I read this book on the Tube in London and then back in my room. What a great book! I loved it, the description of Korean food, the feeling of being in the family . I loved the echoes of Kafka by the Shore and Norwegian Wood. I loved the exquisite pain and beauty of each chapter, the lilting swift leaps from one family member to another, that is part of the web of how families love each other, ignore each other and judge each other based on our pain, strengths, weaknesses. Late at night, after a hard day of work at the London Book Fair, I huddled in my threatening to be a tent, excuse for a hotel room and read The Vegetarian, hungrily. We have a main character refusing to eat, but I could not put her down. In America, I’ve met some plump vegetarians. It’s all about the cheese. But in Korea, you eat noodles, rice, vegetables. You struggle with your husband in the night and shoulder your world at dawn while the sky lightens. This book is utterly compelling. What do you do with the weakest member of the family? Nurture? Care? Lock ‘em up? How are we wounded? How do we heal?