A beautifully written, meandering little book, about the futility and beauty of the human experience, and about a world slowly being destroyed. It's my first book by this author, but it won't be the last.

"𝘐’𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵’𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘪𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘰. 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦, 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘴, 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮."

Somberness, sometimes, is sobering. The reality of things. An industrialized Korea. Very little money. Working class gray. The whole novel is plagued with an overcast reality that begs to connect to an every so rapidly developing Korea. Where do the elders go? What do they have left to do?

And so the novel takes flight, plays with a bit of magic with shadows, how they follow and where they stay - if they’re part of us - if they’re a metaphor for anguish or our past - does it have weight - what is the levity of my being and my country - where does a shadow go from here when an overcast blinds it to knowingness?

Sparse. A thick haze. Unsure of the outskirts of where story will go. 황 does a fine job of containing the contemporary anxieties of existing in modern day Korea.

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘶𝘮𝘢𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘺.."

A delightful read where you don’t want to leave the characters behind - for the full review go to https://www.tumblr.com/joebloggshere/754370138490503168/one-hundred-shadows-by-hwang-jungeun-translation

"In this poignant and enchanting novella, Hwang Jungeun masterfully weaves together elements of magical realism and social commentary to create a powerful exploration of humanity's resilience in the face of futility. Set against the backdrop of a Seoul slum slated for demolition, the story follows Eungyo and Mujae as they navigate the mysterious phenomenon of rising shadows and the disintegration of their community.

With a restrained yet evocative writing style, Hwang Jungeun expertly conveys the emotional depth of her characters, their struggles, and their fragile connection. The novella is a haunting meditation on the effects of capitalism, the erasure of communities, and the indomitable human spirit.

Reminiscent of Han Kang's "Human Acts" and Yōko Ogawa's "The Memory Police," "One Hundred Shadows" is a mesmerizing and thought-provoking read that will linger with you long after finishing the book. Hwang Jungeun's unique voice and perspective make this a standout in the world of literary fiction, and I eagerly anticipate her future works."

I have no idea what this book is about. I suggest reading the summary and several reviews before picking it up. The constant repeating of words and the need to define them drove me nuts. The magical elements did not add to this short read. If this was not a novella I would have DNF the book about 20 pages in.

What to make of this novella. This was such an odd book, and I am struggling to figure out if my issues were due to cultural differences or the book itself. One Hundred Shadows follows Eungyo and Mujae, who both work in a rundown electronics market that is likely going to be eventually torn down. It was hard to understand the symbolism the author was going for with shadows, as I didn't quite understand what would happen if someone were to follow their shadow, only that it would be bad. The book is a critique on our capitalistic society and the hardships so many people face across the globe. There were aspects that hit me deep in my core and other aspects that had me so confused. I can't say I would recommend this book, because I didn't quite understand it. But it also felt like it was saying a lot more than what could be said in only 140 pages.

Thank you to Erewhon Books and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

One Hundred Shadows by Hwan Jungeun (translated by Jung Yewon) is a haunting novella told in simple, spare prose. But don’t let that simplicity, and the surface gentleness of the style, fool you. This is a story that is sharp in its criticism of Korean society (really, capitalist society in general) even as it is tender toward its characters, one that is thoughtful and moving even as it is spartan in its dialogue and language. It’s the kind of book that passes quickly in terms of reading experience but lingers in the mind for some time after you’ve turned the last page.

Eungyo and Mujae are two young people living in a poorer section of Seoul and working in a sprawling, old, ramshackle electronics market doing repair work. The market is made up of five buildings, but to make way for newer development, one by one the buildings are demolished, taking with them not just the structures but the people who worked in them. As their community disintegrates around them, the two grow ever closer together, quietly sharing a lunch of cold noodles, some rice wine with a third friend, or playing a nighttime game of badminton. Beyond these two parallel lines, Jungeun adds a bit of ominous fantasy: in this world, characters’ shadows can “rise” — become untethered from the person they belong to. Sometimes it’s partial, sometimes temporary, and sometimes more permanent. As unsettling as that is, it becomes even worse when someone “follows their shadow” (they often die soon afterward) and thus people are constantly warned/reminded not to do that. At least, people that share time and space with Eungyo and Mujae. Shadows rise when people seemingly reach the end of their endurance, and as we never see the upper class beyond a passing reference, we don’t know if the shadow phenomenon is pervasive in this universe or if it happens only to the underclass of the city.

