Marriage can make a woman’s life feel like hot water sealed under a lid; without finding a way out, it can become a disaster for herself and others

Han Kang, who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2024, is known for “confronting historical trauma with strong poetic prose and exposing the fragility of human life.” Han Kang comes from a literary family, with her father and brother also being authors.

The Vegetarian by Han Kang is a novel that explores themes of bodily autonomy, societal expectations, repression, and desire. In this story, the author presents several themes:

1.     Women are depicted as so weak, fragile, and vulnerable that these qualities become their source of power.

2.     Marginalized individuals demonstrate remarkable vitality.

3.     The novel provides special insights into the strong connection between body and soul.

The Vegetarian tells the story of Yeong-hye, a home-maker who, one day, suddenly decides to stop eating meat after a series of dreams involving images of animal slaughter. This abstention leads her to become distanced from her family and from society. The story is told in three parts: "The Vegetarian", "Mongolian Mark", and "Flaming Trees". The first section is narrated by Yeong-hyes husband, Mr. Cheong, in the first person. The second section is narrated in third person focusing on Yeong-hyes brother-in-law; and the third section remains in third-person but focuses on her sister, In-hye, while sporadically speaking in the present tense.

“The Vegetarian” – No Killing!

How a fragile role fights against the manipulative forces of the world?

Yeong-hye is described as “completely unremarkable in any way,” utterly humble and unpretentious. Her husband chooses to marry her, believing she will make a good, dutiful wife who will fit into the kind of lifestyle he seeks.

When she decides to become a vegetarian, her husband loses all joy in eating meals at home. He turns to her family, who offers their deepest apologies, and her father forces her to eat meat. Yeong-hye breaks away, spits out the pork, grabs a fruit knife, and slits her wrist. Her incredulous family rushes her to the hospital, where she recovers. Her husband then admits to himself that she has become mentally unstable.

As the section ends, Yeong-hye manages to walk out of the hospital, revealing a bird in her palm with a “predator’s bite.” She asks, “Have I done something wrong?”

“Mongolian Mark” – Adultery

How a simple role can fight against the predator for her own meat?

Her brother-in-law is a frivolous and unabashed video artist. He imagines a love-making scene between two people, their bodies decorated with painted flowers. Upon discovering that Yeong-hye has a Mongolian spot birthmark shaped like a flower petal, he plans to paint and record her to bring this artistic image to life after many failed attempts. When his wife finds out about the film, she calls emergency services, claiming that both he and Yeong-hye are mentally unwell.

“Flaming Trees” – End of Self-Life

How a brittle role could claim the right to choose the way of death?

As Yeong-hye’s behavior worsens, her sister has her admitted to a mental hospital, where she receives intensive treatment for anorexia nervosa and schizophrenia. However, she becomes increasingly plant-like in her actions. On one occasion, she escapes the hospital and is found standing in a forest, “soaked with rain, as if she herself were one of the glistening trees.” Yeong-hye has given up food altogether and even attempts to stand on her hands upside down, spreading her legs wide. She feels like a tree and believes she will bloom like flowers.

Questions:

1.      The narrative structure in The Vegetarian is unusual. It is told from three differing perspectives, yet not one of those is the protagonist, Yheong-hye. Similar like the book we read “Tokyo Ueno Station”. Aside from a few instances of brief dream-like monologues, readers don’t hear directly from her. Why do you think the author has chosen to tell Yeong-hye’s story in this way? How did this narrative technique enhance your understanding of her journey?

2.      Do you agree that being a vegetarian would be a difficult choice for fragile women? Can we truly accept more alternative choices for all human beings? From your point of view, what is the hidden message behind the scenes that the author wants to imply to us?

3.      Yeong-hye has a Mongolian spot birthmark shaped like a flower petal, which motivates her brother-in-law pickup artist to create a provocative video through an intimate process. Do you agree that the unusual ethics presented could be seen as a life proposition? What is the underlying message the author wants to convey to us behind the scenes?

4. Yeong-hye can’t live the life she desires; she tried to end her life and wishes to become a tree. Can end one’s life be an assertion of one’s own existence? Do we have the right to end our own life?

5. After winning the International Booker Prize, Deborah Smith’s translation of The Vegetarian has been criticized with some commentators saying the novel contained embellishments and mistranslations. Smith wrote about this controversy in The LA Review of Books, stating ‘Since there is no such thing as a truly literal translation — no two languages’ grammars match, their vocabularies diverge, even punctuation has a different weight — there can be no such thing as a translation that is not “creative.”’ Han Kang, who reads English, stands by the translation. To what extent do you think translations should be entirely faithful to the original text and how much creative license should translators be allowed in their interpretation?

Questions & Answer:

Hang kang was born in 1979 Gwangju, South Korea and left Gwangju before the 1980 Gwangju Massacre. From the point of view as the survivors guilty “Someone got hurt for us.” Sometimes we would like to hug the world, but sometimes it was so difficult, that all the mankind make the crime unforgiven.

for almost 100 years. Hankang is the first Asia female author to win the nobel prize

Korean Chauvinism, bully from  the society ,family. we feel so helpless and refuse to read again. We even wanna give up, and try to be a tree, keep upside down like a tree, eat nothing, but water.

Hang Kang wrote some stories also related to the korean histories.

As a writer, people will think they are coward, they can do nothing at all.

What they write, nothing but a dog barking at the noisy train, But Hang Kang uses her pen as a knife and a gun to break down the truth for us. All the selfish , bloody facts make all the people keep silent.

She use the poemful style to reveal the darkest side of the truth

Once when we mourn for all the violence silently, we belong part of the violence,too

1.      The narrative structure in The Vegetarian is unusual. It is told from three differing perspectives, yet not one of those is the protagonist, Yheong-hye. Aside from a few instances of brief dream-like monologues, readers don’t hear directly from her. Why do you think the author has chosen to tell Yeong-hye’s story in this way? How did this narrative technique enhance your understanding of her journey?

Emma

"The Vegetarian": "If you dont eat meat now, people in the world will eat you!" "The Vegetarian", a book about "violence" written by Nobel Prize winner Han Kang. This book is not about people eating meat, but about people eating people

Yheong-hye plays a normal role as a wife whose husband didn’t need to pay more attention to please her and she was so safe that her hub didn’t need to worry about her betraying him, furthermore, she will cook for him.

After five years, one morning, when Yheong-hye had nightmares of being a bloody killer.  Yheong-hye decided to be a vegetarian nor had close relationship with her meat-eater hub. She didn’t like to wear bra and prefer to be naked that she felt all the meat-cell screaming in her body . In front of Yheong-hye’s hub, her father felt so shameful  for her attitude and force her to eat meat. Yheong-hye fled to the kitchen and got a knife to kill herself, her mom told her if you don’t eat meat, the world will eat you. Her family and her hub never listened to her why Yheong-hye didn’t like to eat meat, and what’s going on with her but all felt so shameful. What they do is concern about their own social standard. They push her to change to meet the standard what is good for them. Man excels in fulfilling personal vows through the support of other power.

Most of Korean are meat-eaters. So they push her to be the scapegoat: not good for social behavior, not good for social relationship, even the worse, they label her as Greek  with mental problem, Yheong-hye end up into the mental hospital, they give her Tranquilizers and feeding her by gastric tube. The world didn’t care about her only give her medical care, no personal concern. Due to intubation, cause  gastric bleeding, they sent her to a larger hospital and fed protein.

When her sister came to visit her, she stood up side down glittering to tell her sis that what she need is sunshine, water, no more food , just like the plant, stand upside down. Her sis tease her if you like tree, how come you can talk and think, Yheong-hye reply: very soon, I don’t need to think and talk any more.

They see the black bird fly towards the black cloud, the tree keeps glittering green, is it the answer or the protest?

The story is told in three parts: "The Vegetarian", "Mongolian Mark", and "Flaming Trees". The first section is narrated by Yeong-hyes husband, Mr. Cheong, in the first person. The second section is narrated in third person focusing on Yeong-hyes brother-in-law

All stories are narrated by others

No roles for women

It shows the social level, gender

Self-assertion is the end of life

Taiwan society’s “collective silence culture” is the real enemy of the Taiwanese people. After the great recall storm, Taiwanese society can return to rationality, humanity, and light.

