Han Kang's writing is as beautiful and haunting as ever here. This is a wise, poetic and profound exploration of grief, trauma and atrocity. Totally unexpected - a real gem for lovers of literary and experimental fiction.
Really astounding. An essential read from one of our greatest living writers.

This is my second book discussing the topic of the Jeju island massacre - but in a retrospective view rather than a current one like the other book I read (The Island of Sea Women by Lisa See). I have read all of Han Kang's books that have been translated in English and this is definitely one of the ones I liked better. If you liked Human Acts and The White Book better than her other works this might be more up your street as well. This, as well as Human Acts, deal with a painful part of Korean history that may be unknown to many foreign readers.

There are certain elements that are supernatural in nature and very floaty and poetic. Towards the latter half the main character isn't entirely sure what is real and what is fake and neither are you, and this is a book that leaves much unanswered without being frustrating.

The main character is on the sidelines of the tragedy, and the sidelines of the ripple effects it has on her friend and her family and community. The lack of nearness to the topic meant that I felt there was so much more that could be explored but simultaneously I am impressed by the restraint shown by the author to not give too much away and keep at a distance. The end is in some parts a bit abrupt but fitting with the flow of the book.

Truly amazing. This novel highlights how historic violent events live in us generations after the atrocities have been committed. Han Kang's beautiful writing tells the story of Kyungha, a writer living in Seoul, who takes a journey to Jeju island amidst a snowstorm to feed her friend Inseon's bird.

Too many of us have been desensitised to the horrors that humans have - and continue to - commit. In the current world we live in, empathy is the only thing that will save us. There is a lot more I could say about the book and Han Kang's writing but instead I will tell you to read this book.

Han Kang returns with a haunting, lyrical meditation on grief, intimacy, and memory. We Do Not Part is a novel heavy with emotional density. Through precise, poetic prose, Kang crafts a narrative that blurs the lines between the personal and the communal, the corporeal and the metaphysical.

At the forefront are atmosphere and sensation, the novel unfolds as a series of impressions—fragments that echo the disorientation of trauma. Readers familiar with Kang’s work will recognise recurring symbols and motifs (snow, birds, trees and more), though this work is different to past works it carries her signature quiet intensity and thematic depth.

At times elusive, the narrative rewards slow, attentive reading. It deals with war atrocities, trauma and grief.

Recommended for: readers who appreciate literary fiction with experimental structure, poetic language, and profound emotional resonance.

This was the book I picked for the #ReadingtheGlobe2025 contemporary strand - a project I set up to celebrates world literature. The group were split as to whether they minded or were slightly put off by the difference in style between Part 1 and Part 2 but everyone agreed they were glad to have read it. We had a live show discussion on my co-host's booktube channel Scallydandling about the Books.

An astounding achievement by Nobel prize winner .. in near perfect prose/poetry .. not rhyming sort, but allusive language and imagery .. it's a profound exploration of friendship, Korean dereliction in massacre of a peoples in their teritory, and the regaining of personal agency. Big claims .. sure .. but accomplished. I could not put it down .. it spoke to me despite different geography/state to mine.

A more introspective and quiet novel from Han Kang, We Do Not Part feels like the fever dream Kyungha seems to be having in the later half of the book. Kang's writing is listless, meandering and dream like in the best way, as she interspersing Kyungha's journey in the snow on Jeju Island with Iseon's and her family's memories of the masacare and it's painful legacy on her ancestors.
I've never read a historical literary quiet like it and suspect I never will again.

Khongya is living an unhappy and isolated life, seemingly after a breakdown triggered by research for her work as a writer. She is summoned to the hospital bed of an old friend, Inseon, and sent by her to her island home on a mission. Once there, reality, fantasy, dreams , death, trauma and history all begin to blur..
What to make of this novel? Han Kang is an astonishing writer. She adds layers and loops of themes and ideas. Sometimes you don’t really know what’s going on and yet you want to keep reading. I particularly enjoyed the first half of the book, and Khungya’s epic journey through the snow to Inseon’s cabin was totally gripping. Towards the end I feel I lost my way a little due to unfamiliarity with the historical events and locations that come to the forefront. Very interesting novel however and I am glad to have read it. Have ordered Greek Lessons to see how it compares.

" I remember.... everyone who's ever suffered similar fates regardless pf place....
Hit with bullets.
Hit with cudgels.
Lives severed by blades.
How agonizing it must have been"
A harrowing story.
Story about Jeju island on April 3rd Massacre.

‘We Do Not Part’ by Han Kang follows a journey of friendship in a beautifully crafted prose. Kang has a way of writing language that is poetic and yet, wholly involved in telling a clear narrative with striking themes that make you think for a long time past closing the book.
Kang presents the true intimacy of relationships in a raw form. Our vivid outlook into the Kyungha’s mind bares the relationship down to its boundaries and shows us the turbulences throughout her life. This only enhances our outlook on the narrative and creates a sense of welling emotion at the hospitalisation of her friend.
The setting is cold and bitter. It is not a great read for the summer but is wonderful for a cold and brutal day like I read it on.
Thank you to #netgalley for this DRC of #wedonotpart.

