Thanks to netgalley for the ARC of this novel. This was my first Han Kang and I can see why she's a lauded writer. This book is atmospheric and sad, almost dreamy while also recounting some truly horrific parts of the massacre that happened in Jeju.
By the end I wasn't sure what the narrator had experienced and what was a dream sequence, but it didn't really matter by that point. The questions I had about the bird, and about her friend, they all just kind of melted away as I got further into her friend's mother's memories. I will think about this book for a long time.

4.5 stars. This book is so important. It tackles an understudied and not well known (at least not to me) era of violence in S. Korea in the years leading up to the Korean War. Like all of Kang’s books that I’ve read so far, this book seamlessly tackles aspects of the human condition with heart and gorgeous prose. This made me go on a Wikipedia dive to figure out how much of the history involved in this book I’ve somehow missed.

My main issue/struggle with this book was the mixed perspective and nonlinear timeline. Because it’s on a topic I’m so unfamiliar with, I got lost a few times and had to double back quite a bit to try and piece the story together and the family history of our main characters. Even so, I think this book is beautifully done and worth a read. I’ll probably reread it (in one go next time to avoid losing my train of logic with breaks or other books mixed in) and rate it even higher next time around.

The main character and first-person narrator of We Do Not Part by Han Kang knows her scientific trivia. Interesting facts percolate in Kyungha’s mind and drip meaningfully into her narration — especially, in Chapter 4: Birds, when she’s freezing her butt off at a rural bus stop in a snowstorm.

Kyungha is quiet, introspective, and extremely solitary. She’s a writer. She has spent significant time in archives fusing fact and narrative together. But no longer. Writing has wrecked her and her life.

In We Do Not Part, we meet Kyungha coming out of a housebound state, rising from the floor of her new Seoul apartment. Loneliness, migraines, and appetite loss have immobilized (and practically starved) her. She explains, in one of my favorite lines from the book: “I had not reconciled with life, but I had to resume living.”

She resumes living when her hospitalized friend needs her to travel to her home and take care of her pet bird.

Throughout the book, I got the sense that we are quite lucky, as readers, that Kyungha takes time to share this story with us at all. She doesn’t have the energy, vigor, or enthusiasm to offer information willy nilly. Given how her last book emotionally drained her, her sharing now has to serve a purpose and be efficient. Even for her own narrative, the effort it takes to tell pulls from energy she doesn’t really have.

I'm so glad Kyungha found the strength to share her story to save a bird. It's beautiful, sprawling, spiritual, and moving.

Thanks to NetGalley and Hogarth for the eARC!

This was such a emotional story, told with such depth and rawness. I breezed right through this book, and I can't recommend this book enough. This was my first Han Kang book; I can't wait to read her other works!

We Do Not Part by Han Kang is such a phenomenal writer.
I really enjoyed reading another well written story!

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing this eARC.

We Do Not Part follows Kyungha, whose recently injured friend Inseon asks her to care for her pet bird on Jeju Island.

I shouldn't have been surprised at how much I adored this new book from award winning author Han Kang, but it was my first read of hers, and it truly blew me away. The prose is intricate and gorgeous, and the story equally so. Flitting between moments like in a dream -- or a nightmare -- kept me on my toes, and kept me wanting to know more. Despite the sheer amount of things going on, this also felt like a quiet read, and frequently eerie, so much like a snowy winter night in the middle of nowhere. And it makes sense, in the end, why the narrative feels so tonally haunted -- Kang eventually leads us to Jeju 4:3, a massacre I had never heard of before this book. Even before it's at the forefront of the narrative, the horrific events touch every page of this book, and it is sorrowful and transformative.

I picked up Han Kang's entire backlist after finishing this book, and I'll almost certainly be a reader of every forthcoming book.

Han Kang has crafted a beautiful puzzle of a novel. The writing is evocative, the subject matter devastating.

Narrator Kyungha wakes up from a recurring dream: snow, a beach, a forest, tree trunks, a crowd of people. She's disoriented, the heat is stifling, she's not eating and her headaches are relentless.