 Clive

By telling the story through the perspectives of Yeong-hye’s husband, her brother-in-law, and her sister, the author creates a sense of distance between the reader and Yeong-hye. This mirrors how isolated and misunderstood she is by the people around her. None of the narrators truly understand her internal world; they all project their own desires, judgments, or frustrations onto her. As a result, we experience Yeong-hye the way others in her life do—through fragmented perceptions and incomplete truths.

This technique forces the reader to become an active participant, piecing together who Yeong-hye is through the gaps, silences, and contradictions in others accounts. The few moments where Yeong-hyes voice breaks through—especially in her dream-like monologues—feel haunting and intimate, highlighting the contrast between her inner world and the external chaos.

It’s a similar approach to Tokyo Ueno Station, where the protagonist is also marginalized, almost ghost-like. In both books, the narrative structure deepens the themes of alienation, identity, and invisibility. Yeong-hye’s gradual withdrawal from society and descent into a non-verbal, almost vegetative state is echoed in the way she disappears from the text itself.

So, by excluding Yeong-hye’s direct voice for most of the novel, Han Kang emphasizes how Yeong-hye is silenced—not just by her family and society, but even by the story being told about her. This makes her struggle more poignant and the commentary on autonomy and resistance even more powerful.

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The author, Han Kang, uses the shifting perspectives in The Vegetarian to emphasize the isolation and misinterpretation of Yeong-hye’s journey. By not allowing readers direct access to Yeong-hye’s inner thoughts and instead focusing on the perspectives of those around her—the husband, the brother-in-law, and the sister—Han Kang illustrates how others try to understand her decision to abandon meat and the radical transformation it leads to, but ultimately fail to comprehend the depth of her experience.

This narrative technique allows the reader to see how Yeong-hye’s actions are perceived, distorted, and even fetishized by others, which highlights her marginalization. The lack of Yeong-hye’s direct voice creates a sense of mystery and detachment, symbolizing how her personal experience and suffering are overlooked or misunderstood. It emphasizes her alienation, not just from society but also from those closest to her. As a result, the narrative structure underscores the theme of control and autonomy, questioning how much agency Yeong-hye truly has when her body and decisions are constantly subjected to the gaze of others.

This method also invites readers to reflect on the nature of empathy and perception. It enhances the complexity of her journey, leaving space for interpretation and making her eventual transformation feel both tragic and profound—her agency in a world where her choices are never fully understood. By withholding her direct voice, the narrative mirrors the way society often marginalizes or silences those who deviate from the norm.

2. Do you agree that being a vegetarian would be a difficult choice for fragile women? Can we truly accept more alternative choices for all human beings? From your point of view, what is the hidden message behind the scenes that the author wants to imply to us?

Emma

Personal vegetarian choice challenges the value of the strong bullying the weak, even her sister and mother will just bystanders. Her father forced her to eat the meat, in our daily life, we also push to do something that we don’t like when we were in our junior high, ex, short hair up to your ear(Bowl cut), no miniskirt, no pants for girls. We lost the joy to chase after the freedom. This kind of imposition, women lost the rights to be yourself.

To be a vegetarian, is a personal choice, but it’s hard for women to be yourself.

In the story of Capotes women, beautiful girls are just like swans, in the story of Vegetarian, ugly girls are all vegetarians, no matter pretty or ugly girls, all turn into like tools in the real life. Vegetarian is a life choice, nothing to do with social power, gender.

Beyond the gender, The social atmosphere of "The Great Recall" has become one where only one language can be spoken and only one voice can be heard. This is no longer democracy, but standard "political bullying." Taiwan society’s “collective silence culture” is the real enemy of the Taiwanese people

Clive

Thats a really thought-provoking question. In The Vegetarian, Yeong-hyes decision to stop eating meat is far more than a dietary choice—it becomes a symbolic act of rebellion, a refusal to conform to the rigid expectations imposed on her as a woman in a patriarchal society. So when we ask whether being a vegetarian is a “difficult choice for fragile women,” it’s important to unpack what “fragile” really means in this context.

Yeong-hye is seen as fragile by those around her, but her choice is actually an act of strength—albeit one that isolates her. The difficulty isn’t necessarily the choice itself, but the social and familial backlash that follows. In her culture, and within her family, conformity is expected, especially from women. So any deviation—even something as seemingly simple as not eating meat—becomes a threat to the established order.

As for accepting alternative choices for all human beings, the novel seems to challenge us on that very point. It shows how deeply ingrained social norms make it hard to truly honor individual autonomy. People around Yeong-hye—especially her husband and father—react violently not because her choice harms anyone, but because it represents nonconformity. It disrupts their perception of what a woman should be: obedient, quiet, accommodating.

The hidden message behind the scenes might be this: Yeong-hye’s refusal to eat meat symbolizes a deeper rejection of violence, dominance, and consumption—not just of animals, but of women’s bodies and identities. Her transformation into someone who wants to become a tree is her way of escaping the human world entirely, a final act of resistance against being objectified and consumed.

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The choice to be a vegetarian can indeed be challenging for anyone, regardless of gender, due to various factors such as cultural norms, social pressures, personal health beliefs, and accessibility to vegetarian options. For some women, societal expectations or family traditions might add additional layers of complexity to their decision. Accepting alternative choices for all individuals is crucial for fostering a more inclusive and compassionate society. People have different motivations, whether ethical, health-related, or environmental, and its important to respect those choices without judgment. As for the underlying message an author might imply regarding vegetarianism, it could vary widely depending on the context of the work. The author might be highlighting themes of personal agency, the struggle against societal norms, or the ethical implications of dietary choices. The "sack behind the scene" could suggest that theres often a deeper conversation about identity, autonomy, and the interconnectedness of all beings, urging readers to reflect on their own choices and the broader impacts these have on society and the environment.

2.      Yeong-hye has a Mongolian spot birthmark shaped like a flower petal, which motivates her brother-in-law pickup artist to create a provocative video through an intimate process. Do you agree that the unusual ethics presented could be seen as a life proposition? What is the underlying message the author wants to convey to us behind the scenes?

Emma

But to the side of Yeong-hye , shows the highest level as thePrajna Sutra mentioned as follows: The earth is able to bear all the plants, flowers, fruits, and medicinal trees, and all of them are equal.

Mother Earths demands for vitality (sex and creation) are all natural blossoms

、not based on human ethics

In ancient times, Japanese people would ask their children to send them to the mountains to wait for death.

Life is flowing downwards and inheritance

Accept the flow of nature with joy

The foundation of life comes from the original myth: Brothers and sisters can also marry, for the sake of the reproduction.

It’s beyond human ethics.

The nature of life is different from morality

She used the source of life to inject energy into her brother-in-laws dried-up creation and body, painting on her body brings out the maternal life force from outside, not from his own nature. Yeong-hye is so freely to play the role of mather nature.

What is vitality? Is it beyond ethics? Does it conflict with our values?

Clive

This is a heavy but deeply meaningful question, and The Vegetarian pushes us to grapple with exactly these kinds of moral and philosophical dilemmas. Yeong-hye’s desire to become a tree—something rooted, still, and free from violence—can be read as a radical rejection of human life as she knows it. Her attempt to end her life isn’t just about despair; it’s about reclaiming agency in a world that constantly denies her the right to live on her own terms. In this context, her self-destruction is paradoxically an act of self-definition. She’s saying: If I can’t exist as I am, then I refuse to exist in the way you demand.

So yes, in this literary and symbolic sense, ending one’s life can be seen as an assertion of existence—a final act of control in a world where all other control has been stripped away. It’s a tragic irony, but also a powerful commentary on autonomy. As for whether we have the right to end our own lives, that’s one of the most profound ethical questions we face as humans. Philosophers, religions, and cultures have debated it for centuries. Some argue that life is sacred and not ours to take; others argue that autonomy over one’s body and mind includes the right to choose when to exit. In Yeong-hye’s case, the novel doesn’t glorify her suffering or her choices, but it does ask us to sit with the discomfort of her reality. It challenges us to empathize, not judge.

