The writing style took me a while to get used to as it had no speech marks.
The author tackles some difficult subjects and does such a good job of it.

❌Scenes of neglect in the care home and violence against gay and lesbian people at the protests the daughter takes part in.❌

Narrated by a woman in her 70s who struggles to cope, when her daughter in her Green moves back in with her and brings her girlfriend Lane with her.

For a novella you expect it to be a really simple easy read but this was just abit confusing. There are frequent time jumps, and a lack of quotation marks - this meant I often struggled to figure out who was talking or if it was just a part of the mother's narration. I would also agree with other reviewers in that the book felt a bit too much tell, spelling every thought and feeling out leaving nothing for the reader to imagine or interpret themselves. The way it’s written didn’t keep me interested, it got abit boring and lacked something for me.

I normally love a good translated novel but this one was just lacking and I wanted more from it. It didn’t have anything wow in it or anything shocking. It just had the same king of tone throughout. Maybe it would have been better as more of a novel from a outsiders point of view rather than the mothers whole story, thoughts, feelings etc. Maybe having someone else narrate might have given it more depth.

2.4* rounded to 3*

2.5 rounded down

Narrated by a woman in her 70s who struggles when her daughter in her 30s (Green) moves back in with her -- with her girlfriend (Lane) in tow. The novella provides the perspective of a woman from a different generation struggling with how her daughter is living her life: specifically in a way which is entirely contrary to what her mother expected for her.

I welcome different perspectives in literature, and applaud what the author has attempted here. My main issue with the book was the confusing structure: there are frequent time jumps which are compounded by a lack of quotation marks - this meant I often struggled to figure out who was talking or if it was indeed part of the mother's narration. I would also agree with other reviewers in that the book felt a bit too much tell (rather than show) at times which was to the detriment of the story.

Today I’m talking about a slice of life fiction novel from Korea, called Concerning My Daughter. It’s by author Kim Hye-Jin, and was translated by Jamie Chang (Translator)
First published in South Korea in 2017 as ("About My Daughter"), it’s an award winning novel.

When an ageing mother allows her thirty something year old daughter to move into her apartment, she wants what many mothers might say they want for their daughter: a steady income and, a good husband with a good a steady income too, with whom to start a family.

But Green turns up with her girlfriend, Lane, in tow, and despite having an inclination about their relationship for some years. The mother is unprepared and unwilling to welcome Lane. In fact, she is barely civil to the other woman, which was fascinating to read about because Lane gives the mother every courtesy and consideration, and more. It’s so realistic to see these uneven interactions, Lane getting a verbal bashing while her actions are nothing but noteworthy and kind.

The book is short but manages to cover several issues compellingly. It's narrated entirely by a woman of around 70 who adds pressure to her strained relationship with her daughter by her dogged determination to oppose the life her daughter's chosen. Apparently, the author Kim Hye-jin developed this story while reflecting on what the world might look like from the perspective of her mother's generation.

For the mother having centred her life on her husband and child, her daughter's definition of family is not one she can accept. Her daughter's involvement in a case of unfair dismissal involving gay colleagues from the university where she works is similarly strange to her.

And yet when the care home where she works insists that she lower her standard of care for Jen, an elderly dementia patient who has no family, who travelled the world as a successful diplomat, who chose not to have children, Green's mother struggles to accept this.

At the heart of the story is what could be seen as a familiar story of generational conflict. But it's a more nuanced tale; we have a wonderfully complex narrator who is actually internally self-questioning despite being outwardly rigid and demanding of her daughter.

Kim's narrator exists in a perpetual state of anxiety
What about the future? What about your future? What sort of a future awaits?
Which is the reality for many people; it’s so relatable. Most of us will have heard about the importance of living in the now - from author Eckhart Tolle - and the philosophies he was by. But how often do we live in the present when we’re wondering about our next paycheck, or next bill, and the depiction of the world on the news.

The story structure is straightforward and follows a chronological timeline starting with the decision of the narrator to let her daughter move back in with her. As the story unfolds the author shows us the myriad ways in which we fail each other and how we show up for one another.

The plot and dialogue highlighters numerous valid criticisms of our modern-day societies, but the book never feels preachy. The profound criticism of how the elderly are cared for in a world where profit margins take precedence, is so relevant to our times. Kim juxtaposes her narrator's passionate advocacy for Jen, the elderly lady in the care home and the advocacy by the narrator's daughter, Green, in fighting for LGBTQ rights.



