Name: The Vegetarian
Rating: 3.633771929824561 (684 reviews)
ISBN: 9781846276033

Han Kang

Winner of the Man Booker International Prize 2016. A beautiful, unsettling novel in three acts, about rebellion and taboo, violence and eroticism, and the twisting metamorphosis of a soul

A Novel

The Vegetarian

Yeong-hye and her husband are ordinary people. He is an office worker with moderate ambitions and mild manners; she is an uninspired but dutiful wife. The acceptable flatline of their marriage is interrupted when Yeong-hye, seeking a more 'plant-like' existence, decides to become a vegetarian, prompted by grotesque recurring nightmares. In South Korea, where vegetarianism is almost unheard-of and societal mores are strictly obeyed, Yeong-hye's decision is a shocking act of subversion. Her passive rebellion manifests in ever more bizarre and frightening forms, leading her bland husband to self-justified acts of sexual sadism. His cruelties drive her towards attempted suicide and hospitalisation. She unknowingly captivates her sister's husband, a video artist. She becomes the focus of his increasingly erotic and unhinged artworks, while spiralling further and further into her fantasies of abandoning her fleshly prison and becoming - impossibly, ecstatically - a tree. Fraught, disturbing and beautiful, The Vegetarian is a novel about modern day South Korea, but also a novel about shame, desire and our faltering attempts to understand others, from one imprisoned body to another.

It took me about three weeks to finish Han Kang’s book, despite its far-from-excessive length. The book is an intimate exploration of a small circle of characters whose lives revolve around the non-protagonist, whose thoughts the reader never hears. It took me the whole book to understand that this subtlety is deliberate—that Yeong-hye’s inscrutability is precisely the point. “What is stirring behind those eyes? What is harbouring inside her, beyond the reach of her sister’s (and the reader’s) imagination? What terror, what anger, what agony, what hell?” (p. 181, Granta, 2018).

In fact, the reader is offered an early glimpse into Yeong-Hye’s dream world, which seems to swallow the young woman silently as the narrative unfolds. This idea of describing silence without describing it is extremely subtle, perhaps too subtle. That initial elusiveness makes the opening pages intriguing and evocative; then the fog thickens, and we find ourselves in direct contact with other characters who lack the non-protagonist’s heroic stature.

 Firstly, the brother-in-law, fascinated by the “Mongolian mark” as though it were a fern flower, and the abuse—certain yet uncertain—of a woman whose capacity for judgement has faded, buried beneath painted flowers.

In-Hye, her sister, stands in clear contrast to Yeong-hye, anchored to reality by her practicality, her successful career, her maternal duties, and her efforts to hold together a marriage that is little more than a façade. Then there is a home to maintain, and the flurry of tasks and responsibilities brought on by her sister’s admission to hospital.

Han Kang offers nuanced descriptions of feelings and sensations that are perhaps less "felt" in Western literature. Feelings often take on natural forms: trees swaying in the wind become green flames; dew on bare feet seeps into human flesh and blood. And at the heart of it all is a dark, shapeless ball lodged in Yeong-hye’s chest, made of the flesh and souls of all the animals she has eaten throughout her life, before vision-dreams came to awaken her with a brutality more vivid than the banality and ordinariness of her existence. This mystical transformation, which can only be understood within the confines of everyday time and space as neurosis and madness, and the inability of the supposedly sane to decipher this invisible metamorphosis, ultimately form the true centre of the narrative.

Angelo

It took me about three weeks to finish Han Kang’s book, despite its far-from-excessive length. The book is an intimate exploration of a small circle of characters whose lives revolve around the non-protagonist, whose thoughts the reader never hears. It took me the whole book to understand that this subtlety is deliberate—that Yeong-hye’s inscrutability is precisely the point. “What is stirring behind those eyes? What is harbouring inside her, beyond the reach of her sister’s (and the reader’s) imagination? What terror, what anger, what agony, what hell?” (p. 181, Granta, 2018).

