{ "item_title" : "We Do Not Part", "item_author" : [" Han Kang", "E. Yaewon", "Paige Aniyah Morris "], "item_description" : "WINNER OF THE NOBEL PRIZE WINNER OF THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE AWARD IN FICTIONNEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER A NEW YORK TIMES NOTABLE BOOK OF THE YEARONE OF THE ATLANTIC'S 10 BEST BOOKS OF THE YEARONE OF THE OBSERVER'S 25 BEST BOOKS OF THE CENTURY (SO FAR)FINALIST FOR THE ANDREW CARNEGIE MEDAL FOR EXCELLENCE IN FICTIONLONGLISTED FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK AWARD AND THE NATIONAL BOOK CRITICS CIRCLE BARRIOS TRANSLATION PRIZEA BEST BOOK OF THE YEAR: THE NEW YORKER, TIME, THE ECONOMIST, THE GUARDIAN, SLATE, VULTURE, ELLE, KIRKUS REVIEWS, BOOK RIOT, THE GLOBE AND MAIL, PEN AMERICA, CHICAGO PUBLIC LIBRARY, BBC - ONE OF BOOKPAGE'S TEN BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR Han Kang's most revelatory book since The Vegetarian, We Do Not Part tells the story of a friendship between two women while powerfully reckoning with a hidden chapter in Korean history-- A] masterpiece (The Boston Globe)A haunting exploration of friendship amid historical trauma.--TimeA novel that is both disquieting and entrancing.--The EconomistOne winter morning in Seoul, Kyungha receives an urgent message from her friend Inseon to visit her at the hospital. Inseon has injured herself in an accident, and she begs Kyungha to return to Jeju Island, where she lives, to save her beloved pet--a white bird called Ama. A snowstorm hits the island when Kyungha arrives. She must reach Inseon's house at all costs, but the icy wind and squalls slow her down as night begins to fall. She wonders if she will arrive in time to save the animal--or even survive the terrible cold that envelops her with every step. Lost in a world of snow, she doesn't yet suspect the vertiginous plunge into darkness that awaits her at her friend's house. Blurring the boundaries between dream and reality, We Do Not Part powerfully brings to light the lost voices of the past to save them from oblivion. Both a hymn to an enduring friendship and an argument for remembering, it is the story of profound love in the face of unspeakable pain--and a celebration of life, however fragile it might be.", "item_img_path" : "https://covers4.booksamillion.com/covers/bam/0/59/359/545/0593595459_b.jpg", "price_data" : { "retail_price" : "28.00", "online_price" : "28.00", "our_price" : "28.00", "club_price" : "28.00", "savings_pct" : "0", "savings_amt" : "0.00", "club_savings_pct" : "0", "club_savings_amt" : "0.00", "discount_pct" : "10", "store_price" : "28.00" } }

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Korean author Han Kang, winner of the 2024 Nobel Prize in Literature, returns with We Do Not Part, her poetic, starkly beautiful fifth novel to be translated into English. Kyungha, the book’s narrator, wanders through a bewildering internal dreamscape, haunted by a recurring nightmare of graves inundated by rising water. She has lost or cut off most relationships, and spends her time alone, shedding her belongings and rewriting her will and final instructions. Then a texted summons brings her to the hospital bedside of her friend Inseon.

Kyungha has known Inseon for more than 20 years as a work colleague, friend and, now, artistic collaborator. Though their current joint project, inspired by Kyungha’s nightmare, has begun to lose Kyungha’s interest, Inseon had persevered, until she severed her fingers with a power saw while preparing sculptures for their installation. She asks Kyungha to travel from the hospital in Seoul to her home to save the life of her bird, Ama, left without food or water after her accident.

It is a near-impossible task. Inseon lives to the south, on Jeju island, where she had moved to care for her mother until her recent passing. Kyungha arrives on the island in blizzard conditions. She struggles to reach Inseon’s remote and isolated house, slipping and falling unconscious in the snow more than once, then somehow arriving in the cold, dark building to find both Ama and Inseon inside.

We Do Not Part moves to its own disorienting rhythms, and at this point in the narrative, a reader will likely be both spellbound and unsettled. We feel the chill and isolation of the snowbound island. We see the shadows of birds projected on the walls by candlelight. We read the dry, crumbling documents gathered by Inseon’s mother detailing horrors perpetrated not so long ago by the Korean government on Jeju’s people. We sense the love between Kyungha and Inseon, along with their deepening understanding of the steely perseverance of that older woman, who was, in life, seemingly quiet and subdued. 

For readers unfamiliar with the history, at least 30,000 people—10% of the island’s population—were massacred on Jeju between 1948 and 1949 by the U.S. Military Government in Korea and then by the South Korean Army under Syngman Rhee. Google Jeju and this fact is not among the top hits. Han, however, considers this history with fierce humanity. She writes beautifully, with profound moral authority. Of course she should have a Nobel Prize.