Pachinko

My problem with this book is how it read so clinical. I couldn't become emotionally invested in these characters because of it. This happened, and then this hardship happened, and then this other thing happened...and then some abruptly crude sexual moment is sprinkled throughout. My criticism also comes from having read Homegoing by Yaa Gyasi and Peach Blossom Spring by Melissa Fu in the past year. The structure of following families through history and the struggles they go through is similar, but with these other two books, I cried and laughed while along the ride. Also, I started this book as an audiobook, but the mispronunciation of almost every Korean word made me switch to the physical copy so quickly. I liked the story, and I will probably really like the mini series, but I didn't enjoy reading this book.

Pachinko is the story of four generations of a Korean family. The story begins with the tale of Sunja, who finds herself pregnant and without a husband in early 1900's Korea, and who is saved by the kindness of a young minister who marries her and takes her to Japan.

It's a huge story, with lots of fascinating characters who suffer through the humiliations of discrimination and poverty, the destruction of war, and the vagaries of love.

I must thank my many blogger friends who told me over and over about the excellence of this book.

What is the meaning of suffering? What was the point of this book? These are the questions I asked myself upon finishing it.

This is a massive book that follows a few generations of people during a very difficult period of time in Korea and Japan.
For what is worth, I found the historical components of this story (of which there are many) quite fascinating. There is so much I didn't know and managed to learn from this book; it sparked interest in exploring the history of Korea and Japan more deeply and for that, I have to give it praise.
I also would like to highlight the beginning of the story - both the plot and the characters of the first third of it were fascinating and I ate it up greedily.
But there are things about this book that left me very dissatisfied and a bit bored.
To begin with, the book is too long (much like this review). And this comes from a person who prefers longer books.
For one, the pacing of the book is completely unbalanced. We would spend a ton of time on some minute detail about a certain aspect of life, which while interesting on its own, was ultimately irrelevant to the story and as such slowed it down to a glacial pace for a period of time. As a contrast, we would barely brush over a massive world shattering event, as though it's an annoying fly to be rid of. For example, she would spend pages upon pages on the minutia of cooking and then spare a single sentence on the death of a very important character. Either end a chapter with “And then he died” - no preamble or anything, or start a chapter with “After his death...” - again no lead up to it.
I felt as though the author had no idea what we're here for.
Secondly, we follow way too many characters. We witness the lives of almost 4 generations of people pretty much entirely (I say almost because the first generation we only follow for a chapter of two).
And the truth is, there are only so many people one can care about. You can't both develop a generation of characters and fully complete the entirety of their lives' arc in a third of a book. And then successfully transition into another generation of characters and keep our interest. That is applicable to me at least.
In all honesty, the further I got into the book, the less I cared. I loved the first third, I was lukewarm on the second and outright did not care one bit about the third. I felt like the story overstayed its welcome which led me to view the youngest generation as intrusive strangers who are wasting my time.
I firmly believe that it would've been way better to split the story into 2 or even 3 books. This way we wouldn't have to cut down on the historical and daily life details, but we would be able to spend more time with the big important moments. And the newer generations of characters would have the chance to be the main focus of interest in their own books.
And lastly, this is a very tough book to read. From the abuse of Koreans, to the abuse of the poor, to the abuse of women... There is no end to the frustration one experiences reading this book. And while it's important to have these aspects of history represented and portrayed in an honest way, i believe it is equally important to offset that by some deeper meaning. At least in fiction. Why? Because this is where the value of fiction lies. This is why reading and writing fiction is important as opposed to nonfiction.
Let me explain. Nonfiction is meant to represent the facts objectively and portray historical events as they were (as much as it's possible). It is as it is - sometimes bleak, sometimes horrible. We learn what got us here and what not to do. That's how we evolve as a society. Fiction on the other hand gives the author the ability to take the background of these awful bleak events and weave a story that can give them meaning. Allow us to view tragedy and suffering differently and make sense of it. This is how we evolve as individuals.
So when you have a story that follows such bleak reality and no philosophical way to look at it, you're just left with the frustration. And no matter how historically accurate it is, to me it's borderline meaningless to read.
So the 3 ⭐️ I am giving are only earned by the setting and the first third of the book.

DNF @ 45%

Given the glowing reviews I expected so much more from this.

Perhaps it was the flat, bland narration of the audiobook but the writing just felt completely detached, cold and emotionless.

