After watching “Pokssak Soksuda,” will we remember Aeseun’s hardships, or Aeseun’s dreams? I like this drama because it makes you remember the dreams. There are many stories that evoke tears. However, what kept me watching until the end was not how much Aeseun endured, but what she continued to love while living that way.
O Ae-sun, who grew up in poverty in Jeju, is a girl who dreams of becoming a poet. She constantly postpones her dream due to the need to earn a living and raise her children. In the life of her parents as seen by their daughter, Geum-myeong, there is the mother we familiarly call Mom. But before that, there was Ae-sun, who was curious about her own future. Simply being called “mother” does not mean that her aspiration was to be a mother.
I feel closed off when family dramas focus on the hardships of the parents and immediately demand gratitude. This is because simply knowing that someone has suffered does not necessarily reveal what they truly desired. In this work, the repeated sadness can sometimes be overwhelming. However, I was moved again by the way it avoids portraying Ae-soon simply as a person who lived for her children. My most important criterion is this: Does this drama treat Ae-sun throughout as a person with her own dream before treating her as a mother to be grateful for?
This drama does not simply applaud the sacrifices of parents. It also ultimately attends to the dreams Ae-sun put on hold while caring for her family.
Even after becoming a mother, she did not give up her dream of becoming a poet
Although A-sun’s dreams were overshadowed by the realities of life, they never disappeared from her. I believe that the drama’s greatest strength lies in its consistent portrayal of this contrast.
The desire to become a poet is not merely a decorative element of one’s childhood dreams. Once you understand that desire, your perspective on future livelihood and raising a family also changes. You begin to see not only the mother who cares for her family, but also the person who wanted to write her own work.
Postponing a dream is different from abandoning it. One should not say that they could not write poetry today because they were too busy with their daily life, and that they have completely lost their love for poetry. This drama does not define Ae-soon solely by the tasks she is assigned.
I started supporting Ae-soon precisely because of this. What matters more than how much she has done for her family is the fact that she has not abandoned her own desires. It leaves room for the idea that one may continue to love what one liked before becoming someone’s mother.
The way the daughter, Geum-myeong, looks back on her parents’ lives also reinforces this. To Geum-myeong, her mother may have been a mother from the outset, but the story restores her youth before that familiar title. In other words, a daughter’s memories alone cannot fully explain her mother’s life.
Often, children only see their parents after they have already taken on significant responsibilities. We, who have seen the younger days of Ae-soon, know this fact earlier than her daughter. Therefore, even when we see Ae-soon raising her daughter, we cannot easily forget the young Ae-soon.
A poem left unwritten is not automatically filled just because someone has suffered a lot. Nor is the poet’s dream brought up to prove how wonderful a mother Ae-sun is. To understand what was desired, one must also comprehend how heavy the time spent delaying that desire was.
Of course, simply remembering someone’s dreams is not enough. If we portray all struggles for survival as beautiful sacrifices, then Ae-soon’s aspirations are pushed aside. If we introduce someone’s dream and then only praise their hard work for their family afterward, nothing changes.
So I find myself looking more closely at scenes of caregiving. Does this drama erase a mother’s dream through the work of feeding and protecting her family, or does it show the circumstances that left her no choice but to put that dream aside?
The hands that feed abalone hold both love and hardship
Gwang-rye’s caregiving involves both food and labor. That is why I do not dismiss the mother’s love depicted in this drama as empty words.
Gwang-rye is a female diver who goes into the sea to collect seafood. She uses the money she earns to support her young daughter, Ae-soon. The scene of her grilling abalone and feeding it to her daughter is a more accurate depiction of love than any words could convey. The time and effort her mother puts in is reflected in the food that goes into her daughter’s mouth.
In this scene, I observed the mother more than the child being fed. The fact that obtaining, grilling, and feeding the abalone is a laborious task for one person was the first thing that struck me. While the affection is evident, the body that expresses that affection is burdened.
Abalone does not cook automatically. A mother’s love is not an automatic cooking function.
There is a reason why Yeom Hye-ran’s performance is so good. Because of the actions she takes towards her daughter, there is no need to separately explain Kwang-rye’s love. I want to describe Kwang-rye not as a “wonderful mother,” but first and foremost as someone who works.
Although the two statements may seem similar, there is a significant difference. Simply praising something leads to applause for the result of enduring hardship. However, when viewed from the perspective of a worker, it raises the question of what effort and resources were involved in achieving that result.
The fact that Gwang-rae loves his daughter and the fact that his work is difficult must both be acknowledged. Saying that it wasn’t difficult because he loves her is too simplistic. Usually, the person who finds things easy is the one eating that rice.
This distinction is also important when considering Aeseun, who will become a mother in the future. If we only read about Gwangnye’s hardships as something beautiful, we might easily expect the same hardships from Aeseun. This turns into the idea that, because she received from her mother, she should become a mother and repay her.
I do not interpret this scene in that way. The fact that Aeseun received care does not mean that she had a reason to give up on her dreams. On the contrary, it makes one wonder what a child who was fed and raised by someone will grow up to like.
