The Hen Who Dreamed She Could Fly: a hen and a duck and a weasel

The ink-flow drawing of the hen in the trees was cute, complementing the texture of this slim paperback, so I took it from the shelf and took it home. Wasn’t on my TBR, haven’t heard of Sun-mi Hwang — a spontaneous read. It was a simple quiet one, and I don’t think I learned anything new or felt like I discovered anything. No avant-garde stuff to challenge intellectual boundaries.

This is basically a story about a hen (named Sprout) who never hatches a chick. She takes care of a wild egg and then hatches a duck. She isn’t accepted by the other farm animals, but loves her baby duck. A starving weasel (also a mother) lurks in the dark, ready to pounce on her baby, and Sprout escapes death multiple times.

I can write about significance of this novella being South Korean, and its simplicity when translated into English. I can write about themes of adoption and rejection, stretch it to cultural assimilation, universal sympathy, question the existence of a meritocracy, or write about a westernized “story mountain” being a part of our default expectations. Loyalty. Sacrifice. Courage. Motherhood. But I don’t want to. It’s a story about a hen and a duck and a weasel. It speaks for itself. It’s simple.