Lyrical Essay (No Sleep Yet Again)

Imagine this. A world where a kingdom stands as a massive, dreadful beast approaches its vicinity. Thousands of knights swarm around the castle like ants, assembling in neat rows as the cataclysmic terror neared. They brandish their weapons, swords clashing in unison for the glory of their nation, only to meet their inevitable demise. Discordant wails of the peasants rang through the air as the ground thundered periodically. Losing hope as the children sobbed on their parents’ sleeves, suddenly, the man of everyone’s dreams arrives. Yes, the introduction of “Hero A”, fully kitted in armor and wielding a glowing, golden sword. The people of the kingdom gaze at him in awe as he dashes towards the catastrophe, determined to save his people. After a grueling deathmatch, “Hero A” has risen triumphant not without grievous wounds. However, such injuries are invisible: not only was he able to protect his people, but also establish himself as a saint of the kingdom without flaw, yet brave “Hero A” is only just an ordinary man in a suit of armor with scars. This exact scenario portrays a classic, cliché example of a hero making a sacrifice in standard fantasy novels, where he or she gives up their own physical or mental well-being for two formulaic reasons. These reasons resonate across various other types of novels regardless of whether they are more modern or ancient. Sacrifice, a traditionally heroic act, provides dual protection – shielding others from peril while simultaneously masking oneself from vulnerability, a means of coping with human limitations; yet, an over-reliance on such an act can eventually result in poor judgment and relationship strain.

In the novel Saving Sourdi by May Lee Chai, Nea, the protagonist and tragic heroine, exemplifies this common idea. She is solely driven by her desire to protect her seemingly passive sister and project a tough persona to anyone who may threaten her; nonetheless, her actions often lead to major misunderstandings, which causes her to reevaluate if she really will obtain the wonderful new life that she and her family envisioned in South Dakota. 

One such lonely night, where the lamppost dims outside,  a wooden engraving sits itself on a door —  O P E N. Multiple men cruise inside the restaurant, ordering their usual serving of beer. One singular man places his arms around Sourdi, the eldest daughter of the owner, fondling her shoulders as he expects “customer service.” Upon seeing her older sister experience clear discomfort, the younger daughter Nea clenches a kitchen knife with rage as she presses it into the man’s sleeve. 

Now in this scenario, based on the archetypical formula of “Hero A,” you might expect Nea to be praised by her mother and sister, hugged even, for her heroic sacrifice of innocence. Unfortunately, that is not the case. Instead, all our tragic heroine receives for protecting her sister is a slap on the face from their mother, and left to exclaim, “I shoulda killed him! I shoulda killed that sucker!” (Chai 282). It is quite evident that Sourdi clearly did not have the willpower to stand up for herself, in which her stoic, pacifist personality serves as a foil to display Nea’s youthful mindset and naïveté. After all, Sourdi is labeled as a “china doll” (Chai 69, 281) by numerous characters in Saving Sourdi: her own sister and even random customers that enter her parents’ family restaurant. A typical china doll embodies a poker-faced figurine dressed in traditional Chinese attire, mirroring Sourdi’s traditional upbringing predominantly in Cambodia and behavior which adheres to traditional oriental norms, much like her mother. On the other hand, Nea has nearly no recollection of her birthplace, having been very young when they relocated to America. This western environment that she was primarily raised in plays a major role in shaping her rebellious, aggressive nature that she demonstrates in this incident.

   At first glance, Nea's resort to violence against the men may seem like a lapse in judgment, as one of the earliest lessons children learn, often as young as four or in preschool, is to “keep your hands to yourselves.” Well, at least I remember learning that rule when I was four, just before starting preschool. However, it's important to understand that Nea's actions were driven by a psychological response known as the “fight or flight” instinct, closely tied to her overprotective tendencies towards her older sister. In the end, while she successfully shielded Sourdi from potential sexual harassment and demonstrated her capabilities as a heroine to those around her through the sacrifice of ethics, she still faced reprimand by the very ones that she tried to protect and was burdened with a strong sense of guilt for her actions.

Another novel that utilizes the “Hero A” template is Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko, with sacrifice being one of the main recurring themes within the story. Pachinko is an undeniably complicated novel, which transitions between the lives of multiple characters and generations who are all intertwined with each other. For instance, Hoonie and Sunja are born as the only surviving child out of the children that their parents had, which took sacrifice to make happen. Hoonie’s unnamed parents were undergoing a financial hardship so dire that they were forced to rent out part of their houses to passerby tourists: “An aging fisherman and his wife decided to take in lodgers for extra money… When the rent for their house was raised again, the couple moved out of their bedroom and slept in the anteroom near the kitchen to increase the number of lodgers” (Lee 1). Hoonie then made the most out of his clubbed foot and other disabilities to continue his family line to next generations, which miraculously happened after three failed attempts. According to an article published about familial aspects of South Korea, it is within Korean tradition for parents to have their own children be “more prosperous and educated than themselves” (Evason 19-23). This ideal yields two benefits for parents that coincide with the idea of “dual protection:”

• Through generations, their children continue to strengthen not only the overall family, but also their own character and abilities with each passing era

• Parents themselves find satisfaction in raising children (or child) they can be proud of and boast about.

However, an overbearing emphasis on raising children to be the absolute best often leads them astray. They may find themselves undervalued for their skills due to the exceedingly high standards set by their parents, which can even reach unreasonable levels at times. This toxicity can drive children to rebel against their parents or even contemplate suicide. According to an article by Jung Da-min, Korea holds the highest suicide rates among all OECD countries. Notably, there is a bridge in Seoul, known as the Mapo Bridge, which has earned the grim title “the Bridge of Death” due to the sheer number of suicides that occur there.

With this damaged mentality of striving to be a “perfect” child, they are also prone to unaccepting conflicting values alongside not meeting a certain standard, even if it’s just in their own eyes. This can be viewed in Sunja’s two children: the elder Noa and the younger Mozasu. After Noa finds out his true relationship to Hansu, who is tied to the yakuza, he mentally couldn’t accept his own identity being connected to the yakuza by blood, which prompts him to drop out of college despite having potential and eventually committing suicide: “‘Forgive me. Umma is sorry. I wanted you to go to school’...’You. You took my life away. I am no longer myself,’ he said, pointing his finger at her. He turned around and walked back to the train. (Lee 312)” In Mozasu’s case, due to his aversion to studying, unlike his older brother, he turns to working in the pachinko industry, ultimately developing a violent personality. This can be viewed as a low-life way of living, given that gambling generally carries a tarnished reputation. Overall, each character in Pachinko undergoes a form of sacrifice that serves to support both their families and themselves, often resulting in a tragic end for many of them.

          Let’s go back to the example of our good old “Hero A.” A regular person or entity that exhibits heroic traits. Bravery is one of, if not the most common of such traits. Sacrifice requires bravery. Whether this “Hero A” suffers broken bones from slaying a giant dragon or simply takes on three jobs to make ends meet for their family, two benefits are gained: protecting others and gaining access to an escape from mortal constraints. This is exactly clear in the heroes and heroines of a wide variety of novels, two of which include May Lee Chai’s Saving Sourdi and Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko. From Nea’s stabbing incident to Sunja’s receivement of “seemingly unethical” funds from Hansu to pay for Noa’s college tuition, there are multiple characters that make sacrifices but meet their downfall in the process, as a cost for their overbearing on such actions.

Moral of the story: 

Don't be "Hero A," be "Hero B." 

Beware of Being a Sacrifice Junkie, Buddy!