Han Kang isn’t necessarily advocating for suicide—rather, she’s showing us the emotional and societal conditions that could drive someone to see it as their only form of freedom. It’s a critique of the world around Yeong-hye more than a celebration of her ending.

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The Vegetarian by Han Kang, a novel that explores themes of bodily autonomy, societal expectations, repression, and desire. The scene with Yeong-hye’s brother-in-law and her Mongolian spot is crucial because it represents his obsession with her body as a canvas for his artistic desires, rather than respecting her as an individual.

The novel does suggest that ethics—especially concerning autonomy, desire, and control—are subjective and shaped by cultural and personal perspectives. The brother-in-law’s actions blur ethical boundaries; he sees Yeong-hye’s body as an artistic medium, but his motivations are deeply selfish and exploitative. Han Kang challenges readers to question whether artistic pursuit can ever justify moral transgressions.

As for “the sack behind the scene,” the author seems to critique the way society objectifies and imposes control over individuals, especially women. Yeong-hye’s refusal to conform (by rejecting meat, social norms, and even language) contrasts sharply with how others project their desires onto her. The Mongolian spot, symbolizing something primal and natural, becomes a fixation for the brother-in-law, showing how obsession can distort reality.

The brother-in-law’s artistic pursuit was not justified, but exploitative.

4.      Yeong-hye can’t live the life she desires; she tried to end her life and wishes to become a tree. Can ending one’s life be an assertion of one’s own existence? Do we have the right to end our own life

Emma

The heated bottle will have the most force to get through the sealed lid.

Her sister is just like The Walking Dead, who uses her whole life to take care of the family and busy for running a shop. Life is so meaningless that she can’t sleep at night.

She plays a role as a woman to follow social structures, and gradually losing vitality of herself.

Yeong-hye is rebellious, insist to be a vegetarian, she is the troublemaker at home. Her wish can’t come true, and end up to stay in the mental hospital. If she has no choice, she prefers to end up her life and wish to rebirth. She even wants to be a tree after the death. Tree has good metaphors: Buddha preached under the Botree, it provides shelter from the rain.

If the mainstream values can’t accept you, even treat you as a psychopath

To end the life and rebirth again as a tree is a better choice for her.

So many people are willing to scarify themselves for the political ideals?

Even self-immolation, Gwangju Incident all have the similar reasons.

The story is quite extreme

If you stick to the plot, we will sympathize with the elder sister who takes care of the younger sister with loading burdens.

Its also sad that her sister has sex with her husband

The child is born

There is a kind of sadness

No longer free

Having a baby means a part of me died too.

But its our choice

Our young girl life start to support the emergence of another character

Clive

This is such a rich and layered question—well done for picking up on the symbolism of the Mongolian spot and the complex ethics around the brother-in-law’s obsession. That scene, and that relationship, is deeply uncomfortable—and it’s meant to be.   The Mongolian spot on Yeong-hye’s body, shaped like a flower petal, becomes more than just a physical mark. It becomes a focal point of erotic fascination for her brother-in-law, who projects his own artistic and sexual desires onto her. His so-called “art” blurs the line between creativity and exploitation, and the process of making the provocative video is portrayed as something intimate, but also disturbingly invasive. When you ask if the "unusual ethics" could be seen as a life proposition, that’s such a fascinating way to phrase it. In some ways, yes—it’s as if the novel is challenging us to look at the blurry edges of what we consider moral or beautiful. But the story doesn’t present this as something admirable. Instead, it critiques how society (and especially men in positions of power) often justify unethical behavior in the name of passion, art, or self-expression.  The brother-in-law views Yeong-hye not as a person, but as a muse, a blank canvas onto which he can project his fantasies. This mirrors how society treats women more broadly—as vessels for others’ needs, desires, and judgments. The author seems to be exposing how dangerous and dehumanizing this can be, even when its cloaked in the language of beauty or art. The underlying message, then, may be a warning about objectification—how easily a person can be stripped of their agency under the guise of love, art, or even admiration. Yeong-hye’s silence and passivity during this part of the novel speak volumes. She’s not consenting in the way the brother-in-law wants to believe; she’s disassociating, drifting further away from the human world.  So this whole storyline becomes a critique—not just of individual unethical behavior, but of a culture that normalizes using others for self-fulfillment, especially when it comes to women’s bodies and autonomy.

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The question of whether ending one’s life can be seen as an assertion of one’s own life is deeply philosophical and emotional. It touches on issues of autonomy, suffering, and the nature of existence.

From one perspective, suicide could be viewed as an attempt to reclaim control over one’s life, especially for those who feel powerless or trapped by overwhelming suffering. For some, it might feel like the only way to assert their existence or escape a situation where they see no other options. In the case of Yeong-hye from The Vegetarian by Han Kang, she attempts to reject societal expectations and construct her own identity, symbolized by her wish to become a tree. This act, while tragic, could be seen as an attempt to break free from a life that feels unbearable to her.

However, the idea of having the right to end one’s life is complex and depends on various ethical, moral, and cultural beliefs. From a human rights perspective, some argue that individuals should have the right to decide their own fate, including the right to end their life. Others believe that life is a gift or that there are moral obligations to preserve life, both for the individual and for those around them.

In many societies, the legal and moral stance on suicide is to prevent it, often with the belief that it reflects a temporary state of despair that can be treated or alleviated with help. The emphasis is usually on intervention, support, and finding other ways to deal with pain and suffering.

Ultimately, while there may be personal feelings of autonomy in wanting to end one’s life, it raises a complex web of questions around individual rights, the value of life, and the responsibilities of society toward those in distress.

5.      After winning the International Booker Prize, Deborah Smith’s translation of The Vegetarian has been criticised with some commentators saying the novel contained embellishments and mistranslations. Smith wrote about this controversy in The LA Review of Books, stating ‘Since there is no such thing as a truly literal translation — no two languages’ grammars match, their vocabularies diverge, even punctuation has a different weight — there can be no such thing as a translation that is not “creative.”’ Han Kang, who reads English, stands by the translation. To what extent do you think translations should be entirely faithful to the original text and how much creative license should translators be allowed in their interpretation?

Emma

※Both the writer and the translator is just like one knife of two blads, no matter lose their hardship, the knife will not be so sharp to reveal the truth to us. We need to have a clear mind to reveal the truth by ourselves.

Clive

This is such a rich and nuanced question—and one that strikes at the heart of what it means to read literature across languages and cultures.

On the surface, it might seem like a translator’s job is to be as faithful as possible to the original text. But as Deborah Smith points out, and rightly so, language doesn’t work in a one-to-one way. Grammar, tone, rhythm, cultural references, and even the emotional weight of words can change drastically between languages. Literal translations often fail to capture the spirit or effect of the original, which is sometimes more important than a line-by-line accuracy. In the case of The Vegetarian, some critics felt Smith’s translation was too creative, introducing elements or tones that weren’t present in the Korean. But Han Kang’s support of the translation is crucial here. If the author herself feels that the translation honors the intention and emotional impact of her work—even if some details shift—then that suggests a successful collaboration, rather than a betrayal of the text.

So, to your question: how much creative license should translators have? Ideally, just enough to ensure the translated work resonates with the new audience in the same way the original would have with its native readers. That might mean altering a phrase, reordering a sentence, or adding subtle embellishments—not to distort, but to communicate. After all, the ultimate goal of a translation isn’t just accuracy—it’s experience. That said, transparency is important. Readers should be aware that translations are interpretative acts, shaped by the translator’s sensibility, choices, and even biases. That awareness helps us read with a more critical, yet empathetic, lens.

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The debate surrounding the fidelity of translations versus the creative liberties taken by translators is a complex one, often reflecting broader questions about language, culture, and art. On one hand, the goal of a translation is to convey the original texts meaning, tone, and style as accurately as possible. Readers often seek to experience a work as closely as they can to how it was intended by the author. In this sense, a translation should strive for faithfulness, ensuring that the nuances and subtleties of the original language are preserved.

On the other hand, as Deborah Smith pointed out, the inherent differences between languages make it impossible to achieve a truly literal translation. Each language has its own unique grammar, idioms, and cultural references, which may not have direct equivalents in another language. In many cases, a strictly literal translation could lead to confusion or a loss of the original works emotional impact. Therefore, some degree of creativity in translation can be necessary to evoke the same feelings and ideas that the original text inspires.

