Author Han Kang, who won the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature, noted, “Reading and writing literary works inherently opposes all acts that destroy life.”
On the 10th (local time) at the Nobel Prize banquet held at the ‘Blue Hall’ of the Stockholm City Hall in Sweden, Han Kang said, “Even in the darkest night, language asks us what we are made of, insists on imagining from the perspective of someone living on this planet, and connects us to one another.”
At the event, Han Kang also shared an anecdote from childhood. Han said, “I remember an instance when I was eight years old, returning from an afternoon math class when a sudden downpour led me and other children to seek shelter under the eaves of a building.”
Han continued, “Across the street, I saw people sheltering under the eaves of a similar building, and it felt like looking into a mirror,” adding, “Watching the rain and feeling my arms and legs getting wet, at that moment, I suddenly understood that (everyone is living as their own ‘I’).”
Through this anecdote, Han Kang emphasized, “It was a moment of wonder, experiencing numerous first-person perspectives.” Han added, “Reflecting on the time spent reading books and writing, I kept revisiting and revisiting such wondrous moments, and following the thread of language into the depths of the mind brings one face to face with another inner world.”
The following is the full text of Han’s acceptance speech.
Your majesties, your royal highnesses, ladies and gentlemen.
I remember the day when I was eight years old. As I was leaving my afternoon abacus lesson, the skies opened in a sudden downpour. This rain was so fierce that two dozen children wound up huddled under the eaves of the building. Across the street was a similar building, and under those eaves I could see another small crowd— almost like looking into a mirror. Watching that streaming rain, the damp soaking my arms and calves, I suddenly understood. All these people standing with me, shoulder to shoulder, and all those people across the way — were living as an “I” in their own right. Each one was seeing this rain, just as I was. This damp on my face, they felt it as well. It was a moment of wonder, this experience of so many first-person perspectives.
Looking back over the time I have spent reading and writing, I have re-lived this moment of wonder, again and again. Following the thread of language into the depths of another heart, an encounter with another interior. Taking my most vital, and most urgent questions, trusting them to that thread, and sending them out to other selves.
Ever since I was a child, I have wanted to know. The reason we are born. The reason suffering and love exist. These questions have been asked by literature for thousands of years, and continue to be asked today. What is the meaning of our brief stay in this world? How difficult is it for us to remain human, come what may? In the darkest night, there is language that asks what we are made of, that insists on imagining into the first person perspectives of the people and living beings that inhabit this planet; language that connects us to one another. Literature that deals in this language inevitably holds a kind of body heat. Just as inevitably, the work of reading and writing literature stands in opposition to all acts that destroy life. I would like to share the meaning of this award, which is for literature, with you — standing here together. Thank you.