Scan barcode
A review by xengisa
Winter in Sokcho by Elisa Shua Dusapin
5.0
It's somehow a raw yet cold book. Like cold fugu in winter! Might be poisonous too.
I didn't expect to like this, actually-- the first half or so read choppily and detached, and I was absolutely ready to be disappointed. But I'll assume the author meant it to be that way, because although the style was similar, there was a gradual change in the openness of the story, just like how the narrator seemed to me, changed, by the end.
The unnamed narrator is strange, and so is Kerrand, the french comic-artist who has travelled to Sokcho to finish a tenth piece in his most popular series. At first the strangeness of the two is purely surreal, which, combined with the style of the writing that felt choppy, was kind of... not it, for me. How are these two drawn to each other? I didn't really get it, like as a reader I was at a calculated distance from the two.
I didn't want to be his eyes on my world. I wanted to be seen. I wanted him to see me with his own eyes. I wanted him to draw me.
Thank god the book is short enough for me to not drop it immediately; It took a bit but gradually I felt the narration turn more raw and authentic. At first detached but now introspective but reserved. Then emotional and raw. Or I could be reading it too deeply, but I think there was some sort of gradual change to be felt here. As I continued to read I did feel the strange draw between Kerrand and the narrator. And then it is written like a confession in her narration, when before we would have been kept at a distance from her thoughts. It's not a pretty thing but, then again. The book is called Winter In Sokcho, not Spring in Valhalla or anything, so... but yeah, the changes in her are undoubtedly due to Kerrand.
There were probably a lot of metaphors that flew over my head or rather can't wrap my head around, but the whole book kinda grew on me. Kerrand, for example, in his eating of only western food, although wanting to know Sokcho, or in him looking at museums, but not at the Sokcho as it is. But I think he changed, too. He used colours in his piece by the end, in his own way. Besides, his change is not the focus of the camera; it is on the narrator. Nevertheless I didn't think a man going into a supermarket acting like that could become so sympathetic and real but yaha, this book surprised me pleasantly. I can't believe I actually felt sad when they diverged, really, but I was.
It's hard to write what exactly I think of the two, as well as the relationship between the unnamed narrator and her mother, because it feels more complex, out of reach, than what I can understand? Like the "hero" of Kerrand's comic book, I guess. But overall the atmosphere of the book, especially in the second half, is really great. It felt like an authentic book, is all I can say, maybe too authentic...I hope the author is doing well honestly... but that's beyond my control. It's a good book.
4.5 stars, it's a slow start, which might not be a fair judgement since it is a short book, I mean. The last half or so is really chef's kiss. The cover is amazing, I might add. Winter Fugu presented nicely on a stylish plate, the book.
I didn't expect to like this, actually-- the first half or so read choppily and detached, and I was absolutely ready to be disappointed. But I'll assume the author meant it to be that way, because although the style was similar, there was a gradual change in the openness of the story, just like how the narrator seemed to me, changed, by the end.
The unnamed narrator is strange, and so is Kerrand, the french comic-artist who has travelled to Sokcho to finish a tenth piece in his most popular series. At first the strangeness of the two is purely surreal, which, combined with the style of the writing that felt choppy, was kind of... not it, for me. How are these two drawn to each other? I didn't really get it, like as a reader I was at a calculated distance from the two.
I didn't want to be his eyes on my world. I wanted to be seen. I wanted him to see me with his own eyes. I wanted him to draw me.
Thank god the book is short enough for me to not drop it immediately; It took a bit but gradually I felt the narration turn more raw and authentic. At first detached but now introspective but reserved. Then emotional and raw. Or I could be reading it too deeply, but I think there was some sort of gradual change to be felt here. As I continued to read I did feel the strange draw between Kerrand and the narrator. And then it is written like a confession in her narration, when before we would have been kept at a distance from her thoughts. It's not a pretty thing but, then again. The book is called Winter In Sokcho, not Spring in Valhalla or anything, so... but yeah, the changes in her are undoubtedly due to Kerrand.
There were probably a lot of metaphors that flew over my head or rather can't wrap my head around, but the whole book kinda grew on me. Kerrand, for example, in his eating of only western food, although wanting to know Sokcho, or in him looking at museums, but not at the Sokcho as it is. But I think he changed, too. He used colours in his piece by the end, in his own way. Besides, his change is not the focus of the camera; it is on the narrator. Nevertheless I didn't think a man going into a supermarket acting like that could become so sympathetic and real but yaha, this book surprised me pleasantly. I can't believe I actually felt sad when they diverged, really, but I was.
It's hard to write what exactly I think of the two, as well as the relationship between the unnamed narrator and her mother, because it feels more complex, out of reach, than what I can understand? Like the "hero" of Kerrand's comic book, I guess. But overall the atmosphere of the book, especially in the second half, is really great. It felt like an authentic book, is all I can say, maybe too authentic...I hope the author is doing well honestly... but that's beyond my control. It's a good book.
4.5 stars, it's a slow start, which might not be a fair judgement since it is a short book, I mean. The last half or so is really chef's kiss. The cover is amazing, I might add. Winter Fugu presented nicely on a stylish plate, the book.