This is a very opaque book; I wasn't really sure what was going on most of the time and, personally, I don‘t like that in a book.

The book switched between two viewpoints, one first-person and one third-person and it wasn‘t clear at the start that there were two MCs so I was very confused. I actually nearly bailed and then read a review that gave me the clue that there were two different narrators. The two MCs are a woman who loves language but has lost her ability to speak, and her Greek language tutor, who is losing his sight. The two barely interact and there is no storyline, so I was left wondering what the point was. Maybe a bit too high-brow for me?

2.5 stars rounded up to 3

I was pleased to be selected to review Han Kang's latest 'Greek Lessons' having enjoyed two of her previous novels (The Vegetarian and The Human Acts).

Much like The Vegetarian the protagonists in Greek Lessons are facing disassociation, isolation and subsequently loneliness from the world around them with one losing their vision and the other losing their ability to speak and are subsequently drawn to the other as the story unravels both their traumatic pasts and traumas.

Much like her other novels it has given me a lot to reflect on on a philosophical level about society, especially in regards to increasing disconnection of the modern world.

There’s something very intriguing about this novel, which makes it compelling. I didn’t, unfortunately, “get it” and I found the narrative tricky to follow as the different perspectives didn’t come together clearly enough for me but it is undoubtedly a very clever work of art, both for the original author and the translator.

To say this book was beautifully written is the biggest understatement. I felt the writing just carried me along with it, it felt effortless and yet it was also brilliant. In the face of sight loss and loss of language, the novel explored isolation, loneliness, memories, reflection, fear of the future and the possibility of connection with other people around you. The two narratives started in very different places but were almost intertwined by the end, overlapping one another and slipping from one voice to the next. It was honest and yet hopeful and just packed full of emotion.

'Whereas in the past she had been submerged under water, staring up at the glimmering world above, she now seems to have become a shadow, riding on the cold hard surface of walls and bare ground, an outside observer of a life contained in an enormous water tank.'

A woman and a man are rebuilding their lives through the diacritics and odd turns of a dead language. Bound to this reality (plagued by custody issues, memories of lost love, the sting of deflated ambitions, feelings of Otherness), even mirroring occasions of geography, she has her sight on words she inexplicably lost, whereas he must document everything he will soon be unable to see. Inevitably, they take notice of each other.

Beginning 'Greek Lessons' forces you to slow down, drop the pace – to drink in the sentences like they were intended. There is so much hurt in this story, but it will not be discussed like two friends might in the trusted company of each other's familiarity, loud and to the point. Instead, there is a searching quality – rooted in reality but explored through memory, dream and the in-between – to describe the pain, transcribed in carefully measured prose which will offer many literary paybacks as we progress. (Such joyous, giddy moments when 'it all makes sense' and understanding starts to ping back and forth between earlier and later pages!) This pain is fractured, like the bits of coloured paper you see at the bottom of a kaleidoscope. When he has the words, something inside of her shucks loose like a slipping rock. He finds redemption, in her silence, the one the previous subject of his affection gave him but which he didn't respect or understand.

I was very much reminded of a more popular element of Plato's theory of the soul: how one person might never know the ideal of Beauty and the Good (perfection) because man had been split into two (imperfection) by the gods, which is why we spent our mortal days roaming the world in order to find our other half (soulmates) so that we might feel whole again (perfection). And Borges's blade, the cold steel that lies between the two lovers or the self and the world, is what prevents us from attaining this. (Though, whatever lies inscribed on said metaphoric steel – one's talents, interests, idea of self – is still a hard-won, worthy prize in this mortal world.)

'Greek Lessons' is such a rich, immersive experience, progressing on the ephemeral excellence that made 'The Vegetarian' so enduring. It asks a lot of its readers (mentally, emotionally) but by the time we are reaching up for the surface, the rewards are unending and I do not hesitate in naming this as one of the best books I've ever read.

Two unnamed strangers in Seoul - a woman who has lost her speech and a man who is losing his sight - meet during Ancient Greek lessons as teacher and student. Burdened by their own separate cases of loss, regrets, and loneliness, they live very isolated existences and both spend much of their days reliving their pasts and steeping in their pain. When they finally make contact, a beautifully tender and life-affirming connection slowly ensues.

