The story is first set in South Korea and follows a woman whose friend is admitted to hospital.She agrees to go to a distant rural island where her friend lives to feed her captive bird .The island when she arrives is covered in a deep snowfall and she ends up being stranded .
There is a strong dreamlike element to the story and a blending of magic and reality adds to the dream like or nightmarish quality to the story
There is discussion of a historical massacre in the region which adds additional depth to the book .I was not aware of the history so learned something reading the book
The book is firmly set in South Korea and has a similarity with some of the Japanese novels I’ve read recently
This is a novel where very little happens the book concentrates on character development.although personally I felt this wasn’t strong
The author has a clear easily read writing style the book is translated from the original Korean
I read an electronic copy of the novel on NetGalley uk the book was published in the uk 21st January 2025 by Penguin General uk
This review will appear on NetGalley uk ,Goodreads ,StoryGraph and my book blog Bionicsarahsbooks.wordpress.com after publication it will appear on Amazon uk

No review - this hadn’t been sent to my kindle properly and is now archived. I’ll hope to read it one day!

A beautiful story about pain, loss and grief. I have to give credit where credit is due and the lyrical almost poetic writing is really the strong suit of this book filled with metaphors that bring out the core themes of the story.

There is magical realism to the story where we experience moments of dream-like prose which make us unsure of what is reality and what is dream or hallucinations. Those moments are probably the most beautiful parts of the book, however it also detracted from the core focus of the book. This made the narrative a bit choppy and unfocused, which led to a sluggish pacing and slow disinterest in the cruel reality of the Jeju genocide despite it being at the centre of the novel.

I think that the central piece of the story got lost in the meanderings of the characters. I don’t think that we quite needed the main character to be present in this story which I found the most disturbing. I think that we could have been left with only Inseon for better impact and a stronger connection between the indictment against forgetting and the current plot line. It would have helped to focus on the art and the loss.

I think that ultimately, this book was spread too think with too many threads opened and not fully connecting in my opinion. The first half and second half of the book struggle to merge, leaving an unsatisfactory taste in my mouth for both parts. The writing is beautiful and there is so much said in this book but it wasn’t quite executed in a way that would have been fully satisfying for me.

'When I open my eyes, the silence and the darkness are still waiting, unchanged.
It feels as though invisible snowflakes fill the space between us. As though the words we've swallowed are being sealed in between their myriad melded arms.'

The new novel from Nobel winner Han Kang does not disappoint. There is a different tone here, an elegiac but quietly angry voice that permeates the writing. Clearly this is a very personal book, and it packs an emotional punch. My Korean history isn't that great, so I had to do a bit of research into the events of the Jeju massacre that are so important, but even without that this is an extraordinary work of fiction. Part One covers Kyungha being asked by her close friend Inseon to travel to Jeju to make sure her pet bird is still alive. The journey is hard, heading into a snowy wilderness that seems to get further and further away from reality. From there, the next sections of the book develop into a remarkable dream-like vision, and we lose all distinction between reality and vision. What are we reading? Dreams? Memories? And if so, whose memories, whose dreams?

Like the snow everywhere falling, the layers of this book gently increase, and the all-pervading silence will haunt the reader as Kang's luminous prose carries them along. Not much happens, but this is a truly remarkable book that will emotionally challenge the reader. Powerful, visceral, beguiling, this is a work of a writer at their peak. An important and timely story of remembrance.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)

We do not part is a powerful book exploring friendship, trauma and South Korea’s painful past. We follow Kyungha as she travels from Seoul to Jeju Island, to the home of Inseon her hospitalised friend who has asked her to feed her beloved pet bird. As she arrives the Island is hit by a fierce snowstorm which makes us wonder whether she will survive the bitter cold as she tries to find the house, let alone save the bird she is travelling to keep alive. As night falls and she finally arrives at the house, a darkness descends both outside and in as she unveils Inseon’s family history and details of the massacre on the island seventy years before. All of this book is beautifully written, the descriptions of the snow and landscape are sublime. I personally struggled with some of the content and found the second half of the book a bit too abstract, but that’s just me. This book will win many awards I am sure.

Fantastic, enjoyed this one very much, all the dreamy poetic lyricism combined with hard-hitting, thoughtful subject matter that I've come to expect of Han Kang.

