Human Acts
Author: Han Kang
Published by: Granta
Pages: 230
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★1/2
Published by: Granta
Pages: 230
Format: Paperback
My Rating: ★★★★1/2
Gwangju, South Korea, 1980. Amid a violent student uprising a young boy named Dong-ho is killed. As his friend searches for Dong-ho's corpse, we also meet an editor struggling against censorship, a prisoner and a factory worker, each suffering from traumatic memories, and Dong-ho's grief-stricken mother. Through their collective heartbreak and acts of hope comes a tale of a brutalised people in search of a voice.
My thoughts:
Han Kang’s Human Acts is one of the most devastatingly beautiful novels I’ve ever read. It’s a searing, lyrical exploration of humanity in the face of unspeakable brutality, and though it was often difficult to read, I’m so grateful I did. The novel left a profound impact on me—its emotional weight lingered long after I turned the final page.
Set in the aftermath of the 1980 Gwangju Uprising in South Korea, Human Acts bears witness to a harrowing moment in modern history. Through interconnected narratives, Han Kang traces the reverberations of state violence and collective grief on individuals across time, focusing, in particular, on a young boy named Dong-ho, whose quiet presence and loss come to symbolise both innocence and resistance.
What struck me most was the way Han Kang writes about death—not as a spectacle, but as a spiritual and physical rupture. Early chapters delve into the soul’s relationship with the body after death in a way that I found incredibly moving. Her portrayal of the dead and the bereaved refuses to look away from pain yet remains filled with grace and reverence. One passage, describing the weight of a soul lingering near its body, has etched itself into my mind. I kept pausing to reflect, underline and reread.
Han Kang’s prose is sparse and lyrical. Her style doesn’t so much describe events as evoke them, with a quiet, poetic force that’s even more powerful for its restraint. She renders horror with clarity but never sensationalism, and I was repeatedly struck by how a single line could contain a world of sorrow. It was a joy to engage with her writing, even as the subject matter broke my heart.
Reading this book as part of the World Literature reading group at Toppings & Co Booksellers was a particularly meaningful experience. This is the kind of book that demands to be talked about—not just for its artistic brilliance, but for the real-life history it brings to light.
Human Acts is a novel about death, yes—but more deeply, it is about the dignity of human life, the small and brave acts of defiance that make us human even in the darkest times. It’s not an easy read, nor should it be. But it is a necessary, unforgettable one.
I’ll carry this book with me for a long time.
Overall reaction:
Han Kang’s Human Acts is one of the most devastatingly beautiful novels I’ve ever read. It’s a searing, lyrical exploration of humanity in the face of unspeakable brutality, and though it was often difficult to read, I’m so grateful I did. The novel left a profound impact on me—its emotional weight lingered long after I turned the final page.
Set in the aftermath of the 1980 Gwangju Uprising in South Korea, Human Acts bears witness to a harrowing moment in modern history. Through interconnected narratives, Han Kang traces the reverberations of state violence and collective grief on individuals across time, focusing, in particular, on a young boy named Dong-ho, whose quiet presence and loss come to symbolise both innocence and resistance.
What struck me most was the way Han Kang writes about death—not as a spectacle, but as a spiritual and physical rupture. Early chapters delve into the soul’s relationship with the body after death in a way that I found incredibly moving. Her portrayal of the dead and the bereaved refuses to look away from pain yet remains filled with grace and reverence. One passage, describing the weight of a soul lingering near its body, has etched itself into my mind. I kept pausing to reflect, underline and reread.
Han Kang’s prose is sparse and lyrical. Her style doesn’t so much describe events as evoke them, with a quiet, poetic force that’s even more powerful for its restraint. She renders horror with clarity but never sensationalism, and I was repeatedly struck by how a single line could contain a world of sorrow. It was a joy to engage with her writing, even as the subject matter broke my heart.
Reading this book as part of the World Literature reading group at Toppings & Co Booksellers was a particularly meaningful experience. This is the kind of book that demands to be talked about—not just for its artistic brilliance, but for the real-life history it brings to light.
Human Acts is a novel about death, yes—but more deeply, it is about the dignity of human life, the small and brave acts of defiance that make us human even in the darkest times. It’s not an easy read, nor should it be. But it is a necessary, unforgettable one.
I’ll carry this book with me for a long time.
Overall reaction:
