When We Fell Apart is a beautiful story that defies genres, while grounding the reader in the constant struggle of individuality versus assimilation. The story alternates back and forth between Min, a biracial American looking for himself in Seoul that is thrown adrift after the death of Yu-jin, who tells the other part of the story leading up to her death. From Min and the reader's perspective, there's no logical reason for Yu-jin to have committed suicide, which is the official ruling. Yu-jin is smart, successful, from a family that cares deeply about her success, and finally living somewhere she's dreamed of. But as the story goes on, both Min and the reader see that the tight bounds of Yu-jin's life are choking her and keeping her from the life she never knew she wanted until she had the first opportunity to live under her own terms. With a father that's the Minister of Defense, did veering from the path set for her put her life in danger? Min wonders this as he's increasingly drawn to figuring out why she died. As someone who has never felt like there was a place for him, it's hard for Min to fathom why someone who seemed to have everything turned out to be a bigger mystery than he could have imagined. I really loved the blend of mystery and the perpetual identity crisis that both Min and Yu-jin go through. Haven't most people questioned who they are or what they are, or why they are even if it's for different reasons than the protagonists? Isn't a suicide of Yu-jin shocking, and a reminder that someone that seems to have everything together could slowly be suffering a crisis in private? The timelines of this story work well together, gradually exposing the depths of Yu-jin to the reader as Min discovers them in his own time and a life that seemed so steady at the beginning of the story becomes a house of cards, prone to destruction all too easily. A copy of this book was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for a fair and honest review.

When Min, a young Korean American man, learns with shock that his girlfriend Yu-jin has committed suicide, it sets him off on a quest to uncover what led her to take her own life and, along the way, who she was. As the book unfolds, we slowly get the story from the alternating perspectives of Min and Yu-jin.

I really enjoyed the setting. Seoul is portrayed vividly in this story and provides a beautiful backdrop for this tragic story. This book tackles a lot of the major themes that come up in Asian diaspora narratives, particularly familial expectations, belonging, identity, and acceptance. I would have liked the characters to have been fleshed out a little more, but it is certainly a strong debut novel.

Soon Wiley’s debut novel, When We Fell Apart, is about searching.

Korean-American Min Ford, who has always felt “other” — Where do you come from? No, where do you really come from? — has come to Korea to find a sense of belonging, only to find the same judgmental looks and sideways comments from strangers in Korea, obviously out-of-place there, as well. He strikes up a relationship with Kim Yu-jin, a beautiful and intelligent student at a prestigious women’s school in Seoul. Min is living in Seoul on a visa, waiting for something to happen; Yu-jin is finishing school before moving on to the next stage of her life. Neither of them are under any misapprehensions about the transitory nature of their relationship, which both view as a boon.

Things change when, at the beginning of the story, Min is informed that Yu-jin has taken her own life. While Min’s narrative is told in third-person, first-person alternating chapters from his girlfriend Yu-jin examine her perspective. Yu-jin’s chapters look at from a young age, her desire for a sense of self separate from the strict path her parents have railroaded her along. The central conflict of Yu-jin’s life begins when she falls in love with another woman. At first, the tryst is a welcome change of pace, and keeping secrets is exciting; as Yu-jin’s feelings grow more serious, the realization comes that if she is ever outed, she will be ostracized, especially by her father. Min seeks to understand what led his girlfriend to the brink; Yu-jin explains how she got there, starting as a child and working her way up to the final day.

These stories are both handled fairly well, though Wiley has a tendency to over-articulate the motivations and thoughts of both characters, leaving little to imagination or interpretation. Late in the story, a beautiful and ambiguous moment abundant with symbolism is almost literally immediately explained in a way that takes away from the magic Wiley just created. Some may find this a welcome addition; I felt as though it veered into heavy-handedness. In relation to the alternating structure, though, Wiley’s use of dramatic irony throughout feels right, an excellent tool in setting the wistful mood that permeates the novel. Overall, this is the area where Wiley’s tendency to over-explain works in his favor. When he discovers a passion of Yu-jin’s, after her death, Min wonders: ”How many times had she wanted to broach the subject” with him? The audience knows the answer, having heard it from the other side just recently.

One of the central undercurrents of the novel is Wiley’s examination of the social pressures in South Korea: in the end, the book is a harsh look at the culture’s sexism and homophobia, as well as the suffering that comes with truly relentless pressure to succeed. The light cast on homophobia is a particularly unsparing one: South Korea has no protections against discrimination for queer people, and Yu-jin’s perception that her entire life would likely be ruined if she were outed is revisited often. On Min’s end, Wiley looks at the way a Korean-American born in America is treated by the locals: often either gawked at for his height and build or derided as a kyopo (also spelled gyopo), a term for a Korean who isn’t from Korea. Min provides an excellent vessel for Wiley to show the audience Korean culture, as much of it is new to him, as well.

The central mystery aspect of the story as told from Min’s point of view has a tendency to feel dramatic in an incongruent way with the melancholic and introspective mood of the writing (for example, at one point, Min is dragged into an alleyway and roughed up by suit-wearing henchmen). Some of the elements at play feel slightly hackneyed: the hard-boiled detective punished in his search for the truth, the rich and powerful politician who will do anything to cover it up. Scenes that relate heavily to the external events are the weaker ones.

