Flora Ahn’s A Brush with Magic opens with two Korean-American girls being rushed to the airport by their parents. Yumi, 12, and her older sister, Minji, 16, are headed for South Korea to meet up with their grandfather, Harabujee. The two will be taking the trip alone as their parents had to stay behind in L.A. for work. While their parents were both from S. Korea and met stateside in college, the girls are approaching S. Korea as a land of mystery.
The author describes their first impressions of Seoul:
While most cities ranged from wide boulevards to narrow streets, the narrow streets here were like a portal to a completely different time. The change was almost jarring. It was like a new, modern city had been planted on top of an old one, and hints of the old city peeked through the cracks.
In the tradition of novels for youth, theirs is a world with minimal intrusions of adult figures. After a first converging of all their family members to the home of their widower grandfather, the girls split off with their respective self-determined itineraries. Seoul is apparently a sufficiently safe city that the American girls are able to get by with their family Korean language and smart phones and street smarts.
In the age of air travel, oceans are no barrier, and global citizens are everywhere. The two girls have different ideas of how they want to spend their weeks in S. Korea. Their parents check in by phone, but they are no helicopter parents. They trust in their daughters’ sense and the family (their grandfather and two pugs, and then extended cousins and aunties) whom they have sent the girls to stay with. The family abides by rules of politeness for adults, but has modernist sensibilities about the independence of girls.
Yumi, the main character, wants to be in the company of Minji, who would rather spend time with their cousins shopping and exploring cosmetics. Yumi is an annoying kid sister who wants to tag along to play soccer and do whatever her elder sister is doing. Of the two, Yumi thinks that Minji is the witty and perhaps more glamorous one. When they play the “Would You Rather” game, her sister comes up with nuggets like, “Would you rather be stuck in a smelly, sweaty giant’s pocket or in his shower drain?”
The S. Korea in A Brush with Magic (witty wordplay in the title) is at turns both ancient and modern. There are people eating al fresco on stools at street stalls with common foods. Delectable descriptions of Korean foods appear throughout this novel. In one scene, their grandfather pushes food, in a cultural expression of love. Harabujee and Yumi both share an interest in art, she in fan art. Her grandfather teaches her about the four treasures of painting with inks: the inkstone, the ink stick, the paper, and a brush. His advice about art reads like advice about life, including the need for forethought and consideration when making decisions.
Her grandfather tells her: “Once you put the brush to paper, you can’t erase it. So you have to think and concentrate before you paint. Mastering a brush stroke takes time and practice. A single stroke can change several times in tone and thickness, making for a completely different line. So focus on the movement of the brush.”
He also advises her not just to think about the ink about also the blank spaces around the ink. Both matter. Painting is about seeing the essence or spirit of a thing, not about full visual representation. He also shares stories from ancient Korean culture, which have lessons about the building of character. There are stories emphasizing the importance of honesty, goodness, faithfulness, and an absence of greed. While there are lessons for emulation, Yumi also picks up on sexist elements of some of the stories, such as a story of Simcheong who sacrifices herself for her family’s well-being. She offers meta-observations of such stories across cultures and time.
The adventure ramps up several-fold when Yumi goes to a local art store where she picks up a paintbrush with magical powers. It is a brush inhabited by a dokkaebi (a goblin-like creature) with its magical bangmangis (like magical clubs) as the brush. The dokkaebi takes the form of a young girl to befriend Yumi. At times, it also is Yumi’s doppelganger.
The two make quick friends, and soon enough, its essential character emerges, as somewhat of a shape-shifting trickster. The pen can be used to draw objects to life. When they try to draw food, the result is less than spectacular. “Dodo” the dokkaebi explains: “I can bring paintings to life. But some things just don’t carry through. Like smells and tastes. They’re just paintings in the end and paintings are all about sight. You can’t paint in odors and flavors. If you want something to eat you’re going to have to find something.”
However, they are able to draw living creatures (both modern and folkloric), motor vehicles, and other objects that they use in the world to achieve some aims. (The logic of the magic does not carry through consistently.) Jenny Park’s charming and subtle visuals enliven the text. (Some reproduce remarkably well on paperback paper stock.)
Yumi is a quick-thinking and admirable heroine. Flora Ahn’s A Brush with Magic is well-plotted and memorable. Its character lessons are resonant. In a time of K-pop, K-movies, K-mukbangs, and South-K tourism, this novel should fit right in in bringing Korean Americans and Korean culture to the world.
Ahn works as an attorney, and she writes and illustrates books as a side gig.
Shalin Hai-Jew has worked in higher education for many years. She has edited dozens of nonfiction educational books and authored a dozen with a number of publishers.
