First, if you haven’t read Pachinko (2017), you should. The story is an epic intergenerational saga that delves into the Japanese occupation of Korea, World War II in Japan, and the subsequent endemic racism Koreans have been made to endure. The writing of Pachinko was a long, evolving process—written for over a decade, reshaped from scratch, and the result of extensive research. Beyond its historical weight, the writing process behind the novel serves as a reminder that meaningful work arises from the willingness to embrace the uncertainty inherent in the creative process – something that we, as students, can learn from.
In her journey to craft this monumental work, Min Jin Lee has stated that she had never intended to write a historical novel. The first draft of Pachinko was so different that the main protagonist, Sunja, did not exist. The first draft, named ‘Motherland’, covered only one generation and, according to Lee, was a “really boring… self-righteous, angry book”.
It was only after publishing her first novel, Free Food For Millionaires, and moving to Japan that Lee decided to return to what eventually became Pachinko. The second draft was written entirely from scratch and, according to Lee, was completely unrelated to the first. In her writing process, she prints out each draft, makes numerous handwritten edits, and then begins rewriting from the start. This iterative process is one she engages in repeatedly.
This shocked me. The idea of writing an entire essay, only to start over from scratch, sounds daunting. It made me realise how, as students, we are often obsessed with reaching the finish line as quickly as possible. We rush through assignments, cram study sessions in the library, and focus on ticking tasks off our to-do lists. But what happens when we don’t know where we’re going? When we aren’t sure what the final product should even look like?
Lee’s process made me rethink this attitude. She didn’t know what Pachinko would become when she started; she had to rewrite, rethink, and—most importantly—experience life in ways she couldn’t have predicted. This resonates with me as a student, especially in my third year, when the pressure to produce results and plan for the future can overshadow the importance of exploration and personal growth.
The novel opens with the powerful line, “History has failed us, but no matter.” When asked how she came up with it, Lee explained that it didn’t come to her all at once. Instead, the line only emerged when she revisited her initial draft and recognized its flaw.
That first draft failed to capture the lives of ordinary people. It was only after living in Japan and speaking with Japanese Koreans that she began to see her story differently. Her understanding of what she wanted to say — what she needed to say — transformed completely. From actively researching and seeking to better understand the people she sought to present, Lee learned that Japanese Koreans are not victims. The victim narrative is something they generally do not like, and instead, they are smart, strong individuals who, in many cases, love Japan.
When she realised the issue with the first draft was that it didn’t understand normal people, the thesis of the novel emerged. History has so often failed us, as we do not get to learn the lives of normal people. But this does not matter as we defiantly continue to live such meaningful, passionate and brilliant lives.
Her understanding of this history, and her own role in telling it, was shaped by many moments over the years. One of the earliest came from a talk she hadn’t even planned to attend. Lee had been deeply affected by a story she heard from a white missionary who helped Japanese Koreans. In this talk, he described the story of a school-aged boy who had killed himself. After looking through his belongings, his parents discovered messages from other students: “Die, Die, Die”, “Go back to your country”. Lee stated that she was shocked by how inhumanely an individual could be treated. This talk, functionally, was what inspired the novel.
It struck me — what if she had skipped that talk? What if she hadn’t moved to Japan and engaged with the experiences of Japanese Koreans? There are countless elements, moments, and years that shaped Pachinko. As students, we may never know how long our own journeys will take, and that’s okay. We shouldn’t rush to the finish line; instead, we should appreciate how the conversations we have, the people we meet, and the experiences we embrace contribute to the process of becoming.
