Translating Korea: The Importance of Anton Hur

This year, for the split second after the announcement of the International Booker Prize for Banu Mushtaq and Deepa Bhasthi, our collective attention hovered on the value of translations.

As Indians living in a land of a thousand languages – some with political uses and others, dying – we often have the opportunity of being struck by our own ignorance of cultures that thrive even within our national boundaries. The award for Mushtaq and Bhasthi drags us closer to the spotlight Bhasthi has shone on the lives of the men and women in Mushtaq’s stories. Bhasthi has not just translated Mushtaq’s Kannada; she has translated the culture and politics of Mushtaq’s literature and the world that gave birth to it.

This does not sound easy as an exercise. It is perhaps the prerogative of translators to bear the burden of the unique combination of expectations that ride with what they do.

The Booker name, now attached to a prize for translated fiction, makes their otherwise invisible job a lot more visceral. To transport the beauty of the home out into the world is an extraordinary feat and perhaps the only one that ensures one’s home culture lives on.

And so it is that Anton Hur feels that translators are responsible for a lot of things. “And translators who don't feel responsible for a lot of things should reconsider their career,” Hur says.

Translating Korean

Hur spoke these words months ago, at the library of the Royal University of Bhutan in Thimphu, while the country’s flagship Drukyul’s Literature and Art Festival was taking place. Back then, rumour was rife that Hur – a two-time International Booker nominee – was going to be named a judge for the 2025 award. Almost a full year later, Hur is among the five who have selected Mushtaq and Bhasthi’s Heart Lamp for the award.

Hur translates from Korean to English. He has also, he told me in the same interview, translated from English to Korean for the literary world’s wunderkind-turned-recent-bete-noire Ocean Vuong (‘My primary goal was to be Ocean Vuong’s best friend,’ he says).

It is not an exaggeration to say that Korea arrived at its exalted position in the cultural world today on the shoulders of the likes of translators like Hur. It is undeniable that Korean cultural artefacts are hot property, and despite the fact that many in India are learning the language to complement their love for Korean music and drama, as a commodity it comes to us first in translation.

“I think there is something to this idea of translators being an ambassador to a culture,” Hur says.

From Bora Chung to Park Seolyeon to Kyungsook Shin, Hur has translated a very diverse crop of Korean authors who individually unveil complicated universes. He has also written a novel of his own – Toward Eternity, which I can only describe as a celebration of poetry set in a dystopic future (‘I wrote it on the subway,’ Hur says).

It is not just his abundant output that puts Hur in the spotlight, but his almost singular mission to draw attention to translation as a literary necessity. Hur’s social media activity is relentlessly translation-oriented – nary a book announcement or a news report on translations will pass his attention. Along with other translators, Hur has spearheaded efforts to ensure translators sign better deals with publishers and that their names appear on book covers.

He has also, often, taken on powerful literary bodies in South Korea itself.

“I'm very critical of the Literary Translation Institute of Korea. They are a funding body that gives incentives to  literary translation. I don't think I like 90% of their practices. So I'm going to say something,” he says.

I want to make it ABSOLUTELY CLEAR to translators and publishers that LTI Korea is NOT a philanthropic charity that you must pussyfoot around but a GOVERNMENT INSTITUTION funded by Korean taxpayers LIKE ME and therefore needs to be under CONSTANT SCRUTINY AND CRITICISM. https://t.co/hRtd8Oixaq

— Anton Hur (@AntonHur) November 29, 2024

And why not, he argues. “Not only did I serve in the military [Korea’s mandatory military service asks for almost all adult men to serve for almost two years], I broke some bones too. I am literally a certified national hero of the Republic of Korea. So I have the right to say whatever I want about my country!” he adds, deadpan.

Translating politics

This is not surprising, seeing that Hur’s online presence is also deeply political. From posts for Palestine and against genocide, to shares that reflect frustration with Korean policies, to a world-weary yet unwavering advocacy for queer rights, Hur rarely shies from making his stance known.

Hur’s presence on X contrasts with the image of a homogenous South Korea that we are mistakenly convinced of – the idea that South Korea is a world where all citizens are in blissful accord and where any argument critical of country is almost treacherous. Because most of South Korea’s online chatter plays out on the homegrown Naver platform, scarcely reaching the world outside, Hur’s communication on X acts as another sort of translation, too. It tells us that there are more Koreas beyond the ones we see.

“Our tradition is dissent,” says Hur. “Koreans are traditionally outspoken against the government. I find my actions and my way of thinking to be very much in line with a very long tradition,” he adds.

Hur says that even in the Joseon dynasty, who ruled Korea from the 14th to the early 20th century, if someone wronged you, you could go to the front of the palace and beat a drum until an official came out to listen to you.

“So we have had civil protests, civil unrest, and a kind of civil dissent tradition for a long time. The idea of Koreans being compliant to what the government says, that's abnormal to me. That's what they do in certain other Asian countries that I'm not going to name, but certainly not my country where we have arrested and imprisoned several former presidents,” he says.

Months later, Korea’s president at the time would enact martial law, be forced to take it back in six hours and would be on his way out thanks to the country coming out on the streets in protest.

In fact, looking at the transcripts of this chat, I am struck by how accurately Hur had the pulse of literary and political Korea. Two months after he told me how Deborah Smith, the legendary Han Kang’s translator, had to suffer brutal criticism in Korea for her style of translation (“now everyone translates like her – except for the ones that are not successful”), Han was named the literature Nobel recipient.

While Hur is cautious about what he communicates on Korea, he acknowledges that much needs to be done on gender. “Korea isn't politically perfect, of course. Everyone needs to be more feminist, obviously, but especially Korea. There is so much gender violence in Korea and an economic  imbalance between genders in Korea. But we do have a very strong tradition of political dissent. The feminists keep fighting and the queer rights activists keep fighting and we all keep fighting,” he says.

Hur recounts how he and Bora Chung – fellow International Booker nominated writer of Cursed Bunny – make it a point to show up in protests. These protests, say Hur, gave him the idea that Korea really is not as homogeneous or conservative as the world would like to believe.

A translator through and through, Hur notes that a lot gets lost “if you're looking at a country through just its pop culture export”.

Translating BTS

That said, last year, Hur climbed the topmost rung of the Korean popular cultural ladder by co-translating the memoir of the music behemoth BTS. But even before that, his work had been recommended by BTS members – which led to an immediate spike in the sale of these books. This kind of spillover, from consumers' love for a musical band to love for the literature of the country the band is from, is rare, says Hur.

“They were completely separated, siloed fields. For example, while the K-drama Mr. Sunshine was a huge global hit, it didn't mean that my first translation, The Court Dancer by Kyungsook Shin, became a bestseller as well, despite the fact that both stories are set in the same time period and have a very similar vibe,” he says.

Hur feels the spillover happened largely because “the seven members [of BTS] are so willing to discuss the artistry behind their songs, many of which have literary influences”. He notes that he has always felt grateful that a group with as much conventional success as BTS are so willing to discuss what they're reading, what influenced their music, “and how they position themselves as artists within this constellation of artists”.

As someone who learnt of Korea through a gate opened by BTS, I was curious if Hur felt a kinship with the group simply because his role too was to unfurl Korea to those who did not know it well.

“I get the feeling that the BTS members themselves feel strongly that they represent Korean culture. They think a lot about their art and how they present themselves. They are very conscious of the fact that they are role models. And that is how they present themselves and the art that they create. Whether they like it or not, their work will be construed as a Korean product, a product of Korean culture,” he says.

And because the work he does is so specific to Korea and its literature, Hur adds, “And I dare say I feel the same way about the work that I do.”

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