Therefore, looking at Gwang-rye’s hands is not a tangential path away from Ae-soon, who dreams of becoming a poet. One must understand the hardships involved in making a living, which explains why the time for writing is often postponed. It is not because the need for sustenance is more urgent that dreams become insignificant.
However, one should not define a person solely by the burden of their labor. If we are shown how much effort a mother put in, we must also acknowledge the other aspirations she held. Then, do the actors, even within the context of the passage of time in “Ae Soon,” manage to preserve their youth?
Even if the actor changes, Ae-soon’s dream remains the same
Even though the actress changes, Ae-soon remains a person with her own dreams. The manner of speaking of Ae-soon, as portrayed by IU, is still present. Gwan-sik does not make decisions for Ae-soon, but stays by her side.
In the role of the young Ae-soon, IU portrays a character for whom the dream of becoming a poet represents hope for the future. For Moon So-ri, playing the middle-aged Ae-soon, the layers of life have accumulated, but traces of the young Ae-soon’s manner of speaking remain. The actors’ synchronized delivery of lines, where they alternate speaking them, does not create a new person, but rather adds the dimension of time.
The reason this connection is so welcome is not simply because of shared similarities. It is because a woman who was once vibrant and energetic does not suddenly transform into someone who only worries about her family after becoming a mother. When Moon So-ri talks about her character, Ae-soon, I also hear the echoes of the literary young woman she once was.
IU’s choice to also take on the role of the daughter, Geum-myeong, is also commendable, based on the same principles. Since Geum-myeong has the same face as her mother during her youth, the differences in the choices available to the two are clearly defined. What was previously postponed for Ae-soon, Geum-myeong now has the opportunity to choose directly.
Therefore, thinking of Ae-soon when looking at Geum-myeong is not simply a matter of finding a look-alike. The character’s face constantly reminds us of the fact that even at that age, the mother also wanted her own life. The role makes us support the daughter’s choices while also prompting us to reconsider the mother’s postponed dreams.
Park Bo-gum’s portrayal of the young Gwan-sik, despite his limited dialogue, reveals his attentiveness through his gaze and gestures towards Ae-soon. His actions of staying by Ae-soon’s side are interpreted not as an exercise of authority, but as a demonstration of his unwavering support. Even as the story progresses to Park Hae-joon’s portrayal of the middle-aged Gwan-sik, their relationship remains that of a couple who have shared a long journey together.
What I appreciated about Gwan-sik’s dedication was that Ae-soon’s dreams did not become her husband’s accomplishments. Just because someone is by your side is not a reason to take ownership of the desires of the person they are protecting. The couple’s acting in this drama is best when they maintain that boundary.
Earlier, Gwang-rye, played by Yeom Hye-ran, also made love believable through her actions as she fed someone abalone. These actors elevate caregivers while still honoring the wishes of those receiving care.
However, does merely protecting Ae-soon as a person with dreams make all the sacrifices repeatedly demanded of her right?
Moon So-ri even replicated IU’s beauty mark with makeup. However, what impressed me the most was her manner of speaking. The subtle traces on her face, combined with her familiar way of speaking, meant that even when encountering a middle-aged Ae-soon, there was no need to say goodbye to the young Ae-soon.
Tears may be excessive, but it is not an order to sacrifice
I agree with the criticism that the repetition of tragic events is tiresome. However, I do not agree with the interpretation that this drama instructs children to repay their parents’ sacrifices.
For Ae-soon, it is difficult to find time for herself, even just to make ends meet. To this, the grief of losing her family is repeatedly added. When she tries to follow someone who wants to write poetry, she suddenly finds herself wondering how much longer she can endure.
Sometimes, I too feel exhausted. Instead of worrying about what Ae-soon likes, I am now more concerned about what they might lose. The sadness that brings us closer to a person can, at times, obscure other aspects of that person’s character.
I was waiting for the time to write poetry, but another task has arrived that I must endure. Just a moment.
This part is undoubtedly regrettable. When dealing with someone who has dreams, more time could have been allocated beyond just enduring the situation. Suffering greatly does not necessarily lead to a deeper understanding of the person.
It is not possible to simply judge a work as one that forces sacrifice based solely on the fact that it evokes tears. The important thing is what is demanded of someone after making them cry. If the argument is that children must live in the same way as their parents who have suffered, then I would not be able to enjoy this drama.
Ae-soon’s poetry and Geum-myeong’s choices deviate from the established path. For Aisun, there remains a longing that cannot be fully explained by her responsibilities of caring for her family. For Geum-myeong, the task of understanding her parents’ lives is intertwined with the challenge of choosing her own path.
The fact that a daughter chooses her own relationships and future does not invalidate the efforts of her mother. Nor does the mother’s hard work diminish the daughter’s right to make her own choices. My judgment is based on the understanding that these two aspects can coexist.
I want to reiterate here that I like A-sun’s poetry. If the time spent with family is the only thing that matters, there would have been no need for A-sun to leave behind any words. The fact that her words remain suggests that A-sun is more than just someone to be grateful to.
There is a difference between showing sacrifice and passing on the burden of sacrifice. This drama sometimes portrays the former for too long. However, the latter is not made Geum-myeong’s duty.
