Greek Lessons by Han Kang
Review of Greek Lessons by Han Kang
“She no longer thought in language. She moved without language and understood without language - as it had been before she learned to speak, no, before she had obtained life.”
Greek Lessons by Han Kang (2023). Published by Hogarth Press.
Korean literature is one of my guiltiest pleasures. If one could call a national literature their first love, mine was Korean.
Having studied at Ewha as a young student was one of the highlights of my early academic career, and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. It instilled an appreciation for the language and culture, despite commuting two hours each way sometimes, and I will probably carry that with me for the rest of my life.
That said, Han Kang has been on my radar for years, but it took me forever to actually go check one of her novels out. I’d read an except somewhere, maybe Korean Literature Now, and knew how her prose was cutting edge, but literature in translation, especially Han’s work, makes me weary.
There’s a bit of controversy around The Vegetarian and its translation, as its translator, Deborah Smith, supposedly screwed up a lot when it came to the finer details and vocabulary in the native Korean. I can see that happening easily, especially when a writer as precise is involved on the other side of translation.
It’s difficult to do translation enough, but when you have a super talented writer to translate, that makes it even harder to capture the spirit of their work. When I was offered an advanced copy of Greek Lessons, though, I overcame that hesitancy and decided to try something else that wasn’t The Vegetarian (which I thought was merely okay). Onwards with the review!
A mute woman finds solace in her Ancient Greek teacher.
There’s two pivotal characters that one needs to know about this book: there’s the mute woman taking Ancient Greek lessons throughout the novel. When she is taking these lessons, she meets the teacher, who is slowly going blind.
There’s a deep irony behind these two’s exchange, as it is an example of something more: she has lost her voice, and he is losing his eyesight. The irony there is she is learning a language she cannot actually speak, and she is learning a language that’s technically dead.
If she were to finish this class and speak the language, no one in the outside world will really understand her. This is kind of shown in the text by how Ancient Greek is woven into it, and it’s only translated in English. There is no sounding out the letters, or a romanization. Just Ancient Greek in its purest form.
She does decide to take this class kind of on a whim, and doesn’t seem as serious as the other students at first. One goes home for the break, and another shows up early with her. She kind of simply exists at first in this setting, filling a hole and seat in her own life.
On the other hand, the man is losing his vision, but he still has language and the ability to speak. They’re two sides of the same coin at the end of the day, and by finding refuge with each other, they’re able to come to terms with the situation at hand. We switch back and forth between the two and their contexts, the baggage they’re bringing into the relationship they have with each other.
This isn’t the first time the woman has lost her speech, but because of the trauma of her mother dying and losing her son in a custody battle, she has lapsed back into an old habit of not speaking again.
The man, on the other hand, has his story told in first person POV. I noticed sometimes it switches to “you,” so assume that it is a mix of first and second person when it comes to how his story is handled. That was a very interesting decision when it comes to narrative framework. All of the woman’s stories are presented in a third person point of view.
The man’s current struggle is the fact he is approaching death and losing his eyesight is only one part of that—while the woman may eventually get over her lack of speech, he can’t simply get over the swift release of dying. But, at the end of the day, this is a book about the power of language and communication, how significant it is to us as human beings.
I have an unedited advanced copy of this book, but what I am finding is the prose is gorgeous throughout. It’s vivid, detailed, and hits close to home.
Granted, this is a translated copy, as I don’t think my Korean is good enough to read an entire novel that’s as precise as this, but the writing itself and the fleshing out of the character’s stories is done pretty well. I thought that the characters were meshed together in a way that their stories didn’t clash, but my problem with this was that I didn’t care much for how they came together as people. I wanted to know their individual stories, not what they had together honestly.
Overall Thoughts
It’s a beautifully written book that offers a lot to think about in the long run. It’s kind of sad, a little bittersweet, but if you like language and relationships then you’ll find this a quick read. I have a digital copy so I was surprised at how quick I read it, then I realized it wasn’t that long of a book. Even if you’re vaguely interested in the premise, give it a shot. You may find it worth it.
Thanks to Penguin for the digital review copy via NetGalley. All opinions expressed in this review are my own. This book is due to be published on April 18, 2023.
You can follow me on Instagram and Goodreads below for more updates.