I didn't find anything particularly new in the writing, but I wasn’t expecting any shock value, and that’s subjective. In the past 25 years I’ve worked as an advocate, a healthcare complaints coordinator, and a quality improvement manager for reducing institutionalised care for people who could and should be cared for in the community. The issues might not be new to me but I stillI appreciated this book as a meaningful read about these contemporary issues. While the story is set in South Korea, the themes will resonate for many readers they are from or live.

The book has a rating of 3.8 on Goodreads, and I agree with that rating. It’s worth keeping in mind when deciding to read this book that there are scenes of casual neglect in the care home and casual violence against gay and lesbian people at the protests Green takes part in.

My thanks to Netgalley and publisher Picador for the advance reader copy.

this is a POV of a mother who had a concern on her daughter being a part of LBGTQ+. we can see and learn that LBGTQ+ life is a big concern in Korea as most likely the elders are still conversatived person. hard to likely to change their mind on LBGTQ+. Their biggest concern is that can the love take care of them when they get older? the mother in this book kept concerning. we get it and it's kinda repetitive. despite of Korea have gone through tech advance, they still unable to embrace LBGTQ+ life. LBGTQ+ people in Korea most likely will get discriminations.

plus, the elders in Korea as well were highlighted in this book and as per my understanding, elders that was dependent on hospitals and no family might be treated unwell. i can see the issues raised in this book very clear and it was a straightforward. to me, it is not hard to understand and i also get a little bored easily but the issues were delivered.

I am always trying to read more translated fiction, especially from Asia, because there are so many culture differences to the Western world that I know. Reading novels from different places is a great way to start to get to know those places and that’s why we should all read as widely as we possibly can. Translated by Jamie Chang, this spare slip of a book offers a glimpse into one ordinary South Korean life.

Our narrator is in her seventies and still working hard in a care home for older adults. But when her adult daughter announces that she’s moving in with her mother, another woman Lane comes with her. Our narrator can’t deal with the fact that her daughter’s idea of life and family are so different from her own. Why can’t she just get a steady career and a husband? But when her workplace suggests that one of her wards, who led a fantastic child-free life, should leave the quality care she has always had, she realises that perhaps a conventional life isn’t necessarily the only ‘right’ option.

The narrator lives in a small, old house in a crowded suburb. While it seems to suit her somewhat, I wondered if she’d prefer to live in a quieter area. It seems that she holds on to things for nostalgic reasons rather than whether they still serve her needs. I can’t imagine being happy that my grandmother was living in a house that was falling down in a loud, bustling town.

The realities of being a casual worker or nomad are addressed in the book and our narrator’s reaction to this felt very authentic for a person of her age. She doesn’t seem to understand how the world has got to where it is as she has always been told that education can get anyone wherever they want to go in life. Of course, that’s exactly what we’ve always been taught but it’s actually all largely out of all of our control. Coming to this realisation has been one of the most heartbreaking revelations for many millennials and is perhaps an even more devastating truth in cultures where education is prized so highly.

Our narrator’s work reminds her of the truth about getting old. Although she is old herself, she is healthy and highly functional unlike her wards. I think her patient Jen plays a vital role for our narrator, as she demonstrates what her future could hold and serves to remind her that life truly is short. Perhaps too short to spend it being anything but happy.

There is strong homophobia in the book and our narrator holds a lot of traditional values. Her daughter being gay is unacceptable to her and to be honest, I didn’t really get the impression that she’d left these beliefs behind at the end. She eventually learns to get along with her daughter’s partner Lane but it definitely felt like more of a tolerance than any real affection. I did grow frustrated with this viewpoint but unfortunately, like with everyone of her generation, I knew that she was unlikely to change her opinion.

Concerning My Daughter is a simple story, which tackles some serious, real issues in a simple way. The narrator is hard to like and therefore, I can’t say that I particularly enjoyed it. I’m sure that certain parts will speak to some readers though, so I commend it for that. I would have liked to see a bigger character arc but perhaps with an older protagonist, that would have felt unrealistic.

I find myself loving women's fiction coming out of South and East Asia; there is something to be said for an economy of writing, in which everything is distilled into its purest essence, and this book is exemplary in that regard.

'Will I be able to take such a life? Will I get through it?
When I ask myself this question, I see the face of an old woman wearing a stubborn, intractable expression and shaking her head. I close my eyes again. In any case, now is the time for sleep. When I wake up, I will have the energy to get through the next bit of life ahead of me. I am not thinking about what's coming far off in the future, but what I face now. I think to myself that I will only think about what needs to be done today and get it done without incident. All I can do is believe that I will make it through the long stretch of tomorrows.' (Concerning my Daughter, Kim Hye-Jin, trad. Jamie Chang, p. 163).