Translators often face the challenge of balancing fidelity with readability, making choices that reflect their understanding of the source material while also considering the target audience. The extent to which they should exercise creative license can depend on various factors, including the genre of the work, the expectations of the readership, and the translators relationship with the author.

Ultimately, a successful translation may be one that finds a middle ground: it honors the essence of the original text while also engaging the new audience in a meaningful way. This balance allows for both fidelity and creativity, enriching the readers experience and broadening the reach of the original work.

 Conclusion:

In 2024, nearly half of South Koreas population did not read a single book in the entire year. After Han Kang won the Nobel Prize in Literature, sales of her works exceeded 1 million copies, and her ranking jumped from 166th to 1st. Han Kang also runs a bookstore in Seoul. We were familiar with include Squid Game and Blackpink. Now we all read Korean books. We see that South Koreas soft power has become a global trend.

Han Kang shared the significance of winning the Nobel Prize, which is to unite all of humanity to fight against violence. Whether you want to be like Yeong-hye and fight violence to death, or remain silent and become a slave to violence, it is both miserable. Lets find a solution together!

When Han Kang went to Sweden to receive the award, people in Korea took to the streets to protest against Yoon Seok-yeols detention under martial law. Han Kang once wrote about the Kwangju Massacre and the Jeju Massacre. It seems that Koreas past and present are connected again.

The Nobel Prize winner revealed the nightmare of her country and used blood to connect the past and the future. This is not the history of Korea but the history of all mankind. Good literature transcends cultures.

Han Kang suffered from joint pain and wrist pain while writing this book and almost gave up. She shows the holy spirit in literature.

Seoul has become the most avant-garde music and literature center in recent years, but some places still retain the ancient violence, just like Taiwan.

Han Kang reveals the good and evil of universal human nature and hopes to find a way out together.

When she sees her works translated into different languages, she still believes in the translators and believes that there is still hope for the world to find the answers.

"All religions, arts, and sciences are branches of the same tree.-Einstein."

Humanity thrives when we grow together, not apart. We are more connected than we think. In essence, people are like trees: the more they look outward and upward, the more their roots go into the darkness.

[If you see yourself as a victim, you will always be looking for the murderer; if you see yourself as a pioneer, you will always be looking for the helper]

▋When the perspective changes, the world changes

- "When we change the way we see the world, the world changes for us."

▋The invisible cage of victim mentality

We often mistakenly believe that the root cause of unhappiness lies in external circumstances. When our children disobey us, we think they are being rebellious; when we argue with our partners, we think they are being inconsiderate. With this way of thinking, we position ourselves as “victims” and everything in the outside world becomes the “perpetrator.”

When we view ourselves as victims, we give the power to change to outsiders. Our happiness depends on other people changing, which is the part we have the least control over.

▋ Opportunity to Awaken

This realization opened Pandora’s box: If I could feel and react so differently to the same thing from different perspectives, could I consciously choose a more constructive perspective on situations in my life?

▋ The practical path of inner transformation

- “Change does not lie in controlling the external world, but in controlling your own reactions.”

After realizing the power of changing my perspective, I began to consciously practice the inner work of transforming from a “victim” to an “entrepreneur”

Freedom without responsibility is forgiveness without memories just sets u up to do the same things again.

Questions:

1.The narrative structure in The Vegetarian is unusual. It is told from three differing perspectives, yet not one of those is the protagonist, Yheong-hye. Aside from a few instances of brief dream-like monologues, readers don’t hear directly from her. Why do you think the author has chosen to tell Yeong-hye’s story in this way? How did this narrative technique enhance your understanding of her journey?

2.The novel opens with a line from Yeong-hye’s husband, Mr Cheong (page 3): ‘Before my wife turned vegetarian, I’d always thought of her as completely unremarkable in every way’. What does Mr Cheong mean when he states his wife is ‘unremarkable’ and why is this act of ‘turning vegetarian’ so shocking to him?

3.The Vegetarian has been described as a parable, one that comments on the need to conform, as well as social expectations within South Korea (although the author herself says the book’s themes are universal). Did you read Hang Kang’s novel as a critique of Korean society? Why is Yeong-hye’s personal act seen as so rebellious?

6.      Much of the novel is concerned with the male gaze which serves as commentary on the abuse and violence women often suffer at the hands of men. In what ways does the novel challenge gender roles? To what extent is The Vegetarian a feminist novel, or a feminist critique of the patriarchy?

7.      By the end of the novel, Yeong-hye has been admitted to an asylum. Do you think Yeong-hye has descended into ‘madness’? Or could it be argued that she is fully lucid, in control of her faculties and protesting against the circumstances which have been forced upon her?

8.      Discuss how the author delineates between madness and sanity, if at all.‘The feeling that she had never really lived in this world caught her by surprise. It was a fact. She had never lived. Even as a child, as far back as she could remember, she had done nothing but endure.’ Discuss this quote and Yeong-hye’s feelings. What does she mean when she says she had ‘never lived’ and simply endured, and to what extent is this a novel about a human being pushed beyond the limit of endurance?

9.      The themes of bodily autonomy and agency feature heavily within The Vegetarian, from sexual violence and consent to force-feeding and institutionalisation. What role do they play within the novel, and why did the author write so persistently on the dark side of human actions?

10.  ‘Her life was no more than a ghostly pageant of exhausted endurance, no more real than a television drama. Death, who now stood by her side, was as familiar to her as a family member, missing for a long time but now returned.’ Death is often foreshadowed within the novel. Does this seem particular to Yeong-hye’s character, or did you see it in other places, too?

11.  In reviews, The Vegetarian has been described as a horror story. Do you agree with this categorisation? What elements of the novel feel akin to a traditional novel or film within the horror genre?

12.  Told within In-hye’s story, the ending of The Vegetarian is deliberately ambiguous. In-hye stares out of an ambulance window, while trees pass her by. What meaning did you take from the novel’s final scenes? What do you think the author left unwritten?

13.  After winning the International Booker Prize, Deborah Smith’s translation of The Vegetarian has been criticised with some commentators saying the novel contained embellishments and mistranslations. Smith wrote about this controversy in The LA Review of Books, stating ‘Since there is no such thing as a truly literal translation — no two languages’ grammars match, their vocabularies diverge, even punctuation has a different weight — there can be no such thing as a translation that is not “creative.”’ Han Kang, who reads English, stands by the translation. To what extent do you think translations should be entirely faithful to the original text and how much creative license should translators be allowed in their interpretation?

May Book Club Review by Clive

If I remember correctly this book was one that Emma recommended for the club and actually it really is a brilliant and powerful book.  I am sorry I was not able to attend today but I still get to give my thoughts on the book.  The genius of Han Kangs "The Vegetarian" lies in its ability to explore universal themes of freedom, conformity, and the struggle for self-expression through a deeply disturbing and darkly allegorical narrative. Its a chilling exploration of psychological pain, power dynamics, and the violence that can erupt beneath the surface of ordinary lives. Han Kang delves into the protagonist Yeong-hyes internal world, examining her descent into vegetarianism and its manifestation as a form of rebellion and a quest for autonomy. It explores themes of shame, desire, and the struggle to understand others, particularly within the context of societal expectations and the oppression of women.

The story can be interpreted as a parable about South Korean society and its rigid social norms, but it also transcends these specific cultural constraints to address broader themes of conformity, individuality, and the limits of human experience.  The novel is known for its haunting and evocative language, using spare and poetic prose to convey a sense of unease and psychological intensity. The writing is often described as "savage beauty" and "unnerving physicality," creating a deeply unsettling and memorable reading experience.  I think it is too simple to say that "The Vegetarian" is about oppression.  It is not a straightforward tale of oppression; its a complex exploration of violence that can manifest in various forms, including sexual violence, social pressure, and psychological manipulation. 