The dark and foregone conclusion to Yu-jin’s story makes it difficult to be satisfied with its ending; on the other hand, Min’s tale is wrapped up nicely. If one character isn’t done justice, it seems to be So-ra, whose bleak fate is left vague but certainly hopeless. Of the four central characters, So-ra seems to be the only one whose feelings aren’t fleshed out once all the cards are on the table and no secrets are left to be revealed.

The draw to When We Fell Apart, for me, is Wiley’s language, his vivid and fantastical imagery. “Before the sun crests the mountains, before streetlights power down, before stray cats slink under chain-link fences, there is a fleeting moment, a blue-gray spasm that grips Seoul, paralyzing time,” he writes. “Those who are lucky […] can imagine the city as limitless, untethered from time.”

When his focus is on poetic description such as the above, he delivers, hands-down. He has a knack, on display here, for creating a real sense of wonder. The earnestness with which he writes Yu-jin is also striking: the balance between her crystallized, confident exterior and spasmodic, insecure inner life is what makes her narrative the stronger and more interesting of the two. His descriptions of Seoul are surely one of the overarching highlights of the book: the city plays a large role in influencing the lives of these characters. His account of it all is thoughtful and generous — from its most peaceful, the wooded trail at Bongeunsa breaking into a clearing overlooking the skyline, to the pulsing, roiling cacophony of its underground music scene.

A contented sense of closure isn’t one of the gifts Wiley is interested in offering his audience: at the heart, this is a dark and sad story. But he does have gifts to give: a compelling story, told from the heart, a detailed and loving portrait of a beloved city, and sensitive, thoughtful prose.

I think this is really a 3.5 for me. This book is told in alternating perspectives of two people. This is often a hit or miss thing for me but I think Wiley did this really well and it totally worked. I think the main thing that I'm not sure about is the reveal about Yu-jin so early on in the book. I think Yu-jin's perspective would have been much harder hitting with more emotional impact if this was not told from basically the beginning. The stand out parts of this book to me are the setting (I loved the descriptions of Seoul) and the structure of the book.

“When We Fell Apart,” by Soon Wiley, Dutton, 368 pages, April 26, 2022.

Min Ford was born to an American father and Korean mother. He grew up in California, where he always felt “too Korean” to fit in. He’s moved to Seoul in the hope that exploring his Korean heritage will help him find a sense of purpose. He’s been there for a year and a half.

Kim Yu-jin, his girlfriend, was focused, ambitious and obsessed when she was in high school. She wanted to get into a top university in Seoul and out of her small town. She got into Ewha University, which was her first choice. Yu-jin’s roommates are So-ra, a dance major, and Misaki, who is from a wealthy Japanese family.

Yu-jin’s father is a controlling and powerful government official who becomes Minister for National Defense. He tells her what she must major in at college. After graduation she must apply for the jobs he selects.

The Seoul police inform Min that Yu-jin committed suicide after taking her last university final. They’ve been dating for 10 months. She was 21. He can’t believe it. Devastated, Min throws himself into finding out why. Detective Park is investigating. Min soon suspects that he is being followed.

Yu-jin’s life was much more complex than she chose to reveal. And the more Min learns about her, the more he begins to doubt he ever really knew her at all. Yu-jin’s chapters are told in the first person and reveals what happened. Min’s chapters are written in the third person.

This is about how people can be outsiders, even at home. It is more of a character study and a cultural exploration than a mystery. It is poignant, but is a little long in some places. The scenes of Korea are interesting. This is an impressive debut novel.
 
In accordance with FTC guidelines, the advance reader's edition of this book was provided by the publisher via NetGalley in exchange for a review.

When We Fell Apart is told in two points of view in alternating chapters, coming together only at the end of the novel. The plotting and story is solid as is the unraveling, but I found the characters to be a bit distant and I didn't really become invested in them personally.

"When We Fell Apart" finds a man on the day he's told his girlfriend has committed suicide and follows him as he works through his shock to find answers.....only to find out he might not want them. Part mystery, part thought cultural exploration, this debut novel tackles a very relevant mental health issue.

Overall, I really liked this one. The more I think about it the more I think the world 'relevant' is the best way to describe it. Unfortunately I think it's all too common to be left with a lot of questions after a shocking death, especially when it's suicide. Taking on a topic like that is probably a huge undertaking and it's done tastefully. I think Min's journey is pretty realistic, though I sometimes found it difficult to understand how he wouldn't see the underlying issue. I love the alternating chapters and loved the way the Yu-jin,'s character was built so that you see her struggles but still wonder why exactly it came to suicide. Being able to see things from an outsider's point of view also made it so glaringly obvious that we can't just assume everyone is fine because there is so much more to someone's life experience than we can see.

However, I had a couple of issues with this book. Right off the bat, I absolutely hate the cover. This is obviously just my opinion, but I just don't see this jumping off the shelf like similar books would. For example, I think this topic, format and pace would be perfect for fans of Jodi Picoult, but her covers are either soft scenes with bold writing or plain black writing with bold covers; they scream at you when you walk in the door. This book cover would never inspire me to even read the back, which is unfortunate because if I picked from only descriptions I would 100% purchase it.