Characters died and it was glossed over, there was not a single event that was written with any more feeling than the description of a flat wall painted matt white.

took me like two years of on and off reading (not an avid reader) and it was so worth it. just an amazing saga from start to finish. love how as we meet the children of these characters, they slowly start to get fleshed out as they grow older. Sunja’s journey from start to finish is so heavy, her presence just adds so much more weight to her family’s individual lives.

Not a book I would normally pick up, but so glad I did. It follows 4 generations of a Korean family that move to Japan. The writing is vivid ( I feel like I've been to the street markets and sat at their table) yet somehow unemotional. The straightforwardness can shock you, leaving you to reel in your feelings without anything to hold onto. Watch out for that.

I got attached and I'm sorry it ended.

wow like 5 years ago when everyone was like “Pachinko is great” I was like “ok I'll get around to it someday but IDK looks kinda long” anyway I am here in 2023 to say yeah, Pachinko is great. Really rich and compelling, loved the historical detail and the epic nature of it. I'm glad I made time for this (but also glad I waited until I was in the right mood for this kind of read!)

A glimpse of the struggles and discrimination Koreans faced living in Japan, as well their struggle of trying to find an identity - never being accepted as Japanese, but not quite Korean either.

Dialog felt clunky towards the end, and the characters introduced in the last section felt more shallow and one dimensional.

This is the story of 4 generations of a family that immigrated from Korea to Japan in the early 20th century. We follow their battles with hunger, war and prejudices, and witness how mistakes early in life can have long lasting repercussions. Besides the family connections, Korean culture and traditions, the other thread through the book is the very informative history of the ongoing discrimination of Koreans in Japan.

The writing was fantastic, the multi-generational story was told in short chapters each depicting a moment in life, yet it never felt too episodic. The writing style somehow has weight and levity at the same time, and I especially loved how the last sentence/paragraph of each chapter, and the way it was left hanging, often had a very poetic quality to it.

The reason I don't give it 5 stars is, that despite all the good above, I never quite found my emotional connection to it. Or I would have wished for it to be longer, to reach the magnitude of a historical epic.

This book follows several generations of ex-pat Koreans living in Japan in the 20th century, during a time of sweeping political and industrial change. The narrative begins and ends with a woman named Sunja, a modest, proud, and hard-working Korean woman who moves to Japan before the birth of her first son – she is the sturdy fulcrum of the family, which is an unexpected perspective in a culture that historically did not respect women as such. While the backdrop is one of immense, ongoing suffering, there is an equal hopefulness in the love of family, resilience, and moments of joy. The prose is stoic and deliberate, and the narrative is paced so perfectly that it's hard to believe 50+ years have elapsed by the last chapter.

I learned so much from this book about the tensions between Japanese and Koreans (had no idea!), as well as the cultural traditions surrounding both cultures. Eye-opening stuff. I felt like some of the characters weren't as developed as I wanted them to be, and less-important characters were given too much real estate, while some characters' plot lines weren't neatly tied up. The ending felt a little rushed as well, especially compared to the expert pacing in the rest. But given the scope of the novel, these are minor complaints. Overall, it was a transporting, informational, beautiful read.

Living everyday in the presence of those who refuse to acknowledge your humanity takes great courage.

Why is it so much harder to talk about the books I loved?... It was well worth the 681 pages of (don't ask me why the Romanian translation is that long). For two days I lived and breathed along the characters in this book. My favorite book of the year and not doubt among my all-time favorites.

In the broad landscape of european perspectives during the second world war, I think while the book has a lot of stylistic and pacing issues, especially with jolty timeskipping, it captures broad issues of culture, patriotism, and naturalization of korean japanese.

The character development fell flatter as the book progressed however, I think there was a good sense of closure by the end.

I think it is worth a read to learn about east asian history if that is of interest.

This book hadn't been on my radar but I have seen it around over the past few years. I picked it up when it was selected as a group read. I'm glad I got to go into it with an open mind. I came away with mixed emotions.    Beginning in the early 1900s, we meet Sunja and her family living in Korea. She meets Hansu and envisions a future with him, especially once she discovers she's pregnant. Unbeknownst to her, he has a wife and children in Japan. Refusing to see him again, she accepts the offer of marriage from Isak, an ailing minister. Together they set off for Japan to live with Isak's brother and his wife with Isak adopting Noa and raising him as his own. Parts two and three follow the lineage of Sunja's family through to the 1980s.    As I was reading the book's first part, I anticipated this being a five-star read. I was completely absorbed in the plot, characters, setting, history, writing... all of it. Part two started to lose me a little bit, especially reaching the second half of it. Part three was an absolute headache. I no longer had a grasp on the characters or the many plot lines the story now involved.    So many of the monumental moments of the book, particularly in the second half, start, occur, and end in the span of one to three paragraphs — if that. Because of this, there's no chance to build a bond with a number of the characters or their situations. After a slower build in the beginning, all of a sudden switching to fast pacing and sporadic time jumps was dizzying. I cannot recall most of this second of the book as my reading was interrupted to go back and see if I missed something, only to realize a major plot point was dropped in a singular sentence with little to no explanation around it.    I'm definitely walking away feeling disappointed after so much enjoyment in the beginning, but I'm glad I went along for the ride. 