The story examines how power dynamics within the family and marriage impact Yeong-hyes decision to become a vegetarian and her eventual transformation.  The novel is deeply rooted in the individuals struggle to break free from societal constraints and find their own voice. Yeong-hyes journey, while unsettling, is a testament to the human desire for autonomy and the lengths people may go to achieve it.  In essence, "The Vegetarian" is a work of art that transcends its specific cultural setting to explore universal themes of human nature and the struggle for self-discovery. Its genius lies in its ability to be both disturbing and beautiful, challenging the reader to confront uncomfortable truths about society, power, and the human condition. 

Related reading:

1.       questionare: https://bookclubs.com/discussion-guides/the-vegetarian

1.      What do you learn from her novel “Vegetarian”?

2.      Do you agree that vegetarianism goes against human nature? Do you prefer to be a vege-eater?

3.      In the story of Capotes women, beautiful girls are just like swans, in the story of Vegetarian, ugly girls are all vegetarians, no matter pretty or ugly girls, all turn into like tools in the real life, do you think that marriage is just like the watershed to drown all the girls dream?

4.      Adler, the master of psychology, said: "A person who is self-isolated and not interested in others will encounter the most difficulties in his life and do the most harm to himself and others." Do you agree that the more self-isolated personality will bring more harm to himself and others?

5.      Why did Han Kang win the Nobel Prize?

6.      What’s the metaphor of tree?

Writer:

The Vegetarian  is a 2007 novel by South Korean author Han Kang, winner of the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature. Based on Hans 1997 short story "The Fruit of My Woman", The Vegetarian is a three-part novel set in modern-day Seoul and tells the story of Yeong-hye, a part-time graphic artist and home-maker, whose decision to stop eating meat after a bloody nightmare about human cruelty leads to devastating consequences in her personal and familial life.

Published on 30 October 2007 in South Korea by Changbi Publishers, The Vegetarian was received as "very extreme and bizarre" by the South Korean audience. It has been translated into at least thirteen languages, including English, French, Spanish, and Chinese.

Plot:

The Vegetarian tells the story of Yeong-hye, a home-maker who, one day, suddenly decides to stop eating meat after a series of dreams involving images of animal slaughter. This abstention leads her to become distanced from her family and from society. The story is told in three parts: "The Vegetarian", "Mongolian Mark", and "Flaming Trees". The first section is narrated by Yeong-hyes husband, Mr. Cheong, in the first person. The second section is narrated in third person focusing on Yeong-hyes brother-in-law; and the third section remains in third-person but focuses on her sister, In-hye, while sporadically speaking in the present tense.

"The Vegetarian"

Mr. Cheong considers his wife to be "completely unremarkable in any way". He explains that when he first met her, he was not even attracted to her and that suited him just fine. Mr. Cheong is content with meandering through life; it seems as if his only goal is to live a conventional, unremarkable life. He chooses to marry his wife since he thinks she would prove to be a good, dutiful wife who would fit nicely into the kind of lifestyle he seeks. After several years of relatively normal marriage, Mr. Cheong wakes up to find his wife disposing of all meat products in the house. He demands an explanation, and Yeong-hye replies vaguely that "I had a dream." Mr. Cheong attempts to rationalize his wifes life decision over the next few months and to deal with vegetarian meals at home, but as Yeong-hye gradually starts to eat less and continues to get thinner, he eventually calls Yeong-hyes family and an intervention is scheduled. While around the dinner table, Yeong-hyes family attempts to convince her to eat meat; her father, who served in Vietnam and is known for his stern temperament, slaps her when she refuses. Her father then asks a reluctant Mr. Cheong and Yeong-hyes brother Yeong-ho to hold her arms while he force-feeds her a piece of pork. Yeong-hye breaks away, spits out the pork, grabs a fruit knife, and slits her wrist. The incredulous family rushes her to a hospital where she recovers and where Mr. Cheong admits to himself that she has become mentally unstable. As the section ends Yeong-hye manages to walk out of the hospital and when she is tracked down, she reveals a bird in her palm, which has a "predators bite" in it, and she asks "Have I done something wrong?"

"Mongolian Mark"

The husband of Yeong-hyes sister, In-hye, whose name remains unstated, is a video artist. He imagines a love-making scene between two people, with their bodies decorated by painted flowers and, upon learning that Yeong-hye has a Mongolian spot birthmark shaped like a flower petal, he forms a plan to paint and record her in order to bring this artistic image to life. It is revealed that he is attracted to Yeong-hye, especially after checking up on her—the narrator reveals that Yeong-hye has been served divorce papers by Mr. Cheong—and finding her unabashedly naked in her apartment. Yeong-hye agrees to model for him and he paints flowers across her body in a studio rented from an art professor in the area. He follows up this project with a second piece of art, which involves recruiting a fellow artist to join Yeong-hye in a sexually-explicit film. When the brother-in-law asks if the two will engage in actual intercourse, his friend is disgusted and leaves. Yeong-hye, who had become aroused during this sequence, claims it was because of the flowers painted on the mans body. The brother-in-law asks a friend to paint flowers on him and visits Yeong-hye, where the two engage in a recorded moment of intercourse. When his wife discovers the film, she calls "emergency services", claiming that both he and Yeong-hye are mentally unwell. He contemplates jumping off of the balcony, most likely to his death, but remains "rooted to the spot" and is escorted out of the building by the authorities.

"Flaming Trees"

In-hye remains the only member of the family to support Yeong-hye after her mental and physical decline. She has separated from her husband after the events of the previous section, and is left to take care of their son in addition to her deteriorating sister. As Yeong-hyes behavior worsens, she is admitted to a mental hospital at Mount Chukseong, where despite receiving high-level treatment for anorexia nervosa and schizophrenia, she behaves gradually more plant-like. On one occasion she escapes the hospital and is found standing in a forest "soaked with rain as if she herself were one of the glistening trees". In-hye, who constantly ruminates about the pain of dealing with her divorce and the care of her child and who throughout the chapter shows signs of her own depression and mental instability, visits Yeong-hye regularly and continues to try to get her to eat. Yeong-hye has given up food altogether, and when In-hye witnesses the doctors force-feeding her and threatening sedation to prevent vomiting, In-hye bites the nurse holding her back and grabs her sister. In-hye and Yeong-hye are driven to a different hospital by ambulance, and In-hye observes trees as they pass by, which is a hint at the possible inheritance of similar vegetal psyche, which affects her as well.

Review:

The Vegetarian by Han Kang review – an extraordinary story of family fallout

Yeong-hye is, in her husband’s opening words, “completely unremarkable in every way”. She is a reasonably diligent homemaker, a reasonably attentive spouse, not deeply unhappy and driven by no great passions. Her husband, Mr Cheong, is a mediocre employee, not greatly ambitious, mildly unenthused by his life but not dramatically so. Time ticks by, and the two of them get on with living their ordinary lives; but their ordinariness, it turns out, is more fragile than they realise.

Things begin to fracture the day Yeong-hye throws away all the meat from the freezer and announces that henceforth she is going to be a vegetarian. The only explanation she gives her husband is not hugely satisfactory: “I had a dream.” We know, though her husband doesn’t, something of the nature of the dream: it is dark, bloody and aggressive. Violence soon breaks out in Yeong-hye’s waking world, too, when her father tries to force a piece of sweet-and-sour pork into her mouth, and in revolt she stabs herself.

And it goes downhill from there. Other people are dragged in, other relationships fray and Yeong-hye’s vow to remain vegetarian is the one constant in a family disintegrating before our eyes. Her husband is frustrated at this complication in his meticulously uncomplicated life, and can’t help thinking it’s all about him. (What happens when they have to go to dinner with his boss? And his wife not even wearing a bra any more! What will people think?) Her sister, In-hye, struggles with her sense of familial responsibility, while learning that, even when a family member is in trouble, there is only so much others can do.

The Vegetarian is a story in three acts: the first shows us Yeong-hye’s decision and her family’s reaction; the second focuses on her brother-in-law, an unsuccessful artist who becomes obsessed with her body; the third on In-hye, the manager of a cosmetics store, trying to find her own way of dealing with the fallout from the family collapse. Across the three parts, we are pressed up against a society’s most inflexible structures – expectations of behaviour, the workings of institutions – and we watch them fail one by one. The novel repeatedly shows the frictions between huge passion and chilling detachment, between desires that are fed and those that are denied. With such violence in these characters’ internal worlds, and such a maddening external impassiveness, those inner passions are bound to break out somehow, and it won’t be pretty.