The difference becomes even more pronounced when placed alongside another family drama that explores how women choose their own lives.
Understanding your parents and living like your parents are two different things
Compared to “When the Camellias Bloom,” this work is welcome for its portrayal of women’s choices that transcend generations. However, it also highlights the limitations of relying heavily on family devotion for those choices.
In the drama “When the Camellia Blooms,” also written by the same author, the women in the neighborhood help each other. When a woman is making choices about her life, people outside her family also offer support. I appreciate this support because it does not demand that a person change their life solely through their own resilience.
《When Life Gives You Tangerines》shows that help being passed down across multiple generations. Gwang-rye feeds Ae-soon, and Ae-soon and Gwan-sik educate Geum-myeong. Thanks to the efforts of those who came before, the next person has more paths to choose from.
Here, my criterion is not who made more sacrifices. It is whether the woman who received the help was given the opportunity to express her desires and make her own choices. Geum-myeong’s choice in choosing her relationship and her life clearly answer that question.
It is not a rejection of one’s parents’ lives simply because one does not live exactly as they did. Rather, it is a continuation of the opportunities that the parents provided, but through one’s own choices. I highly value the fact that the daughter’s changed life also makes us look back at her mother’s deferred dream.
However, the fact that one can make choices only if one’s family endures this much is frustrating. What options are available to those who cannot rely on family support? This drama depicts the care exchanged within families in far greater detail than it shows those alternatives.
It is valuable that Ae-soon maintained her desire to write. However, help from outside her family is less fully explored. I would have liked to have seen more about whether Ae-soon could have written poetry without experiencing so much hardship.
Understanding the youth of one’s parents means recognizing the lives they desired. It does not mean that subsequent generations must repeat the hardships they endured. If Geum-myeong gets the opportunities Ae-soon needed, this should be a cause for celebration, not resentment.
Therefore, I give a high score to Ae-soon for preserving Ae-soon’s dream to the very end. However, the fact that achieving that dream required so much hardship will undoubtedly result in a deduction in the final evaluation.
It left behind not Ae-soon’s hardships, but Ae-soon herself
I believe that “Boksak Soksuda” better shows how to see parents as people than how to be grateful to them. Ae-soon is a mother who raised her children, but she is not someone who can be defined by that alone. She is a person who loved poetry and wanted to express herself through her own words, and she remains to the end.
High marks go to the strength shown through acts of feeding and staying by her side. The continuity that preserves Ae-sun’s youth even as the actor changes is also good. However, points are deducted for the parts where tragedies are repeatedly piled on, making Ae-sun’s hardships loom larger than her dreams.
For those who are curious about what parents were like before they became parents, I recommend this series. If you appreciate seeing acts of kindness, such as someone feeding another person or standing by their side, more than the resolution of major events, then this 16-episode series is worth your time. Even for those who think they already know a lot about parents, this long story has something to offer.
Conversely, if you are easily tired of stories that involve the death of family members and ongoing financial difficulties, I would not recommend this. If you are expecting a quick resolution of conflicts or the independence of women outside the family, you will likely find it frustrating. This is because the amount of tears does not necessarily reflect the depth of understanding of the characters.
When watching it, instead of merely counting what Ae-sun has given up, it is worth following what she continues to love. When you place the young Ae-sun, played by IU, alongside her daughter Geum-myeong, you can also discern the different choices that unfold in the same face. It is also worth considering whether understanding one’s mother becomes an obligation to live as she did.
The next work to be discussed is “When the Camellias Bloom.” It provides a good opportunity to compare what the help of local women and the efforts of parents across generations each make possible when women choose their own lives.
My rating is 4.5 out of 5 stars. While the tears are excessive, it ultimately does not bury Ae-soon’s dream in hardship.
Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
Is “Boksak Soksuda” based on a true story? Does it have an original source?
This is an original drama that does not adapt any existing work. Rather than viewing it as a biography of an actual family, it is best understood as a story that follows the lives of a family that began in Jeju, and explores the youth and dreams of the parents’ generation.
What does the title “When Life Gives You Tangerines” mean?
In the Jeju language, it is a greeting meaning “You have worked hard.” It does not mean that someone has been deceived. Once you know the title, it sounds like a greeting addressed to a person in recognition of their long life.
Where can it be seen, and how many episodes are there?
This is a 16-episode drama available on Netflix. It follows various periods in a family’s life. If you find the repeated sadness in the story overwhelming, it is recommended to watch it in segments rather than all at once.
Does IU play both the mother and the daughter?
IU plays the roles of young Oh Ae-soon and her daughter, Yang Geum-myeong. Moon So-ri plays the middle-aged Ae-soon. The power of the acting is more evident when you see how the choices given to the mother and daughter differ, rather than just focusing on their similar appearances.
Is it very sad? Who would you recommend this to?
There are emotionally challenging aspects due to repeated financial difficulties and the loss of family members. This series is recommended for those who like the characters’ small acts of care and long-term changes over quick plot resolutions. It is best read as a story about parents who also had their own dreams, rather than a simple message of gratitude for parental sacrifices.
