A Single Shard

Fiction | Novel | Middle Grade | Published in 2001

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Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapters 1-4

Chapters 5-8

Chapters 9-13

Character Analysis

Themes

Symbols & Motifs

Important Quotes

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Themes

Fear Versus Courage

Much of the novel depicts Tree-ear’s ongoing struggle between giving way to fear and demonstrating courage. Sometimes the bravery required is physical, but often, Tree-ear needs to summon his willpower and moral rectitude. When Tree-ear sees a farmer walking ahead of him with a leaky rice bag, he faces an ethical dilemma: He is a hungry orphan who always fears starvation, so it might be prudent to simply take the lost rice without telling the farmer. However, in the end, Tree-ear’s courage asserts itself, and he alerts the farmer to the problem. Despite the farmer’s willingness to allow Tree-ear to take the spilled rice, Tree-ear is troubled by his own hesitation; he later reflects that he should have told the farmer sooner.

The boy is presented with a similar dilemma when he discovers Kang’s incised pottery design and realizes the advantage it could bring to his master. “Tree-ear had no doubt that Min could use the process to far better effect. But Min did not know about it. And therein lived the question-demon: If Tree-ear were to tell Min what he had seen, would that be stealing Kang’s idea?” (67). Once again, Tree-ear is tempted to act out of fear. He is afraid that an inferior potter will win a palace commission instead of Min. However, he once again sticks to his principles by keeping the secret until Kang announces his innovation to the world. Then, it is fair game to tell Min.

A test of physical courage appears when a fox enters Tree-ear’s campsite as he is making his long journey to Songdo. Everyone is terrified of foxes, and Tree-ear is firmly convinced that the animal has the power to lure him to his death: “Against a fox he was defenseless. The fox would stare at him, looking deep into his eyes, bewitching him until he rose to follow it to its lair” (107-08). Given such a threat, it might make sense for Tree-ear to flee and abandon his mission, but he doesn’t. He remains still, protects his cargo, and survives the night.

Tree-ear has one more struggle between fear and physical bravery when robbers try to take his precious pottery samples, but the boy resists. “Tree-ear stared into the robber’s face; hatred would give him more strength. And it did, too; silently he swore to himself that this dog of a man would never win the jiggeh with its priceless contents” (115). His choice of the word “dog” to describe the robber echoes Crane-man’s earlier comment comparing thieves to dogs. After the bandits shatter the vases and depart, Tree-ear briefly fears facing his master and contemplates hurling himself off a cliff. Instead, he chooses to demonstrate true courage by completing his mission and not allowing anyone to stand in his way.

Lost and Found Families

The novel presents many examples of people who have lost blood relatives: Tree-ear was orphaned around age two, Crane-man was reduced to poverty when the rest of his family has died, and Min and Ajima lost their only son.

The novel suggests that the main recourse for people who have lost kin in this way is to form found family relationships with others. Crane-man considered joining a monastery until a fox frightened him off his path. Now, when he tells Tree-ear that story, he is grateful that by seeking shelter under a bridge he was able to eventually take Tree-ear in: “‘Days became months, months grew into years. Then you came along.’ Crane-man smiled as he finished his story. ‘Between the fox and you, I was destined never to become a monk!’” (83). The relationship between Crane-man and Tree-ear grows as strong as any father-son bond.

When Tree-ear goes to work for Min, Ajima is quick to view Tree-ear as a surrogate son, though Min refuses to accept an orphan as a replacement for his dead offspring until Tree-ear proves himself by making the arduous journey to gain a palace commission. Despite his master’s altered manner toward him, Tree-ear is bereft when he learns that his surrogate father Crane-man has died in his absence. In a way, Tree-ear has been orphaned once more.

This is a turning point in the novel: A couple who lost a son and a boy who lost his surrogate father form a new family. Ajima acknowledges their new relationship by giving Tree-ear the name Hyung-pil. “Tree-ear ducked his head quickly, recalling that the son of Min had been called Hyung-gu. A name that shared a syllable! It was an honor bestowed on siblings. No longer would Tree-ear go by the name of an orphan” (134). While many families are lost in A Single Shard, the novel ends with a family found.

Dreams of a Lifetime

Several characters in the book cherish a dream. Min is an old man by the time the story begins, yet he harbors a vision: “A royal commission was the dream of all potters, but Tree-ear sensed somehow that it was more than a dream for Min. It was his life’s desire” (53). In his work, Min exhibits perfectionism greater than that of any of his fellow craftsmen. The decision to work slowly and meticulously is driven at least in part by his secret desire to win a palace commission. When Emissary Kim is due to arrive in the village, Min drives himself relentlessly: “Min was like a man with a demon inside him. He ate little, slept less, and whether he worked by daylight or lamplight, his eyes always seemed to glitter with ferocity” (79). The intensity of Min’s desire is only matched by the depth of his despair when his glazes are ruined in the kiln. In a fit of rage, he smashes all his samples and then initially refuses to make any more samples. He has become his own worst enemy because he has despaired of ever realizing his dream.

Tree-ear pursues his own dream—to learn the art of pottery-making. He waits patiently for months in hopes that Min will offer to teach him, but that day never comes. Tree-ear’s dejection at learning that only sons are taught the craft sends him into a downward spiral almost as bitter as Min’s: “There were still times when the vision of the prunus vase he had once dreamed of making appeared in his mind’s eye, as if mocking him” (101). Unlike Min, Tree-ear doesn’t completely give way to despair. He molds figurines by hand because his love of the craft is so all-consuming. Likewise, he is determined to deliver the remains of Min’s work to the palace. His actions aren’t motivated by any expectation of a reward. However, fulfilling Min’s dream allows Tree-ear to fulfill his own—Min makes him an official apprentice.

He could almost feel the clay under his hands, rising on the wheel—his own wheel!—into a shape that was grace itself. He would make replicas, dozens if need be, until the glaze was like jade and water. And the vase would be carefully, delicately inlaid […] One day at a time, he would journey through the years until he came upon the perfect design” (135).