There is so much to love in here—I felt really seen by the lesbian & asexual representation, the constant confusion and dissatisfaction with humanity as a species, the trauma and the breaking of generational cycles. There’s so much in here that at times I wasn’t sure how it all fit together, but in the end I believe it’s a matter of making a place for people who are not like the majority. That makes this a pretty significant read. Shesheshen and Homily are such complex characters that at times I struggled to understand, but it didn’t make them less valid for that. I also thoroughly enjoyed the tone of the writing which was filled with jokes, while perfectly balanced with more serious moments.

“There was more to being something than just blood.”

This is a story about a Korean family throughout four generations, starting before the World War II and spanning decades. The narrative is set around Sunja, a Korean girl who moves to Japan and builds a family there.

First of all, I commend Min Jin Lee’s ambition to write such a complex story. It’s a lengthy book with a lot of characters, but the way she weaves each character’s story together shows a lot of effort and hard work.

The research is also admirable. The way she paints the setting feels authentic. If it weren’t for the intricate details of this family’s history, I would’ve forgotten this is fiction. There is a focus on how racism and discrimination against Koreans affects each member of the family, and how each one of them deals with it—it’s heartbreaking to witness how prejudice perdures throughout time without consequence for the perpetrators.

Another point of focus is how women are treated in Korean and Japanese society. There is so much misogyny and violence, and having some chapters be from the point of view of men is even more shocking when you see how they consider women.

At times, I didn’t understand some of the author’s decisions regarding the fate of the characters. While some made sense, others seemed to be there for shock value or to keep adding trauma. I can’t remember a significant moment where someone is happy, which is not great.

In the end, while this is an ambitious project, it did not draw me in as much due to the high amount of characters and the long period of time explored. I didn’t get attached to anyone except Sunja, our protagonist, because she was the one who was present throughout almost everything. I feel it would have benefitted from a more restraint cast of characters over a shorter period of time, though I understand what the author was trying to say with the vastness of the story.

It took me a while to read this poetry collection; which says something given that I usually read poetry in one to two days. I had a difficult time reading this at once— there’s so many emotions and suffering coming through the pages, not to mention a complexity that felt like it needed my utmost attention. I would read a few poems and their visceral nature would make me unable to continue. It happened particularly with “Forty Years” which made me think of my mom. Ditlevsen has a way of writing that gets under your skin and finds the most vulnerable parts of yourself; her work mostly focuses on the woman condition, and how the consequences of childhood perdure throughout her life. It truly affected me to be confronted with the reality of many women in the past as well as today from such a personal perspective. Her poetry will remain inside of me.