I hated this.

Tell me you’ve never spoken to someone with a disability without telling me you’ve never spoken to someone with a disability. And framing the mistreatment of a care giver towards a disabled person as some kind of punishment/retribution for that person’s past misdeeds? This book reeks of ableism.

First, I do want to acknowledge that disability rights and awareness of disability is very different in Korea than in the US. I am from the US and I’ve lived in Korea for over ten years. I am not an expert on disability in either of these countries, nor am I disabled myself. I do however have friends and family members in both countries who are disabled. Still, my knowledge is incomplete.

Now, access to care and accessibility aids absolutely varies by region and by socio-economic factors. While it is possible that someone of a lower socio-economic background living in the Korean countryside wouldn’t have access to great care, I still find it hard to believe that the doctors and nurses wouldn’t even given them a pen and paper when they were able to move their hand. Oghi, when he has the accident, seems to be pretty solidly middle class at least. Considering his resources and the extent of his injuries, it seems most likely that he would be treated in a large hospital in Seoul, especially for his surgeries. This means, that they likely would have had access to other options for communication aids as well. They would have tried some means of communicating, whether that be writing, typing, etc. No one in this book ever offers Oghi any sort of way to communicate complex thoughts and Oghi has to ask for paper and pen himself. The way absolutely no one tries to communicate with Oghi is unbelievable, and I suspect it shows the author’s own biases and misunderstandings of disability. This could have been resolved by Oghi not recovering any type of movement until after his abusive MIL had completely isolated, as eye-tracking devices are more expensive and less readily available. That would have been much more believe able than every single trained professional being negligent and incompetent. (And I’m saying this as someone who has a LOT to complain about when it comes to the Korean medical system and disability rights!)

This reads like the author’s own fear of isolation and dependence. I would have loved a nuanced story on these themes, even a take on ableism in the medical system. Instead, the ableism goes unquestioned in favor of making disability an element of horror and a type of divine punishment for a character who did some bad stuff. The story is shallow and relies heavily on readers finding the prospect of paralysis and reliance on someone else as horrifying as the author does. We get all together too much backstory and reflection on Oghi’s life and not nearly enough on the pain and frustration of being left completely alone with nothing to do for long periods of time.

Don’t read this. If you’re looking for a more nuanced take on disability in Korean fiction, try:

• Walking Practice by Dol Ki Min
• “Stars Shine in Earth’s Sky” from On the Origin of Species and Other Stories by Bo-young Kim
• Almond by Sohn Won-Pyung