This one took me a bit longer than Han Kang usually does for me to read. The plot was heavy and complex but admittedly a bit confusing as well.
I found myself lost at about the 60% mark of the book- I wasn't sure where it was going anymore at all. The use of the poetic narrative in this case failed to engage me when looking at subjects such as war violence, genocide, family loss etc. the play with time and dimension(s) really did not work for me as, like I said, I found myself confused most of the time. I wonder if my lack of knowledge on the subject matter (the Jeju genocide) worked against me however even after reading up on the historical facts I still could not make full sense of the book.
I still love Han Kang works and all her previous books I have read have had an impact on me but not this one unfortunately

This isn't an easy book to read, in terms of its subject matter.

A young woman, Kyungha, has a memorable dream, but what does it mean?

She is called to a hospital to visit her long standing friend Inseon . They have been friends for a long time and have parallel creative bonds.

Inseon has injured her hands in a machinery accident and has to suffer hourly injections to stop sepsis in her reattached fingers. As a sculptor working with wood , this is something she is willing to endure, but is concerned for the welfare of her pet bords who won't survive without water.

Kyungha sets off for Inseon's home on the island of Jeju, arriving in a violent snowstorm and just gets there, but is it too late?

Then the plot takes an extraordinary turn, leaving the reader wondering what's real?

However maybe the more important question is the reality of what is painstakingly revealed by gradual accretion, about the past of Inseon's


I can see why the author is a Nobel prize winner, but this is not a book for the faint hearted.

Deeply tragic and mysterious.

"History is not buried. It lingers in dreams..."
Having previously only read The Vegetarian by Han Kang I was curious to pick up We Do Not Part. However do not be fooled by the seemingly straightforward description/blurb. Memory, grief and the threads that connect the past and present are woven together with at times a dreamlike quality.
Journalist Kyungha - herself struggling with the personal repercussions of covering events such as the Gwangju Uprising - receives a call for help from her friend Inseon and so travels to Jeju Island, home to an earlier massacre.
Kang raises the importance of bearing witness to these acts of violence; to never turn away from them. Many of the images evoked will stay with me for a long time. A hard, but rewarding read.

Thank you to NetGalley and Penguin Fig Tree for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.

We Do Not Part has the characteristic dreamlike quality I've come to love from Han Kang's novels, however it felt even more abstract than the other two I've read (The Vegetarian and Greek Lessons). It was so airy that it felt disjointed for me.

The first part is about a women named Kyungha who unexpectedly reconnects with her friend Inseon after Inseon gets into an accident that lands her in the hospital. Kyungha is asked to urgently travel to Jeju island to take care of Inseon's bird. I liked this part, it made sense to me and was written beautifully. Kyungha has a tumultuous journey through snow to get back to Inseon's house, and then falls into a feverish state.

What happens after that was very inexplicable. Inseon somehow shows up. I'm not sure if we're supposed to assume she died at the hospital and this is her ghost, or if this is a dream, but it gets increasingly hard to follow from this point. They start looking through Inseon's research regarding the Jeju massacre in 1948, and we get taken back into the past.

This was an extremely well-written, horrifying recollection of history, but it did not merge well with the beginning of the story, for me. I can recognise the mastery of her craft Kang possesses, but unfortunately this one didn't work so well for me.

I have to be honest, I really struggled through this book. Perhaps it’s a case of me not being in the right headspace for it, but I found it so bleak, so depressing, that I never wanted to pick it up. Of course, this book was never intended to be cheerful, but from the very first page, there was no respite from the book’s harrowing tone. In parts, the writing was beautiful, and Kang touches on a heartbreaking part of South Korean history which is little known, which has great importance. Yet, knowing all that, I couldn’t get into the bizarre plot, the surreal, paranormal themes, the lengthy blocks of text describing documentary scenes or the lives of characters we haven’t met. Kang clearly wanted to tell those stories of South Korea’s past in some detail, but she did so through an exchange of dialogue between two friends, which was lengthy and disengaging. I felt it was stuck on to the story, separate to the core plot, which was then forgotten. The storytelling just felt disjointed to me, like all the pieces were laid out but never really belonged together.

I read The Vegetarian not too long ago, and again just couldn’t get on board despite the overwhelmingly positive reader response. There were parallels there, in the dark content, the surrealism, my building sense of confusion as I progressed through the novel… I’m wondering if Han Kang’s writing style just isn’t for me. If anyone else had similar thoughts on this, please let me know that I’m not alone!

Many thanks to Penguin General UK - Hamish Hamilton for providing me with the ARC of this novel in exchange for an honest review.

