The main character Yeong-hye spirals in her journey as a vegetarian after she starts having violent dreams of meat. Although a simple decision, her change amplifies as a revolt against the societal standards that others place around her.
Overall, the book was fairly strange. I have been a long-time admirer of Han Kang’s work after reading her book Human Acts. Unlike the intricate emotional depth and suffering experienced by those affected by the Gwangju Uprising, The Vegetarian provided a complex psychological pondering. Yeong-hye’s behavior seems to be sourced from her mania as her vegetarianism drives her to create self-destructive decisions. Yet, Kang presents the underlying question: Is the society around Yeong-hye correct, or is it Yeong-hye?
Throughout the book, the story focuses on Yeong-hye and her interactions with the three first-person perspectives (her husband, her brother-in-law, and her sister). Yet, Yeong-hye’s voice is only heard through snippets of her dreams and dialogue, making it unclear of her true thoughts on her surroundings. The perspectives portray her as a symbol of revolt against the standards of silence and restriction. Still, the descriptions often seem to dehumanize Yeong-hye into a lesser being (“An animal cry of distress burst from her lips”).
Yeong-hye’s vegetarianism, the main moment that sparks the motion, is a response against the oppression and brutality she faces and a way to cleanse the factors that constrict her. In the beginning of the story, Yeong-hye resorts to plants to escape from the blood-filled dreams and later believes becoming a plant herself is the most purified way to free herself. In contrast, the meat that Yeong-hye dearly avoids is a symbol of her oppressors. One night, her husband, a character who held Yeong-hye as a caring and subservient wife, inquires why Yeong-hye avoids him. She replies, “The meat smell. Your body smells of meat.” Her father, who believes Yeong-hye is in the palm of his hand, forces meat into her mouth, leading to an attempt to end her own life. Others, including her mother and her sister, deprive Yeong-hye of her choice and freedom, presented alongside meat.
Still, the most enduring moment of the story was the last scene. As Yeong-hye achieves peace in metamorphosis as a plant through death, her sister In-hye begins to fall the same path, beginning with dreams. It was heartbreaking to see another woman go through the same torture, but In-hye’s suffering revealed that Yeong-hye was not the only one wronged: it is all the women.
I would recommend the book to those who enjoy thrillers and psychological-horror. Yet, I would advise that there are heavy messages in the book, which may be hard for readers.
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