This is Han Kang’s first novel to appear in English, and it’s a bracing, visceral, system-shocking addition to the Anglophone reader’s diet. It is sensual, provocative and violent, ripe with potent images, startling colours and disturbing questions. As Yeong-hye changes, the book’s language shifts, too, with Deborah Smith’s translation moving between the baffled irritation of Mr Cheong’s first-person narration in part one, the measured prose of In-hye’s world, the dense and bloody narrative of Yeong-hye’s dreams, and seductive descriptions of living bodies painted with flowers, in states of transformation or wasting away. Sentence by sentence.

Plot

"The Vegetarian"

# Yeong-hye

From adolescence she’d contributed to her family’s income through the odd bit of part-time work. She ended up with a job as an assistant instructor at the computer graphics college she’d attended for a year, and was subcontracted by a comics publisher to work on the words for their speech bubbles, which she could do from home.

she made for a completely ordinary wife who went about things without any distasteful frivolousness. She was a woman of few words. It was rare for her to demand anything of Mr. Cheong, and however late he was in getting home she never took it upon herself to kick up a fuss. Even when their days off happened to coincide, it wouldn’t occur to her to suggest they go out somewhere together. While her hub idled the afternoon away, TV remote in hand, she would shut herself up in her room.

Everyday, she prepared for the breakfast in the morning, reading was something for her to immerse herself in.

After the dream, his wife decided to be a vegetarian overnight.

-Yeong-hye’s increasingly odd behavior had become noticeable around three years ago, when she’d suddenly decided to turn vegetarian. She lost so much weight it was quite shocking to look at her, and she practically stopped sleeping altogether.

- All this had happened shortly after In-hye and her husband had moved with Ji-woo to a new apartment. At the housewarming, when the whole family had got together, their father had struck Yeong-hye in the face, held her mouth open and forced a lump of meat inside. In-hye’s body had jerked violently, as though she herself were the one receiving the blow. She’d stood and watched, stiff as a ramrod, while Yeong-hye howled like an animal and spat out the meat, then picked up the fruit knife and slit her own wrist.

#Mr. Cheong - Yeong-hye’s hub

He settled for a job where he would be provided with a decent monthly salary in return for diligently carrying out his allotted tasks, at a company whose small size meant they would value his unremarkable skills. And so it was only natural that he would marry the most run-of-the-mill woman in the world.

While attended his husband company banquet, her proper vegetarian made all

The colleagues feel repulsive, her hub was afraid of losing hie job and tried to make

some excuse for her as the gastroenteritis.

#Mr. Cheong and Yeong-hye

If only she hadn’t married him.

He called her, just once. It was around nine months ago, and close on midnight. Perhaps he’d been calling from somewhere far away, because there was a brief lag after the sound of the coin tumbling.

“I want to see Ji-woo.” His oh-so-familiar voice, low and tense — she could tell he was struggling to sound composed — was like a blunt knife stabbing her in the chest. “Couldn’t you let me see him, just one time?”

So that was what he’d called to say. Not to say he was sorry. Not to beg for her forgiveness. Only to talk about the child. He didn’t even ask whether Yeong-hye was all right.

She’d always known how sensitive he was. A man whose self-esteem was so easily wounded, who quickly became frustrated if the situation didn’t go his way. She knew that if she refused him this one more time, it would probably be a very long time before he contacted her again.

#Father in law

A long time ago, she and Yeong-hye had got lost on a mountain. Yeong-hye, who had been nine at the time, said, “Let’s just not go back.”

At the time, In-hye hadn’t understood what she meant. “What are you talking about? It’ll get dark any minute now. We have to hurry up and find the path.”

Only after all this time was she able to understand why Yeong-hye had said what she did. Yeong-hye had been the only victim of their father’s beatings. Such violence wouldn’t have bothered their brother Yeong-ho so much, a boy who went around doling out his own rough justice to the village children. As the eldest daughter, In-hye had been the one who took over from their exhausted mother and made a broth for her father to wash the liquor down, and so he’d always taken a certain care in his dealings with her. Only Yeong-hye, docile and naive, had been unable to deflect their father’s temper or put up any form of resistance.

His mother- and sister-in-law’s efforts at persuasion had not the slightest influence on his wife’s eating habits.

His father in law used to whip her wife over the calves until she was eighteen years old.

The family scheduled for gathering together to give his wife a dressing-down.

His father-in-law’s swarthy cheeks; his mother-in-law’s eyes filled with worry; In-hye’s anxiously raised eyebrows.

His father in law asked Mr. Cheong and Yeong-ho to approach Yeong-hye hesitantly. He’d hit her so hard that the blood showed through the skin of her cheek. Her breathing was ragged, and it seemed that her composure had finally been shattered. His father in law ask them to take hold of Yeong-hye’s arms and force her to eat. His father-in-law mashed the pork to a pulp on Yeong-hye’s lips as she struggled in agony. Though he parted her lips with his strong fingers, he could do nothing about her clenched teeth.

In a critical condition, she was transferred to a general two-patient room,

Yeong-hye fell asleep with an IV needle inserted into her right arm.

Her mother-in-law brought them black goat and him to try feeding it to Yeong-hye, just tell her it’s herbal medicine. Mr. Cheong was beginning to get sick and tired of this stubborn “maternal affection.”

Yeong-hye was sitting on a bench by the fountain. She had removed her hospital gown and placed it on her knees, leaving her gaunt collarbones, emaciated breasts and brown nipples completely exposed.

He prized open her clenched right hand. A bird, which had been crushed in her grip, tumbled to the bench. It was a small white-eye bird, with feathers missing here and there. Below tooth marks that looked to have been caused by a predator’s bite, vivid red bloodstains were spreading.

She’d been found stripped to the waist in front of the hospital fountain, that day when she slit her wrist; that was what had led to her being put in a closed ward; that her discharge had been delayed because even in the hospital she kept trying to take her clothes off and expose herself to the sunlight.

# Yeong-hyes sister, In-hye

Yeong-hye was four years younger than her, enough of an age gap for them not to have been in competition with each other growing up. As small children their young cheeks were frequently left throbbing by their heavy-handed father, and Yeong-hye had provoked in In-hye a sense of responsibility that resembled maternal affection, a need to expend all her energy in looking out for this younger sister. 

Even before In-hye got married had managed to secure an apartment with the income she received from managing a cosmetics store. Leading up to her pregnancy, the store had expanded to three times its original size. As soon as his nephew Ji-woo turned three and went to a nursery, she’d apparently started spending all day in the shop again.

He envied her husband who was an art college graduate and liked to pose as an artist, yet didn’t contribute a single penny to their household finances. True, he had some property that he’d inherited, but he didn’t bring in a salary.

-Her husband had been held in a police cell after the hospital confirmed that he wasn’t mentally ill. It took several months of tedious lawsuits and official inquiries before he was released, after which he went immediately into hiding — she never saw him again. But Yeong-hye’s condition was such that she had to remain in the closed ward. After her initial bout of mental illness she’d returned to the stage where she was able to speak to others, only to now withdraw into silence once more. But it wasn’t simply that she didn’t engage in conversation; back in the closed ward, she’d taken to squatting down in a sunny spot where she wouldn’t be disturbed and muttering incessantly to herself. As before, she refused to eat meat, and if she so much as set eyes on a side dish containing meat she would scream and try to run away. On sunny days she would press herself up against the window, unbutton her hospital gown and bare her breasts to the sun. Their parents, whom the whole sorry saga seemed to have greatly aged, didn’t make any further effort to visit Yeong-hye, and even severed contact with their elder daughter, In-hye, who reminded them of the despicable way they’d treated Yeong-hye. The two sisters’ younger brother, Yeong-ho, and his wife were no different. But she, In-hye, could not bring herself to abandon Yeong-hye. Someone had to pay the hospital fees, someone had to act as her carer.

-“That’s what I was told last time, too,” she told him. “I believed it, and had Yeong-hye discharged. But now it seems like that was the wrong thing to do.”

