“The Vegetarian” by Han Kang is an eerily disturbing novel that touches on topics that are relatable to all, but especially sentient to Koreans. Covering the story of Yeong-Hye, a schizophrenic vegetarian, the novel narrates the misunderstood protagonist through the perspectives of Yeong-Hye’s husband, sister In-Hye, and In-Hye’s husband, but never her own. With a narrative style that mirrors Toni Morrison’s The Bluest Eye and an enigmatic protagonist reminiscent of Haruki Murakami’s Sputnik Sweetheart, this novel challenges the conventions of a 21st-century novel.
Mental Illness Beyond Yeong-Hye
In Korean society, vegetarianism is still considered a taboo concept. When foreigners think about Korean cuisine, Korean barbecue is often the first thing that comes to mind. This is a testament to the extent to which meat is embedded in Korean culture. Even in side dishes, meat is often seen as a fortunate addition to the table. When meat is on the table, you are somewhat inclined to feel grateful for its presence, instead of strictly vegetable banchans or broth with only tofu and anchovies. Perhaps this is a global meal tenet that most can turn a blind eye to, but to Koreans, meat plays an integral role in creating a full meal.
In the novel, Yeong-hye’s determination to abstain from meat is perceived as schizophrenic. However, to Yeong-hye, she has no other choice; abstaining from meat is a toxic vocation she must fulfill to escape the human race. Yeong-Hye reaches a point of such disgust with the human race that she transforms into animistic ways of living, which the rest of society—and even her most loved ones—deem insane. Kang decides to tell the story from the perspectives of Yeong-Hye’s husband, sister, and brother-in-law, to show that not only could she no longer tell her own story, but also to show that nobody was able to fully understand the deeper motives behind this dietary choice. Throughout the novel, Yeong-Hye’s mental deterioration proves to lead to increasing desires to connect with the natural world. One disturbing metaphor was the comparison of the upside down human body to a tree’s anatomy. Hands were seen as the roots of trees, and legs spread wide open were branches. But why did the human body have to be upside down to be a proper tree? Kang relates this idea to “Adho Mukha Vrksasana,” the pose that mirrors a sense of grounding of stability: ironic, as Yeong-Hye can only reach this “stability” through harming her body to unrecognizable human form.
Mental Illness Beyond Yeong-Hye
Despite Yeong-Hye being portrayed as the central figure of mental instability in the story, Kang ties this story even deeper into the question of mental illness with Yeong-Hye’s brother-in-law. He who remains unnamed throughout the story plays a critical role in proving the mental sanity of those around him, acting as a foil character. Not only does he highlight Yeong-hye’s solipsism throughout the story, he also tests the limits of his wife’s sanity through his immoral actions. When the novel is told through his perspective in the second part, he admits to the amorality, yet every step he takes gradually seems justified.
Perhaps Kang’s intended purpose was to test the reader’s limits for what is considered wrong when it comes to bodily desires and artistic intentions. If anything, literature and art are among the few realms where anything can be expressed without question, because they are able to “test the world.” The metric for the morality of the human race is heavily guided by the media we are able to accept or reject. The novel deeply critiques but also questions the human need for conformity and the universality of the human race. In a world of increasingly polarized ideas, what does it truly mean to be deemed insane? To what extent are we called to test the limits of our carnal desires?
<Heather(Seoyoung) Yang Student reporter>hseoyoungy@gmail.com
Seoyoung Yang is a Student in Immaculate Heart High School. She is interested in Koreatown, its gentrification phenomenon, and Korean American culture.