The core narrative of this much-acclaimed novel is compelling enough. The narrator Kyungha has decided to end her seemingly pointless life and is thinking about her will. She no longer fears death and is overwhelmed by the cruelty of the world. The she gets a phone call from her friend Inseon who is in hospital, having suffered a gruesome accident, and is undergoing equally gruesome treatment – described in some detail. I’m not sure just why this is dwelt on so much as it adds little to the narrative. Inseon asks Kyungha to go to her home on Jeju Island to rescue her pet parrots, who will surely starve without her. A storm is brewing but Kyungha decides to do as her friend bids her. Her journey is a difficult and dangerous one as the threatened snowstorm rages. Once there the narrative shifts to a description of the 1948 Jeju massacre, a truly terrible event when over 30,000 citizens were killed by South Korean forces in a murderous attack against supposed communist sympathisers. I had to look this up, as I expect many readers will have to, and while the facts are still disputed, there’s no doubt it was a truly horrific massacre. So the personal narrative is merged with real events, and Kyungha’s quest becomes more and more dreamlike, and for me, confusing. On her impossible journey Kyungha seems to be accompanied by Inseon, who is simultaneously in hospital In Seoul. So is she a ghost? This surreal element didn’t sit comfortably with me, nor did the fact that at one point Kyungha buries one of the parrots, who suddenly reappears. I found the whole unsatisfactory although some of the parts were compelling enough. And Kyungha’s descriptions of her migraine attacks are the best I’ve ever read. But that’s a side issue and overall I found the novel slow-paced, hard to get into and then to stay invested in. Not one for me.

I really enjoyed the translation of this. There is a wonderful atmosphere to this book, the dreamlike qualities reflecting the fractured memories and hidden past of the tragic moments explored. The repetitive imagery of snow linking the past to the present, and of continual violence, were so well done. I felt so uncomfortable about the treatment for her friends hand, the way she could not sleep with the pin sharp pain of it was so softly woven with the pain of history keeping the people of Jeju awake though they don't speak of it. I loved Han's use of ghosts and liminality, never quite letting us know what was real, except when it came to the past, when any ephemerality hardened into the facts laid out in the light of day. It did get somewhat relentless towards the end, a jarring change of pace compared to the rest of the book. I get why it was done, but it was hard to read.

fantastic writing as always, but i have to admit that i found myself bored at times -- maybe because of the long wandering (albeit beautiful) prose, or maybe just because i wasn't that invested in the plot, unfortunately.

A lyrical and exquisite exploration of atrocities in South Korea. This novel was just beautiful with a dreamlike quality. The novel explores the massacre which occurred on an island off the coast of South Korea through the friendship of two women and the efforts of those who are left behind to discover those they lost. The author’s writing is deceptively simple and the images she paints will haunt me. Many thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC of this novel in return for an honest review.

Firstly, this book deserved more than I gave it. It deserved absolute dedication and attention even when I couldn’t stomach to pick up my iPad and open Netgalley.
Even so, Han Kang’s latest novel serves as a haunting look into generation trauma and the bonds we form and hold onto as broken, imperfect people that utterly destroyed me. Having only read The Vegetarian by Kang before, I felt like I was diving into the deep end when I picked up this book. I thought I should have made the effort to read her two other novels, ‘Human Acts’ and ‘Greek Lessons’, before steamrolling into her latest. Kang threw my fears and hesitation out the window quickly, lifting me up and tossing me into a snowy wasteland alongside Kyungha as the undercurrent of a bloodstained history was dug up around us.
This novel hits hard and takes it’s time doing it. But that is what makes it brilliant; rather than tear through the revelation and rip us through it like a bandaid, Kang takes our hands and guides us through the door, carefully displaying the bodies and emotions that surround her novel.
I will revisit this novel in time, once I feel ready to tackle it under better circumstances. But for now, all I can say is that I loved it, and you should read it.

Han's *We Do Not Part* is a poetic and haunting exploration of the Jeju 4.3 massacre, using delicate yet austere prose to depict intergenerational trauma, loss, and the struggle for remembrance. Through shifting imagery—snow as both concealment and disappearance, and bloody fingers as a symbol of pain, love, and memorialisation—Han crafts a deeply layered narrative that not only commemorates a historical atrocity but also reflects on humanity’s cyclical violence with an artistry that resists complete despair.

“We Do Not Part” – Han Kang (translated from Korean by E. Yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris)

My thanks to @penguinhamishhamilton and @netgalley for my copy of this book in exchange for a review.

