Nothing to Envy: Chapter 15 Summary & Analysis

Jun-sang knew that the postal system in North Korea was unreliable—he often went a long time without a letter from Mi-ran. However, when several months went by without any word from her, he became seriously concerned. When he arrived home in Chongjin for winter vacation, his brother told him that Mi-ran and her family were gone—there were rumors they’d defected to South Korea. Sure enough, when Jun-sang went by Mi-ran’s house, he found another family living there. He resented himself—Mi-ran had been the brave one all along, and she had defected before him.

Mi-ran was one of only 923 North Koreans who had managed to leave the country between the end of the Korean War and October of 1998. The regime had always taken extraordinary measures to keep its people in place—border fences, heavy surveillance, and the threat of knowing that if one defected, their remaining family would be locked up or worse all tended to keep people scared and compliant. In the late 1990s, however, as the famine and the collapse of the economy took hold, people genuinely felt they had nothing left to lose in leaving.

Refugees made their way into China, and Chinese goods made their way into North Korea. The more congress there was between the two nations, the more the regime feared that “utterly rotten, bourgeois” goods and materials from the outside world would “paralyze [North Koreans] absolute idolization for the Marshal.” As North Koreans were exposed more and more often to media and simple goods from the outside world, they began to understand that the country they’d always been taught was the most advanced and superior in the world was actually leagues behind other nations. If imports like nail clippers were such a rarity, how could North Korea be the mightiest place in the world?

Dr. Kim had never imagined leaving North Korea. The winter after Kim Il-sung’s death, however, Dr. Kim learned that she was under extra surveillance—she was suspect to the members of the Workers’ Party. Dr. Kim was shocked and appalled. She had always given her all to the regime and dreamed of nothing but joining the Party. She realized with a sinking feeling that her hard work and devotion was being exploited. Nonetheless, she continued donating her time by working extra hours at the hospital, hoping to change how her superiors saw her. When she received a surprise visit from a Bowibu agent who asked if she was planning to defect, however, she realized she’d never be able to do enough—and that her life in North Korea was only getting increasingly miserable.

Dr. Kim had stopped working at the hospital. She had lost custody of her son. She had no way of making money other than selling illegal alcohol on the black market. When she ran into a former school friend one day, she learned that the woman had lost her husband and young son just three days apart. Dr. Kim offered her condolences—but the woman robotically replied that she was glad to have “fewer mouths to feed.” This was a tipping point for Dr. Kim—she decided at last to pull out the piece of paper her father had given her before his death and try to contact the Chinese relatives listed on it. 

In March of 1999, Dr. Kim walked across the frozen Tumen River alone. When she arrived on the other side, she walked through the countryside until she reached a farmhouse. She pushed her way inside, freezing. On the floor was a metal bowl full of white rice mixed with scraps of meat. She wondered what a bowl of good food was doing sitting on the floor—moments later, when she heard a dog bark, she realized with profound sadness and anger that dogs in China were eating better than doctors in North Korea.