Han Kang

Deborah Smith

Emily Yae Won

From the International Booker Prize-Winning Author of the Vegetarian

Greek Lessons

louv

That when the most frail, tender, forlon parts of us, that is to say our life-breaths, are at some point returned to the world of matter, we will receive nothing in recompense. [...] And that there is no complete thing, ever. At least in this world.

Scribbled directly below a sentence by Borges, 

The world is an illusion, and living is dreaming

that dream so vivid? How does blood flow and hot tears gush forth?

She no longer thought in language. She moved without language and understood without language — as it had been before she learned to speak, no, before she obtained life, silence, absorbing the flow of time like balls of cotton, enveloped her body both outside and in.

In a classroom in Seoul, a young woman watches her Greek language teacher at the blackboard. She tries to speak but has lost her voice. Her teacher finds himself drawn to the silent woman, for day by day he is losing his sight.

Soon they discover a deeper pain binds them together. For her, in the space of just a few months, she has lost both her mother and the custody battle for her nine-year-old son. For him, it's the pain of growing up between Korea and Germany, being torn between two cultures and languages, and the fear of losing his independence.

Greek Lessons tells the story of two ordinary people brought together at a moment of private anguish—the fading light of a man losing his vision meeting the silence of a woman who has lost her language. Yet these are the very things that draw them to one another. Slowly the two discover a profound sense of unity—their voices intersecting with startling beauty, as they move from darkness to light, from silence to breath and expression.

Greek Lessons is the story of the unlikely bond between this pair and a tender love letter to human intimacy and connection—a novel to awaken the senses, one that vividly conjures the essence of what it means to be alive.

A Novel

Dora Tominic

She'd chosen this place many years ago, on the ground floor so her son could play freely. But he had shown no desire to stamp his feet or run about. When she told him it was okay to use the skipping rope in the living room, he asked, 'But won't it be noisy for the worms and snails?'

Leila

To put it simply, there are no Forms in the sub zero world. There has to be light, no matter however faint. 

Why, then, isn’t the human soul, which is analogous to such things, ruined by its foolish, bad attributes? 

anastasia

It was around then that I realized for the first time that falling in love is like being haunted. Even before I opened my eyes in the morning, you would slip in under my eyelids. 

“The world is an illusion, and living is dreaming,” I muttered. Yet blood runs and tears gush forth. 

Lindsay

If only she’d made a map of the route her tears used to take.

If only she’d used a needle to engrave pinpricks, or even just traces of blood, over the route where the words used to flow.

But, she mutters, from a place deeper than tongue and throat, that was too terrible a route.

one of those books that makes me incredibly sad i can only read a translation of. made me think of language and semiotics in a way I probably hadn't done since college.

the unbearable weight of language. 

one of those books that makes me incredibly sad i can only read a translation of. made me think of language and semiotics in a way I probably hadn't done since college.

This book feels like winter–like how I wished I had the patience to endure everything.

Rune

quite confusing, i thought i'd like it more

initially found it hard to follow the physical text so switching to the audiobook version really helped and made it more enjoyable for me.

each ordinary word is so packed with sorrow :”) language — in whatever form — is so important

initially found it hard to follow the physical text so switching to the audiobook version really helped and made it more enjoyable for me.

each ordinary word is so packed with sorrow :”) language — in whatever form — is so important

Stuffed air and wrong time wrong place for this one.

Disclaimer: this is not a review. 

Stuffed air and wrong time wrong place for this one.

This is so good. Writing that is so breath taking, supple and full, you can taste the despair. Beautiful. 

i have never read anything more mutely intimate. not even close. this book transcends all my previous understanding on language beyonds my comprehension. a very tender whisper on the human connection and body language. kang's ethereal way with words and proses, knotted beautifully with a thorough and clear (yet so outworldly) translation, i found beauty and serenity in between each of its words. 

refutabilitas

I’m a sucker for linguistics and it was fun to read and the writing style is incredible however it leaves you with the feeling of incompleteness. Maybe that’s how it was supposed to be

han kang's ability to weave intimacy without words but memory. the work to remember past tragedy and future dread is painful at every waking moment. 

solitones

A last minute contender for my favourite read this year (Angela Carter's grip on me is just too strong).

Originally, I did not have any intention to read "Greek Lessons" - frankly, Han Kang's work is severly underpromoted in the UK. But a friend on Tumblr posted excerpts from the book as they were reading it and the prose was so captivating, it immediately went on my Kindle (even if I would not pick it up from the library for some time after).

And that first impression holds. The novel is incredibly beautiful, lyrical - and poignant. It is a meditation on loss and separation with language as an expression of the idea of connection and disconnect. It is an idea that is both at the forefront of the novel and that is tenderly woven into its fabric; it is a great mastery of the craft to achieve this. 

A last minute contender for my favourite read this year (Angela Carter's grip on me is just too strong).

Originally, I did not have any intention to read "Greek Lessons" - frankly, Han Kang's work is severly underpromoted in the UK. But a friend on Tumblr posted excerpts from the book as they were reading it and the prose was so captivating, it immediately went on my Kindle (even if I would not pick it up from the library for some time after).

And that first impression holds. The novel is incredibly beautiful, lyrical - and poignant. It is a meditation on loss and separation with language as an expression of the idea of connection and disconnect. It is an idea that is both at the forefront of the novel and that is tenderly woven into its fabric; it is a great mastery of the craft to achieve this. 

megan becker

Somehow, this book outsold “The Vegetarian” for me - if that is even possible. It is so full of yearning and sorrow and unlikely connection and unspeakable feelings. I found it to be more accessible than Kang’s other works, but it still pushed the boundaries of my mind and make me work to understand. Such gorgeously written prose in a structure that feels entirely singular to Kang. Maybe it’s because I’ve spent so much time studying semiotics & language, but this story hit me full force and will likely live at the bottom of my stomach, full of all it’s yearning & imagery, for weeks to come.

Greek Lessons From the International Booker Prize-Winning Author of the Vegetarian

Reviews

Highlights