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The latest addition to our Reviews section is a piece by J. C. Sutcliffe on Han Kang’s Human Acts, published by Portobello Books.

Here’s the beginning of the review:

Last year, Han KangÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s The Vegetarian was an unexpected critical hit. Now, itÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s just been published in the U.S. and has already received a great deal of positive critical attention. The Vegetarian was a bold book to attempt as an authorÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s first translation into English, yet HanÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s surreal story and the skillful politicization of the characters and events, combined with 2015 BTBA poetry judge Deborah SmithÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s excellently smooth and poetic translation, meant that the gamble paid off. Human Acts, HanÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s second novel to appear in English, is a very different book in terms of content, yet equally composed and controlled.

In May 1980, shortly after the instatement of dictator Chun Doo-hwan after nearly two decades of Park Chung-hee, the Gwangju uprising beganÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½”studentsÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™ and workersÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™ protests against Chun Doo-hwanÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s restrictive regime. The uprising was brutally suppressed by the police and the military, and the way the dead were treated, allowed to pile up, unclaimed, was particularly horrific.

But this novel does not tell a chronological story of the events of the uprising, in the way that Sunil YapaÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s new novel, Your Heart Is a Muscle the Size of a Fist, follows the first day of the WTO protests in Seattle in 1999. Both have a cast of characters with different perspectives on the event, but itÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s significant that YapaÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s novel includes policeÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½”who are presented as fully humanÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½”while HanÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s does not.

In the way it reports on the bleak brutality of the police, the army and the governmentÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½”a brutality that becomes simultaneously both more cruel and more banal as the novel progressesÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½”_Human Acts_ has more in common with Aleksandr SolzhenitsynÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s writings about the gulag and the semi-random, quota-filling prisoner-taking methods of the Soviets. ThereÌÇÐÄ´«Ã½™s the same inevitability, the same horrifying repetition of treatment of people, each with their own remarkably individual stories.

For the rest of the review, go here.