VOL.97/2026.08

Special Project

 

Expansion of K-Content Based on Books:
Books Noted by Critics Across Generations

 

 

2026.08

 

 

As Korean books serve as a pillar of K-content and interact with cultural content across other media, we would like to take this opportunity to highlight the original books driving the Korean Wave. In this issue, we examine Korean books selected by critics ranging from their 20s to 50s, covering original novels adapted into dramas and films, published screenplays that have become a current trend, and highly anticipated upcoming releases. Let us explore various perspectives on the power and potential of K-stories, and examine the direction Korean literature—a crucial pillar of K-content—should take moving forward.

 

 

 

 

 

The 20s Perspective – Lee Sollim, Cultural Critic

 

“About My Daughter, About That Distant World”

 

 

Kim Hye-jin’s novel About My Daughter begins with a request from the daughter across the dining table. The daughter asks for a large sum of money, promising to pay monthly interest, and repeatedly suggests using the house as collateral. Given their financial situation, it is far from easy. It would not be strange if she refused right away. Yet the narrator says, "Okay. Let’s think about how to make it work."

 

The central conflict in the novel stems from the emotional distance between the mother and her homosexual daughter, whom she cannot bring herself to accept. The mother cannot comprehend her daughter’s way of life. The daughter lives with her same-sex partner, works an unstable job as a lecturer, and unstintingly pours her precious time and money into fighting against the world. The values the narrator held dear all her life, including the way of living she had taught her daughter from a young age while holding her hand tightly, are no longer visible in her daughter’s world. Mournfully venting her anger, the narrator lonely comes to realize that "my daughter's world is too far from me." Perhaps that is why, until the very end of the novel, the daughter is referred to simply as "my daughter," remaining unnamed throughout.

 

About My Daughter met new audiences and readers in 2024 when it was adapted into a film of the same name. Homosexuality remains a topic that does not easily find broad consensus in Korea, and works dealing with it are often consumed within the language of opposing arguments. Yet About My Daughter is not remembered solely for its controversy. This may be because what the story focuses on and illuminates is less a single position or claim, and more the desperate face of someone gazing at another person they can barely understand.

 

The world created by the daughter is too distant, and the mother cannot cross that entire distance. Thus, they sometimes hurl harsh words at each other. Yet in the silence those words leave behind, the narrator continues to think: about her daughter, about that child. Even as she insists that she can never truly understand, she speaks as though she will ultimately find a way.

 

 

 

 

 

The 30s Perspective - Maeng Junhyuk, Publishing Editor

 

“When Love Becomes the Recognition of Existence”

 

 

"Could the name of your feelings for me perhaps be pity?"

 

In the original novel, her "ugliness" is not a simple appearance complex. It is closer to a "social status" that is completely rendered invisible within a capitalist system where beauty, ugliness, and class are glaringly divided. Therefore, what she fears most is not the hatred of others, but the moment her love turns out to be pity. The moment it is proven to be pity, even the minimal inner sanctuary where she can be fully loved collapses. In this way, "love" in the novel was a heavy issue of the "recognition of existence" beyond mere emotional exchange, and because of that terrible fear, the protagonist ultimately chooses to run away.

 

Adapted for the screen 17 years after its publication, the film 〈Pavane〉 smoothly refines the heavy, sharp thematic consciousness of the original into the language of the public. It sheds the characteristic critique of capitalism and strangeness, filling that space with the keywords "youth" and "growth." One might feel that the multi-layered metaphors provided by the text have become somewhat flattened as they transitioned to film.

 

However, "Mijeong" in the film, portrayed by actor Ko Ah-sung, neutralizes the cruelty borne by the character in the novel with an independent, strong gaze. Rather than being consumed by a sense of existential collapse, she shows the maturity of "knowing how to let go" of the protagonist into reality by overcoming her wounds. The sharp thorns of the printed text met the intuitive visuals of the screen and the actors' performances, expanding into a firm and warm face with which the younger generation can willingly empathize.

