At first glance at the title and photo on the front of Roald Maliangkay's Broken Voices, one might assume that this book deals strictly, or primarily, with music. Music certainly is this work's central theme, but it offers insight into far more than a view of Korean folk music and its preservation. Rather, this volume also investigates the history and significance of both the Japanese and the Korean Cultural Properties Protection Laws (CPPL) and the subsequent designation of Important Intangible Cultural Properties, detailing both domestic Korean and international interactions and policy making. Thus, scholars of Korean history broadly, those interested in South Korea's postcolonial period of growth and transformation, individuals researching preservation systems, and music novices and seasoned academics alike will glean much from this well-written, thought-provoking book.
The first half of Broken Voices deals with government policies and practices to preserve and promote intangible heritage, focusing especially on the legacy of Japanese colonialism. The latter half of the book further investigates such policies by elaborating the history, transformation, and preservation of three of the eight folksong traditions that are currently listed by the South Korean government as National Intangible Cultural Properties: Sŏnsori sant'aryŏng (Standing mountain songs), Kyŏnggi minyo (Folksongs from Kyŏnggi Province), and Sŏdo sori (Folksongs from the western provinces). Maliangkay's main intervention is that although others have studied the preservation system, he “deviates from the work of these scholars by presenting the primary argument that strategies and notions developed by the Japanese during the colonial period have impacted Korea's folksong traditions” (p. 3). Despite—or perhaps because of—the influence of Japan, he further claims that the properties and traditions of the three folksong genres “seek to heal the wounds of Korea's colonial past, and … remind us of its suffering through the broken voices of the singers” (p. 18).
An underlying theme of book is the evolution of the three folksong genres, centering on the impetus of their development and transformations, or more specifically, on why they have “gained, maintained, or lost their relevance in changing conditions” (p. 15). One of Maliangkay's more salient arguments in the introduction is that preservation systems unavoidably disrupt the continuity of tradition. That is, in the natural course of life, societal change is inevitable, and performing arts respond and adapt to the altered or new cultures that arise. But designating, in this case, a folksong as an Important Intangible Cultural Property freezes as ideal the art in a particular place and time. This is not a new criticism—scholars and practitioners alike have long railed at preservation systems due to this (and other) limitations. What Maliangkay adds is the notion that specific cultural treasures “can maintain their significance and even outlast the communities and customs that initially sustained them, but this may require the readjustment of strategies and even the invention of a new historic continuity” (p. 11). Thus, although the CPPL aim to preserve particular arts as “authentic,” the result often will be an “invented tradition.”
Chapters 1, “Colonial Foundations of Korean Cultural Policy,” and 2, “Defining Korean Folksongs: Characteristics and Terminology,” satisfactorily accomplish their objectives. As its title indicates, chapter 1 provides an in-depth historical overview of the CPPL and the ways in which Japan influenced those policies, both during and after the colonial period. Likewise, chapter 2 outlines the characteristics of Korean folk music in detail and is enlightening and easily comprehensible, likely even to those completely unfamiliar with musical terminology. The first half of the book is solid and engaging; my only criticism is that although it is made clear that the Japanese had a tremendous influence on the establishment and trajectory of the CPPL, a direct influence on the three folksong genres analyzed in the latter half of the book is far less discernable.
Nevertheless, as foreshadowed in the introduction, chapters 3, “Masculinity in Demise: Sŏnsori sant'aryŏng and Kyŏnggi minyo,” and 4, “Embodying Nostalgia: Sŏdo sori,” provide a thorough analysis of the preservation and changes in three folksong traditions from Korea's central provinces. The chapters provide translations of specific songs as well as detailed histories that include the composition of performing troupes and the stories of renowned performers. Chapter 3 chronicles the evolution of Sŏnsori sant'aryŏng and Kyŏnggi minyo, including how performance practices have changed as the songs, which were originally performed almost exclusively by men, are now predominated by female musicians. Chapter 4 focuses on the role nostalgia plays in Sŏdo sori, in particular because the origins of this genre lie within the geographical boundaries of present-day North Korea, while those who perform and preserve the songs, as profiled by Maliangkay, are South Koreans. Despite the physical barriers that exist between the musicians and the birthplace of the songs, and questions of how performers can pass on the traditions of a land on which they have never stepped foot, Maliangkay contends that the “genre will not be broken by the impending loss of native representatives and place, but sustained instead by its ability to invoke nostalgia” (p. 117).
As shown in these chapters, one of Maliangkay's greatest accomplishments is his intimate familiarity with a vast array of musicians and scholars. The number of formal and informal performances and classes attended, as well as interviews he conducted over many years, is impressive. Broken Voices thus serves as a prime example of the good a scholar can do to preserve and share music as well as the memory of those who create, perform, and develop it.
