All Monsters Must Die Read Online Free Page A

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    AT FIRST GLANCE, everything in the Yanggakdo Hotel is as it is in Delisle’s graphic novel: the giant sea turtle lying as if in a coma within the small, sparse aquarium just inside the entrance; the gift shop behind the elevators with its limited selection, and next to it the pictures of Kim Jong-il who, according to the plaque beneath, provides “on-the-spot guidance” around the country; the restaurants on the ground floor, which are still called Restaurant No. 1, Restaurant No. 2, and Restaurant No. 3.
    One difference is the jostling crowd in the spacious lobby; the hotel was more desolate when Delisle spent time here. The collected mass is connected to North Korea’s sixtieth anniversary celebrations. The games, the parades, and all the other manifestations of celebration will be more intensive than usual.
    Erik Cornell, Sweden’s first chargé d’affaires in Pyongyang, mentions in his book North Korea under Communism: Report of an Envoy to Paradise that in the 1970s, just thirteen or fourteen Western adults were living in Pyongyang. Today, that group amounts to about one hundred residents. Since Cornell published his book, tourism has increased. A few thousand Western tourists visit North Korea every year, whereas around 7 million tourists will visit South Korea this year.
    It’s hard to say how many Chinese, Japanese, and South Koreans visit the country. During the few years of détente between South and North Korea (from approximately 2002 to 2008), South Korean visitors flooded into special, enclosed tourist areas. But in the past years the influx has been stemmed. Average North Koreans, of course, don’t have the option of leaving the country.
    THE HOTEL ROOM looks like any other hotel room. We find ourselves high up in the building. We pull back the curtains and open the window. The sun is setting, dyeing the sky yellow. The smoke from the chimneys of the distant factories forms a veil with a red, glowing fringe where it meets the sun. As night falls, the skyscrapers on the other side of the river turn blue.
    After unpacking we run into Elias, the North Korea enthusiast, in the elevator. He is bursting with curiosity and wants to investigate everything: the hotel, the city, and the people who live here. He has already managed to wander around the island, but when he reached the bridge leading off it he was immediately stopped. Now he’s riding the elevator, trying to gain access to each floor. On some, he’s sent away.
    In the dining room, we get to talking with an American who married into a Japanese brewing family. He has a generic appearance and a perfect East Coast smile, like a model in a Gant ad. As an American, he’s allowed to stay in North Korea for just four days. So he can’t join us on the tour around the country, and has to stick to the sights in Pyongyang. He tells us about the North Korean beer Taedong, which takes its name from the mighty river that runs through Pyongyang. It tastes like a real British ale should — and for good reason. In 2000, Kim Jong-il bought an entire brewery in Trowbridge, England. As soon as the British owner was provided with a guarantee that the brewery wouldn’t be used to create biological weapons, the sale was completed. The brewery was dismantled, shipped to North Korea, and put back together. Since then, the supply of beer in North Korea has been secured.
    The North Korean Taepodong missiles are often mistakenly called “Taedong missiles.” Beer bottles and missiles, the shapes are indeed similar. In an ad on Korean Central Television ( KCTV ) — the North Korean state television — a tasting is conducted by laboratory personnel. The bottles float around in space and columns of foam shoot up like missiles.
    After a few Taedongs, the American confides in us about his life in Japan. His stepfather has fully accepted him — he’s next in line to take over the brewery —