Reviews with content warning for Animal death - Winter in Sokcho

To envision the ethos of this book, picture yourself standing at a winter shoreline, letting the frigid air whip around you, while waves gently lap against your shoes. It’s a feeling of isolation, to be minuscule against the vast ocean that borders you.

Winter in Sokcho divided the three of us as readers: one of us disliking the writing style, while the other two found themselves loving it. It wasn't a terrible novel; in fact, it's probably one of the higher-rated books we read in 2023. Technically, it's a great novel, but it requires analysis beyond the words on the page. It's about the message between the lines, the deliberate lack of change in the unnamed narrator's life, the love that exists in actions rather than words. You'll either love it or DNF.

Our narrator is touring the worst era of a woman's life, her mid twenties. Her mother pushes her to settle for her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, and while her job offers stability with food and shelter, the monotony is becoming stifling, almost claustrophobic. That's until a mysterious outsider arrives in town: Yan Kerrand, a Frenchman seeking to explore the authentic Sokcho for his comic without truly experiencing its reality.

Not much actually happens. They have outings to various Korean landmarks, but when she extends an invitation for him to join the dinners at the hotel, he consistently ghosts her. In fact, it’s the most consistent thing about his behaviour towards her, culminating in him ghosting her entirely at the end of the book as she sits in the kitchen, preparing a potentially lethal meal for him. Although it's unlikely he would even eat it. He’s an artiste, he’ll survive on chewing paper drawings of women and convenience store noodles.

This book speaks volumes beyond its written words, delving into the aftermath of the Korean War's devastation, the intricate dynamics between the narrator and her mother, and the protagonist's complex relationship with body image in a society steeped in accessible plastic surgery. It requires time and energy to unravel these layered themes woven throughout the narrative.

You’ll either love it, or hate it, or maybe just DNF it, but we’d love for you to join us as we get into much more detail on our podcast. Check us out at Revolver Reads: A Bookclub Russian Roulette on your podcast platform of choice, or simply @revolverreads on Instagram and let us know what you think. If you’d like to email us any future book suggestions for our roulette wheel, feel free to send them to [email protected].

Content Warnings

taleswithteatime's review

Go to review page

dark reflective fast-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Plot
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

Content Warnings

emmagreenwood's review

Go to review page

mysterious reflective sad slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? A mix
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? It's complicated
Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

3.0

Content Warnings

aliyachaudhry's review

Go to review page

mysterious reflective relaxing slow-paced

Plot- or character-driven? Character
Strong character development? No
Loveable characters? No
Diverse cast of characters? Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus? No

3.0

go girl give us nothing

Content Warnings

melcanread's review

Go to review page

dark reflective sad fast-paced

2.0

Critical rating: 2 stars.
Vibe check: 2 stars.

I feel like I need to take a shower after that and exfoliate the bullshit off of me.

Winter in Sokcho follows a Korean-French woman who lives in Sokcho, South Korea. One evening, a French graphic-novelist shows up and works on his latest book.

That's it. That's literally what happens. Throw in some body shaming and eating disorders and that's the entire 154 condensed into a short paragraph. The whole novel felt very stagnant and dull, with the most interesting thing being the fact that her mother can prepare puffer fish without poisoning people.

I didn't like the writing style. It was too simple and it didn't feel like any effort was put into the translation at all. I saw this. I smelled this. We went here. I ate this. I regretted it for 154 solid. It was so, incredibly bland, and it made me want to pluck my eyeballs out of their sockets just for something to do.

The main "love interest" (if you can call him that) was a whole demon - and just to jump off of that, the amount of times in this short book I went, "what the fuck?" because one of the characters had just made some random, out of pocket action that made no sense whatsoever. Some examples:

"I took off my jumper. I pressed myself up against the window, crushing my belly and breasts to the glass and waited until I was numb with cold. Then I went to bed."

"A spider scuttled into view and started to run up his leg, but he made no move to brush it away. He looked down at his handiwork. In an instinctive moment, he tore off a corner of the sheet and began to chew on it."

Later on, she's cleaning his room and she finds a wad of paper in the bin covered in his spit? What?

Also, genuine question, how does one's breasts tighten? Because yet again someone has written about it, and deemed it necessary to include it and I'm still so very confused.

I think my biggest issue with this book was that it felt very demonising of Korean men and romanticising the white French dude. Both the Korean love interest and the French one were assholes, I'd like to put out there, but it felt very icky, you know?

There was more body shaming in this book than I'd have cared for, and so much talk of eating disorders. Let this be a lesson to you, actually check the trigger warnings of the books your reading, kids. Oh! And graphic descriptions of cutting up and killing fish.

Content Warnings