Review of When We Fell Apart by Soon Wiley

*When We Fell Apart* by Soon Wiley (2022). Published by Dutton.

On this blog, something I tend to write about on my book reviews is that sometimes we just stumble upon books in the most random places, like in a library (perhaps not as random there), or passing a store’s front window and realizing that book in the display looks pretty cool. For me, a lot of these situations tend to happen when I’m at the library.

I was walking towards the history section and was passing by the very last row of the literary fiction section when I saw When We Fell Apart on the display. The cover I saw the little Korean palace and knew immediately it was going at least mention Korea, so when I picked it up, I was right.

The synopsis is what convinced me to check it out. I used to study abroad in South Korea on a full government scholarship in high school, and went to Ewha Womans University.

The main female character went to Ewha, so reading about the area and the students made me smile at some points. I always wished I could go back to Ewha, and this book pleasantly surprised me when I was reading it. I didn’t have too high expectations and I really enjoyed it overall!

Let’s get into the review.

A Korean-American man returns to Korea to learn about himself, but his girlfriend’s suicide makes him question everything.

The interesting part about this novel straight off the bat is that it alternates perspectives: the boyfriend, Min, establishes the original narrative, but then we switch the past perspective of his girlfriend, Yeon-ju, who kills herself at the start of the novel. Min is a Korean American who’s third generation, and his mother doesn’t even speak Korean.

He decides to move and get a job in South Korea after college in order to try and discover who he really is. The ironic part is at the company he works at, he gives presentations about how to interact with Americans because of how he’s seen as a gyopo and not actually a full Korean.

We begin with Yeon-ju’s suicide. Min is obviously in shock and goes to the apartment, where her wealthy Japanese roommate is only around. Her best friend, So-ra, is nowhere to be seen despite Min texting her about what had happened. Min is in a state of shock after her death, as there were no warning signs for him, and then he progresses through the rest of the novel trying to figure out the truth of what had happened.

At the same time, he’s continuing his struggle with identity. When he meets up with the Japanese roommate, he realizes So-ra and Yeon-ju didn’t act like the same person towards the roommate, and begins to doubt what he’s told.

When So-ra starts acting really weird, it throws Min off. He attends the memorial despite not being invited to it, which puts him on the radar of Yeon-ju’s father.

Then So-ra goes missing, and the police officer assigned to Yeon-ju’s case is suddenly taken off of it. There’s clearly someone of higher importance trying to cover it all up, and when he tracks down So-ra, she’s been institutionalized by Yeon-ju’s father.

Min has a little dance with the Japanese roommate who apparently knows Seoul better than the Koreans who live there, and they end up having sex at one point, which is kind of strange considering he was just bent up about his dead girlfriend.

In Yeon-ju’s point of view, we learn about how she had the pressure to succeed in high school. Her father became an important politician, and when she finally gets into Ewha like her parents wanted and moves to Seoul, Yeon-ju realizes that she actually enjoys taking classes like filmmaking and film studies instead of what her parents expected her to study.

She can’t change her major, but as she meets So-ra when she moves to Seoul and ends up living with her, she engages in a relationship with Sora.

They hide the fact they’re lesbians, then manipulate the Japanese roommate into living with them—she pays most of the rent, as she’s wealthy, which is why they picked her specifically. The roommate knows about the relationship and confronts Yeon-ju about it, but she’s barely at home anyways.

Yeon-ju gets deeper into the filmmaking classes she’s auditing, and when she slowly starts to crumble under the pressure of her parents, she ends up committing suicide. She sees no way out of the situation she was in, and her father has had men following her for years.

The novel ends with Min quitting his job and returning to America. That’s it.

Overall Thoughts

I enjoyed the novel, but I kind of wished that it was two novels that were companion pieces. I think both stories were really strong and work together juxtaposed, but the back and forth was something that didn’t sit right with me.

I wanted to fully be in Min’s head for one section, then Yeon-ju’s as we switch back to her in the past. I wanted more from them each, and because it’s split like this in one novel, we don’t get enough of them individually I think. Some would argue the opposite, but this is just my personal preference.

Despite that, I think this was a really well-done novel and I’d return to it.

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