'Your Neighbour's Table' is a short and unsettling novel about a communal facility that was set up by the government to help families.
It's told from multiple points of view and it explores many issues South Korea is dealing with today - low birth rate, the pressure and expectations of motherhood, and patriarchy.
It's a slow burn, but I enjoyed that.
Thanks to the publishers for an advanced copy in exchange for my honest review.

This was a very gentle, easy book to read, so many messages within.
It was very sweet, very quiet, but powerful.
Thanks to Netgalley and the publisher for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This short novel - Your Neighbour's Table, or Apartment Women as I have seen it called as well, was really good, although unsettling. It was not as dystopian as I had imagined from the blurb at the back - it focuses on 4 couples who have moved to a nice new building in the middle of nowhere, and are living communally, sharing childcare, with a state-subsidized accommodation if they commit to having at least two more children.

There's the couple that loves to rule everything and just knows better than everyone else, and walks around giving advice to others about how to live their lives; there's the freelance illustrator trying to keep up with her deadlines and trying to preserve her time to work from home, a job no one takes seriously; there's the mum working in a pharmacy while her husband stays at home... They were all different but all seemed trapped by motherhood and by the expectations of them, and the atmosphere of the book felt suffocating.

I really enjoyed it, and I liked the translation, it felt very smooth. It was a subtle enough book in its feminist message, and I will keep thinking about it.

Your Neighbour's Table
By Gu Byeong-mo

Translated from the Korean, this is a slim novel centred around a communal living pilot scheme, featuring four couples, parents of young children, who hope that by combining their child minding abilities and resources they will have extra freedom to pursue life and career opportunities and some extra disposable income.

Themes of community, parenthood, balancing work and early childhood, differing opinions on parenting style, and the claustrophobia of enforced proximity are all explored, albeit it in a polite and surface level way.

It's an easy read and it's interesting to read about modern Korean life, but it is a little pedestrian for my taste.

Thanks to Netgalley for providing an EGalley for review purposes.

I went into this galley barely knowing a thing about the plot or premise, having requested it solely for the cover. And it ended up being a really great, interrogative novel. Your Neighbour’s Table is a story about community and the cultural expectations of motherhood. Four women (and their families) move into the Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments, just on the outskirts of Seoul, South Korea. Here, they’ll take part in a government initiative designed to boost the national birth rate, which has been falling at a rate of knots. Like her neighbours, our protagonist Yojin has agreed to live in this experimental communal space and have at least two more children over the next 10 years.

Community, a dream for parents, right? It takes a village, we’ve all heard.

However, as the last family to move in, Yojin almost immediately begins to feel uneasy about the enforced community spirit. Her concerns only deepen as the communal childcare begins, and the other parents begin to entangle their lives.There’s some really brilliant threads being woven here: a social commentary on tribalism, fertility, motherhood, parenthood, community, and on gender roles. The women soon begin to shrink into themselves, downplaying their responsibilities and workload and the challenges of being women with jobs and careers. As Yojin reveals her worries, the other families press on with their ambitions for a future communal living space outside of the initiative, a sort of premade utopia.

An illuminating and ambitious novel, Your Neighbour’s Table taps into the everyday minutiae of motherhood, baring to all the unspoken labours that women take on both inside and out of parenthood. I had a small issue with the translation style and the chapter-less structure, but thoroughly enjoyed this nonetheless.

Your Neighbour's Table is the second novel written by Gu Byeong-Mo and translated by Kim Chi-Young. Almost three years after the release of The Old Woman with the Knife, the duo comes back with a successful collaboration.

Your Neighbour's Table re-imagines a somewhat utopic society or idealistic system, where an apartment complex, the Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments, was built only to serve nuclear families with at least one child. Going through the tough and selective process of getting a flat, the families can move in only if they sign the agreement to have three children in the ten following years unless they want to pay back the government's generosity in cash. Readers enter this mini-system on the outskirts of Seoul with Yojin and her family, who have recently been granted a vacant flat here. But as things unfold, relationships develop, and issues arise, readers wonder if there's a way to live a peaceful life where every expectation is fulfilled.