Actual rating: 3.75/5

Concerning My Daughter is the first book written by Kim Hye-Jin that is translated into English by translator Jamie Chang. This was a novel I anticipated a lot and was curious to read to get more insight into Korean society.

The story follows a mother who, after her thirty-three-year-old daughter tells her that she is on the verge of becoming homeless, accepts her return home. But the daughter isn't alone; she arrives with Lane, a woman whose place the mother struggles to define—or rather, refuses to define while she knows precisely the extent of the relationship Lane has with her daughter, that she keeps nicknaming Green. Meanwhile, the mother's story unfolds to reveal the difficulties that Korean society faces today, especially concerning the care of each generation and community in South Korea. The mother is a carer and is given the task of taking care of Jen, an old lady who has no family. More than the other characters, both women face the impact of time on their bodies, something which develops a deep reflection on life and how the body is impacted by it.

Something that I have noticed while reading Korean translated fiction over the previous years is that it is almost a habit of Korean writers (or perhaps something that translators naturally do) to put a distance from the characters. There is always this coldness readers face while reading their stories which I think is particularly interesting. To me, this distance felt even larger with the difficult themes evoked in the story: homophobia is present in the mother's narrative and perspective, which renders her focalisation quite hard to digest at certain times. However, I feel like it depicts Korean society quite well; from my little knowledge of it, homophobia is still deeply rooted in the older generations, and the subject is not widely tackled nowadays (note: it has been popularised a little throughout the years in Korean dramas, but very seldom I have observed the theme at the core of discussions or plots). For this reason, I think this novel couldn't be appreciated by everybody. I can imagine that some thoughts would be very offensive to people belonging to the LGBTQIA+ communities, especially if the said readers are not familiar with the South Korean views on homosexuality/queerness beforehand.

About the second part of the story, concerning the role of carers and the personal story of the mother in the book, I thought it very interesting. From a Western point of view, when we are not as caring for our elders as South Korean or Asian communities in general, it offers a very striking reflection on our actions and behaviour towards them. There is a French saying which says 'Don't do to others what you wouldn't like someone to do to you' (or something like that, my translating skills are rotting, unfortunately). It made me think about how I would like the following generations to treat me when I'll be an older person, what respect I would like to be given in the future...etc. Also, what respect do I deserve when I have strayed away from the conventional path society was expecting me to take? All that is relevant for Jen. She is alone. No family, no one to visit her, she is simply perceived as an entity that constitutes the work of someone else, or someone who is expected to die anytime soon.

In a sense, it opens a reflection around how society can kill you, metaphorically I mean, when you're still alive. Jen is dead in the eye of the society before she actually dies; Green is a dead entity in the teaching community because she is a lesbian and develops her subjects of study on topics that are taboos; Lane is non-existent in the eye of the mother because she encourages Green to not follow the path her mother wanted her to take; and the mother feels her body giving up under the pressure of society and the expectations the later both gives her and her daughter.

So, as you must have understood by how long this review starts to look, there are many things this novel puts on the table. I could go on for a long time, but, though it is short, this story is really a good opportunity of reflecting on themes such as life, time, homosexuality, ageing, all of that coupled with society (here, Korean society).

I personally enjoy it, but not as much as I thought I would. I had a hard time immersing myself in the story, I believe. The translation looks very pleasing when reading it; I liked that it doesn't follow the conventional speech style with speech marks.

I would like to thank Netgalley and Pan MacMillan/Picador for the opportunity of reading this novel and reviewing it.

I loved the premise of this book however I struggled at time with the flow of the story something that may be to do with the fact I read a translation. Great characters though

Beautifully written, with such heart. Not only did it make me cry, it made me see the world in a different way.

When a mother allows her thirty-something daughter to move into her apartment, she wants for her what many mothers might say they want for their child: a steady income, and, even better, a good husband with a good job with whom to start a family. But when Green turns up with her girlfriend, Lane, in tow, her mother is unprepared and unwilling to welcome Lane into her home. In fact, she can barely bring herself to be civil.

Having centred her life on her husband and child, her daughter's definition of family is not one she can accept. Her daughter's involvement in a case of unfair dismissal involving gay colleagues from the university where she works is similarly strange to her. And yet when the care home where she works insists that she lower her standard of care for an elderly dementia patient who has no family, who travelled the world as a successful diplomat, who chose not to have children, Green's mother cannot accept it.