In fact, the book opens with Eungyo’s shadow rising and her following it deep into the woods, only called back by Mujae’s voice. Throughout the course of the novella, both Eungyo and Mujae have moments where their shadows rise, letting the reader know that they are barely hanging on in the face of all that oppresses and exhausts them. Both grew up in partial families: Eungyo raised by her single dad after her mother left them, Mujae’s father dying after spiraling into ever-increasing debt. Their jobs are under siege, as is their entire community, by an enemy that don’t fully understand. As her boss explain “private enterprise” to her, and she hears how their building would be divided up and how much each unit would go for, she says “I felt like I was listening to a fairytale in a foreign language.”

It’s an apt sentence as much of One Hundred Shadows feels like a fairy or folktale. And not the Disney-fied ones but the sort that hearkens back to the originals, with their dark woods full of menace, the fear of the dark, the sense of potential violence, the potential always of death. The use of symbol also feels much in the fairytale mode. I have my own sense of what the shadows represent, but I think various readers will have their own explications: some that align with mine, some slightly different, others much more so. And that’s as it should be. The same holds true with other symbols in the story, such as a set of Russian nesting dolls, a story that sells small hard-to-find light bulbs, a tiny frog, an infestation of wood lice. Sometimes Jungeun will point the reader to a base reading, as when Mujae says, “Futility is precisely why I’ve always thought that a matryoshka resembles human life”, but that doesn’t mean this is the only way to read the dolls’ meaning. As for the frog, like the characters in the story, it too has been displaced, and we don’t know what happens to it afterward. The symbols, like the language, I’d say can be deceptively simple, but taken as a whole, there’s a cumulative effect that works perfectly with the sparseness of the language and the brevity of characterization to create a sense of the fabulistic.

Against the economic forces, Eungyo and Mujae have each other, and while we never, outside of a very brief aside, get any sense of a physical/sexual relationship, there is a lovely, quiet intimacy between the two of them that shines in the sharply vivid details Jungeun chooses to convey, such as the way Mujae prepares an orange for Eungyo: “peel [ing] it so deftly that the skin splayed out like petals around the navel.” A tiny, everyday sort of moment further de-emphasized by hoe he “then handed it back to me and went on with what he’d been saying.” But these quotidian moments of gentle courtesy and beauty are perhaps the only shield they have to hold back the world pressing in on their attenuated lives. Which makes it all the more heartbreaking when some of those moments or interactions, such as buying a little light bulb from an old man inside his “jampacked” tiny shop disappear.

The ending is similarly powerfully quiet, both ominous and hopeful, and its language, imagery, and the question Eungyo asks of herself are all hard to shake even days later. The novella will certainly not be for everyone, with its elliptical style, abrupt shifts, lack of quotation marks around dialogue, and unexplained phenomena, but I highly recommend giving it a shot. 4.5

An interesting blend of supernatural elements and striking realism. I enjoyed reading it even though it was, as mentioned by some other reviewers, quite bleak. I think what made me enjoy it was that even though I come from a different continent, the descriptions of the little shops (some abandoned and some still working), tiny simple eateries, people living ordinary lives - it all seemed so familiar to the reality that I see around me. I also liked how easily the supernatural parts of the story blended with the social commentary on poverty, urban redevelopment at the cost of livelihoods (and sometimes lives), the power of money and the odd beauty of the mundane.

My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher Kensington Books for an advance copy of this book of speculative fiction about live in the time of capitalism gone amuck, and how certain segments of society are just shadows, shadows that can make people disappear.

