Your story follows two Korean-American sisters, one ever dutiful, the other a sensitive maverick, as they take different paths in America. Is this an allegory of the North and South Korean divide?
In some ways I was trying to talk about the division between North and South Korea, and I did want the estrangement within the family in Forgotten Country to echo the larger break between the two countries. But I also wanted to talk about the aftermath: how ruptures within families come about and are enforced and linger, and can be so difficult to heal.
When did you first start thinking about this story? Is it in any way autobiographical?
I've always been interested in sisters because relationships between women are so fertile and fraughtand complex and intense, and relationships between sisters seem to amplify all that. It's a great set-up for exploring deep and personal issues. That said, I don't have a sister, and the book - while about so many things I care about - isn't autobiographical in that the events of the book and the experiences of the characters are fictional.
With the recent media storm around debut books such as yours and Krys Lee's Drifting House, Korean-diaspora literature seems to be red hot these days. Why do you think that is?
Now is definitely a good time for us. There have been such amazing Korean-American writers who have been laying the groundwork for years now - like Chang-rae Lee and Susan Choi and Alexander Chee - and I feel they paved the way while creating a hunger for more. It's lucky for us newcomers, because there's still a lot of room in which to write and discover and strike out in new directions.
How did you become a writer? Is this a lifelong goal?