Why should not having chosen a traditional life mean that your life is worth nothing at all?In Concerning My Daughter, translated from Korean by Jamie Chang, Kim Hye-jin lays bare our most universal fears on ageing, death, and isolation, to offer finally a paean to love in all its forms.

Kim Hye-jin's novella Concerning My Daughter has been translated from the Korean by Jamie Chang; my comments here are obviously based on the English translation and I can't speak to the quality of the original Korean text.

Concerning My Daughter sets up such interesting internal conflicts for its characters. Our narrator, an ageing woman, is appalled when her daughter, Green, moves into her house with her girlfriend, Lane. She can't understand why her daughter would seek a relationship that, for her, is 'play-acting', without 'real' intimacy or the hope of biological children. She's also ashamed of Green's activism at work; Green, a university lecturer, has stood up for some of her colleagues who were sacked for being in a homosexual relationship. But our narrator is not a one-dimensional bigot. She, too, stands up for what she believes to be right when she witnesses the mistreatment of a woman with dementia at the care home where she works - a woman who's lived a life much bigger than our narrator's conventional trajectory.

Unfortunately, for me, the structure and prose made Concerning My Daughter almost unreadable. The novella jumps around in time, following its narrator's internal monologue - something I love when a writer pulls it off, but here was just confusing and bitty. The narrator also has a habit of spelling out her thoughts on everything, leaving the reader no room for interpretation. This makes the novella feel clunky and obvious, despite its hugely promising plot-line, and reminded me a bit of Maki Kashimada's Japanese novella-in-translation Ninety-Nine Kisses, which suffered from the same problem. 2.5 stars.

A quick and easy read that I found myself picking up after a long day to unwind. The characters are beautifully written and I came to love them within the first few pages and was rooting for them all the way to the end. At times I wanted to stop reading because I just wanted the experience to go on for longer.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

The first book that comes to my mind after reading "Concerning My Daughter" is "Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982". For me it's less a literary feast than an insight into the Korean society - a microcosm seen from the perspective of an old woman, tired with hard work and dissatisfied with life, who cannot come to terms with the fact that her daughter is lesbian. Until she no longer can look away.

It's really hard to like the narrator: she is conservative, she is homophobic, controlling and sometimes even emotionally abusive. It doesn't mean she doesn't have any good intentions: it just shows us what damage can be done by forcing the same "traditions" and "norms" onto everyone. The damage that can be emotional, psychological, and even - like in the case of the narrator's daughter and her friends - physical.

The book reads well, but there is something lacking in its prose - and I am quite sure the problem is not the translation. The story is quite repetitive - but then, isn't it exactly like our thoughts, running in circles? It can be frustrating at times, but only after reading did I realise that everyone who dares to be different - regardless if it's the question of what we do for work, how we look like, who we love - hears the same "arguments" again and again. And breaking through that wall of prejudices is hard work. Some manage to open their hearts - but some fail.

This is how I will remember "Concerning My Daugher" - the world seen from the perspective of a flawed character, whom there are many among us. Perhaps only by reading books that show us the mundane, highlight what we fear, what we are ashamed of, what we are tired of, what bores us - can we become better humans.

More a social commentary rather than a book I would recommend for its literary values. Still - we need this kind of books too, especially in translation.

This is a powerful book, one you cannot easily forget and stays with you and makes you think about it. It is brutal and honest and tells about complicated relationship of a mother and daughter. It tells the story of prejudices LGBTQ+ face even in prosperous and "advanced" countries like SK and how they are oppressed and silenced.

"Do you have a sangju (상주)? The employee comes by with the itemized list of expenses and asks if we’ve picked a sangju, or chief mourner. I tell him we won’t be getting many visitors.

You will have to have a sangju. We have to put up the name, and we keep a record here as well.

I’ll do it, my daughter says.

Sangju is usually a man. Don’t you have any men around?

I am reminded of my daughter’s situation again as my face turns red.

What does it matter if it’s a man or a woman? Lane chimes in. There’s no law against it.

The employee looks at me. I nod. The thought that my sad, pathetic situation has been exposed again tears through me again. I walk down the hall of small funeral rooms packed in together and go outside."

Concerning my Daughter is Jamie Chang’s translation of 딸에대하여 by 김혜진 (Kim Hyejin).

Jamie Chang, who teaches at the prestigious 이대, was the translator of Kim Ji-young, born 1982.

