A review by revolverreads
Winter in Sokcho by Elisa Shua Dusapin

emotional mysterious reflective medium-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? Yes
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated

4.0

To do, or not to do, that wasn’t even the question, because quite literally, nothing was done in this short story. 

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].
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