That was a great book. Weird. Incredibly weird. But really good. At first I thought it was about the ways that men project what they want to see onto women. Told entirely from everyone else's perspective except the main character's, starting with the husband who wants to see an ordinary housewife where there isn't one, to the brother in law who sees her as an artistic muse. Particularly I liked the way those narrators are constantly projecting their own interpretations onto what her silence means and they all refuse to refer to the female characters by their actual names (it's always 'my wife' or 'my sister in law' or 'Jiwoo's mother'). But then I think it's when you get the third perspective in the final part of the book from her sister that you see a slightly fuller picture. It's more about human responsibility, two sisters who both struggle with the responsibility of having to live, one who gradually shakes off her responsibilities and throws herself further and further away from living, and the other keeping a tight grip and feeling trapped in life, but obligated to keep living it. It's a really interesting read especially for anyone whose ever struggled with suicidal ideation and feels the obligations of living for other people or being expected to live for other people. It also has some incredible prose, I know people like to think of it as a controversial translation, but I think what Deborah Smith has done with the translation is genuinely incredible work.

As a trigger warning though it might be sensitive reading material for anyone whose suffered from EDs and/or suicidal ideation.