#Yeong-hyes brother Yeong-ho

So far his wife’s brother Yeong-ho was keeping his own counsel

# The husband of Yeong-hyes sister, In-hye

It had been two years ago when his sister-in-law had cut her wrist open in his house.

Her room was in a fairly quiet alley near to a women’s university. They’d moved there only recently, wanting the extra floor space, and his wife’s family had all come around for lunch.

She’d been so pitifully thin, it wasn’t as though he couldn’t understand them giving her a strict dressing-down. But that her father, the Vietnam War hero, had actually struck his rebellious daughter in the face and physically forced a lump of meat into her mouth, that was something else. However much he thought back on it, he couldn’t convince himself that it had actually happened — it was more like a scene from some bizarre play.

More vivid and frightening than any other was the memory of the scream that had erupted from his sister-in-law when the lump of meat approached her lips. After spitting it out, she’d snatched up the fruit knife and glared fiercely at each of her family in turn, her terrified eyes rolling like those of a cornered animal.

Once the blood was gushing out of her wrist he’d torn a strip from one of their quilts, bound it around her wrist and picked her up, her body so light she could almost have been a ghost. As he ran down to the car park, he’d been surprised by the speed and decisiveness of his own actions, something he’d never before realized he was capable of.

She might well be called ugly in comparison with his wife, but to him she radiated energy, like a tree that grows in the wilderness, denuded and solitary. 

The brother-in-law asks a friend to paint flowers on him and visits Yeong-hye, where the two engage in a recorded moment of intercourse. When his wife discovers the film, she calls "emergency services", claiming that both he and Yeong-hye are mentally unwell. He contemplates jumping off of the balcony, most likely to his death, but remains "rooted to the spot" and is escorted out of the building by the authorities.

#relationship between I-Yue and her hub

Had she ever really understood her husband’s true nature, bound up as it was with that seemingly impenetrable silence? She’d thought, at one time, that it might be revealed in his work, in his video art. In fact, before she met him, she hadn’t even been aware that such a field of art existed. Despite her best efforts, though, his works proved incomprehensible to her. Nothing was revealed.

She remembers the late afternoon when they first met. He’d come into her shop, skinny as a sorghum stalk and with several days’ worth of stubble on his face, a camcorder bag slung over one shoulder that was clearly weighing him down. He searched out some shaving lotion, brought it to the counter and rested both arms on the glass, looking utterly worn out. He looked like he might collapse, and take the counter with him. It was faintly miraculous the way she, having had practically no romantic experiences up until then, came out with a friendly “Have you had lunch?” As if surprised, but lacking the energy required to express that surprise, he had merely fixed her face with his exhausted gaze. Something in his defenseless state had drawn her to him. What she’d wanted, from that afternoon, had been to use her own strength to allow him to rest. But despite devoting herself wholeheartedly to this goal, even after they were married he still looked perpetually worn out. He was always busy with his own things. It wasn’t long before she realized something: perhaps the one she’d so earnestly wanted to help was not him but herself. Was it not perhaps her own image — she who had left home at nineteen and gone on to make a life for herself in Seoul, always entirely under her own steam — that she had seen mirrored in this man’s exhaustion?

Just as she could not be certain of the source of her affection for him, or if he was really its true object, she had never been entirely sure of his feelings for her. He often seemed to rely on her, being the type for whom daily life was a constant struggle, full of potential pitfalls. He was honest to the point of seeming naive; exaggeration or flattery was entirely beyond him. But to her he was always kind, never once raised his voice in anger, and indeed would sometimes give her a look of great respect.

“I don’t deserve you,” he used to say, before they were married. “Your goodness, your stability, how calm you always are — the way you just get on with things, and make it look so easy…”

Respect — that was what she’d taken his words to connote, but might they not in fact have been intended as a confession, that whatever it was he felt for her, it was nothing even remotely resembling love?

Perhaps the only things he truly loved were his images — those he’d filmed, or then again, perhaps only those he had yet to film.

After her husband left them, Ji-woo would often ask her, “Is there a dad in our family?” It was the question he’d asked her every morning even when her husband was still around, so infrequently did the boy actually see him.

“No,” she would answer shortly. And then, soundlessly: “No one at all. There’s only you and me. That will have to be enough, now.”

# Ji-woo

A day or two after Ji-woo was born, when Yeong-hye came to the hospital to say hello to her first nephew, rather than congratulating her sister she had simply muttered to herself, “I’ve never seen such a tiny child…so this is what they’re like when they’ve just been born?”

Questions:

7.      “When literature deals with the important emotions, deep questions, and senses that shake us beneath the surface, those who read it suddenly find themselves again. If you become a person in a novel you are reading and repeat the moment you get out of yourself and come back, you will experience a gap in your ego and face yourself transparently. So I think fiction is not an extra thing, its what we need, its like a thread that connects us- Han Kang”

“I think Ive always been a person who keeps thinking about what human beings are and what life is all about. I wanted to deal with those concerns in different ways every time. I hope it meant a little to be able to share the dark hair with those who read my novels. These days, I often think about life itself. Im interested in things that come up with life- Han Kang

What do you learn from her novel “Vegetarian”?

8.      Five hundred thousand years old, apparently, and even back then humans were hunting for meat — they could tell that from the skeletons of the mummified human . Meat eating is a fundamental human instinct. Do you agree that vegetarianism goes against human nature? Do you prefer to be a vege-eater?

9.      In the story of Capotes women, beautiful girls are just like swans, in the story of Vegetarian, ugly girls are all vegetarians, no matter pretty or ugly girls, all turn into like tools in the real life, do you think that marriage is just like the watershed to drown all the girls dream?

(1)Mainland female entrepreneur Ye Haiyang purchased sperm and gave birth to two mixed-race daughters. Recently, she once again announced that she had given birth to a pair of twin sons, and she and her daughters made up the word "good". After their son was born, his daughters couldnt let go of their younger brother. Seeing his daughter holding her newborn brother, Ye Haiyang felt very happy: "In my life, I hvae walked a long way and encountered many scenery, but the most beautiful thing is this moment." Havent met the right person. In addition, his parents often quarreled when he was a child, so Ye Haiyang decided not to be a wife, but to be a mother.

There is a passage on the Internet describing her: You don’t have to care about my appearance, because I am your future boss, not your future wife.

She raises four children by herself and manages a company at the same time, which requires extreme time management skills.

She has also become the only single mother of three children in China who is currently unmarried and has two children.

But at the same time, she is not an extreme feminist. She said: If you meet a good man, you can still get married. If you cant meet it, then its good to be like this now.

A successful career gives her the confidence to choose her life freely.

(2)Ye Haiyang only wants children and does not want a husband, and she has become a trendsetter for women.

Ye Haiyang successfully gave birth to her third mixed-race child. As long as the child does not want a husband, she has become a benchmark for women in the new era. She has successfully proved that the standard of a womans happiness is not love, marriage or a man, but sufficient independent financial strength and unlimited spiritual support for her family. Support and inner strength.

Ye Haiyang has already made a name for herself in the field of cosmetics at a young age. At the age of 26, she has a net worth of over 100 million. Every day, she is either busy meeting clients or dealing with various matters of her company. She has no time to deal with personal emotional issues, especially facing the increasing number of widowed marriages in todays society, she feels that she can do everything a man can do, and there is no need to add some unknowns to her life. In her words: "At that time, I also thought that my job would be so difficult. After working hard, I always feel that my family is empty, so why do you think you are making so much money?" So she made an amazing decision, put aside the worldly view, found high-quality genetic sperm, and successfully gave birth to her first child. Doris, a mixed-race child from five countries, became an unmarried single mother, created a new non-spoused parenting lifestyle, and finally found the direction of her life.

