“The Martyred” by Richard Kim, published by George Braziller, 1964

“The Amen Corner” by James Baldwin, 1954

I am not sure why I chose to begin reading Richard Kim’s “The Martyred” a few weeks ago. I guess it was partly because my wife has a paperback of his later book, “The Innocent” which I see from time to time. I recalled trying it once and quitting, I think because I had read “The Martyred” and this seemed different in some ways, But I’ll have to find out I guess, I can’t say now about that.

It is ironic, maybe, that about the same time I stared reading this book, South Korea slipped into a series of tragedies and crises which we hope have now ended. We also hope this ambitious and noble people will recover their determination and their belief in individual freedom and get on with their society

This would be the best way I could think of both to irritate and successfully frustrate Kim Jong Un, whose latest accomplishment has been to send thousands of his troops to Russia where the Russians will use them as more or less cannon fodder against Ukraine In fact, Putin is already doing it.

I first read “Martyred” years ago, in my twenties or early thirties. I remembered it as a good, well written book about serious issues. But I suspected that I would pick up more on a second reading and I did. It is very nearly a great novel and Kim clearly was a great writer. I believe it attracted some attention from the literary/intellectual community in the 1960’s but it seems to have largely faded from view and is now reportedly out of print.(I’ll bet -a little, anyway–that it’d be worth trying a couple of rare book dealers if you’re interested).

Broadly speaking, there are two things to discuss here, the meaning or subject of the story and the style, because the style so affects the overall feeling you get from the book. I’ll try the style first.

This is a book which could be read–particularly if you’re a student of literature in college, or anyway a devoted reader–just for it’s style. Kim was influenced by Albert Camus among others and his style is reminiscent of what little I remember of Camus, who I read a bit many years back. Now I think I’ll take another look at him.

The style is what many would call “spare.” There are short, declarative sentences. Although there is a great deal of philosophical questioning and wondering, it never devolves into wordiness. Kim was interested in both telling a story and asking questions–perhaps also giving answers but that is another issue–see below. I sometimes like but also am often frustrated by Faulkner’s wandering and wordy approach. It does yield beautiful things sometimes, but not always. If you are sometimes without patience for this type of writing, you may rejoice at Kim. He is deep and searching in ideas, but his sentences get right to the point, more to the point than you may realize at times-the Hemingway of philosophical literature.

It is a cliche to say something like “Nothing is wasted” in reviewing such a work; I believe it applies here. Another effect it has and which I applaud is that it keeps the story moving, because there is a story being told here, not just a bunch of questions presented. And Kim was, in his way, a superb story teller.

The story revolves around Captain Lee, a young army intelligence officer and his friend Park, a officer in the South Korean Marines. Both of them were college history teachers when the Korean War broke out with North Korea’s invasion of South in 1950. Lee and Park were apparently both reservist officers because they are immediately assigned to duty in the war.

Kim moves quickly through the early part of the war. The initial north(Communist)advance is halted deep in South Korea(which almost fell)and after the US/UN invasion at Pusan the South Koreans and their allies counter-attacked. They took over the southern part of North Korea and held it for several months. And Capt Lee is ordered to Pyongyang, the North Korean capital now ruled by the South.

It is here that he encounters the issue that will dog him for months-puzzle him, challenge him, affect his relationships and cause him(and the reader)to delve deeply into their belief system about the world, its pain and the existence and character of God.

He is informed that there were 14 ministers who, before the UN rescued the city from the Communists, were captured by the North Koreans and executed for their refusal to cooperate with them. But there are doubts about the story and Capt Lee is assigned by Col Chang, his bitter and sarcastic superior, to find out exactly what happened.

If the 14 men really were heroes and there can be no doubt of it, then their story would make excellent propaganda to use for rallying the people. But if the truth is less than that, if any of them behaved dishonorably, then the authorities need to know and the truth will be suppressed or at least used sparingly. It is the Captain’s duty to figure this out.

This leads Capt Lee into a valley of doubt, despair, lies, hope and faith and leaves him questioning just about everything. He is not a particularly religious man as the story begins. He changes some, but not necessarily in the way you expect.

He learns early in his investigaion that actually only 12 of the ministers were shot by the North. Two of them surviveed. One of them is still in town.

