Tomorrow marks two years since Han Kang got the Nobel Prize in Literature (the news hit on October 10, 2024, in the evening our time). First Korean to win it. First Asian woman, too. I'm not going to play it cool here: I was proud. And judging by what happened next, so was most of the country.
Within six days, Kyobo, Yes24 and Aladin (the three big bookstore chains, which handle most of the online book sales here) had sold 1,032,000 copies of her books between them, according to KBS World reporting at the time. Her titles took every single spot in Kyobo's top ten. Shelves went bare. For a country where we keep hearing that nobody reads anymore, that was a strange and pretty lovely week.
I should confess something before I start handing out a reading list. I used to be a steady reader. Lately I've gotten lazy about it, and yes, I feel a bit guilty. I still stop by my neighborhood library on weekends, though, so I haven't completely given up on myself.
Oh, and today happens to be Hangul Day, the holiday for the Korean alphabet. Seems like a decent day to talk about books written in it.
Quick facts
- Han Kang won the Nobel Prize in Literature on October 10, 2024.
- She was the first Korean and first Asian woman to win it.
- Her books sold 1,032,000 copies in Korea within six days.
- Easy Han Kang start: The Vegetarian, the 2016 Booker International winner.
- Gentlest non-Han Kang pick: Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop.
Why it felt like Korea showed up late
Here's something that bugged me for years as a reader. Look at the neighbors. Kawabata got one for Japan way back in 1968, Oe got another in 1994, and on the Chinese-language side you had Gao Xingjian in 2000 and Mo Yan in 2012. Korea? Nothing. We kind of showed up late to the party, and for ages it felt like Korean books were graded on a lower curve than theirs, too. I always felt a little sorry about that.
Part of it was plain old translation. There just wasn't much. Here's my favorite bit of trivia about that. Deborah Smith, the Brit who translated The Vegetarian, only started learning Korean around 2009 or 2010, and one reason was that she couldn't find much Korean fiction in English to read. A few years of study later, her version was out (2015). A year after that, the book won the Man Booker International Prize, and she and Han Kang split it. Not bad for a language she'd picked up in her twenties.
After that the door stayed open. Cursed Bunny got onto the International Booker shortlist in 2022, Whale the year after, Mater 2-10 the year after that. Then came the Nobel. Honestly? After Han Kang's win, Koreans got a bit of confidence about our own literature. I know I did.
What gets lost on the way to English
Now the grumpy-reader part. Korea's history of literary translation is short, and I don't think the things that make Korean, well, Korean, come through fully in English yet.
The Vegetarian itself got picked apart here in 2017 and 2018. Critics pointed out that Smith had mixed up pal (arm) and bal (foot) in one passage. Another favorite example was bit, a word that can mean either light or color. So chorok bit, which the critics read as "green color," became "green light." Han Kang sided with her translator and said none of it distorted the novel. English readers obviously loved the book anyway, so I'm not here to bash anybody. Translating a novel is brutal work.
Then there's the stuff no translator can really fix, because it lives in the grammar. We leave out "I" and "you" constantly. If it's obvious who's talking, why bother saying it? And the ending of almost every sentence carries a little tag about the relationship. Banmal is how you talk to friends and people younger than you. Jondaetmal is the polite version. If a character suddenly drops from one to the other halfway through a scene? That's a plot event, trust me. One little line and a Korean reader already knows who's older, who's ticked off, who's faking being close. English has to spell that out. Or drop it.
That's why I go easy on translators when a line reads a bit funny in English. Pretty often that funny spot is right where the Korean was up to something English just can't do.
So what should you actually read?
With Han Kang, I'd pick one of two. The Vegetarian is short, split into three parts, and it's the one that won in 2016. Good if you like quiet books that slowly get very, very strange. Human Acts is about the May 1980 Gwangju Uprising, in her hometown. Heavier, no question. But it shows you the historical pain that runs under a lot of her writing.
After that, The White Book, then Greek Lessons (in English since 2023). We Do Not Part, about the April 3 massacre on Jeju, came out in English in January 2025.
Not ready for that much grief in a row? Fair. Branch out.
Shin Kyung-sook's Please Look After Mom was a million seller here around 2009 and won the Man Asian Literary Prize. A mother goes missing at Seoul Station, and her family slowly figures out how little they knew her. If you have a mom, keep tissues nearby.
Cho Nam-joo's Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 came out here in 2016, sold over a million copies, and reached English in 2020 through Jamie Chang. It's thin, and it reads almost like a case file of everyday sexism. People here argued about it for months.
Bora Chung's Cursed Bunny (translated by Anton Hur) is for horror fans: weird, kind of gross, funny in places. Cheon Myeong-kwan's Whale (translated by Chi-Young Kim) is a big, loud epic that never sits still. Hwang Sok-yong's Mater 2-10 follows three generations of railway workers across about a century, so give it some time.
And if you want the gentlest possible way in, there's Hwang Bo-reum's Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop (translated by Shanna Tan). A burned-out woman quits her job and opens a bookshop in a Seoul neighborhood. Coffee, regulars, small talk. Nobody gets murdered. Sometimes that's exactly what you need.
One book is plenty
You don't need a grand reading plan, just grab one book. And if you ever stumble on two different English versions of the same page, read both. That's where the Korean pokes through, I think. And check your local library before you buy anything. Weekends usually mean a stop at the neighborhood library for me anyway, and it's still the cheapest way to find out a book isn't for you.
More from this blog:
- Hangul Day in Korea (October 9): Why an Alphabet Gets Its Own National Holiday (the alphabet these books are written in)
- Netflix’s Mousetrap Review: Identity, Anonymity, and a Korean Folktale (a Korean story that starts with a reclusive novelist)
So which Korean book did you read first? Or which one's been sitting on your list?
Top photo: ginkgo leaves over a palace gate in Seoul. Autumn is what Koreans like to call the season for reading. Photo: yujeong Huh / Unsplash
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