김혜진 was (per the blurb) "born in Daegu, Korea, in 1983. She debuted in 2012 when her story ‘Chicken Run’ won Dong-A Ilbo’s Spring Literary Award. She won the Joongang Novel Prize for Joongang Station, and the Shin Dong-yup Prize for Literature for 딸에대하여."

The novel opens:

"The server brings over two bowls of hot udon. I look at my daughter as she grabs chopsticks and spoons from the box of utensils. She looks tired, or thinner, or older.

You didn’t get my text? she asks.

I did. I was going to call, but I kept forgetting, I say. That’s a lie. I wore myself out racking my brain over her problem all weekend. And yet here I am, sitting across from her at a table without a single alternative suggestion or plan."

The narrator is a woman in her seventies, her daughter in her mid-30s. The narrator rents out the top floor of her modest home and her daughter, in needs of cash, suggests that the mother converts the tenants from paying monthly rent (월세) to the traditional Korean jeonse (전세) system where the tenant pays a large upfront deposit in lieu of rent, something the narrator is reluctant to do as the house is the only thing she has to show for all her many years of work, and she needs the rent to supplement her meagre income.

"Labor without end. The thought that no one can save me from this exhausting work. Concern over what will happen when the moment comes when I cannot work anymore. In other words, what worries me isn’t death, but life. I must do whatever needs to be done to withstand this suffocating uncertainty that will be with me for as long as I am living. I learned this too late. Perhaps this is not about aging. Maybe it’s the malady of the times, as people say. Our times. This generation. Naturally, I am reminded of my daughter again. We have arrived at this point, her in her mid-thirties, me past seventy."

And the world that she will reach, that I won’t be around for – what will it look like? Better than this? Or more relentless?"

The end solution is for the daughter to move in with her mother, but we realise the issue isn’t so much financial as social, as she brings “Lane”, her partner, for seven years, with her. “That girl” as the narrator refers to her, who is slow to realise and unable to accept that the two girls are in a long-term relationship and not just friends.

"Why can’t you just accept me for who I am? I’m not asking you to agree with me on every little thing. Weren’t you the one who told me that there were all kinds of people in the world? Who live different lives? You said different wasn’t bad! You’re the one who taught me all that. How come these things never apply to me?

Because you’re my daughter! You are my child!"

Her daughter, who Lane insists on calling by a nickname, Green, is embroiled in a protest at the university where she lectures, after a fellow lecturer was accused of promoting homosexuality and dismissed. The mother worries about her failing to settle down (aka in a heterosexual relationship) and have children, and focus on building her career rather than get involved in the dispute.

But meanwhile the mother gets involved in a dispute of her own. She is an agency worker as a carer as a facility for elderly patients, becoming particularly close to one, a woman in her 90s with a distinguished past, but now suffering from dementia and with no family. She ends up losing her job when she protests over the woman’s treatment, which triggers anxiety about her own fate, given her advancing years:

"How do I explain that I see myself in that woman whose wrists and ankles are bound? How do I articulate such a vivid premonition? Is it her fault that she has nothing and no one? Am I seeing myself in her because I’ve given up hope of depending on my daughter in old age? Will I – and even my daughter – likewise find ourselves punished by a rude, wretched wait for death at the end of our interminable lives? How far will I go to avoid that?"

An interesting character study of a very flawed of long-suffering narrator, with her good intentions, as she acknowledges, derailed by her tradition-based prejudices and expectations for her daughter. Although I found the story a little repetitive and the prose quoditian.

Concerning My Daughter is a novel about a woman whose thirtysomething daughter moves back in with her, bringing along her girlfriend and forcing the mother to face up to what she wants for her child. Translated from Korean, the narrative follows a woman who works in a care home, where she looks after a patient with dementia whose has no family but was well-renowned when younger. When the woman's daughter Green needs to move in with her, bringing along her girlfriend Lane, the woman finds it hard to be civil, wanting her daughter to get married and have children. Her fears are complex, revolving not only around the life she had, but on the treatment of her elderly patients without children to fight for their care.

This is an intriguing book, very simple in narrative and premise (traditional, homophobic mother struggles with how to deal with daughter), but also powerful in how it shows the impact society and tradition can have on viewpoints, and the intersection of different kinds of crises (in this case, care of the elderly and homophobia). It can be painful to read at times, repeating the protagonist's obsession with her daughter not having a 'real' relationship, and the depiction of the care of the elderly can be brutal, but there's also tenderness underneath, for example the glimpses of Green and Lane's relationship even only through the eyes of someone who won't accept it.

