Short story review: If at first you don't succeed, try, try again by Zen Cho

[dismallyoriented]

So my wife and a handful of internet friends are planning a Songs for the Dusk game (a very cool post-post apocalypse game which features such touchstones as Pokemon Mystery Dungeon, N.D. Stevenson's She-Ra, and On A Sunbeam by Tillie Walden. Someday later I will talk more about it). In the course of brainstorming we ended up on the topic of dragons, which inadvertently reminded me of this very very good short story by Zen Cho, first published back in 2018.

It's about a creature from Korean mythology called an imugi, a serpentine proto-dragon that can ascend into a dragon after 1000 years and careful study. My only point of reference for them is Wikipedia and this short story, so you will need to look elsewhere for a better explanation. But essentially, Byam is an imugi who has tried and failed to attain dragonhood after 3 different attempts, and after the 3rd and final failure, swears to kill the human who thwarted its last attempt (Leslie, a depressed Korean PhD student who was hiking in the mountains during the ascension, and spotted Byam mid-flight). By the time it finds her again, she's an astrophysics professor. When it goes to her office in the guise of a heavenly fairy, however, Byam spies the textbooks on her shelves, which it recognizes as akin to the study it did when trying to become a dragon. Its interest in the topic stymies its revenge for long enough that they start to get to know each other, and the story proceeds from there.

It's a very good story about failure, how to cope with failure, and what it takes to eventually try again. While the free version on the B&N blog isn't available anymore, wayback machine still has it available. It's a very short and affecting read, so I highly recommend that you go check it out if you can. In the meantime, I have my big ol' Review of Feelings to follow.

So there's a lot about this story that I like, not least of which because I'm a sucker for mundane fantasy/fabulism and the incorporation of Asian mythos into SFF stories. But the way in which this story deals so frankly with failure, is something that resonated a lot with me the first time I read it, and is one of the reasons I sing its praises so highly and recommend it to as many people I can get to read it. This isn't going to be a terribly organized review, but I'm going to try and walk through all the things I love about this story as best as I can. Spoilers, etc.

Failure

• There's a lot of ways in which people are not taught useful models about failure. There are particular narratives that come out of Asian immigrant cultures as well, about meritocracy and the importance/benefit of Hard Work. And like, the thing is that a belief in hard work can be beneficial - belief and dedication to one's work is what gets you through extremely difficult or challenging times, and persistence through failure is what is necessary to make it past those failures


• But that belief can be punishing as hell - it can turn into a belief which is based on Success At All Costs, even when that "success" is something not suited to you, or requires you to push beyond your limitations in ability, or demands that you not be Flawed in a way that every mortal being is. That you not require rest or joy or anything besides the Work. That is no way to be


• And if that Success is what is necessary for you to be worthwhile as a human being, well. What happens if you fail to reach it? What will you do then? How will you make meaning for yourself, how will you mourn the loss of that opportunity or future, what beliefs will you make about yourself then?


• I think the most important piece I took away from this story about failure was the scene where Byam comforts Leslie after she fails to get tenure. There is a way in which discomfort with sadness and failure can prompt people to brush over failure, especially when your desire first and foremost is to Make Your Loved One Stop Hurting. And that desire is a good impulse but it's such a counterproductive one sometimes.

After Leslie cried some more, she said, “Is it worth it? The trying, I mean.”

Byam had to be honest. The only thing that could have made falling worse was if someone had tried to convince Byam it hadn’t sucked.

“I don’t know,” it said.



• You have to be able to sit in the failure with them, to contend with it. It is true that it sucks and it Also is true that this doesn't doom them forever. But you have to hold one in each hand or else you will not be able to help.

Inhuman perspective

• I love stories that really deliver on their protags' nonhuman perspectives. I love it especially in fabulist settings in which they are embroiled with humanity. It is the nature of human authors to write their nonhuman characters as reflections on humanity, but. I love the times the narration tries to veer aside, in the comedic and serious way


• The first one is quite serious - "Humans lived for such a short time anyway, it had never occurred to Byam that they might want to hasten the end." But immediately after is also Byam's mild bafflement at being kissed for the first time, and then the hilarious exchange about Rent as a human construct.


• The funniest possible exchange is when Byam asks if Leslie has told the cat that Byam is an imugi

“I’ve told you, I can’t actually talk to the cat,” said Leslie. (Which was a blatant lie, because she did it all the time, though it was true they had strange conversations, generally at cross-purposes.)



• Just the world of implication sitting in that throwaway line. Masterful. Hilarious. Perfect execution.

Gaze:

• There's a repeated theme here where the humans perceiving Byam as an imugi is part of what causes it to fail every single time. And there's a lot of different ways in which this perception does or doesn't hurt Byam


• Because the first set of humans who see it are cursing it out, and wish it ill. They don't think it deserves to become a dragon because it killed and ate all their cows, they are cursing it as it falls back to earth. But the second set hurt it too, by not seeing it as it wishes them to, but again just a neutral observation of it as an imugi causes it to plummet back to earth again.


• Leslie however comes to know Byam for what it is, and also sees imugi as a positive thing, because of that first encounter. She lets Byam set its terms in how it gets perceived, but also she loves Byam as it is. She loves imugi, both as a symbol of good fortune, but also because she loves Byam, and so loves what it is. Leslie sees her imugi and loves it for this. She is a constant presence who sees Byam and all the parts of it that it perceives to be markers of failure, and loves it in that shape. There's this constant refrain of Leslie seeing Byam as something special and beautiful in a way that baffles it, and god if that isn't a feature of what it's like to love and be loved in the face of shit self-esteem. To see yourself as nothing special but to have someone who looks at you differently in such a way as to be transformative.