 

The most interesting point of repeat consumption is completed in the new epilogue, "17 Years Later," of the special edition of the original novel published to coincide with the film's release. The heavy ending of the original novel was forged by the narrator's death and Yohan's desperate guilt. However, returning to Hokkaido after 17 years, the author confirms their calm and peaceful daily lives, warmly showing respect to the characters who stubbornly endured that harsh world.

 

The warm ending of the film, which omits metafictional tragedy and depicts solidarity and healing among three young people, curiously touches upon this peaceful epilogue of the novel 17 years later on an emotional level. Though the media differ and the texture of the narrative has changed, the fact that these wounded characters ultimately found their own redemption and peace in their respective worlds gives us deep relief. Readers who lived with the critical questions of the original novel and viewers comforted by the lyricism of the screen eventually meet at a single warm destination. Is this not the most beautiful way for a single piece of content to expand our lives beyond the boundary between text and film?

 

 

 

 

 

The 40s Perspective – Kim Mihyang, Publishing Critic

 

“Reading That Expands the Interpretation of Emotion”

 

 

It is no longer unfamiliar for screenplays to be published after a drama ends. The flow where popular video content leads to photo essays, making-of books, and official screenplays is not a phenomenon unique to Korea. Therefore, the reason to pay attention to Song Hye-jin’s Eun-jung and Sang-yeon Screenplay Set lies not simply in the fact that a Netflix drama became a book. The intriguing aspect of this book is that within the familiar screenplay format, the subtle emotions of relationships long handled with delicacy by Korean dramas are concentrated.

 

〈Eun-jung and Sang-yeon〉 is a story of two women who have been together since their teens, facing each other again at forty-three after passing through their twenties and thirties. The relationship between the two, who liked and admired yet envied and hated each other, cannot be summarized by a single word like friendship or competition. Envy and resentment, love and shame, growing apart and caring for one another build up across layers of time. In particular, rather than focusing on romance or genre events, this work concentrates on how unspoken feelings pass through a person's life.

 

It is precisely at this point that Eun-jung and Sang-yeon Screenplay Set goes beyond a simple fan item. This book is a three-volume set consisting of screenplay volumes 1 and 2, along with a behind-the-scenes book. It includes not only the writer's original script, but also writer's notes, director and actor interviews, and a list of filming props. Thus, readers do not merely recheck the drama's plot, but reread the texture of words that passed by on screen. Emotions delivered through the actors' expressions and silence linger more slowly within the printed text, and diaries and letters left by the characters continue the narrative even outside the drama. The lingering impression after watching transitions into reading and collecting.

 

Poverty and envy, friendship and jealousy between women, regrets from old relationships, and companionship in the face of death are not topics confined to a specific cultural sphere. However, the distinctiveness of this book lies in the fact that these emotions are expressed through the detailed dialogue and long-endured emotional structures unique to Korean drama. Readers who have already watched the video can reread the reverse side of the scenes through this book, while those who have not yet watched can follow the time of the two women like a long novel about relationships. Eun-jung and Sang-yeon Screenplay Set demonstrates that repeat consumption of K-content can be more than mere repetitive consumption, becoming a reading experience that expands the interpretation of emotions.

 

 

 

 

 

The 50s Perspective - Jang Dongseok, Literary Critic

 

“The Prototypes of Content Varying Around Us”

 

 

It is widely known that the movie 〈The King's Warden〉, which attracted 16.9 million viewers, was born from just a few lines in the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty. The content is roughly as follows: "When Prince Nosan met his tragic end, no one took care of him, but Um Heung-do, an official of that town, immediately wept for him, personally prepared a coffin, performed the funeral rites, and buried him. The current tomb of Nosan is that very grave." Joseon, a nation of records, left behind not only the Annals but also various other documents, serving as a reliable backbone for imaginative descendants to produce content that has thrilled people all over the world.