Just incredible. If there is one author that fully mastered the power and weight of words, it’s Han Kang, and this was no exception. Everything moment, every thought, every description feels so tangible yet has this surreal and other-worldly energy to it. I felt completely absorbed, in the most gut-wrenching way. I almost feel like every paragraph is worth reading several times and sitting with until fully absorbed. It’s the perfect kind literature that you want to savour, engage with, and that leaves you full of thoughts and feelings.

A formidable account of a horrible history, steeped in brutal humanity and snow. It is an incredible read, which I wrote about in detail in my Substack review.

We Do Not Part is a harrowing and haunting story of grief, connection, pain and suffering. This was an unsettling read, but nonetheless powerful and poignant.

Writer Kyungha is called to a Seoul hospital to be with grimly injured best friend Inseon: one of the only people in the world that she has, on some level, been able to sustain a meaningful relationship with. Among their shared history was a plan - now largely abandoned - to collaborate on an art project to commemorate the victims of the Jeju 4.3 massacre.

But the rush to Inseon’s bedside is just the start of Kyungha’s journey. She is persuaded to travel onwards - alone and in the midst of a perilous snowstorm - to Jeju Island, where Inseon’s beloved bird, Ana, has been left unattended and will starve without urgent intervention.

As the physical and mental strain of the strange and arduous journey takes its toll, the feeling that both Kyungha and the reader are in an unnerving fever dream intensifies. The dark history of the island, and the devastating and long-lasting impact it has had on Inseon’s family, are brought to the forefront. Even if it’s not always clear what is real and what is a dream in Kyungha’s here and now, we are left with no uncertainty about the sheer horror of the events which took place on Jeju in 1948/49.

For fellow fans of Han Kang’s work, this is a must-read. But I’d recommend it even to those who maybe didn’t get on with previous of her novels; there is some kind of tenderness and poetry to We Do Not Part that feels fresh all over again.

I've always tended to avoid fiction that is described as dreamlike or hallucinatory, as too often it feels like an excuse for wafty writing. But of course, as we all know, dreams, when you're having them, are intensely real and unreal at the same time; they aren't actually vague at all. It's that quality that Han Kang captures in We Do Not Part [trans. e. yaewon and Paige Aniyah Morris], her fifth novel to be translated into English and the first published since she won the Nobel Prize in Literature last year. Writer Kyungha and her carpenter friend Inseon had planned to work together on an art installation to commemorate those who died in the massacre on the South Korean island of Jeju in 1948. Known as Jeju 4:3 in South Korea because it occurred on April 3rd, this horrific event, which I first learnt about in Lisa See's The Island of Sea Women, saw the killing of about 10% of Jeju's population by government forces backed by the US administration as part of a purge of supposed 'leftists'.

Although Kyungha and Inseon later abandoned their project, Kyungha dreams insistently of 'thousands of black tree trunks' standing in snowy earth on a shoreline where 'the sea was crashing in'. When Inseon injures herself in a carpentry accident, she asks Kyungha to travel through a blizzard to her isolated cabin on Jeju to save the life of her pet bird, who has been left there alone. The first half of this book is Kyungha's journey through the snow; in the second half, even more surreal, Kyungha encounters a version of Inseon, who is going through old documents to trace the fate of her uncle after Jeju 4:3. The dominant metaphor here is that of sinking through layers of the deep sea until you reach the hadal zone, able only to look out at others through thick water. The way the stories of victims are interwoven with this narrative reminded me a little of Nona Fernández's The Twilight Zone, on those 'vanished' in Chile during Pinochet's era, but We Do Not Part is the stronger novel, deeply intentional in its use of echoes and reflections, like the painful, insistent pricking of Inseon's wounded fingers to ensure the nerves don't die. Having read both Kang's The Vegetarian and The White Book, neither of which made much impression on me, I was knocked for six by this hypnotic novel. 4.5 stars.

Han Kang We Do Not Part
⭐⭐⭐.5

A harrowing story about two friends haunted by the past of their ancestors.

Kyungha lives by herself, tormented by headaches and haunting dreams of past events. She doesn't go out, she hides inside to protect herself except for once a day to go eat around the corner. She wanders the street at night following a vision of soldiers patrolling the streets of Seoul ready to attack an invisible threat.
That's until her friend Inseon sends her a message to meet her immediately.