So Lee goes to the home of Mr Shin, one of the surviving ministers and begins to question him. This is a long, and sometimes difficult trail for Mr Shin to recount or for Capt Lee to accept. Without going into detail, let me just say that not all of the ministers were heroes. Meanwhile, Mr Shin and the Capt become almost friends and the latter watches the older friend slip deeper and deeper into tuberculosis and possible death. And the Capt slips into more and more philosophical confusion.

The book does not have a satisfactory ending if you want everything tied up in a package of “answers.” It has few answers at all except, perhaps, that the lot of man is to search for some meaning to his life and to the world and that everyone should pursue this. But this is never explicit and I doubt Kim would have thought it likely everyone would make this choice.

Now here comes the mystery and the doubting. I read several reviews or comments on line from fans(and a couple of non-fans)of the book and I gained some valuable insights from them that have made my own hits and misses here better. But none of them pursued what I thought the most important question.

For the most part, the ministers and their congregations are portrayed in a way that will be at least partly familiar to most American Protestants, particularly those inclined towards what is usually defined as Evangelical They are Bible conscious and devoted to their faith. Their faith in God is unshakeable, even after the experience of war and oppression most of them have felt They are pious in their relationship with God in a way which which will repel many intellectuals, and unquestioning in a way that many(me included, at some times)will find naive.

You may believe the above mentioned qualities to be good or bad or a mixture. But one largely indisputable thing is that they are dedicated to their church and to each other and that their faith will hold them–most of them, at least–to the end. And some take comfort in that. And Capt Lee is attracted to it. He does not believe, apparently, but he is attracted by their spirit, if not their belief system

One of the reviews commented that passion is always there in this book, sometime suppressed(though I’m not sure he said that-the “suppressed” part),but there, and it is passions–the people’s passion for their faith, Capt Lee’s for his duty and for the truth included–that dominate the feeling of the book. I am not going to tell you exactly how it ends, but I will offer this. Capt Lee attends a church service and is moved. It is not clear how far he is moved in the direction of faith, but how far is left undefined. There is no easy answer here and I think that there shouldn’t be, so that’s OK. But the search of Capt Lee, which we follow from one interview and encounter to another, is never totally finished. At the end we don’t know where he is. But then maybe that’s as it should be.

Despite its heavy themes and its determined seriousness. Kim’s book is what I would call a “fast read,” at least for its type. If you try it you may well finish earlier than you thought-and I hope you’ll try it.

I thought it was ironic that just about the time I finished “The Martyred” my wife and I and some friends went to a local production of James Baldwin’s “The Amen Corner,” at a local theater, The Weathervane. You have likely heard of Baldwin, at least in passing. He was one of the earlier black American writers to be taken seriously by the larger US intellectual society, and in the 1960’s and after he was often taken quite seriously by this community. And for good reason–though I did not always agree with him and his obsession with race(he had, of course, better reason than I for that obsession)he was a superb writer.. I only realized how good a writer he was, how accomplished at his trade he was, when I re-read something by him in a book club a few years ago.

“The Amen Corner” is, so far as I am able to tell, his only play and it is beautifully done. It is grinding, depressing and discouraging in many ways as it takes place among poor, black fundamentalist Christians In NYC in the 1950’s. It is also exciting, charismatic, inspiring and gripping to the extent that, as one of the on-line commentators put it, the first act runs about 50 minutes and you get there almost before you know it.

This is a three act play with two intermissions which runs altogether nearly three hours. That’s OK–you won’t get bored. It is, first of all, a human drama. It is about a small church and its longtime female pastor, Margaret Anderson, a determined lady of about 50 who knows what she believes and spreads the word with vigor, not to say emotional violence. Such a person will naturally have a few non-followers in her group, perhaps some that even might be described in a way as enemies–and she does. But she rules with an iron hand and her knowledge of the Bible and its ways, or at least how she sees its ways.

She is an effective and strong leader, but not one everyone rallies behind–not every time anyway. And she has had a sad life, in many ways. Married when she was young, she had one son. But she and her husband, Luke, quarreled, and he drank and then he left. And she has been long at least semi- estranged from her son, now a 20 year old piano player who still can do religious music but has been drifting into blues and jazz and away from the church.