Kyungha is an author, she's written a (controversial?) novel about the 1980 uprising and subsequent massacre which took place in Gwangju, South Korea. A colleague with whom she's collaborated in the past, documentarian turned woodworker Inseon contacts Kyungha unexpectedly, and ends up asking for a huge favor that sees Kyungha traveling from Seoul to Jeju Island.

This might sound straightforward but We Do Not Part is anything but. Kang uses the framework to dive into the Jeju uprising and subsequent massacre which took place on the island in 1948, in response to the UN/US sponsored elections which Koreans feared would permanently divide the country. Through news articles, interviews, films, photographs and conversations between Kyungha and Inseon, whose parents were survivors of the 1948 uprising, Kang fills in the picture, in pieces, of that part of Korea's history.

The history is tragic. Thousands of people killed or disappeared. Families never knowing what happened to relatives. Mass burials, unmarked graves.

I was mesmerized by this novel. The prose was visceral - I felt the coldness of the snow, the darkness of Inseon's house, the viciousness of the soldiers. The way Kang unspooled the narrative was haunting. Brilliant. Unforgettable.

My thanks to NetGalley and Hogarth Books for the digital ARC.

This translation by Nobel Prize for literature winner Han Kang came out last week and it took me a minute to get used to her style and storytelling but once I did I was immersed. Kang's writing is poetic and lyrical and I wasn't sure at all what was real or what was happening at first, being honest here. I am not smart enough to know what all the snow represented, but I'm sure it represented something. But it's when we get to the meat of the book - meeting the narrator's friend to discuss making art/film to cover the Jeju uprising - that I was hooked. This book covers something I knew nothing about - the Jeju uprising of 1948 and 1949, where 30,000 people were killed in government/military perpetrated atrocities, which, according to accounts, involved gang rape, infanticide, and mass execution of civilians. Atrocities perpetrated with the complicity/aid of the US military. The story pieces together accounts and research so that the filmmaker can tell the story. But it is a deep scar with long felt wounds. This was great. (once I figured it out/it got going).

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the review copy. We Do Not Part is out now.

We do not part is an eagerly awaited novel by Nobel prize winning Han kang. It is the story of two friends in North Korea. Kyuhang receives a call from inseon asking her to come visit in the hospital as she has injured herself. Inseon begs kyuhang to return to an island jeju to save her bird ama. Kyuhang reluctantly agrees and finds herself trekking to the island in a snow storm and plunging temperatures. Her arrival at her friends house though will cause her to experience a greater feeling of darkness as she relives a traumatic part of Korean history on her quest.

This is dreamlike book that provides voices of the past a chance to speak through Kyuhang. Nearly reading like a fever dream , this is an eye opening exploration of the historical trauma of a nation. This is a heavy read and can be confusing at parts as the narrative slips between time and place. This provides readers with much to learn about a dark chapter in North Korean history.

Thanks to the publisher for providing this arc via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

WHEWWWW what a book. This was beautiful and soooo unsettling. I was so nervous and anxious the entire time reading this. It gave me I’m Thinking of Ending Things vibes because I didn’t really know what was real and what wasn’t and what was fully going on until the end. And even then I was like whaaaat. This was so heartbreaking and even more sad because it is about a massacre that happened in 1948 on a Korean island where hundreds of thousands of people were killed. Holy f. I am so unwell. 5 freaking stars.

https://wesleyanreviewofbooks.wescreates.wesleyan.edu/uncategorized/violent-images-harsh-landscapes/

What a heartbreakingly beautiful book by 2024 Nobel Prize for Literature winner Kang. First published in 2021, the English translation is now out. The story begins by showing narrator Kyungha’s grief and isolation as she withdraws from the world after loss, and the nightmares that plague her after writing a book about a historical Korean massacre. When her friend Inseon is injured and brought to hospital in Seoul, she asks Kyungha to travel from Seoul to the island of Jeju, off the coast of South Korea to care for her bird Ama.

What follows is Kyungha’s journey to Jeju in the driving snow. At Inseon’s house, the story becomes otherworldly, and changes to a haunting narrative about the Jeju uprising of 1948-49 and the horrendous atrocities that were committed by Korean police and military to stamp out a local uprising.

