The Vegetarian

Es increíble cómo Han Kang convierte algo tan simple como dejar de comer carne en una exploración brutal de la opresión, la rebeldía y el costo de ser libre. Es algo muy intenso que desde fuera de la cultura coreana no todos podrían captar.

This book was so unsettling and graphic that it was almost hard to get through at times. I could barely make it through the sections narrated by her husband and her brother-in-law. It was beautifully written, but what an unbearably sad experience.

"The Vegetarian" left me in between clarity and confusion that I can’t quite put into words. It's one of those books that makes you question everything—whether you like it or not—and I still find myself uncertain about how I truly feel. But there's something undeniably impactful about it, something that lingers in your mind long after you finish.

At its core, this is the story of Yeong-hye, a woman who decides to give up meat after experiencing a disturbing dream basically want to became a vegetarian. But it's not just about her dietary choice; it spirals into a deeper exploration of identity, family, and personal control. The story is split into three parts, each narrated from the perspective of a different person in her life: her husband, her brother-in-law, and her sister.

The first part, from her husband's point of view, sets the stage. He’s bewildered and disturbed by her sudden decision, and his frustration feels palpable. But it’s the second part, from her brother-in-law’s perspective, that really threw me off. This man, in a way, represents the kind of psychological discomfort that the book seems to instill in its readers. His obsession with Yeong-hye only added to my anxiety, making me feel trapped in his unsettling thoughts. And then, in the third part, we see Yeong-hye from her sister's viewpoint, which brings a touch of clarity, but also more questions.

I can't explain why the book made me feel this way. I’m not sure if I can say I “liked” it, but I can say it made me think—about body autonomy, about how our actions ripple out into the lives of others, and about the complexity of human relationships. It's haunting and uncomfortable, but perhaps that’s exactly the point. The rawness and unpredictability of Yeong-hye's journey left me with a sense of unease I can’t shake, and honestly, I’m not sure if that’s something I appreciate or something I’m still processing.

In the end, this book is not for everyone. It's the kind of read that left meunsettled and questioning what I've just read. I enjoyed it, I can’t deny it made me feel something—though I’m still not sure exactly what that something is.