In fact, the reader is offered an early glimpse into Yeong-Hye’s dream world, which seems to swallow the young woman silently as the narrative unfolds. This idea of describing silence without describing it is extremely subtle, perhaps too subtle. That initial elusiveness makes the opening pages intriguing and evocative; then the fog thickens, and we find ourselves in direct contact with other characters who lack the non-protagonist’s heroic stature.

 Firstly, the brother-in-law, fascinated by the “Mongolian mark” as though it were a fern flower, and the abuse—certain yet uncertain—of a woman whose capacity for judgement has faded, buried beneath painted flowers.

In-Hye, her sister, stands in clear contrast to Yeong-hye, anchored to reality by her practicality, her successful career, her maternal duties, and her efforts to hold together a marriage that is little more than a façade. Then there is a home to maintain, and the flurry of tasks and responsibilities brought on by her sister’s admission to hospital.

Han Kang offers nuanced descriptions of feelings and sensations that are perhaps less "felt" in Western literature. Feelings often take on natural forms: trees swaying in the wind become green flames; dew on bare feet seeps into human flesh and blood. And at the heart of it all is a dark, shapeless ball lodged in Yeong-hye’s chest, made of the flesh and souls of all the animals she has eaten throughout her life, before vision-dreams came to awaken her with a brutality more vivid than the banality and ordinariness of her existence. This mystical transformation, which can only be understood within the confines of everyday time and space as neurosis and madness, and the inability of the supposedly sane to decipher this invisible metamorphosis, ultimately form the true centre of the narrative.

ok so it's done.. but what was all about .. what was the dream essentially that made her to be a VEGETARIAN 

Kang Han

Deciding to renounce eating meat in the wake of violent dreams, Yeong-hye, a woman from a culture of strict societal mores, is denounced as a subversive as she spirals into extreme rebelliousness that causes her to splinter from her true nature and risk her life.

Marvelous maaZa

I finished The Vegetarian by Han Kang, and it left a deep impact on me. It’s beautifully written but extremely disturbing at times. The book shows how a woman’s simple personal choice clashes with a patriarchal family, leading to control, misunderstanding, and emotional breakdown. It’s intense, uncomfortable, and incredibly powerful. Rating: 4.5/5. PS: If you are a sensitive reader or easily triggered, this book is not recommended.

the imagery is so haunting. very dark. very short. one of the best books ever. it is a work of art. 

cherie

Winner of the 2016 Man Booker International Prize ONE OF ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY'S "BEST BOOKS OF 2016 SO FAR" ONE OF TIME'S "BEST BOOKS OF 2016 SO FAR" A beautiful, unsettling novel about rebellion and taboo, violence and eroticism, and the twisting metamorphosis of a soul Before the nightmares began, Yeong-hye and her husband lived an ordinary, controlled life. But the dreams--invasive images of blood and brutality--torture her, driving Yeong-hye to purge her mind and renounce eating meat altogether. It's a small act of independence, but it interrupts her marriage and sets into motion an increasingly grotesque chain of events at home. As her husband, her brother-in-law and sister each fight to reassert their control, Yeong-hye obsessively defends the choice that's become sacred to her. Soon their attempts turn desperate, subjecting first her mind, and then her body, to ever more intrusive and perverse violations, sending Yeong-hye spiraling into a dangerous, bizarre estrangement, not only from those closest to her, but also from herself. Celebrated by critics around the world, The Vegetarian is a darkly allegorical, Kafka-esque tale of power, obsession, and one woman's struggle to break free from the violence both without and within her. From the Hardcover edition.

The book is basically a very overwhelming and a disturbing book narrating about the main character's battles with her past and present trauma leading to her getting mentally ill. It does I do like that an important topic is being discussed regarding traumas leading to mental illness, patriarchy and the lack of support provided. The book is also described with 3 povs each being related to the main character. Despite such good meanings, I do find the book pretty disturbing and rather uncomfortable; so its difficult to recommend this book to others. However, it allows you to think alot despite this brutal yet well written book. 