I've been in love with Kang's writing since I first read the "The Vegetarian", and though I have not yet read "Human Acts" or "The White Book", "Greek Lessons" has cemented Kang as one of my all-time favourite authors.

This was such a stunningly-written, deeply touching, visceral and poetic story. The two main characters, known only as the man and woman, are well fleshed-out and have heart-wrenching backstories that both parallel each other and are totally different. Watching them struggle to cope with their circumstances, fail to form connections, and then ultimately become drawn to each other and lean on each other in the quiestest, most tender ways was so bittersweet.

I enjoyed both of the dual POVs, but, having a preference for first-person narratives, especially loved the man's perspective and the painful vulnerability of his inner thoughts in the epistolary chapters. I think the choice of POV for each of the characters makes absolute sense though, as the woman is more withdrawn than the man in both narrative style and personality.

The writing is, of course, outstandingly beautiful, with the translators having done a stellar job. Kang's words are as sharp and incisive as they are lyrical and breathtaking, and the novel is essentially prose poetry in parts and at the end. This will not work for everyone, but I adored it.

"Greek Lessons" also artfully explores questions of language and communication through its two central characters who are often unable to communicate in conventional ways at pivotal moments. What happens when your words go away and refuse to come back? When you've lost the ability to tell your loved ones how you feel, to stand up for them and yourself? When you're losing one of your senses and have to acclimate to not only that, but to a whole new form of language and being in the world? Though having no background in it, I appreciated the use of Ancient Greek to illustrate both the impermanence and the eternal relevance of language, how something dead can lead to a rebirth.

There's so much I haven't covered with this review, but "Greek Lessons" has already become one of my top reads of the year, and is a book I will be thinking about for a long time.

Thanks very much to Penguin Hamish Hamilton and Netgalley for the ARC!

Beautiful writing and interesting ideas, but a bit too abstract and skipping too much from one thought to another. I just couldn’t connect. Thank you Hamish Hamilton and Netgalley for an ARC.

I am a huge fan of Han Kang’s work which meant I had very high hopes going into this book! It truly is quite difficult to decipher my feelings on this book, I can’t quite communicate my thoughts (how ironic).

The book told in alternating perspectives of a lecturer of Ancient Greek slowly going blind and a divorced woman whose trauma has rendered her unable to speak so she begins taking Greek lessons in the hope to gain her speech back.
This is a short little book about language, communication and of course, in true Han Kang style, human relations. It reads like a long poem with very lyrical, philosophical writing which admittedly is not my favourite style so I found myself “micro-dosing” the novel. Though the characters aren’t as engaging and intense as in some of the author’s previous work, they did still manage to evoke deep feelings within me through the intentional choice of words. Though the language was relatively simple, the words held gargantuan meanings which made it hard to fully immerse myself but perhaps this “inaccessibility” is the whole point of the book?

This is a book that I will have to sit with for a while to truly comprehend and appreciate its contents. As for now, it is definitely worth the read though I do warn you not to go into the book expecting another “The Vegetarian”.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for providing me with an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

I loved the previous two books I have read by Han Kang (The Vegetarian and Human Acts) so I jumped at the chance to read Greek Lessons. There is always a risk, though, when reading a book you have high expectations of that it will let you down. I am very, very, pleased to report that this was not the case with Greek Lessons, which I found to be beautifully written, wonderfully translated, and a true joy to read.

Why did I like it so much? Han Kang paints pictures of people who are not that pretty, or powerful, or purposeful. Often they are lost, unsure about their place in the world they are living in, a world which seems to have rejected them. Set in Korea, with its strict social rules, it must be suffocating to feel like this.

You can feel that suffocation, the weight on their shoulders. It makes the books compelling. I felt completely absorbed into Greek Lessons and the very small world of two people who find a way to help each other at a time they need it most. Will it be enough? Will it lead to a happy ever after? We are left not knowing, filling in the blanks of the future.