Let's start with a fact: I haven't read The Old Woman with the Knife yet. It sounded tremendous when I read the blurb, back when the novel was released, but I haven't picked up this first translation yet. So when I saw the opportunity of pushing myself to dive into Gu's mastermind, I jumped on board! And I haven't looked back: it was the best reading decision I have made in a long time.

Every character represents a social narrative and situation proper to different social classes and behaviours. Yojin is a hard-working woman, ready to do anything for her family, even if it means missing out on beautiful moments with her daughter, Siyul. Her husband is delusional and pitiful about his career as a screenwriter and is unphased by the fact of spending a huge amount of money earned by his wife. (Yes, I pitied him.) Yojin's imposed every decision while she is making such big sacrifices while keeping her head high up above the water.

Meanwhile, Hyonae is clinging to her dreams and passion for children-illustrated books. She is a freelance mom, splitting her time between her job at home and her role as a mother. I found her touching, despite her flaws, because of her incessant endeavour to allow herself both to have a career and a family, something which Korean society thrives to imply that it is impossible. Indeed, the other mothers, like Gyowon and Darim, represent the housewives per excellence and deal with children all day long.

Following their daily lives, readers are given glimpses of what it is like to become a mother in South Korea: social pressure from in-laws and the government, who take every measure to increase the birth rate and ensure the future generations of Korea. Gu illustrates with mastery the various experiences of women, emphasising how they are perceived as breeding machines or sexual objects to be bought with expensive exclusive perfumes. She also laid out very well how society minimises the impact of pregnancy on mental health, the difficulties of child-rearing, and the still patriarchal views that pervade Korean people's minds.

I will recommend this book to my readers as I think it delivers a social message that goes beyond the literary imagination: it is a real dissection piece of female labour, perhaps also indirect modern slavery by extension, and Gu successfully turns it into an important literary piece of feminist activism to read today.

This was a fascinating book which explored motherhood, female labour, and the issues that people face when working towards a better life. There was so much interesting commentary about the expectations thrust upon mothers versus fathers, and how parental roles can appear so rigid. Your Neighbour’s Table explores four different families, featuring heavily on the women in this apartment block, and the dynamics within households. Each woman has her own ideas of what it means to be a mother, what the ‘ideal parent’ should be like, and each one faces her own difficulties in navigating this lifestyle.
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The relationships between the women (and the families in general) is so powerful, and I like that we see how generational expectations seep in. Yojin is the sole provider in her family, and the way she reacts to the program is the one I related to the most. She never quite allowed herself to embrace it, which meant she was one of the first to notice the flaws in this scheme, as well as what it was teaching the younger generations.
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The final chapter is especially interesting - the narration style changes ever so slightly and it allows us to see more aggressively what this program was trying to encourage. To put it in vague terms to avoid spoilers: it really allows us to see the women in the intended light - a fantastic commentary on the parental expectations and the change in identities.
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Whilst I enjoyed the book, however, I did feel as though there was something missing. There were things that didn’t add up, all of which made me unable to understand the reasoning for going into that program. Moreover, the lack of interaction with the outside world meant that we couldn’t see any opinions about this program aside from those who were inside it. Alongside this, tensions jumped quite rapidly, so it did make the book somewhat stilted and fractured in certain ways.
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Altogether, this book has some very strong ideas and has fantastic socio-political commentary on gender roles and family planning. I think I enjoy it more in hindsight than when I was reading it, but I still think there’s something slightly lacking for me.

I enjoyed this intimate look at the lives of close neighbours and how their interactions shaped not only the relationships between neighbours but also in each couple.

The individual's attitudes toward the idea of forming a sort of commune was a great representation of a compromise that didn't actually suit anyone particularly well and definitely added to the tension between the families.

Having so many characters whose views and feelings were given equal space meant that any reader would be able to find a character they identify with and yet also learn about other points of view.

I would definitely read more from Gu Byeong-Mo.

