INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER! “There is an unforgettable, curious beauty to be found here.” —Han Kang, Winner of the Man Booker International Prize for The Vegetarian Han Kang’s Human Acts meets Yōko Ogawa’s The Memory Police in this understated South Korean novella in translation: a restrained yet emotional magical realist examination of futility in a capitalist society written in response to the 2009 Yongsan Disaster. In a Seoul slum marked for demolition, residents’ shadows have begun to rise. No one knows how or why–but, they warn each other, do not follow your shadow if it wanders away. As the landscape of their lives is torn apart, building by building, electronics-repair-shop employees Eungyo and Mujae can only watch as their community begins to fade. Their growing connection with one another provides solace, but against an uncaring ruling class and the inevitability of the rising shadows, their relationship may not be enough. Winner of the Hankook Ilbo Literary Award and the Korean Bookseller’s Award, One Hundred Shadows is a tender working-class perspective with subtle and affecting social commentary. This edition features an introduction by Man Booker Prize-winning author of The Vegetarian, Han Kang, and an exclusive interview with the author.

From one of Korea’s most celebrated contemporary writers, a novel about queer kinship and resistance in the aftermath of the Candlelight Revolution. d, a nonbinary gig worker living in Seoul, briefly escapes the grasp of isolation when they meet dd, only to be ensnared by grief when dd dies in a car accident. As d grapples with personal loss, South Korea reckons with the aftermath of the Sewol ferry disaster that claimed over 300 lives. This formally inventive novel is composed of two novellas: the first from d’s perspective and the second from that of a writer contemplating a book they may never write. Both figures live on the margins—queer, working-class, and part of nontraditional family structures. As protests over the Sewol ferry disaster and calls for the president’s impeachment sweep Korea, the novel explores how progressive movements often sideline women and sexual minorities in pursuit of the 'greater cause’. dd’s Umbrella is a meditative and off-centre novel about mourning and revolution.

Han Kang meets Maggie Nelson in these devastating twin novellas offering a rare depiction of the nonbinary experience in contemporary Korean society di is a uniquely sensitive person living in quiet, romantic bliss with their partner, dd. But when dd suddenly dies in a bus crash, di is catapulted into a melancholy, aimless existence. As di struggles with their personal grief, the country around them grapples with a catastrophic event and its political aftermath: the death of 304 ferry passengers, including 250 high-school students, in the sinking of MV Sewol. Meanwhile, an inquisitive writer whose small world encompasses her same-sex partner, her sister, and her nephew researches a book she may never write. Gradually, the texts she reads—ranging from Nietzsche to Antoine de Saint-Exupéry to Murasaki Shikibu—help her build a theoretical framework solid enough to harbor the lives of other overlooked people like herself: queer families, impoverished gig workers, the disabled, and the elderly. As residents across the country come together to protest the government’s handling of the Sewol ferry disaster, and to impeach the right-wing president in office, the writer wonders: Is true change possible? Just as di and dd form a corroborating couplet, dd’s Umbrella is elegantly comprised of twin novellas that bear witness to the lives of those whom mainstream society would not otherwise care to miss. dd’s Umbrella depicts the little-known underside of a society that can be viciously superficial, complicating the shiny, ultra-modern face that South Korea presents to the world. A delicate stylist and a conceptual artist with an unflinching social gaze, Hwang Jungeun’s spare prose is illuminated by arresting imagery, transformative anger, and moments of great lyricism, crafting characters of perfectly calibrated emotional restraint. dd’s Umbrella marks a deeply moving and landmark contribution to contemporary working-class literature.

Three women--the old mother and her two daughters--contemplate their family life and their bottled-up feelings through the novel's placating yet oddly unnerving prose. Every Year is divided into four large chapters; the first unravels from the perspective of Sejin, younger daughter, the second from that of Youngjin, older daughter, the third from the mother's, and the fourth, back to Sejin's. Throughout the course of the novel, a number of themes are developed, including its discussion of interracial marriage, different forms of family, and sexual minorities. Circumstances and history forced the mother to the life of obedience, familial obligations and financial hardship forced Youngjin to give up her dream and support the family, and the reality of her culture forced Sejin to be in the closet. And all the while, these three women, while empathizing with each other, seem entrapped in the cycle of forcing each other to further succumb.