Loooved this. The sprawling timeline, the way the language and mood of the characters evolved to match the more modern settings and sensibilities. The narration shifted perspectives so seamlessly. I was never confused about whose perspective we were getting even amongst a scene with multiple characters. In the first couple chapters, the cast evolved so quickly that I didn't think I'd care about anyone by the end, but that is not the case. I'll think about these characters for a long time.

Told in chronological order, this book spans 4 generations and nearly a century of time and focuses on Zainichi or ethnic Koreans living in Japan. These Zainichi are essentially stateless citizens registered to Joseon or a unified Korea that hasn't existed since the Korean War. Up until recently they had to apply for alien registration cards that required fingerprinting every three years and were rarely granted passports making overseas travel impossible. In Japan, ethnic Koreans are seen as second class citizens and even now are still shut out of higher positions.

We follow a Korean family struggling to survive in that environment. The language is plain and unadorned but wields tremendous emotional heft. There are parts that just destroyed me but it never descends into misery porn. And while it moves at a languid pace through time I could have happily stuck around for another 300 pages.

This is a beautiful story of family and notions of home that feel even more relevant in today's political environment. It touches on aspects of passing, of not only surviving but succeeding in an adopted country that can be hostile to your very identity. Quite simply, I loved these characters and the book just blew me away.

(Originally published on inthemargins.ca)

It was when I first moved out, at the age of 17, that I felt truly independent.
In many ways, I was still dependent on my parents, but the act of having a place of my own, a room of my own—even if it was shared with three other people my age—helped me feel like I had finally grown up, like I had finally made it.

The current struggle for affordable housing in our cities has made it almost impossible for many people to find that independence, to have space of their own.

A few weeks ago, I learned that this housing crisis has a lot to do with the elimination of flexible housing stock after World War II. Prior to that, housing in America's cities was more fluid, flexible, and communal; the bed, not the house, was the basic unit of a home. The rise of the “single family home” as a housing unit decimated urban housing stock and led to some of the issues we face today.

Of the many things I learned in Ariel Aberg-Riger's visual story on single-room occupancy housing, what really resonated was the independence that this kind of flexible housing offered to women:

Living with the bed as the unit meant that housewives renting out rooms often had more reliable income than their husbands, single workers (especially women) could work without the crushing burden of housework, the Great Depression's “newly poor” could keep a roof over their head as they tried to claw their way back up, and everyone who wanted (or needed) could shed personal living rooms and even kitchens and bathrooms in order to live closer to the downtown and adopt it as an outflow of their “home.”

Pachinko

Pachinko

(Originally published on inthemargins.ca)

Pachinko, a multigenerational saga of a Korean family living in Japan between the 1930s and 1980s, is a book heavy on grief. Min Jin Lee has written characters so real that you wish you could reach out and, well, give them a hug or something.

The story unfolds slowly, but I couldn't put the book down and I likely won't stop thinking about the rich and varied themes for a long while.

Pachinko is a generational story, spanning decades, which is set during a time when the Japanese invaded and took over Korea. We follow the story of Sunja, her children and grandchildren and witness the pain and harships they suffer while living in Japan.

There were a few times I became confused between chapters. The author tends to jump from one chapter to the next, dropping you into the characters' lives years later, while simultaneously introducing another character. It's easy to catch back up after a few paragraphs but it can make the flow feel a little stinted.

That being said, this is easy to get lost in. The horror and fear Koreans had to constantly live in was absolutely heartbreaking. This isn't a side of history that is often written about, but I think should be. I am half-Korean and often wonder what my mother and her family went through before coming to America. She doesn't speak of her youth or of where she grew up.

If you enjoy historical fiction I say pick this one up and take your time with it. Go into this one knowing what you get is an ever-present sadness and lives that, while filled with short bursts of happiness, are ultimately clouded in oppression and gloom. It can be a hard read, but it's worth it.