A Korean Review of Han Kang's The Vegetarian

Author Han Kang has won the Nobel Prize in Literature, bringing renewed and immense public attention to her works. One of her most notable works, The Vegetarian, which earned her the Man Booker Prize in 2016, remains the most prominent and widely discussed of her books due to its fresh and provocative narrative.

 

Her other major work, Human Acts, presents a completely different atmosphere and storyline, making me initially question, “Does the same author write this?” However, after reading the book to the end, I realized there are many similarities in the messages both books aim to convey. This prompted me to write this piece to organize my thoughts on the matter. Please note that this is a purely personal opinion. As the saying goes, once a work leaves the hands of the author, interpretation belongs entirely to the reader.

 

“Dreams,” “extreme vegetarianism,” “self-harm,” “body painting,” “incest,” “mental hospital”... This work presents a series of events far from ordinary life, exceeding the threshold of the tolerance of the average person. These incidents, combined with complex symbolism, create tension for the reader, eventually leading to discomfort and even disgust. What message is the author trying to convey by provoking the reader to this extent?

 

I believe the core of this work is a critique of the fundamental violence within humans—or rather, animals (for humans are animals too). As depicted in Han Kang’s previous work, Human Acts, human violence manifests in clear forms, such as guns, knives, and military boots, as seen in the massacre of citizens during the Gwangju Uprising in May 1980. However, in this work, the author delves into a more intimate, original sin-like aspect of humanity's innate violence.

 

Most humans, directly or indirectly, kill other living beings as they live their lives. For the most part, this happens without malice, simply as a routine part of daily survival. We laugh happily with our families during picnics while eating chicken legs, and we grill pork belly with friends over drinks. Statistics show that 60,000 to 100,000 livestock are slaughtered monthly in South Korea, which illustrates that we are beings who continually kill other lives in order to live.

 

Like most people, I enjoy eating meat and feel no sense of guilt about it. However, what if, at some point, an individual becomes aware of the violence inherent in such acts of killing and the “original sin” of humanity, which is to kill other beings in order to survive? This is the situation faced by the protagonist, Yeong-hye, and the question that the author poses to us.

 

Yeong-hye, the protagonist, becomes aware of the fundamental and inherent violence within human existence after having a “dream.” As a result, she begins to adopt a vegetarian diet. However, when she realizes that animals also harm other lives, including plants, for their survival, she recognizes that they are no different from humans. In an effort to reject the animalistic nature within her, she chooses to practice “fasting,” refusing even vegetables and living solely on water and sunlight.

 

Here, “vegetarianism” can be seen as Yeong-hye’s way of resisting humanity's primal violence, while “fasting” is an act of rejecting animalistic violence and identifying herself with plants. The act of “undressing” can be interpreted as an attempt to return to a non-violent state (“her round breasts”).

 

On the other hand, the “husband,” who narrates the first part of the novel, is portrayed as a person who lacks even the positive aspects of humanity. Along with the “father-in-law,” he is one of the most negatively depicted characters in the work, yet ironically, he is also the one who suffers the least among all the characters. This irony is highlighted in his line: “Don’t think of me as a villain. Everyone knows that I am the greatest victim.”

 

The woman who narrates the third part of the novel, whose name is not mentioned (Yeong-hye's sister), symbolizes an ordinary, everyday citizen. She endures a loveless marriage with her husband (the brother-in-law) through patience and compromise, raising their child, Ji-u, but suffers due to Yeong-hye’s “madness.” Eventually, she starts to vaguely recognize the fundamental violence of humanity, influenced by Yeong-hye’s dream, but unlike Yeong-hye, she cannot abandon her real-life responsibilities, such as raising Ji-u, and does not take further actions like adopting a vegetarian lifestyle.

 

The brother-in-law, a video artist, who is the most problematic character in the novel, represents human reason. He is drawn to the human purity that Yeong-hye has maintained (symbolized by her Mongolian mark). When he paints flowers on her body, Yeong-hye is momentarily freed from the “dream” and the “smell of meat seeping through pores.” Subsequently, when he paints flowers on his own body, he can freely engage in a sexual relationship with her. However, the act of painting flowers on the body is a kind of deception that cannot change the internal essence, so it cannot be a permanent solution, ultimately leading to catastrophe.

 

In the end, the brother-in-law symbolizes the idea that reason—when used to overlay norms, ideologies, and art on top of human instincts—does not alter the fundamental violence and savagery of humanity. This is not a true solution but a form of deceit. Although he is portrayed as a “rational and upright” person, his actions reveal that underlying these behaviors is the primal human instinct of “sexual desire,” bluntly illustrating that even human reason is ultimately subject to instinct.

 

Ultimately, the author exposes the fundamental ugliness of humanity, lowering humans to the level of animals while simultaneously criticizing the self-preserving instinct of animals, which also contains elements of violence. While it is natural that such ugliness, being an inherent and existential violence, is difficult to overcome, it is unfortunate that the work does not provide a clear solution to this issue. (Yeong-hye attempts to return to a plant-like state by refusing all food, but this inevitably puts her life at risk.) The most realistic alternative presented in the novel could be the way Yeong-hye’s sister clings to her life through her love for Ji-u, despite the constant pain she endures due to this original sin.

 

 

++ Additionally, here are some questions that arose while reading the book: In the second part, when the brother-in-law asks Yeong-hye to participate in his video project, they have a conversation while eating ice cream at a “franchise ice cream shop.” In the previous part, Yeong-hye had rejected any food containing milk, and this extreme vegetarianism seems consistent throughout. Therefore, it is unclear why she eats ice cream made with milk without any resistance.

Similarly, the brother-in-law’s home is described as being on the 17th floor in the second part, but it is referred to as unit 710 in the first part (It means 7th floor).