“The Korean apology is satirized to harrowing effect in the darkly comic book.” —The New Yorker
“Flying out of far left field like some crazed winged gecko and climbing the padded walls in a white straitjacket, the twisted world of Lee Kiho's At Least We Can Apologize hits you like a bucket of cold water… To a modern Western reader, the sheer physicality of Lee Kiho's world can be a shock. Physical barbarity seeps through the paragraphs like sweat through a rag.” —Korea.net
This satirical story focuses on an agency whose only purpose is to offer apologies—for a fee—on behalf of its clients. This seemingly insignificant service leads us into an examination of sin, guilt, and the often irrational demands of society.
Jin-man and Si-bong live at “the institution,” a disreputable mental ward that doubles as a sock-packaging plant. Fluorescent lights burn 24 hours a day and the staff subdues residents with pills. “When I first entered the institution I was beaten almost daily,” Jin-man recounts. “I was beaten in the morning, beaten at lunchtime, and beaten before bed.” As he goes through the menu of brutality, a certain giddiness sets in. But falsely confessing to random wrongdoing—swearing at their superiors, throwing out medication—results in milder punishment, so Jin-man and Si-bong learn to game the system.
A kaleidoscope of minor nuisances and major grievances, this novel heralds a new comic voice in Korean letters.