When My Name Was Keoko

Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2002

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Summary

Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapters 1-5

Chapters 6-9

Chapters 10-14

Chapters 15-20

Chapters 21-25

Chapters 26-29

Chapters 30-32

Character Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

Essay Topics

Tools

Beta

Discussion Questions

Symbols & Motifs

Korean Nationalism

Korean national symbols appear frequently throughout the text. From Uncle’s lessons about Korean imagery, to references of Korean scriptures, to Omoni’s Rose of Sharon tree, characters find ways to cultivate and embrace their Korean heritage in secrecy. Punishable by law, the Japanese have stripped away the Korean’s sense of history—a tactic commonly used by oppressive forces who wish to demoralize a nation. The only way Koreans can maintain their sense of national pride during Japanese occupation is to teach the younger generations about it in informal and subversive ways.

Among these instances, Uncle teaches Sun-hee and Tae-yul about the Korean flag—which they have never seen before since it is illegal to display. Uncle draws it on paper while his young family members watch in awe and wonder, imagining they will one day see it flying above Korea. Uncle advises them, ““Keep it in your minds always—what the flag looks like and what it means” (23), insinuating that it’s more than an image, but a source of pride and comfort. Afterwards, he must burn the paper so there is no evidence of his treason against the Emperor of Japan. Another time in which Korean symbolism is important is when Omoni must plant Japanese blossoms in her garden and must get rid of her Korean Rose of Sharon trees. Instead, she covertly keeps a tree in the back, in honor of her Korean family and name. It is literally a way for her—and her children—to nourish their roots in a time of need.

Coded Language

Because of Japanese oppression, the Korean community must develop secret modes of communication to express themselves without the consequences of military punishment. It takes form in both the private and public spheres, between family members and organized resistance movements. It blurs the lines of reality and trust, but also creates more avenues of possibility for those involved in the code. Coded language appears in Uncle’s printing press in a literal sense—an underground newspaper to secretly inform the Korean resistance movement. But it also occurs in the actions of the people—in the coded interactions and networks of support. Mrs. Ahn’s involvement in housing Korean runaways is also a form of coded language and exchange; those who are aware of her secret are able to participate and benefit, while those who aren’t—such as the Japanese or chin-il-pa—are unaware and therefore unable to disrupt her communications.

The motif of coded language appears most notably at the end of the story when Tae-yul tells Sun-hee:

I’ll be allowed to write letters, but I’m sure they’ll be censored. I won’t be able to put down the truth as I see it. I’m counting on you to read between my words and uncover their true meaning. It would mean a lot to me to know that you’ll try to understand what I really want to say (144).

Knowing he cannot speak forwardly, he and Sun-hee must trust each other to decipher his words in a way that will “uncover their true meaning.” Ultimately, in times of oppression and censorship, this recurring idea of communicating in a clandestine form underscores how resourceful people can be when silenced in order to maintain their authentic voice with loved ones.

Supervision/“Accounting”

To create a mood of discomfort in the story—much like the mood felt by those who lived during the Japanese occupation—there is a constant presence of supervision in the narrative. Soldiers constantly watch or listen to characters, and even their most private spaces—such as writing in a notebook inside one’s bedroom at night—are no longer safe spaces. The Japanese presence is intrusive, infiltrating, and unwelcome, entering neighborhood homes, community businesses, and family privacy without warning. Japanese oppression becomes symbolized as a constant vigilance and distrust, creating tension and fear for the characters being “accounted.” Even in schools, there are Japanese soldiers overlooking the young pupils and teachers, enforcing brute action and fear. The constant interruption of these soldiers creates an atmosphere of obedience—if not anger. There are countless examples in the text of this overwatch, some less subtle than others:

Onishi-san was in the room. He was the man who served as the military attaché for our school […] Onishi-san’s job was to make sure all the students were learning to be good citizens of the Empire. He came into our classroom several times a week, often in the middle of a lesson (26-27).

This sign of control permeates the experience of the Korean characters, as they must learn to navigate the punishing eye of the Japanese Emperor. Even willing to interrupt a teacher mid-lesson, their presence is constant and ubiquitous.