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xiomaraA Review of Crystal Hana Kim’s If You Leave Me (William Morrow, 2018)
by Stephen Hong Sohn
I was really stoked about this debut, as I’ve been thinking a lot more about the Korean War; I haven’t had many opportunities to read works by Korean American writers about that period. Of course, there’s Richard E. Kim’s The Martyred, Susan Choi’s The Foreign Student and Chang-rae Lee’s The Surrendered, but since those texts, I haven’t had a chance to read many that delved so specifically into the war period and the following decades. We’ll let B&N provide us with some contextual scaffolding:
“An emotionally riveting debut novel about war, family, and forbidden love—the unforgettable saga of two ill-fated lovers in Korea and the heartbreaking choices they’re forced to make in the years surrounding the civil war that still haunts us today. When the communist-backed army from the north invades her home, sixteen-year-old Haemi Lee, along with her widowed mother and ailing brother, is forced to flee to a refugee camp along the coast. For a few hours each night, she escapes her family’s makeshift home and tragic circumstances with her childhood friend, Kyunghwan. Focused on finishing school, Kyunghwan doesn’t realize his older and wealthier cousin, Jisoo, has his sights set on the beautiful and spirited Haemi—and is determined to marry her before joining the fight. But as Haemi becomes a wife, then a mother, her decision to forsake the boy she always loved for the security of her family sets off a dramatic saga that will have profound effects for generations to come. Richly told and deeply moving, If You Leave Me is a stunning portrait of war and refugee life, a passionate and timeless romance, and a heartrending exploration of one woman’s longing for autonomy in a rapidly changing world.”
In some ways, this novel did remind me of Yoojin Grace Wuertz’s Everything Belongs to Us, because the narrative immediately sets up a kind of naturalistic dilemma set up around a love triangle. Haemi is in a sort of bind because the marriage match with Jisoo is theoretically the better one: he comes from a well-established family, but Haemi obviously is more emotionally connected to Kyunghwan. Once Jisoo is able to procure medicine to help Haemi’s younger brother deal with a respiratory illness, her decision seems set: she must wed Jisoo, this man who has come to the rescue of her family, even if it means relinquishing her love for Kyunghwan. The years following the war only complicate matters further: Jisoo returns from his service a different man, having lost some use of his arm, while Kyunghwan keeps himself away from Haemi, realizing that he must try to carve out a life beyond her shadow. At the same time, Jisoo and Haemi find themselves drifting apart from each other. Jisoo’s masculinity has been in question ever since he returned, and he finds solace working at a local Korean orphanage (who happens to be staffed in part by a woman who once was a nurse and tended to his wounds during the war period). Haemi is frustrated by her experience with motherhood; her energy and strength are sapped by successive pregnancies. She also fears that her daughters will fail to get the proper resource support because they are girls (in a patriarchal society). Kyunghwan eventually returns to generate more relational fireworks, so you know that the ending sequence can only be dark. Kim has an obvious talent for the intricacies of character development; there are sequences that absolutely spark with their nuanced and often devastating insights. At the same time, the novel can sometimes meander a bit. Late stage narrative perspective additions muddy the waters slightly, and I was unprepared for additional viewpoints from Hyunki (Haemi’s little brother) and Sollee, Haemi’s eldest child. I wasn’t entirely convinced, given the plot dynamics, that we needed these additional narrative voices, but overall, the novel is an intriguing representational consideration of love and relationships as they must tarry with the development of war.
Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Xiomara Forbez
If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don't hesitate to contact us via email.
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com or Xiomara Forbez, PhD Candidate in Critical Dance Studies, at xforb001@ucr.edu.
by Stephen Hong Sohn
I was really stoked about this debut, as I’ve been thinking a lot more about the Korean War; I haven’t had many opportunities to read works by Korean American writers about that period. Of course, there’s Richard E. Kim’s The Martyred, Susan Choi’s The Foreign Student and Chang-rae Lee’s The Surrendered, but since those texts, I haven’t had a chance to read many that delved so specifically into the war period and the following decades. We’ll let B&N provide us with some contextual scaffolding:
“An emotionally riveting debut novel about war, family, and forbidden love—the unforgettable saga of two ill-fated lovers in Korea and the heartbreaking choices they’re forced to make in the years surrounding the civil war that still haunts us today. When the communist-backed army from the north invades her home, sixteen-year-old Haemi Lee, along with her widowed mother and ailing brother, is forced to flee to a refugee camp along the coast. For a few hours each night, she escapes her family’s makeshift home and tragic circumstances with her childhood friend, Kyunghwan. Focused on finishing school, Kyunghwan doesn’t realize his older and wealthier cousin, Jisoo, has his sights set on the beautiful and spirited Haemi—and is determined to marry her before joining the fight. But as Haemi becomes a wife, then a mother, her decision to forsake the boy she always loved for the security of her family sets off a dramatic saga that will have profound effects for generations to come. Richly told and deeply moving, If You Leave Me is a stunning portrait of war and refugee life, a passionate and timeless romance, and a heartrending exploration of one woman’s longing for autonomy in a rapidly changing world.”
In some ways, this novel did remind me of Yoojin Grace Wuertz’s Everything Belongs to Us, because the narrative immediately sets up a kind of naturalistic dilemma set up around a love triangle. Haemi is in a sort of bind because the marriage match with Jisoo is theoretically the better one: he comes from a well-established family, but Haemi obviously is more emotionally connected to Kyunghwan. Once Jisoo is able to procure medicine to help Haemi’s younger brother deal with a respiratory illness, her decision seems set: she must wed Jisoo, this man who has come to the rescue of her family, even if it means relinquishing her love for Kyunghwan. The years following the war only complicate matters further: Jisoo returns from his service a different man, having lost some use of his arm, while Kyunghwan keeps himself away from Haemi, realizing that he must try to carve out a life beyond her shadow. At the same time, Jisoo and Haemi find themselves drifting apart from each other. Jisoo’s masculinity has been in question ever since he returned, and he finds solace working at a local Korean orphanage (who happens to be staffed in part by a woman who once was a nurse and tended to his wounds during the war period). Haemi is frustrated by her experience with motherhood; her energy and strength are sapped by successive pregnancies. She also fears that her daughters will fail to get the proper resource support because they are girls (in a patriarchal society). Kyunghwan eventually returns to generate more relational fireworks, so you know that the ending sequence can only be dark. Kim has an obvious talent for the intricacies of character development; there are sequences that absolutely spark with their nuanced and often devastating insights. At the same time, the novel can sometimes meander a bit. Late stage narrative perspective additions muddy the waters slightly, and I was unprepared for additional viewpoints from Hyunki (Haemi’s little brother) and Sollee, Haemi’s eldest child. I wasn’t entirely convinced, given the plot dynamics, that we needed these additional narrative voices, but overall, the novel is an intriguing representational consideration of love and relationships as they must tarry with the development of war.
Buy the Book Here!
Review Author: Stephen Hong Sohn
Review Editor: Xiomara Forbez
If you have any questions or want us to consider your book for review, please don't hesitate to contact us via email.
Prof. Stephen Hong Sohn at ssohnucr@gmail.com or Xiomara Forbez, PhD Candidate in Critical Dance Studies, at xforb001@ucr.edu.
