Yeong-hye was unremarkable in every way. She made for a completely ordinary wife; as a woman of few words, she was a reasonably diligent homemaker and an appropriately attentive spouse. Though she does not have much direct dialogue in the novel, it is a decision she takes in the dead of the night after a particularly violent dream that proves to be the MacGuffin of this sordid tale. She decides to be a vegetarian, with the only explanation being “I had a dream.” Han Kang succinctly shows how this seemingly simple choice to alter her dietary habits completely shatters the illusion of normalcy that her husband and family had believed to be the truth in her US debut novel, The Vegetarian.
The story is divided into three parts, with each piece being narrated by one of Yeong-hyes’ family members: her husband (a man who strived for ordinary life and an ordinary wife, nothing more, nothing less), her brother-in-law (the obsessed artist trope personified), and her sister (no doubt a victim of the eldest daughter syndrome, a “perfect” woman living a not-so-perfect life). Those around her try to deal with the consequences as the Vegetarian first refuses meat, then refuses to conform to societal norms, and finally refuses humanity itself.
Han Kang successfully weaves a story that is disturbing, harrowing, and provocative, yet you can’t put it down. The Kafkaesque tale is addictive, hypnotizing the reader with each word, and its startling end leaves you with more questions than answers. But isn’t that the mark of all great literature?