There are mixed reviews on Ye Haiyangs approach on the Internet. Some say she is cool and does what many girls want to do but cannot do; some say she is selfish and only thinks about herself and not her children. Consider that a child without his fathers company will not be physically and mentally sound; no matter what others say, it is nothing more than a fight between the ideologies of two eras, one is traditional thought and the other is new era thought. Fortunately, Ye Haiyang didnt pay attention to this at all. She just wanted to be a normal mother and never hurt anyone. She put all her mothers love and the fathers love that the child had never received into her child, happily accompanying her, 1.3 million You can go to any kind of kindergarten, choose from more than 5 interest classes, and arrange all kinds of elite family education. Just because the child "likes Shenzhen", the family moved. It can be said that no father may do as well as her , now many years have passed, Doris has not become a problem child, but is more lively, cheerful and performs better than children from ordinary families. In 2021, Ye Haiyang welcomed her second child, Hatti, in the same way. With her two daughters by her side, she lives a happier life. Just a few days ago, she spent 900,000 to let her two children go at Dior A show and watching her two children grow up healthily strengthened her original choice to plan a third child for her two daughters.

I really like Ye Haiyangs lifestyle. Instead of struggling in an unhappy marriage and causing internal friction with each other, it is better to choose non-spoused parenting from the beginning. The traditional concept is that there are three types of unfilial piety, and having no offspring is the most important thing. There is no mention of the necessity of it. You dont need to get married as long as you have children. Anyway, many men nowadays basically dont know how to do anything. Instead of finding an ancestor to come back to serve them, it is better to earn more money and choose better genes to have a child by yourself. Give your children all your love. A happy life is better than living a resentful wife.

Do you agree with her philosophy of marriage?

(3) Do you think the marriage is the best social system?

A woman is like a tea bag - you cant tell how strong she is until you put her in hot water.-Eleanor Roosevelt

(4) In the book of Mr.g mentioned that women are more clever than men, but they need to be more humble to serve men. In this story, I can feel this kind of atmosphere, power brings the knowledge, not the knowledge brings power. According to Foucaults understanding, power is based on knowledge and makes use of knowledge; on the other hand, power reproduces knowledge by shaping it in accordance with its anonymous intentions.

10.  Adler, the master of psychology, said: "A person who is self-isolated and not interested in others will encounter the most difficulties in his life and do the most harm to himself and others." Do you agree that the more self-isolated personality will bring more harm to himself and others?

11.  Why did Han Kang win the Nobel Prize?

(1)   Recognized by the Swedish Academy “for her intense poetic prose that confronts historical traumas and exposes the fragility of human life,” Han is the first Asian woman to win the literature Nobel.

(2)   I was literally captivated by The Vegetarian by Han Kang, the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature winner, a novel that explores the disturbing journey of Yeonghye, an apparently ordinary South Korean woman who, after a troubling dream, decides to completely abandon meat consumption.

(3)   Amid deep questions of human suffering and the brutal violence suffered in her childhood, I am struck by the central symbolic role that trees play in the narrative: Yeonghye longs to become a tree.

(4)   In this sense, I proceed to discuss the interesting role assigned to trees. In their immobility and silent resistance, they serve as a form of peaceful protest against oppressive structures. By refusing to eat meat and, later, any food at all, Yeonghye uses her body as a form of resistance. Her identification with trees deepens this refusal, perhaps as an attempt to return to a pre-human state, where there is no language, morality, or conscious suffering. This identification can be seen as a critique of the destructive and artificial nature of social norms.

(5)   Throughout the book, Yeonghye becomes increasingly distant from her former life and the traditional roles she represented. This radical transformation reminds me of the life cycle of trees, which shed their leaves to be reborn in spring. For her, this process of “dehumanization” is a way to be reborn into a new existence, free from the marks of her previous life.

(6)   Han’s writing is filled with disturbing and symbolic images, featuring scenes of both physical and psychological violence, and vivid descriptions of Yeonghye’s dreams that involve elements of blood, flesh, and nature. This imagery is essential for creating an atmosphere of discomfort and conveying the tensions and repressed desires that permeate the narrative.

(7)   The metaphor of Yeonghye’s transformation into a tree is central to the book’s aesthetics. The descriptions of her body becoming increasingly thin, with skin resembling tree bark and her arms like branches, create a disturbing blend of corporeality and vegetality. This fusion of the human and the non-human, the organic and the inorganic, destabilizes the traditional boundaries between the natural and the cultural, generating an aesthetic that is both beautiful and terrifying.

(8)   Although my analysis may be somewhat ‘wild,’ rooted in my deep engagement with socio-environmental issues, the scenes involving forests are fundamental to understanding Yeonghye’s journey and her radical transformation.I am reminded of Maria Rita Kehl’s text, “Reserves of the Imaginary,” originally published on the Boitempo Blog (2011).

(9)   A text that draws on Freud’s writings in the “Introductory Lectures” from 1916–1917, where he noted that “the creation of the mental domain of fantasy finds a perfect parallel in the establishment of ‘reserves’ or ‘natural parks’ in places where the demands of agriculture, communications, and industry threaten to cause irreversible changes to the original face of the earth, which will soon render it unrecognizable. A natural reserve conserves the original state that all other parts have, unfortunately, been sacrificed to necessity. All things, including what is useless, can grow and proliferate freely within it.”

(10)       In the character’s delirium, the metaphor of trees in “The Vegetarian” by Han Kang can thus be interpreted as an invitation to reflect on the importance of “reservoirs of the imaginary,” symbolic and concrete spaces where the unknown, the natural, and the instinctive remain intact, both in the external world and in the unconscious. These reservoirs, associated by the psychoanalyst Maria Rita Kehl with the untamed nature, represent an essential dimension of human experience.

(11)       When we ignore the catastrophic destruction of natural environments, we not only jeopardize the planet’s physical sustainability but also eradicate these symbolic spaces of resistance and mystery, which are essential to the very experience of being human.

12.  What’s the metaphor of tree?

(1)   She thrust her glittering golden breasts over the veranda railing. Her legs were covered with scattered orange petals, and she spread them wide as though she wanted to make love to the sunlight, to the wind.

(2)   She prefer to nuke, just like the mutant animal that had evolved to be able to photosynthesize

(3)   He fixed his eyes on the pale blue of her Mongolian mark, seeing the traces of his saliva and semen that had dried there like sap.

(4)   She recalls the sight of those two naked bodies, twined together like jungle creepers. Of course, it had shocked her at the time, and yet oddly enough, the more time went by the less she thought of it as something sexual. Covered with flowers and leaves and twisting green stems, those bodies were so altered it was as though they no longer belonged to human beings.

(5)   Yeong-hye in an isolated spot deep in the woods covering the mountain slope, standing there stock-still and soaked with rain as if she herself were one of the glistening trees.

(6)   On bright days it would spread its countless branches and let the sunlight scintillate its leaves, seemingly communicating something to her.

(7)   Yeong-hye whispered one more time. “Sister…all the trees of the world are like brothers and sisters.”

(8)   Her sister was upside down and balancing on her hands, her face flushed almost puce. “trees stood up straight…I only found out just now. They actually stand with both arms in the earth” I was in a dream, and I was standing on my head…leaves were growing from my body, and roots were sprouting from my hands…so I dug down into the earth. On and on…I wanted flowers to bloom from my crotch, so I spread my legs; I spread them wide…”“I need to water my body. I don’t need this kind of food, sister. I need water.”

(9)   The trees by the side of the road are blazing, green fire undulating like the rippling flanks of a massive animal, wild and savage. In-hye stares fiercely at the trees. As if waiting for an answer. As if protesting against something. The look in her eyes is dark and insistent.

April Activity:

Book: Killer Of Flower Moon

Author: David Grann

Page: 352

Leader: Shannon Yeh

Time: 1:00 pm. April 8, 2024

Place: Qubit Cafe (Hanshin Arena) No.6, Lane 50, Bo-Ai 3 Road, Zuo Ying District, Kaohsiung. Tel:07-3459477 高雄市左營區博愛三路50巷6號

Related Reading:

1.      Writer: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Vegetarian

2.      Review: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2015/jan/24/the-vegetarian-by-han-kang-review-family-fallout

3.      Foucault；https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Power-knowledge

4.      Hang-Kang: https://www.mk.co.kr/en/culture/11136978

5.      character: https://www.litcharts.com/lit/the-vegetarian/characters/in-hye

6.      Nobel and Han-kang https://medium.com/@analizete/the-environment-and-our-psyche-reflections-on-the-vegetarian-han-kang-nobel-prize-7b2725195cb4

7.