Hwang Seon-mi is a South Korean author and professor who is best known for her fable The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly, which has also been made into a successful animated film in South Korea, Leafie, A Hen into the Wild.
Isn't it weird, how a book will sometimes speak to you from a book store or library, call your attention to it and demand that you take it home?
That's what happened with me and this skinny novel last week. I saw it in a book store, pictured the unread books in stacks next to my bed, and ignored it. But as I walked on by, the little hen on the cover called out my name.
I knew nothing about this book, other than it was translated into English from Korean lit. As I started it, I realized the pull was something more; this was a story told in the spirit of Watership Down and Animal Farm; meaning, a tale of animals that live together and communicate as humans do. I don't know why, but these stories have always worked for me. I blame The Bremen Town Musicians in my youth.
But, here's what's weird. This is. . . an adoption story. And I'm a mom with three kids and two adoption stories and here I am, unexpectedly meeting Sprout, a little hen who 鈥渉ad only one wish, to hatch an egg and watch the birth of a chick.鈥�
Sprout, when we first meet her, appears diseased and has been left for dead in a pile of chicken carcasses. She escapes, but she's made an enemy of a relentless weasel and it seems like she'll never fulfill her dream of becoming a mother.
She has named herself Sprout, because 鈥渁 sprout is the mother of flowers, it breathes, stands firm against rain and wind, keeps sunlight, and rears blindingly white flowers. If it weren't for sprouts, there'd be no trees. A sprout is vital.鈥�
And, before you know it, you want Sprout to become a mother as badly as she does, and when she finds that abandoned egg in a nest, you're almost praying that it hatches.
It does; it hatches, but it's a duck instead of a chick, and, while Sprout doesn't mind in the least, she is shocked to discover that she and her new baby are rejected by both the chickens and the ducks. The chickens think it's disgraceful; she should abandon the duck immediately to save face, and the ducks praise her for hatching the baby, but think she should relinquish the baby immediately to his 鈥渙wn kind.鈥�
And this Caucasian mother ached for Sprout and can remember so clearly boarding an airplane on a Chinese airlines and having a Chinese man spit on her, kick the back of her seat in disgust the entire flight, and then get out of his seat repeatedly to stick his finger in her face and curse in Mandarin at her.
Then she remembers arriving back in the United States, only to have a Caucasian bus driver sneer threateningly right into her ear, 鈥淲hat are you lady, some kind of Christian? You think you can do this good deed with your Chinese baby and be martyred forever in Heaven?鈥�
Oh, yes. I've been Sprout. I've been badgered, I've been stared at (as have my kids), and I've had some of the nastiest things said to me that aren't worth strengthening by repeating.
Like Sprout, I have walked through the barnyard and heard, 鈥淎 chicken hatching a duck! What a ridiculous sight!鈥�
I have had to spread my wings wide over their heads to protect them and bolster them inside for the day they become too big for my wingspan.
Like the baby duck, who becomes Greentop, my daughters may one day wonder, 鈥淲hat if the ducks never accept me?鈥�
And, like the hen Sprout, I may need to advise them, 鈥淒o what you want to do. Ask yourself what that is.鈥�
This is a book that is written in simple language, with a simple message: life is tough, the enemy is ever-present, but you have courage and joy inside you. Seek what you want and need and stand tall.
The final paragraph is almost paralyzing in its strength and beauty.
A strange little book I picked up by mistake. A pleasant enough mistake, though.
It鈥檚 a Korean fable about dreams, identity/difference, courage, and what makes a mother. It may not be startlingly original or uniquely profound, but that鈥檚 part of its charm.
It could easily be a children鈥檚 book, though the beautiful, simple illustrations are perhaps too few for younger children.
Sprout is an aging hen in a coop, who longs to hatch an egg.
She escapes the coop, escapes a weasel, and finds a newly-hatched, abandoned egg. But it鈥檚 a duck egg.
She loves her baby as her own, but the fowl in the farmyard are outraged. The poor ducking (Greentop is not an ugly ducking) is ostracised by hens and ducks, being neither one thing nor the other. To a Brit, this shouts a message about multiculturalism, mixed-race children, and inter-racial adoption, but to Koreans, it may relate more to North and South Korea.
Nature or nurture? Both, of course, but rather than a compromise between the two, here, nature鈥檚 genes for swimming and flying are irrepressible, but it鈥檚 the nurture of mothering that defines a mother. (I tried to ignore reductionist lines like "If I can't lay an egg, what's the point of my life?")
I was struck that in English, "mothering" is something anyone can do, whereas "fathering" is limited to those who sire a child. That hides an important truth.
Adult or child, male or female, we all need both sides of the mothering/mothered relationship in our lives. With that, maybe we can learn to fly.
Quotes
鈥� 鈥淓ver since she named herself, she鈥檇 gotten into the habit of noticing events occurring outside the coop.鈥� Names are empowering.
