The reader feels as if he is in Chongjin, where starving people ate the bark off trees; or atop Mount Taesong with the elite of Pyongyang, whose existence is a mix of sadism and whimsy; or with the masses who are bombarded day and night with the propaganda of North Korea's alternate reality.
“In Los Angeles, people dress with the deep and earnest hope that people will do nothing but stare at them.”
“Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter.”