 

Among these, the advance of female narratives in history is particularly prominent. The drama 〈Damo〉 from long ago was one such example, and a work like 〈Under the Queen's Umbrella〉 from a few years ago was outstanding. The recent drama 〈Brave New World〉, which stimulated the public's imagination by traveling back and forth between the past and the present, was also intriguing. These works generally owe a debt to past documents, including the Annals. Women, Determined to Desire, part of the "Women, Did X" series, is filled with women who could very well serve as models for the protagonists in the aforementioned dramas. The main character in "Women, Having an Affair," written by Professor Hwang Hyang-joo of the Department of Korean History at Seoul National University, is Anjeong Gungju, the second daughter of King Uijong of Goryeo in the late 12th century. Anjeong Gungju was in a romantic relationship with a "musician who taught the geomungo." The rumor spread far and wide, and King Myeongjong stripped Anjeong Gungju's husband, Wang Bak, of his title, holding him accountable for "failing to govern his household." Unable to endure a dull life, Anjeong Gungju used her status and power to engage in acts of deviation.

 

Yet the reason this record exists is intriguing. The author argues that if Anjeong Gungju had committed adultery with an ordinary nobleman, she would have been recorded merely as an "unidentified princess." It was precisely because her partner was a musician of humble status that such a bold record could remain. What matters is that, although the status of women was higher in Goryeo than in Joseon, Anjeong Gungju unhesitatingly revealed her desires in a Goryeo society that was nonetheless inevitably closed. The record of Anjeong Gungju is extremely brief. However, it is an invaluable record in that through it, one can read both a woman and a social system, and it can also be transformed into new content by unleashing the wings of imagination.

 

"Women, Casting Curses," written by Lee Min-jung, a guest researcher at the Kyujanggak Institute for Korean Studies, goes a step further in intensity. Royal Consort Jo, a concubine of King Injo of Joseon, was a figure who "actively utilized not only the curses themselves, but also the contemporary perception of cursing." Consort Jo's cursing incident was discovered immediately after King Hyojong ascended the throne. She sought to make her son, Prince Seungseon, the king, but ultimately met her end accompanied by the label "the seed that is the root of disaster." Even in Joseon, a Confucian state, "incantations based on shamanism" frequently prevailed in the world of women. The author notes that she records the affairs of women as historical facts rather than offering a moral reevaluation of Consort Jo. In addition, "Women, Remaining Chaste," written by Professor Jang Ji-yeon of the Department of History and Culture at Daejeon University, is also interesting, showing that even chastity followed by death upon a husband's passing was a cross-section of women's desire during the Joseon Dynasty. Women, Determined to Desire is not a book created as new content like a drama or movie. Nevertheless, it offers much reference material in that it allows us to examine the prototypes of diverse content continuously varying around us.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Written by Lee Sollim (Publishing Editor)

As an editor, she contemplates books that will stand the test of time, while as a critic, she keeps a keen eye on new releases that demand to be read in the here and now. She is also a reader who dreams of a day where she can step aside from professional concerns to simply read to her heart's content, secretly hoping to one day find herself accidentally locked inside a library.

 

Written by Maeng Junhyuk (Book Editor)

Rather than aiming to craft a polished review or a perfect introduction, my true hope is to accurately convey the ‘code’ shared by myself and the ‘us’ out there somewhere. As a South Korean reader in my thirties who loves literature, I seek to carefully give voice to a part of that sensibility.

 

Written by Kim Mihyang (Book Critic·Essayist, IT Service Planner)

She worked as a publishing editor for thirteen years, spending three years on books and ten years planning and editing magazines. She is the author of the essay Mother Said She Was Not Happy, and co-authored Key Words of the Korean Publishing Industry 2010-2019, What is Film?, and Goods Caution. Having served as a Creative Director at a tech company, she is currently designing, interpreting, and recording the world as a service planner and storyteller.

 

Written by Jang Dongseok (Book Critic)

He is a dedicated reader and writer. Captivated by the vast and profound world of literature, he spends every spare moment reading and contemplating how books resonate with our society. He is currently striving to transform books, the infinite source of all content, into diverse cultural formats. His published works include The Living Library, The Rebirth of Forbidden Books, The Birth of Different Thoughts, The Romance of the Three Kingdoms: A Story Renewed After a Thousand Years, and Meeting World Classics for the First Time: A Guide for Teens.