As is becoming increasingly clear day after day and all around the world, humans are increasingly in the way of governments and entitled people to make lots of money. Humans want things, clean air and water, foodstuffs that aren't contaminated, and decent medical care. This costs money, so is of no interest for anyone with power to provide this any more, as can be shown in huge cities with empty buildings being used as tax shelters, while laws are passed making it illegal to be homeless. We are all just shadows, and as things get worse these shadows grow larger. And lead us to dark places, places where we might not be able to return. One Hundred Shadows by Hwang Jungeun, translated from Korean by Jung Yewon, is a story about a neighborhood that is to be destroyed for economics, and the many shadows that are starting to grow, with no end in sight.

Eungyo is walking in the woods when Eungyo spots a shadow. About to follow it Eungyo is stopped by a co-worker Mujae, who tells a story about his family and the shadow that he once saw. Eungyo and Mujae work in a building that rebuilds broken technology for people living in a poor neighborhood in Seoul, South Korea. Eungyo has lost many things, and soon finds that the building that means so much has been chosen, along with most of the neighborhood to be wiped from the map, and something better and bigger will be put in. Something that will have no space for Eungyo. As things start to turn more shadows are seen, growing larger with the fear of what will happen, and the knowledge that there really is nothing that can be done, except try to go on.

This is an exceptionally strong novella, one that offers a lot of options for what could be. The book is pushed as a fantasy, but this is more a book about the uncertainty of life, and how this uncertainty weighs on a soul. Or a shadow. The characters are very good. Eungyo has had a lot of sadness, but there is a relationship that is burgeoning with Mujae, which is handled well. The book flows well, and for a book that is translated I noticed nothing that seemed awkward or hard to understand. I am sure there are some parts of Korean society that I am missing that probably has more of an impact, but I enjoyed this book quite a bit. The writing is really very good, and for such a dark urban message, has a a real beauty to it, almost a poetry. Especially in the interactions that Eungyo has with the people in the building.

I have been reading a lot of novellas recently. I don't know if it is the TikTok buzz making books shorter, but I am enjoying them quite a bit. This book had a lot of questions left at the end, which I am still contemplating now. This is the first that I have read by Hwang Jungeun, and I look forward to reading more.

Hwang Jungeun's "One Hundred Shadows" is a quick novella that plunges you into the gritty world of a Korean electronics market. We meet Eungyo and Mujae, two young adults scraping by in this labyrinthine environment, their lives intertwined in a way that feels strangely unsettling as they try to survive in their changing enviroment.

The book's strength lies in its atmosphere. Hwang masterfully crafts a world that's both bleak and strangely beautiful, where the harsh realities of poverty brush shoulders with the flickering neon glow of countless devices. The subtle inclusion of supernatural elements adds an intriguing layer, leaving you wondering just how much is real and how much is fueled by desperation.

However, "One Hundred Shadows" left me wanting more in terms of clarity. The narrative, while engaging, felt fragmented at times. There were moments where I struggled to grasp the full picture. The ending left some questions unanswered, adding to this sense of uncertainty.

Overall, this is an interesting read for those seeking a quick and atmospheric story. Just be prepared for a fragmented narrative that may leave you wanting a bit more explanation alongside the intrigue.

3.5

Interesting read with an interesting portrayal of what I thought was probably related to depression or other mental illnesses. Some social commentary also on the circumstances of those living in "slums" as well as some interesting thoughts on "futility" and how it relates to human life. I found the prose to be quite atmospheric. Sometimes the dialog was a difficult to follow -- partly because the author didn't use quotation marks and also probably because something wonky was happening with my Kindle formatting.

The ending felt quite abrupt, but it was a nice reversal from the beginning of the book.

Either way, I'd read more of Hwang Jungeun's work -- consider me intrigued.

Received a free copy from Netgalley.

Hwang Jungeun’s novel, inspired by the tragic 2009 Yongsan Disaster, delves into the lives of the marginalized working poor in Seoul. Set in a close-knit electronics market, the story follows Eungyo, a repair shop assistant, and Mujae, who works in a small workshop, as they navigate their budding relationship amidst their struggling community.