Snow is the dominant metaphor in Kyungha’s journey. Snow covers all manner of past sins and hurts, blanketing everything in a muted, echoless silence. It’s comforting in many ways, fresh and new, white and dazzling, but also an aftermath. In one unforgettable passage, two sisters in decades past wander through the field of a mass killing, brushing snow gently off the faces of the dead in order to find their murdered kin.

Kang’s book has spurred me to do a bit of reading about mid-20th century events on the Korean peninsula. As recently as 2008, a mass grave was found under the Jeju airport, and in 2019 the government reversed military court rulings against Jeju islanders, clearing the victims’ names.

This isn’t the story I thought I was getting when I read the first few chapters, but I’m glad that it is the story that I got. Kang was able to show me the Jeju Uprising through the voices of the past and present, using her characters to bring it to life, brushing the obfuscating snow off the traumas of the past and bringing them to light.

Thanks to Random House and NetGalley for a gifted copy for review.

This novel is just remarkable. There are scenes in the book that you will never forget. Han Kang the recent recpient of the Nobel Prize has her 2021 novel published in English. I read the book in one seating (i was on a six hour flight) and could not put it down. It's a tough read since it's about a massacre that took place on Jeju Island. The two main charcters are Kyungha and Inseon. They are good friends and when Kyungha gets in an accident at her woodshed she asks Inseon to go feed her bird Ama who hasn't been fed in three days. When she goes out there the novel explores the massacre that took place in 1948. The bird resuce intertwines with the descriptions of what it was like for the citizens fleeing the island and the fate of many will haunt you. I can't remember a book that literally made you look at humanity and the horrible things that we can do to each other with a flick of a switch. It reminds me of things happening today and how we as humans never seem to learn from past mistakes and horrors and how we can never feel safe because people can do these things. The novel is told in a kalidescopic way so be patient with it because by the final page you will be moved and feel ashamed that you may have not know that this massacre happened and that we must pay pay close attention that it can never happen again but sadly things like this will continue to curse humanity. Thank you #netgalley and Hogarth Rando House for this incredble novel. (I'd give it six if I could!)

Unique, atmospheric, absorbing story of friendship and history. The writing is lovely, descriptive, and memorable. The history of Korea in the 40s and early 50s was one of incredible tragedy, and connected to the two friends at the center of the story. This book had a wonderful sense of place.

An ethereal and atmospheric fever dream that reminds us not to forget our past by connecting a modern female friendship with two massacres on South Korea. Kang is a phenomenal writer, her prose is immaculate - I could feel the Jeju snowstorm with all my senses. My only issue was sometimes the past and present links didn't full land, but I realized I didn't really care, I was enjoying the writing so much.

4.5 stars

This is a beautifully written book- I highlighted many passages that resonated with me and knew I would want to come back to. One line in particular, "I had not reconciled with life, but I had to resume living", is one that stuck with me, as the main character is on the cusp of mostly self-imposed life and death. The first chapter reminded me a bit of 'A Man Called Ove', in the blase way the characters go on living, when perhaps they would rather die- the lengths each character goes to get their affairs in order to make their parting easier on others. As this book proceeds though; it becomes about so much more- travelling into the underbelly of the massacre in Jeju, South Korea. The realism, underlying meaning in metaphors, and poetic narrative makes this a beautiful and haunting novel. It is definitely a dense and emotionally heavy read, but well worth it to experience the artful poetry of Kang. Thank you to #NetGalley and #RandomHousePublishingGroup for the ARC

this one is brilliant — in the way a matchstick lights up a room ensconced in darkness. this book sent chills down my spine and didn’t stop until I got to the last page. and I was in 80 degree weather. I got past midpoint and I threw the book down and was OH MY GOODNESS HOW DID I TRANSCEND INTO HORROR. I mean it’s not a horror novel (and it is a ghost story) but Kang has this way of escalating the inhumanity of the atrocities we commit during wartime and the aftermath of said atrocities. For this book, she focused on the killings following the Jeju Uprising…eff it was intense. I really enjoyed the friendship between Kyungha ans Inseon. Artists who can vibe with each other’s work and get inspired and excited by each other’s vision - that’s beautiful.

