Breath Cloud

Han Kang grew up in Seoul, South Korea, and began her career in 1993 as a poet. Since that time, she has written mostly novels and short stories, and last month she became the first female Asian writer to win the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Named for the Han River, Kang grew up in a literary family and has become known for her experimental style and her astute attention to the connections between life and death, body and soul. She gained international recognition with her novel The Vegetarian (2007), which won the 2016 Man Booker International Prize. The novel, about a woman who stops eating meat in search of personal autonomy, delves into themes of bodily autonomy, societal expectations, and rebellion against violence.

Another of her acclaimed novels, Human Acts (2014), examines the traumatic legacy of the 1980 Gwangju Uprising, a brutal government crackdown on pro-democracy demonstrators in South Korea. This novel reflects on collective grief, political violence, and humanity's capacity for resilience.

Kang's writing style is known for its stark, poetic prose and her ability to confront disturbing and complex emotions. She has a background in philosophy, which informs her thought-provoking narratives, and her works frequently explore themes of trauma, identity, and the human experience.

Her 2016 novel The White Book is a curious meditation on color and grief, tenacity and rebirth. In a single-paragraph chapter titled "Breath-Cloud," Kang reminds us of the miracles embedded in the smallest God moments: 

On cold mornings, that first white cloud of escaping breath is proof that we are living. Proof of our bodies' warmth. Cold air rushes into dark lungs, soaks up the heat of our body, and is exhaled as perceptible form, white flecked with grey. Our lives' miraculous diffusion, out into the empty air.

What if the cold air you breathe in is the promise of the Holy Spirit, filling dark lungs and soaking in the essence of Christ's promises before it is exhaled out into the world, spreading His hope in a wearied post-election world? Rather than worrying about tomorrow, how will you rest in the miracle of your life, diffused with each exhale into the world around you?