鈥� 鈥淵es, you鈥檙e both hens, but you鈥檙e different.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淛ust because you鈥檙e the same kind doesn鈥檛 mean you鈥檙e all one happy family.鈥�
鈥� 鈥淚鈥檓 sitting on it, and I鈥檓 going to raise it. Surely that makes it my baby.鈥�
Sprout is a hen who no longer wants to lay eggs for the farmer and his wife. Because every time she lays an egg, it鈥檚 never to be seen again. Sprout wants to escape and actually hatch one of her eggs for the very first time. But when she stops laying eggs, the farmer and his wife unfortunately don鈥檛 intend to set her free.
There鈥檚 a few core themes here that really stand out. Motherhood is the obvious central theme, as are the challenges that come with it. But there鈥檚 definitely more to explore here than what can be seen on the surface. Sprout can actually be interpreted as a woman defying social expectations and demands. Sprout longs for the freedom to be herself and make her own decisions. She wants to be an individual instead of just another cog in the wheel. Because she is mentally exhausted from always trying to be the person society expects and demands her to be. And the thing is, she actually would very much like to be part of that society. Just not at the cost of losing herself.
It鈥檚 a bit like the movie Chicken Run but for adults, with some very sad, bleak and dark themes. Thanks to my 欧宝娱乐 friend Barbara for bringing this short but interesting book to my attention.
The Publisher Says: This is the story of a hen named Sprout. No longer content to lay eggs on command, only to have them carted off to the market, she glimpses her future every morning through the barn doors, where the other animals roam free, and comes up with a plan to escape into the wild鈥攁nd to hatch an egg of her own.
An anthem for freedom, individuality and motherhood featuring a plucky, spirited heroine who rebels against the tradition-bound world of the barnyard, The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly is a novel of universal resonance that also opens a window on Korea, where it has captivated millions of readers. And with its array of animal characters鈥攖he hen, the duck, the rooster, the dog, the weasel鈥攊t calls to mind such classics in English as Animal Farm and Charlotte鈥檚 Web.
Featuring specially-commissioned illustrations, this first English-language edition of Sun-mi Hwang鈥檚 fable for our times beautifully captures the journey of an unforgettable character in world literature.
My Review: Jonathan Livingston Seagull meets Babe. To compare the book to Charlotte's Web is damned near heresy. In every generation, there's another fable of Independence Declared by ____ and the Struggles of _____ to xxxx. This is the 21st century's international publishing phenomenon in the genre, which the provincial, smugly self-satisfied Murrikin Megapublishers got 15 years after most places did.
If you're 14 and a sad, lonely, misunderstood girl, this is ideal to stuff into your locker. Also a grandmother's ideal gift for same. Older folks who've just become grandparents, adoptees and their mommies, those who are sentimental as all get-out, queue up for your copy.
The illustrations are so very spare and lovely and evocative that I gave the silly text 3 stars. But my serious objection to the book is that the hen's one true dream, the longing of her soul, the reason she's ready to fight a weasel fagodsake is:
She want to become a real hen and hatch an egg.
So, in other words, Motherhood Makes the Hen.
This is not a message I think needs further spreading. It has metastasized in our various cultures to the point that rich first-world folks go buy themselves a baby girl at the Chinese Baby Bazaar, or spend absurd amounts of money doing medical hoo-hah and get themselves their very own genetic descendants.
With seven billion people on the planet, this obsession, this personal value marker, needs to be re-thought and revised.
The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly is about freedom and the interconnectedness of life, demonstrating that rather than a freedom of ONE liberation involves autonomous participation in a community of living beings
The protagonist, a caged laying hen, has already committed her first act of rebellion at the opening of the story: she has carefully and lovingly observed an acacia tree through an unintentional gap in her enclosure and concluded that the SPROUT is the key to the cycle of life that the tree's seasonal variations embody. She names herself after the part of the tree that 'gives birth' to the leaves and flowers, claiming her right to self-determination and a place in the cycle of being.
As an exploited prisoner Sprout is forced to produce food for humans. The farmer and 'the farmer's wife' see animal bodies as property: machines that make profit or food for them. Sprout's eggs are taken away as she cherishes the hope of hatching a chick and becoming a mother. Although her eggs are not removed from the cycle of social reproduction totally (they are eaten) she herself has no further part in their existence after her body has produced them. In protest she refuses to continue laying. Sprout's rejection of her exploitation links, I think, to the reproductive justice framework developed by African American women, which centres the body autonomy and health issues of marginalised women, including those who are incarcerated. An RJ framing would affirm Sprout's right to become a mother as well as her refusal to perform reproductive labour.
Sprout's marginalised status is further explored when she finds herself among the group of animals in the yard who have a slightly greater measure of freedom but are still exploited by the farmers. The group rejects her and she is told to return to the coop. Only very reluctantly do they allow her shelter and they drive her away from their food violently although there seems to be plenty of it. A wild mallard duck who has managed to gain a precarious place at the margin of the elitist community, which is also deeply divided along species lines, is Sprout's only friend. She enjoys foraging free range in the fields, but does not feel safe as she has met a dangerous predator, the weasel.