• And she speaks frankly about the ways Byam has given up on itself. She loves Byam as it is, and doesn't see it as lesser for still being an imugi. It still has a wonderful life together with her, as an imugi. But failure is different from giving up on yourself, from settling with something you don't want/don't care about because you don't think you'll be able to get anything better. And god but that scene where her dying wish is to ask Byam to keep going, to keep trying. There is a very good poem I read recently, by Nora Hikari, which featured this in the second half (formatting changed to fit DW)




It is so hard, and I am so tired.




[Say that you are tired. Say that you need to pause. Pause but do not stop. Rest but do not waver. Stumble but do not falter. It is by love that I hold you to a higher standard. It is by love that I expect more from you. By love I am disappointed when you fall short. By love I am frustrated when you are petty. By love I ask you for your kindness when you are cruel, for your wisdom when you are slipshod, your patience in your haste, your bravery in your fear, your strength when you stumble, your love when you are hateful, your anger when you are wronged.]




You ask too much.




[If I did not love you, I would ask nothing. What is it to love you? To allow you to rot and fester like a wound? To watch as you make of your heart a hard and narrow place? Am I to love you by letting you bleed out on the floor? Or am I to love you by begging you to live? By demanding that you grip hard onto life, despite it all? Grip hard to hope, beloved.]








“Promise me you won’t give up,” said Leslie. “Promise me you’ll keep trying.”

It was like going in for a kiss and getting slapped in the face. Byam went stiff, staring at Leslie in outrage. “That’s fighting dirty!”

“You said anything.”

Byam ducked its head, but it couldn’t see any way out.

“I couldn’t take it,” it said miserably, “not now, not after… I’m not brave enough to fail again.”

Leslie’s eyes were pitiless.

“I know you are,” she said.







• It is a very good poem. Love as a demand for better.


• And I think the most interesting part about what this story has to say about gaze, is that Byam is almost thwarted a 4th time, by Eun-hye seeing it as an imugi. But Sam finally propels it to the heavens by insisting that it's a dragon


• And I think there's something interesting there - Leslie's gaze was transformative, in letting Byam's "failed" state be something that was still lovable and valued and okay. Eun-hye's is still damning in that calling Byam an imugi threatens to trap it once again that way. But Sam being able to see it wholeheartedly as a dragon is what enables it to finally become one. There's something here about how we need to be seen both as what we are now, but also what we could become. I know there are ways in which seeing my loved ones as struggling has caused me to overstep or coddle them in ways that made them feel inadequate or incapable. It is important to have people who can see you as you will be, without equivocation or qualification.

There's lots more to say as well, about the emotional arc toward acceptance, but I think those are things that can be read from the text itself. Now for the even more Feelings-based ramble I have relating this story to my wife.

---

I first read this story in 2018, which was around when my partnersys was dropping out of college. Undiagnosed and under-supported mental health woes led to them failing one of the required core classes, which ended their time at the program. I was Pretty Unsubtly linking the story to them at the time, and have no idea if they read it or not. Maybe it helped, maybe it didn't. What matters was how this story captured the state of our relationship at the time, my partner hitting one of the lowest lows of their life, and me wanting to be there for them and wanting them not to plunge into despair or self-hatred over this. I wanted Byam's triumphant end for them, I wanted them to come out the other side with their confidence and joy intact.

This was already enough to kind of supercharge this story for me, rereading it now 6 years later, dozens of relationship milestones later and with us married and financially stable enough to support ourselves and a roommate who we're trying to help achieve independence too. My wife, who carries the brunt of the same mental health woes from way back then, has come a long way in terms of figuring herself and the system out, and has made a lot of progress even as things have changed and new problems have cropped up. I'm really proud and happy for her, and happy for the system collectively. They're overall doing much better now than in 2018.

But there's a bit of humor in the fact that Quinn is also now a dragon therian. Like she's got a much better life now but I have to emphasize the fact that she did quite literally turn into a dragon. Like I wanted Byam's arc for her but like. Holy shit.

And in a more sincere sentiment, it made the moment when Leslie asks to see Byam's imugi body hit like 5000 times harder.

“Could I see you?” she said finally. “In your true form, I mean.”

There was a brief silence. Leslie said, “If you don’t want to…”

“No, it’s fine,” said Byam. “Are you sure you won’t be scared?”

Leslie nodded. “It’ll still be you.”

[...]

It hadn’t expected the sense of relief as it expanded into itself. It was as though for several decades it had been wearing shoes a size too small and had finally been allowed to take them off.

Leslie’s eyes were wide.

“Are you OK?” said Byam.

“Yes,” said Leslie, but she raised her hands to her face. Byam panicked, but before it could transform again, Leslie rubbed her eyes and said, “Don’t change back! I haven’t looked properly yet.”

Her eyes were wet. She studied Byam as though she was trying to imprint the sight onto her memory.

“I’d look better with legs,” said Byam shyly. “And antlers. And a bumpy forehead…”

“You’re beautiful.” Leslie touched Byam’s side. Her hand was warm.

Just. Yeah. Wish I could see her like that too.