I think this is the first book I've read that was sad, not in a "cry your eyes out" way, but in a "I feel completely empty and numb" sort of way. This was haunting. After I finished, I couldn't fall asleep because I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I woke up still thinking about it. I sat at work and still couldn't stop thinking about it. I feel like I will be thinking about it for a long time. Multiple times throughout reading, it gave me the feeling of a pit in my stomach, an almost nauseating despair. This is horrifically sad. There's your warning.

The way Han Kang chose to write this was genius and could have fallen flat in the hands of a poorer writer. The way the perspectives shift but stay closely related, the way she weaves between past and present tense, the way the second-person perspective changes depending on who the narrative is following. It was such a unique way to show the terrible events of the uprising without just plopping us in the middle of violence and action. It gives the narrative an almost detached feeling which works so well with the themes she was trying to present. Also, we spend the majority of the book inside the characters' heads with little to no dialogue, which really forces us to put ourselves in their perspective, to imagine the horror that they are dealing with.

There are so many moments that showcase the ripple effect of brutality and trauma; the numbness of survivor's guilt, the insomnia and physical manifestations, the self-isolation as a defense mechanism. All of it was so well done. I especially will remember the second chapter, which is told from the perspective of a dead person's soul, which includes a stomach-dropping set of reveals that I will probably think about for the rest of forever.