Thanks to Hogarth Books for an advanced read.

Helping a friend sets a troubled woman on a journey.

Novelist Kyungha is deeply disturbed by dreams after publishing a book, the research for which had her probing a difficult time in Korea's past. She has gone into near complete seclusion but is called back into the world when her friend Inseon contacts her and asks for her help, Inseon has been badly injured and is confined to a hospital, but has left behind a pet bird Ama who will perish if someone doesn't immediately see to its care. Inseon has been living in Jeju in a family home, an area of the country known for a horrific purge of rebels decades earlier. Kynugha sets out on the trek to Jeju, struggles through terrible weather, and once arrived finds herself drawn into the past, particularly that of Inseon's grandmother Min who was a child in Jeju when the anti-communist purge swept through.
Author Han Kang, winner of the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature, is reknowned for her poetic use of language and the imagery which permeates her works. In We Do Not Part the reader traces a friendship between two women as well as learns about a part of Korean history that has not been widely told but which merits exploration, the Jeju Uprising of 1948-1949. Snow, birds, fingers, dreams and trauma are blended into the tale through Min's memories and the dream-like state of Kyungha's research. What truths must be told, and will closure result in positive change? The horrors that were wrought on the people of Jeju were and remain horrific, but are approached with respect and a desire to understand as the author confronts the pain inherent to the events. This is not a pleasant topic, but those who read it are rewarded with an elegantly crafted narrative and beautiful language. Readers of Han Kang's previous works will certainly appreciate this latest offering, as would those who enjoy authors like Kazuo Ishiguro, Ian McEwan and Da Chen. Many thanks to NetGalley and Random House Publishing Group/Hogarth for allowing me access to this intense but beautiful novel in exchange for my honest review.

Han Kang’s “We Do Not Part” exemplifies “her intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life" for which she was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in October. The novel’s protagonist and narrator, Kyungha, a writer who is tormented by nightmares after publishing a book about mass killings and torture (presumably about the 1980 massacre in Gwangju, Korea), has secluded herself for months in her apartment in Seoul, suffering from migraines and nausea, barely eating, and writing and rewriting her “Last Will.” Despite her anxiety and depression, Kyungha does not hesitate when she receives a text from her friend of decades, Inseon, who asks her to come immediately to a hospital in Seoul. Inseon, a documentary film-maker who is a carpenter, sliced off two fingers with an electric saw and was undergoing agonizing treatment. She tasks Kyungha with traveling to her home on Jeju Island, where Inseon had moved to care for her mother until her recent passing, to save her pet bird, Ama, who is caged without food or water.

Kang describes, without histrionics or theatrics, Kyungha’s harrowing journey as she plods her way through the heavy snow and gale force winds trying to reach Inseon’s remote cabin. Kang’s spare prose shines, but particularly in her descriptions of snow: “As the snow lands on the wet asphalt, each flake seems to falter for a moment. Then, like a trailing sentence at the close of a conversation, like the dying fall of a final cadence, like fingertips cautiously retreating before ever landing on a shoulder, the flakes sink into the slick blackness and are soon gone.” In a fever dream, Kyungha encounters the specter of Inseon, and learns how Inseon’s family was impacted by the 1948–1949 Jeju Massacre, in which U.S.-backed Korean forces killed over 30,000 Jeju Island residents suspected of aiding insurgents.

Kang’s restraint in confronting historical trauma makes this novel particularly disquieting. Kang celebrates the resilience of life and hope despite generational trauma and tragedy. A powerful novel of friendship and the violent legacies of the past. Thank you Jaylen Lopez, Assistant Director of Marketing, Random House & Hogarth Books for an advanced copy of this important must read.

I just finished reading this, and it’s perfect. The language is beautiful, the story is haunting and profound, and I couldn’t put it down. Now more than ever, Kang’s reckoning with the way people in power commit atrocities - and then censor, repress, and attempt to rewrite the truth about those atrocities - is so important. Remembering is important. Empathy and courage are important. This book is amazing.

Thanks so much to Hogarth for the review copy.