After Jurassic Park was released in the early 90s, South Korea’s then-president Kim Young-sam was shocked to learn the Hollywood blockbuster generated as much revenue as the export of 1.5 million Hyundai cars.
That set off decades of successive Korean governments striving to export the country’s cultural assets.
Its popular music and TV shows have enjoyed runaway success, but now Korean books are having their moment.
For Ana Paula Lage, a psychologist originally from Brazil but now living in Sydney, reading Korean literature is a way to explore a new culture and gain a deeper understanding of herself.
“Some books help us to travel inside of ourselves,” she said.
“To make sense of so many emotions … or relate to certain things that people [are] going through.”
The rise of Korean literature, or K-lit, is part of a broader wave known as Hallyu — a global craze for the country’s cultural exports.
Hallyu includes everything from music, such as bands BTS and Blackpink, to screen hits Parasite and Squid Game, to elaborate 10-step skincare routines and Korean cuisine.
K-lit reached a new level of cultural clout when Han Kang, author of The Vegetarian and Greek Lessons, won the Nobel Prize in Literature in October.
Ms Lage’s interest in Korean culture was first sparked during the depths of pandemic lockdowns.
She was working a lot and needed a way to de-stress amid the chaotic situation unfolding around her.
She stumbled across the K-drama Crash Landing on You — a love story spanning North and South Korea.
Her fascination has since expanded from K-dramas to Korean literature.
She recently devoured Greek Lessons — one of many novels she has read through a book club run by the Korean Cultural Centre in Sydney.
“I couldn’t take my eyes off the book,” she said.
Ms Lage likens the experience to an archaeological dig.
“You go piece by piece, and the more you explore, the more it makes sense,” she said.
“It’s a very nice way to explore the culture and the human side of the culture.”
Experts say the global surge in interest in Korean books is partly fuelled by the government’s push to translate the novels into other languages, and readers say the quintessentially Korean texts tap into universal themes.
While K-pop offers glitzy and bubbly entertainment, K-lit novels vary from the heartwarming and cosy to the dark, weird and twisted.
Bookish soft power
An increasing number of Korean titles in translation have hit the shelves in Australia and abroad on the heels of books such as Kang’s The Vegetarian and Pachinko, by Korean American Min Jin Lee, both published in the late 2010s.
Pachinko, a moving multi-generational historical fiction, has sold more than 84,000 copies in Australia, worth more than $1.85 million, according to data from Nielsen BookScan.
Cho Nam-joo’s feminist tome Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, has sold just shy of 9,000 copies in Australia, worth almost $200,000, while Kang’s Greek Lessons has sold 3,700 copies, worth over $100,000.
The promotion and translation of Korean books into other languages is part of Seoul’s cultural diplomacy and soft power, according to Sung-Ae Lee, a professor of cinema and popular culture at Macquarie University.
Dr Lee said a large part of the K-lit surge was due to investment in translators through the government-funded Literature Translation Institute of Korea (LTI).
“Books are a unique tool of soft power, enabling readers worldwide to connect with Korea on a personal level, fostering empathy and cultural appreciation beyond borders,” LTI’s Seohyeon Song said.
“While K-pop and K-dramas have made Korean culture popular, literature provides a deeper and more thoughtful way to explore what makes Korea unique.
“As interest in K-literature grows, it contributes to the broader cultural K-wave by highlighting Korea’s rich storytelling tradition.”
The institute has facilitated the publication of more than 2,000 books across 44 languages.
The government has approved 14 billion won ($15.3 million) for the LTI for next year, an increase on 2024 but a decrease compared to 2023.
The budget for training translators has decreased but there was additional funding for overseas promotion.
Ms Song said the Nobel win might help secure increased funding in the future.
Korean novel The Trunk translated in Australia
One LTI-funded project emerged from Australia — the English translation of The Trunk, a novel by Kim Ryeo-ryeong.
Set in the not-too-distant future, the book centres around a secretive marriage agency.
It is a kind of feminist satire hailing from a cultural context of dwindling birth rates, according to Adam Zulawnik, who was part of the translation team and is an academic at the University of Melbourne’s Asia Institute.
The Trunk has also been made into a new K-drama on Netflix that stars Squid Game’s Gong Yoo and is being billed as a romance thriller.
Dr Zulawnik said the overlap of K-drama and K-novel would fuel interest in both — but he added the series was very different to the book.
“It offers some different insights into the world of The Trunk … [which] I think makes it a lot more exciting as well,” he said.
He said while K-lit was not new to Australian shelves, the Nobel prize was a “crowning glory” for the industry, winning recognition on the international stage.
“I think that the prize will definitely put Korean literature on the radars of people who maybe wouldn’t have considered it in the past,” he said.
“There are different ways that we can connect with cultures. K-drama and K-pop might not be the way for everyone, and literature might be another stepping stone and way for people to connect.”
Dr Lee said while K-pop bands had burst onto the global stage, enjoying tremendous and rapid success, K-lit was more of a slow burn.
“Literature, it takes time … it’s a bit slow now but I’m sure it will go really well in the future,” she said.
Weird, cosy, peculiar and unique
Dr Lee said many Korean books managed to both be “distinctly Korean” as well as “peculiar and unique”.
Some deal with Korea’s traumatic history, including Japanese colonisation and military dictatorship, opening a wound narratively in order to heal and move forward.
But they also provide social critiques of contemporary Korean problems, tackling themes of patriarchy and feminism, as well as burn-out and “existential anxiety”.
“It’s about human existence … It’s quite global. Who does not feel anxiety now? … That’s why it’s spot on. It really appeals to the audience,” Dr Lee said.
“They merge the personal with the universal … So you will really identify with it. They write so beautifully too.”
Ella Sullivan manages the Gertrude and Alice bookshop in Sydney, which hosted Korean Literature Week this year.
She said there was a real mix of genres — from self-help to mystery thrillers — that tapped into Korea’s history and current climate.
“They’ve got some beautiful magical realism stuff and I think people just really connect with it,” she said.
“They have this kind of quirkiness and often a really subtle darkness.
“They have some really weird stuff … That kind of thing gets popular with young crowds, so that’s always great to bring young generations in.”
Ms Sullivan said Japanese fiction had swelled in popularity over the past 15 years, including works such as Murakami’s novels and the Before the Coffee Gets Cold series.
But she said it seemed Korean literature was where the trend was shifting, adding K-lit was frequently featured on #BookTok (one of the biggest sub-communities on TikTok, with the hashtag amassing 200 billion views by the end of 2023).
“We haven’t seen the peak of its popularity yet,” she said.
“I’ll definitely be recommending Korean literature … because of my kind of new-found knowledge of it.”
This post was originally published on here