Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop (Feb. 20, 2024/US edition) by Hwang Bo-Reum.
Shanna Tan, translator.
Shanna Tan, translator.
< This is a standalone novel.>
<I own the UK edition, published 26 Oct 2023.>
She did what was expected: went to university, married a decent man and got a respectable, permanent job. Then it all fell apart. Lee Yeongju left her career, divorced her husband and quit talking to her increasingly judgmental mother. Yeongju opens a bookshop in quaint Hyunam-dong, a [fictional] neighborhood of Seoul. She’s figuring out what it is to be an entrepreneur, a business owner. It’s not easy going; she thinks she may only be open for two years. She hires a lonely barista, Kim Minjun, who’s questioning his life path. Yeongju’s coffee beans come from Jimi, unhappily married coffee roaster and owner of Goat Beans. Jungsuh knits and crochets and orders coffee every few hours so as not to be a bother. “Mincheol’s mother,” Jeon Heejoo, is pressuring her son to be more engaged in life, but Mincheol seems dispassionate about everything. Hyun Seungwoo is a regular company employee who’s become known for his expertise in writing, and Yeongju captivates him. They all have disappointments of the past and/or present. The bookshop is a hub where they can find acceptance of themselves while basking in the restorative power of books.
The novel surprised me by not having a significant plot. There’s also a lack of character development. This quietly philosophical novel, translated from Korean, reflects upon living a meaningful life, addresses the meaning of work and considers what is happiness and community. It highlights reading, of course, not in the bestsellers, but in finding the lesser-known stories. I do not love it, but I appreciate its reflective and sentimental charm. It is serene, as noticed with lines like, “Over small sips of coffee, they made small talk; conversations that stayed in the moment, words that need not be remembered for a long time” (p. 132). This is totally a bookshop I’d want to visit, though, apologies to Minjun, I don’t drink coffee.
The novel surprised me by not having a significant plot. There’s also a lack of character development. This quietly philosophical novel, translated from Korean, reflects upon living a meaningful life, addresses the meaning of work and considers what is happiness and community. It highlights reading, of course, not in the bestsellers, but in finding the lesser-known stories. I do not love it, but I appreciate its reflective and sentimental charm. It is serene, as noticed with lines like, “Over small sips of coffee, they made small talk; conversations that stayed in the moment, words that need not be remembered for a long time” (p. 132). This is totally a bookshop I’d want to visit, though, apologies to Minjun, I don’t drink coffee.
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