A lot of the key elements of the book are things that cross over many cultures and countries, particularly in terms of changing kinds of families and how various groups of people (including older people and LGBTQ people) outside of a traditional norm are treated. Some people might not like the simplicity of Concerning My Daughter and other people might find it too difficult to read the mother's perspective and her inability to listen about what kind of life her daughter wants to read, but it's a powerful look at a character struggling with the position of different women in society and how love can make people misguided.

I really enjoyed this book but it wont be for everyone, there were some horrific things spoken about in this book such as cuelty to the elderly who are living in carehomes and extreme homophobia, which although hard topics to read about were important for the plot.
The book is really well written with an emotive narrative and well developed characters, some that I detested and some that I loved, which made this read even more heartbreaking. As I said before, this book wont be for everyone but it is definitely an important piece of literature.

A dense, exceptionally powerful piece that grew out of Korean author, Kim Hye-jin’s desire to reflect on what the world might look like from her mother’s point of view, it’s narrated entirely from the perspective of a woman of around 70 who has a daughter in her thirties. Their relationship’s blighted by the mother’s inability to comprehend what her daughter, Green, wants from life and why she’s decided to live openly as a lesbian with her partner Lane. At first, I thought this might be another of those rather stereotypical presentations of age versus youth which reinforces ageism, and takes a rather superficial, clichéd approach to representing the fight for LGBTQ rights. But Kim transforms what initially appears to be a well-worn story of generational conflict, conservatism and prejudice, into something far more intricate and moving. Through her self-questioning narrator, Kim constructs a blistering indictment of a culture in crisis, where the social contract has pretty much failed. A society that makes incessant demands of its members, particularly women, but doesn’t deliver on its promises. A culture which is both deeply homophobic and appallingly ageist, with vast numbers of older people living in poverty.

Kim's narrator exists in a perpetual state of fear that borders on terror, she’s done everything required of her, made a suitable marriage, given birth, worked tirelessly but still she has almost nothing to show for it. Her husband’s dead, all she has is a crumbling home, and an exhausting, insecure, low-paid job as a carer in a facility for the elderly. Yet despite this, or perhaps because of it, she’s fixated on steering her daughter Green towards making the same choices, unable to let go of ingrained beliefs in the supremacy of conventional family life as a means to living well: a man, a woman, children. Something that her primary patient Jen, a once highly-successful, single woman, now rapidly deteriorating, chose not to pursue. Kim juxtaposes the narrator’s passionate advocacy for the unconventional Jen with Green’s fight for LGBTQ rights after her university colleagues are fired for introducing gay themes into their lectures. And it’s the relationship that slowly builds between the mother, Green, Lane and Jen that finally offers up the possibility of intimate connection, reconciliation and understanding.

Kim work’s demanding at times, she structures her narrative according to the logic of the narrator’s thoughts and feelings, so there are occasional abrupt shifts in time and setting, and information is drip-fed, with sentences or phrases that abruptly alter the sense of her narrator’s position on what’s unfolding around her. The scenes of appalling, casual cruelty in the care home where the mother works parallel the brutal treatment of the LGBTQ protestors at Green’s university, as they’re tormented by savagely homophobic, hate groups, highlighting the painful consequences of discrimination in various guises. Kim doesn’t quite pull things off here, at times she can be a little heavy-handed, underlining, or repeating points already clearly established. But still, it’s an impressive piece. For some western readers I imagine, as with Kim Ji-Young, Born 1982, this will be the type of book that elicits a certain type of voyeuristic, self-congratulatory response. But, although this is strongly rooted in contemporary, South Korean culture, there are many aspects of the ways in which discrimination operates here that should be familiar to anyone living in a similarly, advanced capitalist country: an emphasis on status symbols, outward appearance and positional goods, the ways in which an individual’s worth has become tied to wealth and economic power. South Korea has been slated, rightly, for its lack of recognition of LGBTQ rights and for its treatment of older people, but many of the situations depicted here are occurring elsewhere. In the U.K., to take just one example, there've been frequent exposes of cruelty in care homes, not to mention the large numbers of unnecessary deaths in these settings during the current pandemic, and despite anti-discrimination laws and improvements in the recognition of LGBTQ rights, vicious homophobic, hate crimes are rising rapidly.

First published in South Korea in 2017 as 딸에 대하여 ("About My Daughter"), Kim Hye-jin’s award-winning novel’s translated here by Jamie Chang.