beginning, my relationship with Yoon Sua had not been good; it was closer to the worst. That’s not strange, given that my relationships with female classmates were mostly terrible, and my reputation was at the bottom of the department.

When it was my turn to critique Yoon Sua’s story, I raised my hand as if it were only natural.

“First of all, I enjoyed reading it.”

That was just lip service, of course. It’s a common starting line in any literature critique.

“Honestly, your story is quite explicit. Oh, I don’t mean that in a bad way. It strongly appeals to a target audience. That’s a compliment. Fundamentally, a story needs to be read by an audience, so it’s natural and smart to write something that your target readers would enjoy. Especially, it’s nice how you’ve cleverly shown the desired world view with a slight change in background, which could easily mislead readers expecting a completely different situation.”

On the surface, it sounded like praise, but it was all sarcasm. This was because Yoon Sua’s story was a blatant piece aimed at feminists, further inciting the narrative that South Korea is the most dangerous place for women. The other students, being no fools, understood the implications of my words, as evidenced by the contorted expression on Yoon Sua’s face.

But stopping here wouldn’t be a critique either. Let’s take it a step further.

“However, while it undoubtedly appeals to a specific target audience, it’s a bit disappointing that the perspectives of the characters are rather narrow, and the novel’s world view seems to support that narrowness.”

I repeated my earlier statement back to her. Yoon Sua gritted her teeth and responded.

“Thank you for the advice…”

Fortunately, it seemed like Yoon Sua hadn’t crossed the threshold yet and didn’t push further.

Naturally, it was a critique that couldn’t be said to be devoid of personal feelings from either Yoon Sua or me. This strife had begun ever since the first short story I presented.

So, in truth, it was more of a power struggle.

Yoon Sua was definitely leaning towards feminism. While she wasn’t completely an extreme radical feminist, most of her submissions excessively leaned into femininity.

From the first session, I had strongly pointed that out, and eventually, I became someone she detested, leading to a situation where we would belittle each other every time we critiqued.

Still, for now, it remained at this level. Compared to the incidents that had happened before I enlisted in the military, this was nothing big.

But the problem arose during the next critique session.

It was the turn of the underclassman Muk Ha-neul, who sat next to Yoon Sua.

Muk Ha-neul was quirky. She had a timid personality, was gentle, and rather simple-minded. But the reason she was quirky was different. To put it simply, she didn’t dislike me. Therefore, she seemed odd.

Of course, as she was close to Yoon Sua, she didn’t openly show it, but anyway, Muk Ha-neul was almost the only female student who had any sort of interaction with me.

But that didn’t mean it gave me a reason to go easy on her critique.

“The story is excessively feminine. That doesn’t mean it’s feminist, so please don’t misunderstand. Frankly speaking, it’s subpar. It feels like I’m walking through a flower garden. Although I can understand putting in convenient developments for the protagonist because it’s a short piece, the lack of persuasive grounding makes this a failure as a short story. Maybe you could fix it as the beginning of a long novel. The process of the suddenly gender-swapped protagonist falling in love is even childish.”

Muk Ha-neul’s writing was hard to express positively, even in empty compliments. The structure wasn’t complete enough to be called a short story, and the content was purely childish. It felt like a story written by a middle school student. Normally, she was not this bad a writer, so I was honestly disappointed.

Muk Ha-neul seemed a bit shocked by my critique, stammering and unable to continue her speech. Meanwhile, the weak professor appeared to be contemplating whether he should cut my critique short.

“Um, oh, I understand. Thank you for the… advice.”

However, I too recognized that my words were a bit harsh. Ah, she’s in trouble now. There’s no doubt she’d probably come to dislike me. Well, I didn’t care much about it. Frankly, I had already thought it was unavoidable to be harsh.

But the anger came from a different direction.

“Listen here, you! What kind of critique is that? That’s way too harsh!”

It was Yoon Sua who exploded. Upon seeing her friend stutter, she apparently couldn’t hold back her anger towards me.

“I only spoke the truth, junior. Was there anything incorrect about my words?”

“Whether it’s right or wrong! There’s such a thing as courtesy! Isn’t it interesting to belittle and ridicule others like this right from the first lesson?”

With Yoon Sua dropping formalities out of rage, all the other students and the professor focused their attention on us. I hadn’t expected it to escalate to this point; it was annoying. If she dropped the formalities, then I didn’t have to keep them either.

“What’s the point of being courteous during critique sessions? Would lying by saying ‘you wrote well, it was fun’ help anyone in writing? Let me make it clear: Muk Ha-neul’s story this time was poorly written. It’s not entertaining. A man turning into a woman? It’s quite unpleasant.”

“You—really!”

“Su, Sua. I’m fine. Enough.”

“No matter what, that’s not how you should treat Ha-neul! Is there anyone else in our department who treats you with courtesy? How can you be so ungrateful?”

“Ungrateful? Do I have to go as far as to call it ungrateful to interact with someone? Well, that might be too difficult for a sparrow like you.”

“Sparrow? Are you done talking?”

“Women… seriously low level. There’s really nothing more to discuss.”

I made sure to say things that would outright irritate Yoon Sua, scratching at her. The professor attempted to intervene multiple times, but his voice got drowned out in the noise. I didn’t want to continue this discussion. The class was nearly over anyway. As I packed my bag to leave, Yoon Sua spat out in a voice laced with anger.

“Try living as a woman! Live that way for your whole life! See if anyone even gives you a second glance!”

I didn’t respond to Muk Ha-neul’s story. I felt it wasn’t worth the effort. I had never wanted attention anyway.

After this fight, my critique battle with Yoon Sua came to an end. Given we both disliked each other so vehemently, there was no desire to provoke further conflict.

Even after that incident, whenever Muk Ha-neul saw me, she would slightly bow her head in greeting, but she never initiated conversations with me like before. I expected that. It actually felt strange that she still offered me even a slight greeting.

Anyway, I recognized that I had been somewhat harsh, so I softened my temper a bit. Until graduation, I was treated almost like I didn’t exist in the department, which honestly turned out to be more comfortable.

Now, I couldn’t understand why memories of that incident from three years ago resurfaced. Well, I knew why but didn’t want to admit it.

It was a pathetic ego. I didn’t want to acknowledge that what Yoon Sua said had become my reality.

As I looked into the mirror that the doctor had handed me, the first feeling I had was nausea.

Nausea welled up, and it was horrifying.

This was punishment.

I was no longer in the mirror.

There was only a stranger staring back at me.

Novels are, after all, reality.

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