“...people walked past the window in bodies that looked fragile enough to shatter. Life was exceedingly vulnerable, I realized. The flesh, organs, bones, breaths passing before my eyes all held within them the potential to snap, to cease - so easily, and by a single decision”

On a freezing day in December, Kyungha wanders through a blistering snowstorm on Jeju Island. She has been suffering from insomnia, depression and unbearable nightmares, including a recurring one where the sea rises and engulfs a valley of black tree trunks. A message from an injured friend, Inseon, has convinced her to go to Jeju to care for her bird, and it seems that Kyungha doesn’t have the strength to refuse.

However, the island is a place of trauma for both the characters and Korea itself. It was the site of a brutal massacre beginning in 1948 by right-wing and government forces, who burned villages and drove villagers into camps, eventually leading to the deaths of up to 1/5 of the island. This event has affected Hyangyu, who has previously written a book on the events, and Inseon, who is a native of the island.

What emerges is a dreamlike novel filled with beautiful imagery and sickening facts, a swirling mix of narrative histories and mysteries, one where I felt constantly on edge as I began to (reasonably) question Kyungha’s mental state. It was deliberately unclear on what plain of reality this book resided when it came to her, but it was made forcibly clear when the book goes into the grotesque realities of the massacre and its effect on individuals, society, and even art.

This book was a bit too unclear for me in my present reading state, but I felt this was the best Kang book I’ve read, above “The Vegetarian” and “Greek Lessons”. It’s not a book to take lightly or breeze through, but stick with it!

‘We Do Not Part’ by Han Kang (translated by E. Yeawon and Paige Aniyah Morris) peels back the layers of generational trauma in a delicate excavation of hidden histories of the characters, the community and the nation.

Kang doesn’t really focus on a chain of events; the novel is more of an exploration of the psychological and physical states of Kyungha, and her friend Inseon, than plot-driven. Kyungha’s journey is ethereal and takes place somewhere both different and familiar to her like a dreamworld version of a place she’s been to before. It is in this place that the two friends are able to discuss the Jeju Massacre and South Korea’s long silence about it.

Kang’s writing is beautiful and evocative. Her use of imagery is both simple and complex and the uncovering of South Korea’s past evokes the style of artistic documentaries that the character Inseon creates. The descriptions of extreme weather and physical pain are both representative of the trauma felt by victims of violence, but also create a sensory, rather than intellectual, connection to the horrific events that took place on Jeju Island.

The dreamlike quality of Kang’s writing, and the focus on the characters’ relationships with each other, and the massacre, means the pace is very slow. However, I think this is representative of the slow process of coming to terms with tragedy and being able to speak about it without fearing you’ll burden the listener.

Overall, I really appreciated the quality of writing and the handling of themes, there just wasn’t enough plot for me.

Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin for allowing me to read the eArc in exchange for an honest review.

Han Kangs writing never fails to pull me in. It's so vivid, packed with emotion and really makes you think.
This book is no exception to the other ones I've read from her. Just as compelling, although probably an easier entry point into her writing than other books like The Vegetarian. This book tackles difficult topics, but in a perhaps more widely approachable way.

Truly a stunning book.

I haven't read any of Han Kang's work before. And to say that I didn't immediately run to the bookshop to purchase every other book would be an understatement. Book tastes are so subjective, but I now understand why Han Kang's name alone comes attached with such critical acclaim.

In a long, and cold winter, Kyungha is found at her friend, Inseon's, hospital bedside. With Insteon unable to leave her bed, Kyungha accepts the task of flying home to feed and care for Inseon's bird. However, it isn't all that simple. As soon as Kyungha arrives, Jeju Island is hit by a snowstorm. She is now stuck with the task of ensuring she makes it to the bird in time .

Through her journey to care for Inseon's pet bird, in a hazy dream-like sequence, Inseon's deep-rooted family history is revealed, documenting the horrors of the Jeju Island massacre of 30,000 civilians.

In 'We Do Not Part', I have noticed just how people oriented Han Kang's writing style is. Her work is driven by the characters, and I couldn't help but have the characters emotions so deeply replicated off the page within myself. Han Kang manages to masterfully write such an intricately haunting novel, allowing the reader to sit and wallow in the truth of history.

“How does one endure it?
Without a fire raging in one’s chest.
Without a you to return to and embrace.”

'I had not reconciled with life, but I had to resume living'

Although this book combines the strangeness and magical realism of 'The Vegetarian' and the historical and emotional rawness of 'Human Acts', this just did not feel like Han Kang's usual writing that I've come to love (granted I've only read the two books). Whilst her writing usually goes down the 'simple but powerful' route and feels effortlessly beautiful, the writing here almost felt like she was trying too hard and it quickly became quite convoluted and repetitive.

This book also felt a lot longer than the other two I've read, partly due to the writing but also because it was quite a slow paced novel. I didn't mind this as much at first but it did eventually become more difficult to keep interest. Finally, the first half and second half felt like two completely books, with the second half veering down an almost non-fiction route. Whilst I can see why due to the subject matter, the non-fiction style meant I felt less emotionally impacted than say 'Human Acts'.

There were still some moments that I really liked and I can see why some may enjoy this book, but unfortunately for me I was left slightly disappointed.