I enjoy reading books about different cultures, and, having read about concerns regarding the decrease in the South Korean population, was interested in reading this one.
Unfortunately I found it really difficult to get into - a lot of characters were introduced early on and I felt that by the end they still remained rather 2 dimensional, and the sudden changes of POV were hard to follow.
I'm not sure if it was the translation, but I also found the style quite stilted.
Thank you to netgalley and Headline for an advance copy of this book

An interesting little book about a social experiment based on communal living that highlighted the mental load women carry in family units, and the weaponised incompetence of men (amongst other things).

I liked it, but found the ending quite abrupt. I enjoyed the criticism of gender roles and inequality, I just wanted a bit more from it.

Thank you to Headline and NetGalley for the ARC :)

For those who have been keeping up with world news they may know about the current fertility crisis effecting South Korea with not enough children being born to keep up the population which for future generations will become a huge issue in terms of the economy, etc. As one of my special interests is motherhood and how it relates to identity this issue does pose a massive question for me personally and it's not about how this issue is going to be fixed, but it's about the why of the situation. Why do women not want children?

Gu Byeong-Mo set this novella in a brand new government community project designed to help families grow and thus grow the dwindling population by providing affordable housing. The only catch is that all families who reside in the community must have at least three children within ten years. Sounds simple. Not really.

In theory this community is meant to work as a way to help support families, however it becomes glaringly obvious that the underlying issues relating to the the men in this book all displaying some kind of weaponised incompetence when it comes to issues such as money and child rearing. Most of the women living in this communal space are dealing with their own personal issue relating to either their marriage, children or careers and yet are still held to a totally different standard then the men.

So much felt kind of normalised in the narrative like the fighting issue which resulted in a domestic incident, the parentification of young girls and the expectation that young girls should always accept the apologies of men, and the way that as a women their comes a certain alienation from self when it comes to our own bodies and how men interact with them. There was so much happening, both subtle and obvious within the pages which was a plus and a negative for me.

On one side good because it really was highlighting so many issues, but on the other hand made the women in this story feel one dimensional at times.

This was an unsettling slow burn which put certain problems facing Korean society under the spotlight, including sexism, the cost of living/housing shortages and gender roles, particularly motherhood. I really enjoyed the tense atmosphere that gradually builds towards the reveal of the families’ fates as well as the exploration of why each family chose to move to the supposedly utopian communal living complex, and why this failed to solve their problems. I did, however, find myself getting confused by the multiple points of view and the different characters, sometimes having to flick back to remember who was who. Despite this, it was an enjoyable read that I’d recommend to anyone looking for a slow burn thriller which medidates on social, and particularly gender based, tensions.

Thanks to Headline and NetGalley for an advanced copy. This book follows the complexities of families and community living. It’s a slow burn but that only adds to the over arching theme of female expectations and the sexism mothers in Korea tend to face.

Your Neighbour's Table is a slightly unsettling tale of community living, which seems like a really alluring concept - and when done well I'm sure does share burdens - but in this story explores its miscommunications. The novel follows multiple characters within the complex, their intentions and their shortcomings. I wish it had been a little darker in tone, particularly with Siyul, a young child, being left to look after other children just because she is slightly older than the toddlers, which is a storyline that could've been taken to a real extreme. Overall, the characters were self-aware and cognizant enough to leave the situations before there were any absolute disasters, so it doesn't quite milk the moments of drama.

I am a huge Korean literature lover so obviously this one with this premise was perfect for me. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. The multiple POVs are confusing as there are no chapters and the characters fell flat for me. I do appreciate the message the author wants to send but I don't know if it's their writing style or the translation alongside the execution that didn't work out for me. I also appreciate the different types of neighbours.

This novel was thoroughly engaging throughout its entirety.

