Violets
From the bestselling author of Please Look After Mother
-
-
3.0 • 2 Ratings
-
-
- 39,00 kr
Publisher Description
'Dreamy, immersive and evocative' TLS
'Darkly beautiful' Frances Cha
'Strange and gripping' Guardian
San is twenty-two and alone when she happens upon a job at a flower shop in Seoul's bustling city centre.
Haunted by childhood rejection, she stumbles through life - painfully vulnerable, stifled, and unsure. She barely registers to others, especially by the ruthless standards of 1990s South Korea.
But over the course of one summer, San meets a curious cast of characters: the nonspeaking shop owner, a brash co-worker, aggressive customers and an enigmatic magazine photographer. Fuelled by a quiet desperation to jump-start her life, she dares, briefly, to dream of connection in an unforgiving world.
Translated by Anton Hur
Customer Reviews
Violets. Violence. Violator.
3 stars ⭐️ Violets. Violence. Violator. This is yet another dark, profound, and melancholic story from one of my favorite South Korean authors.
However, it didn’t quite reach the same level as some of her previous novels, at least for me. Certain sections felt overly long and, at times, a bit dull. That said, there were other parts that were utterly gripping, pulling me through the pages with an almost palpable tension.
‘Violets’ tells the story of San, a lonely woman living on the outskirts of Seoul, whose quiet life is punctuated by moments of isolation and internal turmoil. The novel follows her journey as she navigates a world that feels indifferent to her, exploring her inner struggles with identity, connection, and a profound sense of alienation. San's story unfolds slowly, with encounters that reveal the subtle violence of human relationships and the emotional scars they leave behind.
The use of violets as a literary device was particularly interesting—violets symbolizing violence. This is the core theme the author delves into: the many faces of psychological violence. The narrative explores the erosion of personal boundaries and the unsettling experience of losing control over them, as if someone else is deciding where those limits lie. It’s a deeply uncomfortable yet familiar theme for many, I think.