Aarush Arora

The book is basically a very overwhelming and a disturbing book narrating about the main character's battles with her past and present trauma leading to her getting mentally ill. It does I do like that an important topic is being discussed regarding traumas leading to mental illness, patriarchy and the lack of support provided. The book is also described with 3 povs each being related to the main character. Despite such good meanings, I do find the book pretty disturbing and rather uncomfortable; so its difficult to recommend this book to others. However, it allows you to think alot despite this brutal yet well written book. 

Not for everyone.

read this for ib eng lit and WOW and also FUCK my HLE

charlowwe

Someone I talked to about this book didn't pick up on unversality of violence. They made it a Korean thing. How can you be Croatian and think like that is fascinating to me. I keep thinking about this book and the mediocre (if not straighforwardly bad) guy artist from the second part with his fucking flowers. Blood boils.

Dora Tominic

Disclaimer: this is not a review.

Someone I talked to about this book didn't pick up on unversality of violence. They made it a Korean thing. How can you be Croatian and think like that is fascinating to me. I keep thinking about this book and the mediocre (if not straighforwardly bad) guy artist from the second part with his fucking flowers. Blood boils.

Greg Talbot

"The Vegetarian" gives strong support for Kang's win of the Nobel Prize in literature in 2024. There are many themes in here the reader could draw from: ecology, feminism, patriachial socieities, familial failings, mental illness and artistic transformations. At times it had me wondering about the larger narrative themes in Korean society, such a the dwindling birth rates and 4B movement against traditional heteronormative patterns. I wonder how many women reading this story will relate to this story of the voiceless Yeong-hye. She is the object of a marriage, an object of an artist, and object of a family, but makes a decision to herself that ultimately may be her undoing. Inexpressability is at the heart of "The Vegetarian". Like many readers, I was emotional stirred by a Hang King's writing. Yeong-hye, our protagonist, is revealed through the perspective of three relationships: her husband, her brother-in-law, and her sister. These bonds and their related conflicts pull the narrative thread, and give us insights into Yeog-hye. We are not given coherence, but something messier and more human. [spoilers removed]

тревожная, эмоциональная и беспросветная история о том, как сложно не потерять себя, когда противостоишь жестокости патриархального общества. хочется кричать от того, как Ёнхе дегуманизируют все мужские персонажи. и очень больно от того, что она смогла выдержать это давление лишь таким деструктивным способом, отказавшись не только от проявлений жестокости, но и от самой своей человеческой сущности.

отношения с сестрой показались мне очень глубокими, тёплыми и правдоподобными. особенно последняя часть книги, в которой Инхе наконец понимает и принимает сестру, несмотря на всю боль, которую это принятие ей принесет

A distressing, emotional, and bleak story about how difficult it is to hold onto oneself while resisting the cruelty of a patriarchal society. It makes you want to scream seeing how all the male characters dehumanize Yeong-hye. And it is incredibly painful that she could only withstand this pressure through such a destructive path, by rejecting not just manifestations of cruelty, but her very human nature.

The relationship with her sister felt deeply nuanced, warm, and authentic to me. The final part was particularly powerful, with In-hye finally understanding and accepting her sister, despite all the pain that this acceptance inevitably brings her. 

Anikonda

тревожная, эмоциональная и беспросветная история о том, как сложно не потерять себя, когда противостоишь жестокости патриархального общества. хочется кричать от того, как Ёнхе дегуманизируют все мужские персонажи. и очень больно от того, что она смогла выдержать это давление лишь таким деструктивным способом, отказавшись не только от проявлений жестокости, но и от самой своей человеческой сущности.

отношения с сестрой показались мне очень глубокими, тёплыми и правдоподобными. особенно последняя часть книги, в которой Инхе наконец понимает и принимает сестру, несмотря на всю боль, которую это принятие ей принесет

A distressing, emotional, and bleak story about how difficult it is to hold onto oneself while resisting the cruelty of a patriarchal society. It makes you want to scream seeing how all the male characters dehumanize Yeong-hye. And it is incredibly painful that she could only withstand this pressure through such a destructive path, by rejecting not just manifestations of cruelty, but her very human nature.