I adored the concept of seeing the same group of people but being provided with different angles through each of their respective perspectives. I think it gives the reader a unique access into different lives and opinions. However, I also think that as a literary device in this context, it is an incredibly clever way of creating a somewhat claustrophobic and inescapable atmosphere. In this sense I found it reminded me of Max Porter’s Lanny, novel in which different characters thoughts and varying literary form are employed in order to create the oppressive and tight sense of an English village. Overall, I thought it was masterfully done in Your Neighbour’s Table.

I have not read widely in Korean Literature, but am keen to explore more global literature and texts in translation. While I cannot compare the translation to the original due to lacking language proficiency, I do think that the translator did an incredible job with maintaining the narrative focus, while also providing a certain different perspective and world view. A world view that can only really be achieved by attempting to see things through the words of another language. What metaphors, what similes, what thoughts that are new to me can I gain an understanding of?

This book really made me reflect on and contemplate what it actually means to be a part of a community, whatever form that takes, in the 21st century. It made me question what it means to live alongside each other, and of course, what is it, if anything, that we owe to each other.

Not all of the characters were very likeable, but the author has written in a way such that despite this and maybe even because of it, the novel remains compelling and engaging.

Many thanks to the publisher and to Netgalley for the free digital ARC in exchange for an honest review.

This book follows numerous families as they move into a communal housing project set up by the government to increase the falling birth rate.

While the premise of this book excited me, it ultimately ended up falling flat. The plot itself felt weak as we failed to delve into any of the stories with any real depth. Additionally, there were no chapters. It would often change POV without telling you whose POV we were now reading from, which was confusing. This is made harder by the fact that you’re introduced to so many characters all at once.

The story itself wasn’t to my taste as I don’t personally enjoy reading about entirely useless men and extremely judgemental people.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC.

I appreciate the message Gu Byeong-mo seeks to share through Your Neighbour's Table. The novella focuses on the experience of four women in a communal housing development. Byeong-mo touches upon the pressures of being a working mother, while your work is not taken as seriously as a man's, the pressures and expectations around childcare and bearing children, and domestic fractures, all within apartments with thin walls. There was potential for Your Neighbour's Table, with the table itself, being a microcosm for society - its norms, expectations, standards and the consequences of transgression. For some, it may still read this way.

But I fear the characters were one-dimensional and the narrative itself was cut awfully short. The resolution was lacklustre and disappointing. Akin in many ways to the same feeling one gets when they find out it 'was all a dream'. This didn't feel clever. It felt as if the storytelling swiftly stagnated and remained underdeveloped, after a rushed beginning. In all, a shame, as this novella certainly held potential.

Thank you Netgalley & Headline for the eARC.

Your Neighbor's Table follow several different families who have just moved into a new communal building that is subsidised by the government on the basis the couples have more children or pay a penalty in the future. The book heavily draws on issues faced within Korean society today the drop in birth rates, the cultural expectations of gender roles and motherhood, and how those who deviate are 'shunned' and 'blamed' as at fault: be that a woman who opts to work flexibly from home or the one who has to go out to work because her husband is still seeking a pipedream job.

Given recent news stories that have broken regarding South Korea in recent weeks (and honestly the global move towards the manosphere) this feels like an incredibly relevant read...

My thanks to the publisher for my free digital ARC! I read The Old Woman with the Knife by this author in 2022, and this book is a complete departure from that one - though I found both very enjoyable! Your Neighbour’s Table is a quieter novel, in which we follow a few different families who are living in a new communal building subsidised by the government. Couples who live there must have at least one child already, and sign a contract promising to try for more or else pay back their rent. It’s a nifty little way of creating a microcosm of Korean society to explore things like work, motherhood and gender roles. It’s a bit of a mix between The School for Good Mothers and Kim Jiyoung, 1984. Any mother who doesn’t fall into line with the cultural expectations of her peers is practically shunned. I particularly felt for one mother, an illustrator who works from home, who battled the injustice of expecting to be a full time caregiver while working a full time job, because she happens to be able to work from home. This book is full of little instances that make your blood boil at the unfairness of it all.

The translation was clear and concise, though the style overall was not the most exciting. I really enjoyed the ending, it was sort of like a ‘where are they now?’ but slightly more ominous.