Other than the cover my main issue was really just the length. The author is extremely descriptive throughout, regardless of the importance of the scene, which slowed the book down a lot. If the descriptions are important to the author, then maybe some of the less relevant scenes could have been cut. For example, the chapter with the large-scale art exhibit felt extremely long and the point (two characters being flirty with each other) could have been made in any other chapter. The scene with Min and Misaki felt long. The lengthy description of the cemetery and its history toward the end wasn't necessary to make the point that he went. Min gets a major piece of the puzzle 60% of the way through, and I wasn't really sure what else was left to make up the other 40%. Then at 85% through he gets the other big piece and I had absolutely no idea how there could still be so much left. I just kept coming back to the fact that this is an exceptional 250 (maybe 300?) page story hidden in a 370-page book.

The thing that I took away from this book, which is probably why I feel it's best described as 'relevant', is the part at the end that simply addresses that the suicide wasn't one person's fault, that they all failed her. This is probably an extremely common thought in the wake of a suicide and there's something to be said for exploring how we let society get to a point where this happens a lot.

As an odd side note.... I do wonder when this book was set. At some point I realized there wasn't really any tell to ground it. Clearly Min works for Samsung and there's talk of cell phones and a Springsteen album, but people listen to older music all the time. In all of the lengthy descriptions I failed to find things to really pinpoint the timeline, I and was left assuming it was set somewhere between 2005 & now? I guess 2005-now is modern enough of a classification, but I was just curious to see if this is still the prevailing mindset in Korea now.

This story opens and we meet Min, an American-Korean man and Yu Jin, a Korean woman living in Seoul and in a relationship. Before long, Yu Jin is found dead in her apartment and the police are saying it is suicide and trying to close the situation quickly. Unable to comprehend that Yu Jin would ever do something like this, Min reflects over the last few months of their relationship to try to understand if he has missed something or where things went wrong. Min discovers he didn't really know Yu Jin at all and begins on a journey to understand what has happened.
The story flicks between Min in the present, getting to know Yu Jin's friends and room mates and then to the past when Yu Jin was alive and her feelings in the months leading up to her mysterious death. It becomes clear that Yu Jin was under a lot of pressure with her education to receive the best possible grades and qualifications and also that her father holds an extremely import role as Minster of Defence and may have to go to extreme lengths to hide things he may be ashamed of.
This is a story about identity, belonging and acceptance against the beautiful backdrop of Seoul.
Thank you netgalley for the advanced copy.

a great thriller, that enjoyed very much.
and a load of diversity as well!
Thank you to NetGalley and Publisher for providing me with an EArc of "When we fell apart" in exchange for an honest review.

Never assume! Do you really know someone? Lover, friend, relative, yourself? Reality is illusive, questionable, fluid, and frightening when death is involved. Soon Wiley poses the questions in his first novel "When We Fell Apart." and his main character, "Min" seeks the answers. A fast paced and introspective tale on the search for a social identity when inclusion in groups defined by your ethnicity reject you. Timely subjects are explored throughout this clever story of self discovery.
Loved the book!

A moving and incredible story of the ties that bind a family together, and the expectations that tear them apart.

A young Korean American, Min, working in Korea, searches for answers after his Korean girlfriend commits suicide. How could such a vibrant person take their own life when they had such a bright future ahead of them. He is convinced that someone was involved in her death, and searches for the truth, discovering more about himself and his bi-cultural identity, along the way.

Told from Min and his girlfriend Yu-Jin's POV, When We Fell Apart takes on the overwhelming pressure of family expectations, the fears, longing, and betrayals by those we love the most.

A stunning debut novel that shouldn't be missed.

This is just such a fabulous book on so many levels.
With a plot line that's very creative and compelling read.
This author has a real talent creating realistic, complicated, complex, flawed, and fascinating characters. 
I enjoyed every minute of this unique story and will be recommending this book.

Dutton,
Thank You for this eARC!
I will post to my platforms closer to pub date.

I wanted to like this book a little more than I did. The setting of modern day Seoul was certainly interesting and I enjoyed the characters' exploration of the city. That may have been the best part of this book. I was intrigued by the characters, but disappointed by the whole premise of the story which seemed a little forced. I wanted more from a book that explored identity and belonging of a biracial character.
Yet, I'm glad that I read it and there were certain lines and thoughts that were true jewels. I will look forward to the next book this author writes.

I was drawn to When We Fell Apart because of the beautiful cover, and as I began reading, I really enjoyed how Wiley structured the novel: Interspersing chapters wherein Min guides the reader through the present-day unraveling of the story, with chapters set in Yu-Jin’s past, all leading to the climactic intersection of past and present, was very effective. Ultimately, though, I was left cold by both protagonists. The writing felt clinical and devoid of emotion and, in the final chapters, a bit meandering and repetitive. It’s not a story that will stay with me, but the cover designer surely did his/her job—I was drawn in by what the cover promised, and still appreciate its beauty.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advance reading copy.