Disrupting the haughty speciesism of the yard animals, Hwang makes Sprout a surrogate mother to an orphaned duckling. Thus, parenting is not biologically determined or bounded and inter-species relationships are affirmed. Sprout's mallard friend tells her 'we look different [鈥 but we cherish each other in our own way'. Later she repeats this idea to her adopted son.
Life in the wild is fraught with anxiety and struggle, but in a confrontation with the weasel, Sprout realises that her liberated existence with her son has been happy. The circle of beings is doubly affirmed by her interactions with her nemesis.
This edition is a very attractive little book with extremely cute drawings by Nomoco. It's suitable for young readers and anyone who enjoyed The Little Prince, but from a vegan feminist perspective it's also a near perfect fable = )
I am tempted to give this book five stars. The audio version is amazing. It should be listened to, not read! I believe it is the wonderful narration of the audiobook by Jill Larson that adds that little extra bit to make the reading experience amazing.
Please read the GR book description. It is excellent. I will only add a word or two.
This reads as a folktale. The animals talk. The reader is caught up in the story and never even considers the fantastical aspects of the tale. I exclaimed to my husband how utterly ridiculous it was that I cared so much about these farm animals, the protagonists of the story. We get to know the animals as distinct individuals. There is the officious boss of the farmyard, the rooster; his privileged spouse, the hen; their clutch of chicks that are hatched; a gaggle of ducks; the gate-keeper of the farm, the dog; a mallard duck with clipped wings who cannot fly away; and Sprouts, the little hen confined to her box, never allowed to hatch her own eggs or even roam the farmyard. These become creatures you care about. I know this sounds ridiculous, but it is true!
The author, , and an excellent translation by pull this off through their ability to choose just the right words. Idioms are played with鈥攐ften they make sense in two ways, both metaphorically and directly, i.e. the dictionary meaning of each word. An example? When it鈥檚 a bird that decides to 鈥渇ly the coop鈥�, you chuckle! The dialogue is priceless.
The book grabs your heart. It is not just about a bunch of farm animals. It鈥檚 about motherhood and the raising of kids. It鈥檚 about raising kids so that one day they have the strength to stand on their own two feet. You give them a warm cozy nest and then you push them out because that is what is best for them. The book is about having the strength to be different. It's about freedom and individuality. It's about the wonder of nature too.
I suppose the book can be for children, but parts are frightening. What is delivered is no sweet, happy tale tied up in a pink bow. To fully understand what is being said, I think you need to have raised your own children.
The narration by Jill Larson is fantastic. Her intonations for the different farm animals are marvelous. They are totally convincing and often very funny. Larson's narration definitely gets five stars.
I don鈥檛 know if I have rated correctly. I was captivated as I listened. I never wanted to stop listening. I cared for the animals as if they were human beings. I am in total agreement with what the book says. However, I worry that if I had not listened and just read the written lines, I might not have appreciated the book as much as I did. This is why I chose to give the book four rather than five stars--because my rating of a book should not be influenced by the audio narration.
This was a really cute story told from a hen's perspective. It's a story that deals with animals, but it's really about aspects of life that are really important and relevant; such as motherhood, bullying and protectiveness. This book definitely provided me with a different reading experience since I was inside a hen's head. It was refreshing to read from this point of view, and I especially liked how I could still very much identify with this hen. Even though the story is about important topics, I didn't feel an urge to continue reading, though. It was an endearing and entertaining story, but in my eyes it wasn't a masterpiece. Still, I'm very happy I read it and it has probably changed my view on hens and how they live their lives.
One wonders if Aesop knew how much of good thing he had when he wrote his fables, that years and years later, that the idea of animal characters being used as allegory would still be current. Today, most people think of Animal Farm when discussing allegories using animals, but perhaps in later years it will be Animal Farm and the hen Sprout, the heroine of this charming and deeply moving tale.
While no doubt highly influenced by Korean culture, Sien-Ma Hwang鈥檚 story also draws on Western classics like 鈥淭he Ugly Duckling鈥� and 鈥淭he Little Red Hen鈥�. Sprout starts her story trapped in a cage fulfilling her heart breaking duty of laying eggs. She eventually gets out and struggles to find a place in the outside world, a place where she has longed to be but that comes with dangers that she didn鈥檛 know about it. Due to a series of circumstances, she finds herself in charge of an egg.
While the book is mediation about family, love, and motherhood, it is also a close look at nature as well as the influence of man on nature. The fictional character closest to Sprout in the history of literature seems to be HCA鈥檚 Little Mermaid. The idea of scarf ice for the greater purpose and the morality of it is something that both characters share to a great degree.
It also is impossible to read the beginning of the book and to not think of North Korea. Sprout鈥檚 journey starts in the most horrific way (and it will most likely insure that you confine chicken eating to free range). But if the coop is North Korea than is the barnyard the South? It is better but not a paradise. The allegory works because becoming who you are transcends society, even a benign one.
It鈥檚 strange considering how short the book is the large impact that it has. Putting the book down, leaving Sprout in some ways is like cutting off a limb, disconnecting your mind from something, it鈥檚 a wrenching feeling. This is despite the almost starkness of the prose. If the Narnia books are an allegory overboard, Sprout鈥檚 story is an allegory grown properly.