Inseon is in the hospital with a grim hand injury and she needs Kyungha to go to her house and save her pet bird Ama. From that moment we embark on a journey onto Jeju Island, to the small town Inseon is from and into a surreal conversation with the past.

An ode to friendship as well as a remembrance piece to the horrible happenings of the past. Han Kang uses quite a ghostly way to help the characters to remember and express their story and the ones of their ancestors. With alternating voices the story of the Jeju 4.3 massacre gets brought to light with lucid dreams, article interviews and the narration of Inseon which brought the story to a much deeper level.

I found this to be quite slow moving and a bit confusing at first, it took me a while to figure out what was going on and what the point of the book was. But I kept reading and it felt more like a ghost story and very surreal at some points.

I can't tell whether I've liked it or not, I feel quite neutral about it, but do not take this as a sign not to read it as you might feel differently ✨

Kyungha has been working on creative projects that examine the history of atrocities in Korea. Haunted by nightmares, she invites her friend, Inseon to help create a film based on one particular dream that she cannot shake. The project falters and eventually Kyungha believes she no longer needs it. When Inseon contacts her to say that she has sustained a terrible injury in attempting to make the work, Kyungha feels indebted to her. So when Inseon requests that Kyungha travel to Jeju Island and save her pet bird while she is in hospital, she feels obliged to help, even when the weather becomes dangerously problematic. At this point Kyungha's journey becomes something wilder and stranger. A snowy fever dream of a novel this is strange and unsettling, shot through with horror and a shifting sense of unease and confusion. For a short book where not much actually happens, it's very tense and at times I found it too much and had to put it down and come back to it later. It's brilliant but I'm not sure I'd read another book by Han Kang. I don't think my nerves could stand it.

Han Kang does not always make life easy for the reader. This book, like Greek Lessons, can be likened to leaping over a number of barriers; as what the story is is revealed in stages. We Do Not Part opens with writer and journalist Kyngha experiencing a nervous breakdown and withdrawing from the world. An old colleague Inseon, one of the few to keep in touch, sends her an urgent summons to hospital where she is immobilised after a serious accident.

Kyungha is dispatched to Inseon’s family home on Jeju Island, now deserted following the accident, on a mission of mercy to feed Inseon’s caged pet bird. Fighting migraines, stomach pains and sub-zero temperatures, this odyssey feels like it’s the central part of the book - as Kyungha has to battle a raging snowstorm and draw on reserves of determination she didn’t know she had.

These two sections however are only the prelude to the final third of the book, which takes place in the snowbound family home, but also in many other places past and present. Inseon materialises - or is imagined - and the two of them go ever deeper both into the snowy world around them and into Inseon’s horrific family story which centres on their suffering and loss during the massacres of Jeju inhabitants that occurred in the late forties. Kang brings the familial and the national, the past and the present, and the natural and human world together in a dazzling mix of remembrance and investigation. From the genesis of snowflakes to their plans for a wooden sculptural tribute nothing is wasted in this tightly-wound exhumation of Korea’s dark past.

There’s no easy resolution offered - the crimes of the past cannot be reconciled or forgiven, only acknowledged. It’s a devastating read.

Han Kang is an author that since I read Human Acts, is an author I have done my best to read everything she has published, and We Do Not Part is another example of why that is the case.

How Kang writes about pain, memory and grief is unmatched - the way she can write about people so intensely is so difficult for me to compare to anyone else. In this book we see the bond between friends examined and tested and written to perfection but also the acts of humans and how trauma effects generations and can run through families and in contrast.

Kyungha tells the story as it unfolds building us a picture of what is happening to her and what she feels from what surrounds her, from the crispiness of snow to the way trees swish in the breeze creating an atmosphere in this book that draws you in. The ominous tone threads its way through the book and builds to an intensity that I feel only this author does so well - it makes for such a haunting read.

Much like Human Acts this tells the story of people and remembering what people are capable of in the worst ways, she communicates this beautifully here once again creating connections between the past and present in the text that allows you to reach a new level of understanding of the text.

We are so lucky to be living at the same time this author is writing, and writing like this has never been more pertinent.

This novel had a certain dream like quality, and I found myself completely gripped. It was fascinating, and often felt quite heavy at times, to learn about a period of South Korea's history that I knew little about. Written wonderfully with striking metaphors and haunting imagery, this is well worth a read.

Many thanks to the author, publisher and Netgalley for providing an ARC of this book in exchange for an unbiased review.