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A review by violetends
The Vegetarian by Han Kang
dark
emotional
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Please check the terrifyingly long list of content warnings before reading any further or checking this book out generally.
The Vegetarian was deeply unsettling and beautiful and nauseating. The detailed descriptions of violence against female bodies, against traumatized bodies, against physically and mentally ill bodies, were both difficult to read and somewhat empowering in the unapologetic space they gave to these experiences and their effects on those who survive them.
The book is split in three segments. The first is narrated by Mr Cheong, the husband of Yeong-hye, who is the one to turn vegetarian after a recurring nightmare. The second segment is narrated by her brother in law, Yeong,-ho. And the last segment is narrated by her sister In-hye. Especially the first two thirds of the book which were narrated by the male protagonists were deeply uncomfortable. They sexualize the women around them, compartmentalize them into consumable bits that they judge to be sometimes more sometimes less sufficient for their tastes, they obsess over their respective sister-in-law and both of them r*pe their wives when they coldly judge that they are owed sexual acts, Yeong-ho once, Mr Cheong regularly. The narrative voices of these characters are observant in a cold way that highlight the cruelty of their acts and perceptions and make this even more of an emotionally unsettling feminist statement about patriarchy and misogyny.
The perspective of In-hye at the end of the book is more complex and conflicted. She struggles with the traumas of the violence and neglect in her family along with the fact that she is now a single mother to Ji-woo after Yeong-ho abandoned them. She also cares for Yeong-hye and regularly visits her in the psychiatric hospital where her sister is treated for anorexia and schizophrenia. Even though a distance always remains in her perception of Yeong-hye, In-hye feels for her sister and experiences single moments of gentleness towards her. Nevertheless, these happen parallel to moments of intense anger in which she almost mirrors the violence of their father. And I loved this portrait of caring for ill relatives that felt very raw and authentic to me.
Yeong-hye herself has little to no voice in the book which is metaphorically depicted in her growing inability to speak. Her dreams and what conclusions she draws from them, are always focalized through the other characters who judge and seek to change her. And yet, I felt so many of her emotions, her fear and determination and the growing numbness, seep through the pages. Personally, I find this depiction of trauma and a mind that escapes into illnesses that give more simplicity to a violent world, moving and entirely convincing. I could write several more pages about specific aspects of this narrative, the beautiful prose or what it means to me to see stories like this portrayed with attentiveness to the complexity that violence and illness bring to lives. This was a particularly difficult time for me to read this novel but I think it was also one where the depth of this story gave me a certain kind of comfort that can only come from not looking away from deep, gaping wounds and feeling seen.
The Vegetarian was deeply unsettling and beautiful and nauseating. The detailed descriptions of violence against female bodies, against traumatized bodies, against physically and mentally ill bodies, were both difficult to read and somewhat empowering in the unapologetic space they gave to these experiences and their effects on those who survive them.
The book is split in three segments. The first is narrated by Mr Cheong, the husband of Yeong-hye, who is the one to turn vegetarian after a recurring nightmare. The second segment is narrated by her brother in law, Yeong,-ho. And the last segment is narrated by her sister In-hye. Especially the first two thirds of the book which were narrated by the male protagonists were deeply uncomfortable. They sexualize the women around them, compartmentalize them into consumable bits that they judge to be sometimes more sometimes less sufficient for their tastes, they obsess over their respective sister-in-law and both of them
The perspective of In-hye at the end of the book is more complex and conflicted. She struggles with the traumas of the violence and neglect in her family along with the fact
Yeong-hye herself has little to no voice in the book which is metaphorically depicted in her growing inability to speak. Her dreams and what conclusions she draws from them, are always focalized through the other characters who judge and seek to change her. And yet, I felt so many of her emotions, her fear and determination and the growing numbness, seep through the pages. Personally, I find this depiction of trauma and a mind that escapes into illnesses that give more simplicity to a violent world, moving and entirely convincing. I could write several more pages about specific aspects of this narrative, the beautiful prose or what it means to me to see stories like this portrayed with attentiveness to the complexity that violence and illness bring to lives. This was a particularly difficult time for me to read this novel but I think it was also one where the depth of this story gave me a certain kind of comfort that can only come from not looking away from deep, gaping wounds and feeling seen.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Animal cruelty, Animal death, Body horror, Body shaming, Child abuse, Eating disorder, Emotional abuse, Infidelity, Mental illness, Misogyny, Rape, Self harm, Forced institutionalization, Blood, Medical content, Suicide attempt, and Schizophrenia/Psychosis