The novel critiques the rapid, capitalistic growth of the city, which leaves people like Eungyo and Mujae behind. Despite the heavy themes of societal neglect and economic disparity, the book maintains a quiet yet powerful narrative, highlighting the often-overlooked lives of these individuals.

An intriguing element in the story that I enjoyed is the depiction of shadows that detach from their owners, acting as metaphors for the characters' inner turmoil and unspoken anxieties. These shadows, which sometimes grow ominously or lure characters into despair, serve as a cultural and folklore reference rather than fitting neatly into the category of magical realism.

Hwang’s prose is sparse and elegant, capturing the essence of a world where the organic is overwhelmed by inorganic forces, and the natural world is marginalized. The novel subtly portrays the struggles of the working poor, their resistance against aggressive developers, and their fight to preserve their way of life in a society driven by consumerism and disposability.

Ultimately, the book is a poignant, bittersweet exploration of resilience and hope, as the bond between Eungyo and Mujae offers a glimmer of light amidst the encroaching darkness.

Thank you to the publisher and Netgalley who provided this eARC for free in exchange for an honest review.

This book is a mish-mash of genres and honestly, I have little to no idea what happened but the writing is very pretty.

Quick read-- part fantasy, part romance (but awkward teen romance), and part... something else. I'm not sure if I caught all of nuance the author was trying to convey. Would definitely recommend for mood reader who wants something kinda eerie and kinda everyday life. (Is that an actual vibe? Maybe?)

This was a bleak little book, but also a quick, heartfelt and enjoyable read. The story follows Eungyo and Mujae, two friends who work at repair workshops in the same market building. Their building is scheduled to be torn down soon for redevelopment. Because of this, a sense of insecurity regarding the future builds within the two of them and everyone else who works in or frequents the market.

The setting was depicted so well. Most readers will have seen buildings or even whole neighborhoods get torn down around them to “improve” the surrounding area, with no heed paid to the people who make their homes and their livelihoods there, making this story relevant and relatable. The author showed a realistic sense of grim and hopelessness that gradually surrounded the people in the market, as well as the determination to hold onto hope and fight for their building that some of the characters like Eungyo’s boss Mr. Yeo showed.

I enjoyed the characterization in this book; the characters all felt like real people that you might encounter in your day-to-day life. The way the relationship between Eungyo and Mujae grew and blossomed throughout the story felt very natural, and I enjoyed their interactions with each other and the people around them. The magical realism also felt natural as it was sprinkled throughout the book: in this reality, people’s shadows rise and gain a mind of their own whenever they are feeling too depressed or hopeless, and if someone follows their shadows for too long they can be lost for good. This symbolism for depression and despair was done very well.

While there is not much plot and nothing really gets resolved in the end, this was still an insightful look into the lives of the poorer working class and how the government affects their lives. Besides, situations like these are not easily resolved in real life, either. This was quite enjoyable and I would recommend it to others.

3/5 Stars

TL;DR - A short slice-of-life novel that manages to be both bleak and hopeful. Not as spooky as the blurb led me to believe, but interesting and thought-provoking nonetheless.

Big thanks to Kensington Books, Erewhon Books, and NetGalley for providing the ARC for this book in exchange for an honest review!

***Trigger Warnings for: mentioned death of a parent, depression, and mentioned bullying.***

‘One Hundred Shadows’ by Hwang Jungeun is a South Korean short novel translated to English, following the daily life of a woman named Eungyo, who works in an electronics repair shop in a city slum. In this world, everyone has a shadow that can “rise”, that is, manifest itself physically and go wandering, often with negative consequences. We watch as Eungyo navigates the poverty and despair within herself and of those around her, and slowly falls in love with a man named Mujae, who contends with the unruly nature of his own shadow.