The relationship with her sister felt deeply nuanced, warm, and authentic to me. The final part was particularly powerful, with In-hye finally understanding and accepting her sister, despite all the pain that this acceptance inevitably brings her. 

Very disturbing and raw. Han Kang’s writing is immaculate and I enjoyed the three perspectives. Some parts were so absurd though that I was a bit confused but also made me reflect which I guess was the point. Definitely reading more of her stuff! 

Klara Hansen 

Winner of the 2016 Man Booker International Prize NAMED ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY The New York Times Book Review • Publisher's Weekly • Buzzfeed • Entertainment Weekly • Time • Wall Street Journal • Bustle • Elle • The Economist • Slate • The Huffington Post • The St. Louis Dispatch • Electric Literature Featured in the New York Times selection of "15 remarkable books by women that are shaping the way we read and write fiction in the 21st century" A beautiful, unsettling novel about rebellion and taboo, violence and eroticism, and the twisting metamorphosis of a soul Before the nightmares began, Yeong-hye and her husband lived an ordinary, controlled life. But the dreams—invasive images of blood and brutality—torture her, driving Yeong-hye to purge her mind and renounce eating meat altogether. It’s a small act of independence, but it interrupts her marriage and sets into motion an increasingly grotesque chain of events at home. As her husband, her brother-in-law and sister each fight to reassert their control, Yeong-hye obsessively defends the choice that’s become sacred to her. Soon their attempts turn desperate, subjecting first her mind, and then her body, to ever more intrusive and perverse violations, sending Yeong-hye spiraling into a dangerous, bizarre estrangement, not only from those closest to her, but also from herself. Celebrated by critics around the world, The Vegetarian is a darkly allegorical, Kafka-esque tale of power, obsession, and one woman’s struggle to break free from the violence both without and within her.

cass

wasn’t really for me, however i do understand why it is so loved. i struggled with the first passage, however the second part was phenomenal and kept me hooked. it seemed to loose momentum as it progressed into the final part. i was left wanting answers, and tbh a bit confused, i wish that a few questions were tied up properly. overall an okay read, the writing style was really good!!

One of the most memorable books I’ve ever read in years. It touches on very heavy themes, don’t read if you’re in a bad mental state. But wow…the 3 narrative writing style was refreshing and the terror I was going through while reading this book, especially the first part even made me think my future partner could be thinking all those about me too and there is no way I’ll really ever know…

April M

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful... Haunting...

Man, I don't care how hard it was to get through the first two parts (not implying that they're bad at all) with its subject matter, getting to "Flaming Trees" was 100% worth it. Such a cathartic experience for me.

Audric Kan

IBDP HL English Book:

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful... Haunting...

Man, I don't care how hard it was to get through the first two parts (not implying that they're bad at all) with its subject matter, getting to "Flaming Trees" was 100% worth it. Such a cathartic experience for me.

not unlike a dream in the way you almost never get to fully wrap your head around each occurance when the story progresses further _ Moving forward ? backward ? downward ? ... disorienting in an unfortunate, beautiful way

plantdad

Yeong-hye's ultimate desire to shed her human form and become part of nature is a complete rejection of the patriarchal, violent society that suffocated her.

"He couldn't ask: why did you use to bare your breasts to the sunlight, like some kind of mutant animal that had evolved to be able to photosynthesize? Was that because of a dream too?"

Eva Cace

Yeong-hye's ultimate desire to shed her human form and become part of nature is a complete rejection of the patriarchal, violent society that suffocated her.

"He couldn't ask: why did you use to bare your breasts to the sunlight, like some kind of mutant animal that had evolved to be able to photosynthesize? Was that because of a dream too?"



Reminds me of Sayaka Murata’s theme and intensity, except this one uses the perspective of people surrounding women. it’s intensity propelled readers to keep reading while flinching on its claustrophobic but beautiful writing.

The Vegetarian A Novel

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