A Single Shard

“Tree-ear thought of something his friend often said: Scholars read the great words of the world. But you and I must learn to read the world itself.”

As an orphan, Tree-ear needs to live by his wits every day. He must interpret other people’s behavior as either threatening or friendly. Scholars have the luxury of getting their information second-hand. Children without parental protectors do not.

“Working without walls meant that Min possessed great skill and the confidence to match it. Potters guarded their secrets jealously […] Min did not seem to care about such secrecy. It was as if he were saying, Go ahead, watch me. No matter—you will not be able to imitate my skill.”

While the quote before this one suggests that Tree-ear has the capacity to read the world, this passage demonstrates that skill. He has inferred Min’s attitude about his craft by simply watching the man work. What’s more, Tree-ear learns a great deal about Min’s character by observing his physical bearing.

“Tree-ear felt as though the sun had suddenly dimmed. The night before, sleep had not come easily. He had imagined himself at the wheel, a beautiful pot growing from the clay before him.”

This dream expresses Tree-ear’s newfound desire to become a great potter one day. He has visualized an outcome that is still years away. At the moment, Min has just quashed his hopes by ordering him to chop more wood for the kiln fire.

“‘Fill the cart’—that had been the order, and he had done it. Was he expected to read Min’s mind as well? But the shame won out in Tree-ear. He feared being sent away before he could learn to make a pot.”

At many points in the story, Min’s treatment of Tree-ear could be considered hostile. The boy remains in his service in spite of this verbal abuse because his dream is more important than any temporary unkindness. It will be many chapters later that Tree-ear and the reader understand Min’s rage at the loss of his own son.

“Tree-ear glanced up at her, and their eyes met. Hers were bright and soft, set in a small face netted with fine wrinkles. He dropped his gaze at once, not wishing to be considered impolite. Like Crane-man’s eyes, he thought, and wondered why.”

Tree-ear has just encountered Min’s wife, Ajima. Her kindness stands in stark contrast to her husband’s rudeness. Tree-ear immediately draws a parallel between Ajima and Crane-man by focusing on their eyes, a symbol that will recur several times in the novel.

“Tree-ear picked up the chopsticks and stared for a moment. Of one thing he was certain: The feast-day banquets in the palace of the King could never better the modest meal before him, for he had earned it.”

Tree-ear has just been given his first midday meal as an unpaid apprentice. He has earned the food by hard work and is embodying Crane-man’s earlier lesson that work gives a man dignity.

“I think it a waste for either of us to spend too much time in sorrow over something we cannot change.”

Tree-ear laments that he wasn’t home to help Crane-man catch a fish for supper. Crane-man’s attitude is the polar opposite of Min’s. Min blames fate for taking away his son and is resentful of everything that Tree-ear does. In contrast, Crane-man is philosophical about his limitations and is grateful for any help that Tree-ear can offer.

“How proud the potters were of its color! No one had been able to name it satisfactorily, for although it was green, shades of blue and gray and violet whispered beneath it, as in the sea on a cloudy day.”

This passage describes the specific shade of pottery glaze known as celadon green. Its visual effect is unique, and the potters of Tree-ear’s village are justly proud of their expertise in creating it. The word choice uses personification—a literary device that attributes human characteristics to inanimate objects—by having the colors making up celadon “whisper” like human voices. This conveys the mysterious and almost supernatural beauty of a celadon vase.

“Crane-man often joked about it. ‘Tree-ear! Eh, again you see the aptness of your name. You are like the ears of a scrawny little tree, noticed by none but hearing all!’”

As an orphan, Tree-ear is a social outcast. Nobody takes any notice of him, so he can go about undetected. This is why he hears rumors before anyone else and learns about Kang’s incising technique long before the other potters do. Crane-man’s observation shows an appreciation for those who are beneath everyone’s notice.

“Tree-ear no longer woke each morning with the thought that perhaps this would be the day that Min would allow him to sit at the wheel. Now he thought in moons or even seasons […] The flame of hope that burned in him was smaller now, but no less bright or fierce, and he tended it almost daily with visions of the pot he would make.”

Tree-ear again focuses on his dream of becoming a potter. His words reveal that he has grown discouraged by the amount of time it seems to be taking. However, he fails to note that Min is an old man and may have spent decades perfecting his craft. As a 12-year-old, Tree-ear still has far to go.

“The work of a human, the work of nature; clay from the earth, a branch from the sky. A kind of peace spread through Tree-ear, body and mind, as if while he looked at the vase and its branch, nothing could ever go wrong in the world.”

Tree-ear is visualizing the beautiful prunus vase that he someday intends to make. This description shows how the human imagination can use organic elements of nature, such as branches and clay, to shape an object of supreme beauty. By highlighting the emotional connection Tree-ear feels when he looks at the vase, feeling peace throughout his “body and mind,” the novel foregrounds the spiritual quality of celadon pottery and its creators.

“They examined each other, their new garb in sharp contrast to the other rags they wore. Crane-man began to laugh. ‘Apart, we look strange enough, but together we are as properly dressed as any man!’”

Ajima has just given Tree-ear a jacket and pants. Crane-man is wearing the jacket while Tree-ear is wearing the pants. The old man’s humorous comment obviously refers to their clothing, but he is also alluding to the way that the two companions work together to strengthen their individual limitations. 