Con la demolición de un antiguo centro comercial de electrónica, se abre la historia de Unguio y Muyé; jóvenes que experimentan el amor en una Corea del Sur globalizada, llena de soledad y abandono. Con historias detallistas y conversaciones filosóficas, Tantas sombras es una novela escrita en tono poético, en donde se narra el desamparo y la violencia que tiene el progreso, y cómo prevalece la humanidad en el encuentro de estos personajes, quienes son acechados por sus sombras: "A paso lento caminé bajo un sol plomizo. Una sombra oscura y corta estaba moviéndose a mi derecha, al compás de mi cuerpo, como un huevo duro a medio hacer”. "¿Qué es el amor? Es como fijarse en el aspecto del remolino de la amada para convertirla en un ser único; aunque me guste la gente con clavículas rectas, al final le dices: «Eso da igual. Tú me gustas». Esto es hacer que la singularidad de la amada sea absoluta e insustituible". Hyeongchul Shin, crítico literario.

Il y a So Ra, la grande sœur douce et rêveuse; Na Na la cadette, déterminée et libre; et Na Ki, le frère de cœur, qui cache un lourd secret derrière son sourire fêlé. À tour de rôle, ils prennent la parole et racontent : leur rencontre et l’enfance dans l’appartement commun, un sous-sol séparé par une demi-cloison, le séjour de Na Ki au Japon d’où il est revenu transformé ; la grossesse de Na Na, enceinte d’un homme qui n’est pas son mari. À travers ces voix qui reflètent chacune un imaginaire propre, événements et situations se déploient dans toutes leurs nuances. Hwang Jungeun sait rendre son écriture lumineuse, mélancolique, douce ou violente, pour raconter la trajectoire de ses personnages dont les contradictions, les espoirs et les doutes les rendent attachants chacun à sa manière. Née à Séoul en 1976, Hwang Jungeun a écrit trois recueils de nouvelles et autant de romans. En Corée, elle est considérée comme l’une des voix les plus talentueuses de la littérature contemporaine. Lauréat en 2015 du prestigieux prix Daesan, Je vais ainsi est son premier roman à paraître en français.

Yi Sunil a soixante-douze ans, c’est la dernière fois qu’elle retourne dans les montagnes qui séparent les deux Corées. Accompagnée de sa fille, elle vient détruire la sépulture de son grand-père, enterré au milieu des bois, pour solder son passé. Une bonne fille entremêle l’existence de Yi Sunil et des siens, sa fille aînée excellente vendeuse qui a permis à la famille de sortir d’une mauvaise passe financière, la cadette écrivaine qui en voyage à New York rencontre une cousine installée aux États-Unis, le benjamin parti chercher une vie meilleure en Nouvelle-Zélande. Avec une grâce éthérée, Hwang Jungeun brosse le portrait des membres de cette famille, chacun avec sa vie ordinaire, ses problèmes et ses secrets, révélant en filigrane la fracture indélébile entre les deux Corées. Née à Séoul en 1976, Hwang Jungeun a écrit trois recueils de nouvelles et autant de romans. En Corée, elle est considérée comme l’une des voix les plus talentueuses de la littérature contemporaine. Traduits en français : Je vais ainsi (Zoé, 2021), Cent ombres (Verdier, 2022).

Imagine Cormac McCarthy writing about the boring lives of clerks and you'll anticipate something of the dystopic flavour of this gripping but socially bleak short story from Hwang. In a Korean world in which education has historically meant everything, the narrator realizes both that this is not true (through her partner in an essentially loveless affair) and that the recognition of this fact does not surprise her at all. The narrator is drawn into a larger story when she refuses to sell cigarettes to Jinju, a young woman in the company of two men who subsequently goes missing.