Which is another reason I enjoyed Greek Lessons. So many books I read tie everything up in a neat bow at the end, or lay everything out so there is no real room for interpretation- you can clearly see what the author wants to say. This is not the case here. It made me think. And left me thinking.

Which means I am left thinking about the book for days afterwards – years in the case of The Vegetarian. It is a wonderful feeling and a great credit to an author to make a reader feel that way.

Loving language and communication, I can see why I should have appreciated this book but it was just like readinga long poem in book form. Whilst nice and sad it just didn't hit the mark for me at all,

I am a massive fan of Han Kong. Every time I read one of Han's books I'm impressed by the novel concept that the book resolves around. It's a no-brainer to buy this book.

Greek Lessons is a stunning novel about language and communication and relationships. A woman unable to speak, and her lecturer in Ancient Greek who is slowly losing his sight. They are both suffering huge loss and somehow this brings them together in a beautiful way, laced with tragedy as they both face their fears.

I love Ham Kang's lyrical style and admire the skillful translation. I am a huge fan of Korean novels and this ticks all the boxes, but there is something so unique and different about Kang's writing that draws you in and makes every page breathtaking.

A wonderful book, I will definitely be recommending this to my audience!

I wanted to love this one so bad but most of it was lost on me. Having read The Vegetarian a few years back, I thought the plot of this sounded similar to the former text, but Greek Lessons is more philosophical. I believe I would have gotten much more out of it had I read/studied the texts that it is in conversation with/ is referencing such as Plato and Borges.

Something we readers do is compare, with other books of the same author, or their peers, or novels set in the same setting or in the same era. So, it is inevitable to compare Greek Lessons with her previous works.

I have read The Vegetarian and The White Book, and this novel is trying to do something in between.
Language, communication, family, love and belonging are some of the themes of this book.
Beautiful writing? Yes. But the characters and the aim of te book were too weak for me, I see the value of the novel, but it was so so for me.

I am sad to say that this novel was not for me. I have still to read Human Acts, I have high hopes for it.

This book is gorgeously written, at times it's almost like reading a prose poem. It is also a book that makes you think about language and communication. How do we communicate when words are absent? We have two characters - a woman who has lost the power to speak, who is referred to in the third person and a Greek language tutor who is losing his sight. Gradually these two, in their isolation and loneliness, they seem to be removing themselves from the world However, their paths converge when the woman starts to take Greek lessons but they do not communicate. We learn about the woman's story through her memories, how when she was a child she lost her language but learning French unlocked her speech. Now that her speech has gone again, she is hoping that by learning Greek, her words will once again be released. We also learn of her trauma, everything that she has gone through in recent months but she refuses to believe that this is the reason for her condition. The tutor also tells us his story, how he divided his time between Germany and Korea and the effect of losing his sight. Both characters tell their story but there is a distance, it is almost as if they are keeping themselves apart from us and the narrative voice weaves from one to the other, catching the reading unawares sometimes. Even when they do come together, although the tutor talks to her, tells her of himself, she communicates nothing about herself to him. He cannot even make out her face, her expression. But there is a connection between them. I feel that this is a book about language, and how language enriches a life, after all in Greek one word can have more than one meaning. But ultimately this is also about what it means to connect, to communicate. Quite a poignant read.

One of my goals this year was to read more translated books and this was one that will stay with me for a while. I would be scared to be the translator behind books like these because they hold the power to make it mean the same in English a it did in Korean.

This book reads like a poem and on occasion I have to reread passages a few time. If you are a fan of poetry you will really enjoy this.

I loved this novel. Han Kang is obviously a very skilled writer. The sentences flow with such beautiful simplicity, and I found myself highlighting so many pages.
I don't usually enjoy such changes in narrative voice throughout one book, and I especially don't usually get on with second person, but in this case I really enjoyed the way the story moved forward and dived into the character's memory through different voices.
The way that the memories of the two main characters overlapped towards the end as they connected with each other was particularly touching.
I also am a big fan of Borges, and really liked the discussion of some of his work and also his blindness that Kang weaved into her writing.
Can't wait to talk about this one more with my customers when it is released.

