Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop

Review: 4.5 stars

Earlier in October, I was looking for a warm and cozy read - something that would be a salve for the soul. I adore books about booklovers, bookshops and writing, so when I saw ‘Welcome to the Hyunam-Dong Bookshop’ featured on the Foyle’s homepage, I knew I had to read it.

I had recently decided to make a career change, and had been musing about how the next chapter would fit with the life I desire to lead. Coincidentally, Hwang Bo-Reum’s novel about Yeongju, a burnt out working professional who opens a bookshop to heal her soul, perfectly captured my sentiments. “…[T]he problem is that our society is too obsessed with work, and working takes away too many things from us. “It’s like we surface from the depths of work to get a breather, only to feel thoroughly spent. And when we return home after a long workday, we no longer have energy for leisure time or hobbies…When significant proportions of our time are spent working, recuperating from work, compensating for work, or doing the many things necessary in order to find, prepare for, and hold on to work, it becomes increasingly difficult to say how much of our time is truly our own”. This quoted passage from David Frayne’s ‘The Refusal of Work’, perfectly encapsulates one of the key contemplations in the novel - how to rest and work intentionally, in harmony.

The book’s atmosphere comes through powerfully - a particular feeling was the driving force of the novel, instead of plot or formal character development. The writing appeared effortless, matter-of-fact, simple and clean. This helped evoke a tranquil, drifting quality to each passage. Even moments of conflict or apprehension have rounded edges, dulled by each character’s inner contemplation which we are privy to.

The cast of characters also befriends the reader, each in his or her way. Minjun, once a striving university graduate, settles into the role of the perfectionist barista. Sangsu becomes a begrudging book sommelier to bookshop patrons (as well as the cashier). Jungsuh, Mincheol, Jimi and Seungwoo, each with their quiet backstories, have revolving seats at the sparse tables in the bookshop. The rise and fall of each of their narrative arcs plays out amongst the comings and goings of the daily bookshop routine. I found myself at times casting judgement on a decision a character had made, and then actively and mindfully retracting my opinion. The book was a good reminder that each person is processing, and making progress at their own pace, towards their unique goals, even if staying still is part of that progress.

In the Author’s Note, Bo Reum writes: “I wanted to write a novel evoking the mood of…a space we can escape to, a refuge from the intensity of daily life where we can’t even pause to take a breather. A space to shelter us from the harsh criticisms whipping us to do more, to go faster. A space to snuggle comfortably for a day.” This book was a resting stone for me, and I hope it is for other readers who are seeking similar solace.

Asymmetry | inventive, intelligent, metafiction

Review: 3 stars

I returned to work in November of last year, and while I’ve kept up with my reading, I haven’t with my blogging! Catching up now, I’ll start with Asymmetry, which had been on my radar for the past few months. I was very taken by the beautiful cover design, and it also helped that it was on the NYT 10 Best Books of 2018 list.

Asymmetry is the debut novel by Lisa Halliday, and upon initial examination, appears to be two completely disparate stories bound together only by the printing process. The novel opens with “Folly”, a chapter that outlines the whimsical, entirely charming encounter between Alice, an impressionable young writer, and Ezra Blazer, an acclaimed author in his sunset years. Their romance unfurls with the lovely nostalgia of knowing that the golden years are here and soon to fade. Little traditions like baseball games and blackout cookies bring their relationship startlingly to life. However, as much as you want Ezra and Alice to succeed, there is something that nags at you and forces you to probe beneath their quirky affection for one another.

This is where asymmetry as a theme first emerges. Ezra’s “education” of Alice begins gradually, but soon overwhelms. His age, wealth, worldliness and renown make themselves conspicuous. He gives her money with specific spending guidelines, instructs her to buy clothing from S-E-A-R-L-E, annoyingly spells out words for her, dials her at will from a “CALLER ID BLOCKED” number, gives her a list of canonical literature to read, so on and so forth. Although Alice is our protagonist, we are always one step removed from her emotions. She effaces herself from the reader similar to how she dissolves herself into Ezra’s preferred, haute ways of living. An event as traumatic as an abortion earns little less than a passing mention, which is both how Alice and the reader experience the act. When Ezra asks “Do you ever think this isn’t good for you?”, Alice answers immediately that “it’s very good” for her. The richness of Alice’s youth, talent and character are exploited and under-appreciated, and we wonder whether she will ever emerge from Ezra’s shadow to explore her full potential.

This question seemingly goes unanswered through the next two segments of the novel. The first, titled “Madness”, is a story of identity and brotherhood narrated by Amar, an Iraqi-American. The latter is an interview conducted between a BBC host and Ezra, where he relays the soundtrack to his life. “Madness” is a sophisticated exploration of Amar’s connections to Iraq and the experiences of being a man of his heritage, amidst today’s backdrop of ethic suspicion. Halliday’s odd choice of narrator and country are what make this chapter the most astounding. The vividness of Amar’s memories, his culture and his loyalties are truly authentic. Even as I found myself disengaging from this chapter due to lack of common ground, I realized this was the savvy of Halliday’s writing. She had created a narrative so real, in a tone so utterly different from the preceding chapter, that I found the transition jarring and difficult to continue reading with the same mindset.

While the metafiction aspects of the novel and semi-autobiographical details are what have been hailed as a “literary phenomenon” by critics, the connection truly is easy to miss. I won’t reveal it here, but while I found the concept certainly clever, I was simultaneously unconvinced by the true merit of the novel’s structure. It does create a more cerebral read, but the thread between the various segments were so tenuous, that I could not appreciate it during the reading itself.