On October 10, 2024, the Nobel Prize in Literature committee declared South Korean novelist Han Kang as the winner, the first person from South Korea to win the prestigious award. I had heard of Han Kang before her fame from the award, and had been interested in her works for a while. Specifically, in her most famous novel, The Vegetarian. When I learned that she had won a Nobel Prize, my interest in The Vegetarian skyrocketed. Being half-Korean myself, it was very exciting to see a Korean novelist be recognized. And based on the wide critical acclaim The Vegetarian had received, I thought it would be a great opportunity to review it for The Voice. However, now that I have finished the book, I must begin my review with some advice for anyone interested in the work: Han Kang’s The Vegetarian is not for the faint of heart.
The Vegetarian was first published in 2007, and was translated into English by Deborah Smith in 2015, which is the translation I used. The plot is somewhat simple, though executed very intricately throughout three, segmented books and various perspectives. At its core, The Vegetarian is about a housewife named Yeong-hye, who, after roughly five years of marriage, has a vivid, bloody nightmare which inexplicably makes her decide to stop eating meat. Throughout the novel, we go through various people’s perspectives (though rarely ever Yeong-hye’s herself), as her life and others’ begin to spiral out of control and fall apart.
The details of the plot itself are quite disturbing, and so, to avoid spoilers and the more gruesome elements of this book, I will instead focus my review on the thematic purpose and meanings behind the book. At the start of the book, Yeong-hye is married to a man named Mr. Cheong. We read the entire first segment of the book from Mr. Cheong’s perspective, getting all of his opinions and views. It should not take very long for any reader to realize that Mr. Cheong is not a good man. Mr. Cheong opens the novel stating that he always liked having control over his surroundings and hates change, and that because of those traits: “it was only natural that I would marry the most run-of-the-mill woman in the world” (Kang, 10). Mr. Cheong is a domineering husband; one who, after about five years of marriage to Yeong-hye, almost never talks to her, forces her to do everything he says, and is always criticising her in his thoughts. Throughout this first part of the book, Mr. Cheong seems to treat Yeong-hye more as a slave than his wife, and only after we get some of Yeong-hye’s perspective much later in the book, we see that it is wearing on her. At last, Yeong-hye has an awful, gory dream about meat and blood, which propels her to get rid of all of the meat in their house, as well as all of their animal-based products, much to the distaste of Mr. Cheong, and every other character who interacts with her.
One of the major themes in this book is the evils of patriarchy and the oppression of women in family structures. It becomes clearer throughout the novel that Yeong-hye is not becoming vegetarian for dietary or moral reasons, but rather as an attempt to not lash out against her husband and lifestyle. After the dream, Yeong-hye begins associating meat and animal products with violence, death, and rage. Yeong-hye keeps trying to fit into the housewife role Mr. Cheong wants her to, but because of how horrible of a person he is, it becomes unbearable, and she begins to secretly hate him and want him dead. As the novel progresses, we see Yeong-hye rapidly spiral into insanity, until she believes that she literally is a plant herself.
In a broader sense, one can see Yeong-hye’s choice to become vegetarian as a metaphor for how people struggle to remain innocent, good people when facing hardship, suffering and evil desires. Yeong-hye becomes vegetarian to suppress her emotions, to not be reminded of the inherent violence in something as simple as a meal. She eventually believes that she herself is a plant, so she can be something that is incapable of acting violently. That even when served as a meal, can be served without violence. In the same way, people in the real world will go to extremes to try and live peacefully in a world bent on violence and madness.
It would be impossible to say that The Vegetarian was not well written and well thought out. I personally believe that this novel has more depth and nuance to it than Everett’s previously reviewed James, and most certainly can be classified as great literature. However, it is the unceasing uncomfortability of The Vegetarian which makes it hard to recommend. From a standpoint of literary merit, The Vegetarian is brimming with geniusness, but it is the last book I would recommend to be read for fun. Past page 30, I’d say that I visibly winced in discomfort at almost every new scene, making The Vegetarian most likely the most disturbing book that I have ever read. Likely in large part from Deborah Smith’s excellent translation, there is a pervasive feeling of discomfort throughout the whole book, which makes it hard to enjoy beyond the important themes of the book, and the brilliant execution of it, which one simply must enjoy.
Overall, while The Vegetarian gets a thumbs up from me, I would be lying if I said I fully enjoyed my reading experience, because of how shocking some of the scenes can be. If one wants to study the great literature of today on a global scale, or judge the book for oneself, I think it can be a very great, formative experience. Just be warned that, for all its greatness, reading The Vegetarian will not be a cozy experience.