“If a man is keeping an idea to himself, and that idea is taken by stealth or trickery—I say it is stealing. But once a man has revealed his idea to others, it is no longer his alone. It belongs to the world.”

Tree-ear has just been agonizing over whether to tell Min about Kang’s secret technique. Crane-man’s advice once again emphasizes the difference between stealing and honesty. Shortly after receiving this advice, Tree-ear demonstrates his integrity by concealing the technique from Min until it becomes common knowledge.

“The clay had long since lost any feeling of roughness, but somehow he knew. One more draining—perhaps two… It was like suddenly seeing the deer—a clear vision emerging from a cloudy dream.”

Tree-ear can now intuitively understand when the texture of the clay is refined enough to be suitable for Min’s pottery. He has developed an instinctual feel for the craft that cannot be conveyed in words and could only have come from many hours of repetitive work—it is the product of experience, much like Min’s own mastery.

“Your mind knows that you are going to Songdo. But you must not tell your body. It must think one hill, one valley, one day at a time. In that way, your spirit will not grow weary before you have even begun to walk. One day, one village. That is how you will go, my friend.”

Tree-ear is daunted as he contemplates the long journey ahead of him. Crane-man offers the wise counsel to take the trip one day at a time. In some ways, Tree-ear’s determination to become a potter follows the same pattern of impatience and dismay. He wants to leap from apprentice to master in one quick jump. Instead, he learns that it takes many days of chopping wood to get to his goal.

“‘The potter’s trade goes from father to son. I had a son once. My son, Hyung-gu. He is gone now. It is him I would have taught. You—' Tree-ear saw the potter’s eyes, fierce with grief and rage. Min choked out the last words: ‘You are not my son.’”

This passage is pivotal in understanding Min’s hostility toward Tree-ear—the boy reminds him too much of the son he lost, so he cannot help but misdirect his resentment at Tree-ear. Unfortunately, Min cannot see what is so obvious to Ajima: Kinship is born in the heart. Tree-ear and Crane-man function as father and son despite the lack of a biological connection. Eventually, Min will reach the same conclusion, but it takes him far longer to do so.

“Crane-man stood and leaned on his crutch to stretch out his good leg. He glanced sideways at Tree-ear. ‘My friend, the same wind that blows one door shut often blows another open,’ he said.”

Tree-ear is deeply disappointed at being rejected as Min’s apprentice. Because of his advanced age, Crane-man has lived long enough to know that new opportunities arise in the face of obstacles. Tree-ear has already agreed to take the samples to Songdo, but he doesn’t yet understand the opportunity this trip will offer him in the future.

“Over the past month or so Tree-ear had filled his idle time by molding clay. He kept a small ball in his waist pouch and experimented with it whenever he had the chance. After some time a shape began to form out of the clay; it was almost as if the clay was speaking to him, telling him what it wished to become.”

Even though Tree-ear has been denied the opportunity to shape pots on a wheel, he hasn’t allowed that to stop him. His love of sculpting clay has simply found a new outlet, demonstrating the artistic sensibility inherent in Tree-ear’s nature. He waits for the clay to tell him what shape to take rather than imposing his own will on it.

“Of all the problems you may meet on your journey, it will be people who are the greatest danger. But it will also be people to whom you must turn if ever you are in need of aid.”

Crane-man gives Tree-ear this last piece of advice before the boy departs for Songdo. Although human thieves do become Tree-ear’s greatest danger, he does not generalize their bad behavior to all people. Rather, Tree-ear seeks out the kind-eyed emissary to get the assistance he needs. This determination to move forward instead of backward will change his life for the better.

“He had slept for who knew how long, with a fox nearby—and he had survived! Tree-ear laughed out loud, and the sound of his laughter reminded him of his friend. We are afraid of the things we do not know—just because we do not know them.”

Unlike Crane-man, Tree-ear has held his ground against a fox. The fear of a fox was enough to alter the course of Crane-man’s life, but not for the better. His young friend has learned from his mistake. Tree-ear is determined not to let the unknown frighten him into abandoning his mission. 

“‘Go climb the Rock of the Falling Flowers when you reach Puyo, my friend,’ Crane-man had said. ‘But remember that leaping into death is not the only way to show true courage.’”

The court women who leaped from the cliff are considered courageous in Korean lore. But the novel makes it clear that there is fine line between a genuinely no-win situation and a temporary setback. Tree-ear is briefly tempted to mimic their behavior and hurl himself off the rock too. However, Crane-man’s advice is a caution not to give way to despair.

“It would take far more courage to face Min. He thought of his promise to Ajima, and besides, Crane-man was waiting for him. It was his duty to return.”

While choosing death over dishonor might be considered a brave act, Tree-ear has developed a more nuanced understanding of courage. Killing himself would be the easy way out. While he fears Min’s wrath, his love and loyalty toward Ajima and Crane-man will keep him from giving up.

“A prunus vase, with a plum branch to complete its beauty—his dream of making one returned, stronger than ever now, for it would be more than a dream.”

Min has just informed Tree-ear that he will become the old potter’s apprentice. Up to this point, Tree-ear has harbored a dream with little possibility of realizing it. Now, he has been given the means to make that dream real. He doesn’t merely want to become a potter; he wants to become a great artist, as evidenced by the shape he wants to create.