VOL.97/2026.08

Export Case

 

An Open Mind
(The Export Journey of Author Lee Hee-joo’s Holy Boy)

 

 

2026.08

 

 

 

When I first heard the news that the overseas rights contract for Holy Boy had been signed, I felt both glad and deeply conflicted. Set in the 1990s in the fictional city of Eungnang, Holy Boy follows four women who kidnap a K-pop idol. Featuring female characters who pursue their desires without hesitation, the novel leaves readers with a strangely sticky and uncomfortable lingering taste rather than a sense of comfort. Luckily, there were readers in Korea who cherished the book. However, Korean titles that draw attention abroad tend to be works awarded prestigious literary prizes like Han Kang’s The Vegetarian, feminist literature in the vein of Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982, or healing fiction. Fitting none of these molds, I felt a heavy pressure over the book being sold with a substantial advance. What if this book fails to live up to the expectations of international readers?

 

According to what I heard from translator Lee Jo-heun, there was first a request to introduce Korean literature dealing with K-pop, driven by its global success. However, the idol culture of the 1990s, which serves as the backdrop for Holy Boy, was vastly different from today. It was, so to speak, the difference between gayo (Korean popular song) and "K-pop." While this would be fully communicated to readers who lived through that shift, it might feel unfamiliar to readers whose first introduction to Korean music was BTS. Furthermore, while I attempted to actively embrace genre conventions in terms of form, the book also departs from conventional tropes. I worried whether genre readers would find this fresh or simply unsatisfactory. (For example, at the end of Holy Boy, the fate of a key character is left ambiguous. This departs from the track of thrillers or mysteries, where the outcome of events is revealed crystal clear.)

 

For these reasons, I quietly agonized over the entire process from signing the contract to publication. Right after the French edition was translated, I was invited to France to meet overseas readers for the very first time, but honestly, I did not expect much. However, there was something surprising about the enthusiasm of the readers I met on site. In Paris, I held a book talk alongside two other authors who had published books around the same time, and most of the fifty or so attendees had already read my book. After the talk ended, they got my signature while candidly sharing what they felt about the book and asking questions about what they were curious about. From those who seemed to want to engage in a short discussion with me, I could sense a spirit of generosity. This did not mean they read the novel with unconditional favor. Rather, their attitude was that since the author had poured her heart into writing it, they too would read it with seriousness. This response delighted me as much as praise did. As I answered with all my heart, I vaguely wondered whether having such a high-quality conversation even through an interpreter was possible because France has such a vibrant culture of debate.

 

At Quais du Polar (Lyon Crime Thriller Festival), the largest book festival in Europe, I was able to meet even more readers up close. While meetings with readers occur occasionally in Korea as well, it was rare to directly sell books by holding signing sessions at booths between talks. I approached it with the mindset of a salesperson. Having written for roughly ten years and published several books in Korea, I was a newcomer in France. Since it was only natural for most readers to prefer novels from their own country, I wondered how much attention a work by an Asian author, especially one dealing with the niche topic of K-pop, could possibly receive. Surprisingly, Korean culture was even more popular than K-pop itself. While the unique nature of a book festival might have played a role, most responses were that even if they did not know K-pop, they were buying it because it looked interesting. Some readers even greeted me with words like "Annyeonghaseyo" and asked me to write their names in Hangeul. Thanks to this, I was able to hear the sound of the so-called "sold-out bell," which rings only when all brought copies are sold out. This favorable response extended beyond the book festival venue, culminating in a book review recently published in Le Parisien. It is truly a great honor.

 

 

An author who sells a book overseas for the first time is terrified yet earnestly longs for one thing: that my writing will be read by readers beyond borders, and that we will connect. Through this experience, alongside the fact that far more readers than I had thought possess an open mind, I came to realize an old truth anew. Reaching universality beyond specificity. That is what we call literature.

 

 

 

 

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Written by Lee Heejoo (Writer)

Her works include the short story collection Cream(inal) Love, the linked novel series The World of Love, and the novels Phantom Pain, Holy Boy, and My Angel. She is a recipient of the Young Writers' Award and the Lee Hyo-seok Literary Award Grand Prize.