There are many conflicts boiling here and some of them are ready to surface given half a chance. They get it. Luke returns after an absence of about a decade. He is ill with TB, how badly not immediately apparent. But it’s bad enough that Margaret, with doubts, offers him a spare room for at least awhile. But there is no warmth between them, just duty.

She also has some more intimate conversations with her son. He is honest with her about starting to drink himself, and about his music. He does not hide from her his doubts and disappointments with the church. And she is now unhappy with her two men, both apparently drifting away from her religion which has been the main driving force in her life..

There are also conflicts within the congregation. Margaret is a strong leader as I said, and as we all know, strong leaders sometimes beget dissatisfied and rebellious followers. This happens to some extent among her parishioners and there are some nasty verbal clashes there, too. So the second and third acts are mainly about conflict, particularly the old conflict with husband Luke.

The actors the Weathervane recruited for these roles(just about all of them, actually)are truly ideal. The passion, the anger, and a strange kind of eloquence come from them. Margaret and Luke quarrel with a passion which made me feel I was watching a black version of ‘”Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf?” The parent-child anger-mixed-with love was heartbreaking. The anger that dwelt within Margaret, that pious women, was frightening.

This is a tragic and abrasive story about the things people do to each other, particularly to those they love or once did; but it’s also about the uses(and misuses) of spirituality and religious impulses and the ways they inhibit a family or a person or an institution, and sometimes take over the whole person or thing.

Baldwin thought there was a lot wrong with the black inner city church of his youth and I think he was right. He makes this clear with his dialogue and the facts of the lives of his characters. The church often brought oppressive thought, dictatorship and bullying to the fore. And yet, And yet…

There is something else which is palpable there. There is, mixed in with all these bad things, a strange kind of joy and belonging. Some of it is from the shared experiences and pain of being black in 1950’s America. But a lot of it is–the music.

Some of the music is depressing, but most is not. It is mostly what we would call gospel music, and I have never been a fan of this kind of music as something to worship to. I’ll take Beethoven and Frans Joseph Hayden for that.(OK, I’m a snob) But I still respond sometimes to gospel music because it has a beat and a sound to it that gets under my skin and makes me want to tap my toe.

Part of this is because gospel music , as one commentator puts it, is “the roots” of the tree of American Black music and the blues constitute the trunk. Blues and gospel are not exactly the same, one being religious and the other secular, mostly(though I think it is not always easy to say a thing is all one of these). But blues skips along in the same beat as gospel does and it uses the same basis for its sound. The great singers, our commentator said, came out of gospel, the great instrumentation out of blues.

I have always had a liking for the blues, though as a middle class white I tended toward the softer side of the blues just as I tend toward the softer side of jazz, my favorite. But I am keenly aware of the role blues plays in American religious history, white and black, thought more the latter.

Along with this I am also taken with the fact that because of music, sometimes, along with other things, such as experiences and deep longings, people often reach what seem to be contradictory decisions in these matters. This is what seems to me to happen to Capt Lee at the end of “The Martyred.” It also is what seems to happen among the characters of “:The Amen Corner” and certainly among the audience we were a part of. About evenly split between black and white theatre goers, I would bet that a large majority of each was put off by a lot of the more fundamentalist-oriented and oppressive teachings of Ms Anderson as they were by a lot of her personality.

But at the end she breaks down and shows her real humanity and pain. And as she snuggles with her dying husband and retrieves her humanity, her parishioners seem to find an odd joy. As for the audience, disapproving as they might have been of her theology and her religious style, and regardless of the fact that this play is basically a tragedy, it seemed to me that a majority of them left wanting to tap their toes and do the high fives with others. There was a curious enthusiasm for it all, almost an exhilaration, and it was mainly the music that did it, the music and some of those strange contradictory feelings I mentioned above.

If all of this makes sense to you, well, good. If it doesn’t, well maybe that’s good too–I plan to reflect on it and I may comment on it again. In the meantime, if you reside in the Akron-Cleveland area and if you like the theatre or music or stories about human doubts and conflicts, then go see “The Amen Corner.” I don’t know if you all would like it, but I pretty much guarantee you won’t be bored.