It’s several years after reading this book that I’m writing this review. I’m wondering now why I read books, whether the key is enjoyment, relaxing down and winding down the day. Or whether books should teach me something new, let me live a life I do not have. Or perhaps they should teach me something new. Maybe there’s no answer to this and ideally a book is a mixture.
I do remember I didn’t totally love The Vegetarian, I didn’t really identify with the woman trying to turn herself into the creature of her nightmares. The distance between me and the author Han Kang is a bit much, but it’s because she’s pushing books to the limit. But I vividly remember passages, even years later. Much more than I do from books that I enjoyed way more, such as I am Pilgrim: I remember I loved that story but now I totally forgot the plot. (I read it more recently than The Vegetarian.)
The Vegetarian is a weird book, ugly and beautiful. The most interesting bit was reading other people’s reviews on Goodreads.
