In 2014, the acclaimed novelist Suki Kim, born in South Korea and raised in the United States, released one of our most unusual nonfiction accounts of contemporary totalitarianism. Her book, titled Without You, There Is No Us: My Time with the Sons of North Korea’s Elite, recounted Kim’s six-month investigative journey while working as a teacher in a Christian academy for young North Korean men, just outside their capital city of Pyongyang. By and large, Kim’s book was released to considerable acclaim, with the Boston Globe calling it a “daring” expos e, the New York Review of Books “fascinating,” and a national range of newspapers appending accolades such as “vivid,” “uncompromising,” or “valiant.” Yet even as Without You rose to The New York Times’ hardcover best-seller list, and then went to paperback, Kim found herself wanting to push back against her book’s marketing and reception—or, we might say, against the undertone of certain implicit slights or dismissals directed at her along the way. Kim itemizes these complaints in a 2016 essay in The New Republic, titled, “The Reluctant Memoirist,” a confessional piece in which she enumerates the suggestions that, in the eyes of some, her book had not been much of a journalistic expos e at all. Rather, she says, these critics implied that Without You was really just a memoir, a story of a woman’s self-discovery targeting the current market for stories about the return to one’s ethnic “roots.” As Kim tells it, the problem had begun with her publisher’s plan to place the label “A Memoir” on her book cover; Kim says she initially complained about the labeling but went along, hoping that the content of her book would override its apparent niche packaging. However, even with that intimation of what was to come, Kim says she was unprepared for how such marketing seemed to open the door to insinuations directed at her motives, her journalistic integrity, and the risks she had taken as a reporter. She writes: “By casting my book as personal rather than professional[,] . . . as [the story of] a woman on a journey of selfdiscovery[,] . . . I was effectively being stripped of my expertise. . . . I was being moved from a position of authority—What do you know?—to the realm of emotion: How did you feel?”. The worry was exacerbated, she says, when she found herself slotted on book-tour panels primarily targeting female readers eager to

中文翻译：

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反亚特兰蒂斯：金正日，朝鲜和沉浸式叙事

2014年，著名的小说家苏基·金（Suki Kim）出生于韩国，在美国长大，他发表了我们对当代极权主义最不寻常的非小说描写之一。她的书名为《没有你，没有我们：我与朝鲜精英之子的时光》，讲述了金正日在首都北部城市的基督教青年学校担任教师时为六个月的调查旅程，当时他是一名年轻的朝鲜男子。平壤 总体而言，金正日的书广受好评，《波士顿环球报》称其为“大胆”展览，《纽约书评》令人着迷，并在全国范围内刊登了各种报纸，如“生动”，“毫不妥协”或“英勇”。然而，即使《没有你》升入《纽约时报》精装畅销书排行榜，然后平装本，金恩发现自己想推销她的书的市场营销和接受度，或者可以说是反对在此过程中针对她的某些隐含的轻微暗示或解雇的暗示。金在2016年《新共和国》的一篇题为《勉强回忆录》的文章中逐一列举了这些抱怨，在这篇供词中，她列举了一些建议，即在某些人看来，她的书在新闻界并没有太多的新闻曝光。全部。她说，相反，这些批评家暗示，“没有你”实际上只是回忆录，一个关于女性自我发现的故事，针对的是当前市场上有关回归自己种族“根源”的故事。正如Kim所言，问题始于出版商计划在她的书封面上贴上“回忆录”标签。金说她最初是抱怨标签，但后来，希望她的书的内容能覆盖其明显的利基包装。但是，即使对即将发生的事情有所暗示，金说，她对这种营销似乎如何为因其动机，她的新闻诚信以及作为记者而承担的冒险行为发疯的想法并没有做好准备。她写道：“通过将我的书当成个人而非专业[，]。。。就像[一个发现自我的女人的故事] [，]一样。。。我实际上被剥夺了我的专业知识。。。。我正从权威的位置（您知道什么？）转移到情感领域：您的感觉如何？”。她说，当她发现自己被安排在以主要渴望读书的女性读者为对象的巡回浏览面板上时，这种担忧更加恶化。即使对即将发生的事情有所暗示，金说，她对于这种营销似乎如何为针对其动机，她的新闻诚信以及作为记者所承担的冒险行为发疯的大门毫无准备。她写道：“通过将我的书当成个人而非专业[，]。。。就像[一个经历自我发现的女人的故事] [，]一样。。。我实际上被剥夺了我的专业知识。。。。我正从权威的位置（您知道什么？）转移到情感领域：您的感觉如何？”。她说，当她发现自己被安排在以主要渴望读书的女性读者为对象的巡回浏览面板上时，这种担忧变得更加严重。即使对即将发生的事情有所暗示，金说，她对于这种营销似乎如何为针对其动机，她的新闻诚信以及作为记者所承担的冒险行为发疯的大门毫无准备。她写道：“通过将我的书当成个人而非专业[，]。。。就像[一个经历自我发现的女人的故事] [，]一样。。。我实际上被剥夺了我的专业知识。。。。我正从权威的位置（您知道什么？）转移到情感领域：您的感觉如何？”。她说，当她发现自己被安排在以主要渴望读书的女性读者为对象的巡回浏览面板上时，这种忧虑加剧了。以及她作为记者承担的风险。她写道：“通过将我的书当成个人而非专业[，]。。。就像[一个发现自我的女人的故事] [，]一样。。。我实际上被剥夺了我的专业知识。。。。我正从权威的位置（您知道什么？）转移到情感领域：您的感觉如何？”。她说，当她发现自己被安排在以主要渴望读书的女性读者为对象的巡回浏览面板上时，这种担忧变得更加严重。以及她作为记者承担的风险。她写道：“通过将我的书当成个人而非专业[，]。。。就像[一个发现自我的女人的故事] [，]一样。。。我实际上被剥夺了我的专业知识。。。。我正从权威的位置（您知道什么？）转移到情感领域：您的感觉如何？”。她说，当她发现自己被安排在以主要渴望读书的女性读者为对象的巡回浏览面板上时，这种担忧变得更加严重。