This book was…an experience. It’s my first novel-in-translation, so I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into, and whatever I was imagining, this wasn’t it - and that’s a good thing and a not-so-good thing. I really don’t know how to rate this, because it doesn’t follow a Western plot structure, and I’ve never read any other South Korean novels, so I can’t compare it that way. I’m kind of out of my depth here, but I’m going to do my best.

My main issue with this book was that the formatting was very confusing. I think it’s probably how dialog is written in Korean, but there’s no quotation marks around speech, which made it immediately very hard to read. I didn’t know who was talking a lot of the time, and I would find myself having to go back and re-read pages upon pages because who I thought was speaking actually wasn’t, so it changed the entire context of the narrative. I think this is a me-issue, because, as I said, this is my first foray into South Korean literature, so YMMV.

Beyond that, I was under the impression that this book was way more paranormal in nature than it actually is. The shadows are, from what I can parse, a physical (and metaphorical) manifestation of depression and dissatisfaction with life, not actually some supernatural phenomenon like I was anticipating. Don’t get me wrong, they serve as a very powerful literary device for conveying the toll poverty takes on people, and I really do appreciate the conversations this book is having on that subject, but I was here for the spookiness and I got none.

For what this book actually is, though, I will say I enjoyed it. It offers a lot of fertile ground for conversations about poverty, depression, and small acts of rebellious hope. The love story is understated and sweet, the characters are interesting in their own ways, and it leaves a lot of room for interpretation and meaning beyond what the prose is actually saying. I will say, this isn’t a plot-heavy novel at all - there’s next to none, in fact - and it’s not really a vibe-heavy novel either, it’s just sort of a quick slice-of-life that you just kind of float through. For a plot girlie like me, it left me wanting more all around, but it wasn’t bad by any means.

Final Thoughts:

I don’t really have much else to say, other than it’s an interesting enough way to pass a few hours. I won’t be purchasing a physical copy.

I've seen this described as a mood read, atmospheric and poetic, which I agree with entirely. That said, I'm not completely sure I 'got' the book. I understand it was inspired by the 2009 Yongsan Disaster and consequently is it a social critique and allegory for depression and modernisation. It's a slice of life story, and one with layers of other stories within and glimpse of a changing landscape within South Korea.
Maybe I did get it? I have no idea.

It wasn't a bad book. The translation was strong and kept the sombre tone. I think I wanted more from the shadows, particularly in a book called One Hundred Shadows. That part of the story felt like it fell to the wayside, in comparison to Eungyo and Mujae's relationship.

It's certainly not a difficult or long read, if you're looking for a sombre mood read.

An atmospheric and unsettling book with a really interesting premise that I felt could have been further expanded to enhance the narrative.

Short, and enjoyable to read a book in translation.

"Mujae asked me how my shadow was doing these days."

A short dark and odd read, however its very hard for me to start on it. Definitely a mood-read, once I'm into it, I couldn't stop reading. And when I reached the end, I was disappointed that it ended.

Will definitely be looking out for more works by Hwang Jungeun.

"I wonder if they call this kind of place a slum, because if you called it someone's home or their livelihood that would make things awkward when it comes to tearing it down."

One Hundred Shadows is a novella that is inspired by, and reflects on, the 2009 Yongsan Disaster - an incident in which tenants threatened with eviction faced a a SWAT team in defense of their building, slated for 'redevelopment;' amidst the clash, a fire broke out and killed several people.

The novella's commentary is subtle. The storyline follows Eungyo and Mujae, two young people who work in electronics shops in Building B, one of five buildings that are being threatened with gentrification and displacement. This story almost fades into the background as the meandering text explores the characters' emerging relationship, several of their days out, and the strange phenomenon of people's shadows detaching and drifting away.

The book is atmospheric, and the moving shadows are eerie and foreboding, signalling an immanent risk of losing the individual entirely -- a hopelessness. I did struggle with the dialogue not being demarcated by quotation marks, and I found that the ending was far too abrupt. The writing is lovely, and the world-building is effective; I wish this was longer and that some aspects were elaborated upon more.

Content warnings: classism, gentrification