"Words and sentences track her like ghosts, at a remove from her body, but near enough to be within ear- and eyeshot."

'Greek Lessons' is the kind of book you need to ruminate over. It's short – it takes only a few hours to read, even at a slow pace. At its heart, the book is about language, not just words, spoken or written, but the language of sight and touch.

A Korean poet who lost the ability to speak for a time as a child, is suddenly having the same experience as an adult. It's not a physical disability, but likely psychosomatic, though therapy does nothing to help her. In desperation, she begins to take lessons in Ancient Greek, hoping the foreignness of the language will help break through the barrier and solve her speech impediment. She's been through a difficult time – her mother has died, she's just been divorced and her ex-husband has gained full custody of their young son, in part because of her psychological problems.

The Greek instructor is a man who is slowly losing his sight. It's a brutal affliction. He explains that his perception of time changes as his sight goes –"I sense it as a slow, cruel current of enormous mass passing constantly through my body to gradually overcome me."

The two lives will intersect when both find a new way to communicate.

The book is written in gorgeous, delicate, dreamy prose. After all, the author is a published poet while the female protagonist is one too. You feel each character's pain deeply; their disabilities and memories are described so vividly they become real to the reader.

The book asks the question: what is language? Is it only what we can read, write and speak? Is there something beyond this, something unspoken that nevertheless conveys thoughts?

A beautiful book.

First published in 2011, Han Kang’s short novel grew from a year when she retreated from writing, unable to focus on fiction of any kind, her return to language was slow and arduous. It also builds on themes centred on violence and suffering that run through her fiction, but here these themes play out in more muted tones, and on a smaller scale than in Human Acts or The Vegetarian. Kang has noted the influence of reading Sebald on her narrative, and there is something of his approach here, at times Kang’s story reads like a hybrid of contemplative prose poetry and essay-like, philosophical exploration. It’s intricate, sometimes deliberately opaque. It’s also a potent reminder of Kang’s roots in poetry, lyrical and filled with striking images and phrasing.

Kang imagines two isolated people both living in Seoul, one a lecturer in Ancient Greek who is gradually losing his sight, the other one of his pupils, a poet and teacher who’s lost custody of her child, and finds herself no longer able to speak. Both are adrift in the city, spending their spare time pacing the streets, confronted by its sounds and smells, both alienated on some level but for entirely different reasons. The man retracing his past, his mind given over to memories of his childhood in Germany where his family relocated when he was still very young; the woman attempting to exhaust herself, to cut herself off from memories she’d rather not confront. The woman has enrolled in Greek lessons because this long-dead language is so far removed from her own, suggesting a way back into speaking that isn’t also a way back into her own past.

Kang has talked about her sense of the inadequacies and limitations of language and her fascination with the idea of Ancient Greek, its structure and particularly its use of a middle rather than a passive voice. A form that enables a single word to operate on a variety of levels but also involves a different relationship with agency - one of the reasons the middle voice was often used in wall-writing during Greece’s financial crisis, a choice that enabled protesters to express their feelings without taking on the role of either perpetrator or victim. Kang’s ideas about language and identity are reflected in her chosen style which concretises her characters’ predicaments – the woman is represented in the third person, unable to express herself directly, and the man in the first, as someone caught up in his thoughts and impressions. Both are attempting to come to terms with the suffering and losses that are an unavoidable consequence of existence – steeped in what Kang calls “the pain of the world.” Yet it’s not a pessimistic piece but one that ultimately rests on possibilities for connection and reconciliation. Translated by Deborah Smith and Emily Yae Woon.

A young woman sits in a Greek language lesson watching her teacher. She is unable to speak, emotionally mute and is hiding the pain of losing a son. The teacher at the blackboard has grown up between Germany and Seoul and feels out of place he is slowly losing his sight.

This was my a slow but emotionally charged novel about language and the impact of human connections. The writing, characters and story were all beautiful and now I am eager to read the Vegetarian.

Thank you to Netgalley and the Publisher for a copy of the novel in exchange for an honest review