The Vegetarian

Starred review from October 26, 2015
Reviewed by Gabe Habash You may think you know where Han's English-language debut novel is going, but you have no idea. At first, its mundane strangeness may remind you
of the works of Haruki Murakami: Mr. Cheong, a Seoul businessman wakes up one night to find his wife, Yeong-hye, standing in the kitchen in front of their
refrigerator. Mr. Cheong, who is drawn to Yeong-hye
for no particular reason other than her passiveness, is taken aback. He's even more surprised when "the most ordinary woman in the world" declares she won't eat meat because she's had a bloody dream. Things get weirder, and you might be reminded of Patrick Süskind's Perfume, as Han's narrative takes a sharp turn in its second partâa tale of obsession, grotesque physicality, and art. Or, as the emotional and physical violence mounts, you might be reminded of Herman Koch's The Dinner for its depiction of the
animal baseness lurking just below civility. And then things take a turn again, and Han's third and final part might remind you of Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life for its display of raw emotion. To go into much detail about how The Vegetarian is both similar to these other works yet also possesses its own singular wonder would do it a disservice. Suffice it to say, Mr. Cheong's true nature is revealed, and Yeong-hye's family members are soon swept up in her mysterious change, which manifests itself in increasingly odd ways: she begins to eat less and less, and then not at all, and she becomes fond of taking off her clothes on sunny days. The atmosphere of growing dread is entrancing and tense, and readers will find a bounty of bizarre, ominous images: an IV bag filling with blood, a bird squeezed in a fist, and a psychiatric ward in the forest where a gloomy rain is continually falling. ThereâI've already said too much. Yeong-hye, as the center of the novel, forces the other characters to confront what they really want, and to confront what this desire says about who they are. This is a horror story in its depiction of the unknowability of othersâof the
sudden feeling that you've never actually known someone close to you. It's also
a decidedly literary story for its exploration of despair, inner unrest, and the pain of coming to understand yourself. There is much to admire in Han's novel. Its three-part structure is brilliant, gradually digging deeper and deeper into darker and darker places; the writing
is spare and haunting; but perhaps most memorable is its crushing climax, a phantasmagoric yet emotionally true moment that's surely one of the year's most powerful. This is an ingenious, upsetting, and unforgettable novel.Gabe Habash is the deputy reviews editor of Publishers Weekly.

September 15, 2015

In this latest from award winner Kang, Yeong-hye makes the decision to stop eating meat--which in her strait-laced society turns out to be positively scandalous. This book reached the second spot on the London Evening Standard's best sellers list, and rights have been sold to nearly a dozen countries.

Copyright 2015 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

February 15, 2016
When ordinary and submissive Yeong-hye becomes a vegetarian, her family treats her decision as both a disease and a betrayal. As they try to control her, their own manners deteriorate, culminating in violence, adultery, and estrangement. Yeong-hye becomes a Bartleby-like figure as her personal choice morphs into other acts of social rebellion, such as being shirtless in public or refusing to ingest anything but water. Korean writer Han Kang's elegant yet unsettling prose conveys her protagonist's brother-in-law's obsessive, art-centered lust; her sister's tepid, regret-riddled existence; and Yeong-hye's vivid, disturbing dreams. What is more upsetting is how the characters' taboo behavior begins to seem reasonable over time, perhaps because they have ignored their desires for so long. Divided into three novellas, The Vegetarian shows how one woman's step toward independence destroys a family that thrives on oppression and what they consider to be normal. Readers will want more of the author's shocking portrayals of our innermost doubts, beliefs, and longings.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2016, American Library Association.)

December 1, 2015

Kang, a South Korean writing professor with Iowa Writers Workshop training, makes her English-translation debut with this spare, spectacular novel, in which a multigenerational, seemingly traditional Seoul family implodes. Yeong-hye, the youngest of three adult children, repeatedly announces "I had a dream," violent, bloody, and surreal, which causes her to stop eating meat; eventually, she eschews everything but water. Her sudden change in diet (vegetarianism remains uncommon in Korea) goes far beyond her own physical metamorphosis, as documented in three distinct sections by her self-absorbed businessman husband, her obsessive video artist brother-in-law, and her distraught shop-owner older sister. While Yeong-hye remains the crux of the disturbing narrative, her voice is rarely heard. Instead, she's ignored, interpreted, spoken over, and silenced to devastating effect. VERDICT In a culture in which mental illness is met too often with dismissal or denial, Kang's novel is sure to draw both scrutiny and applause, in no small part owing to London-based Smith's seamless translation. Family dysfunction amid cultural suffocation is presented with elegant precision, transforming readers into complicit voyeurs. Fans of authors as diverse as Mary Karr and Haruki Murakami won't be able to turn away. [See Prepub Alert, 8/27/15.]--Terry Hong, Smithsonian BookDragon, Washington, DC

Copyright 2015 Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.