Han Kang delivers another gut wrenching novel of two people’s experiences with loss in their lives. This work was translated by Deborah Smith who brought Han Kang’s story to a whole new audience. This book is about language. How it connects us. How it isolates us. How it can tear and rebuild the relationships in our lives. However, language is not just spoken.


Our first character has come to a realization that she can exist without using verbal words. She wanders through life feeling as they her existence is an inconvenience. Her ability to piece together words become a task the she fears. However, her love of language still resides in her. And she takes an Ancient Greek class to learn about characteristics of different language. As she switches between the three languages she knows, she reflects on her life. There are so many ways to describe the loneliness she is feeling.

Our secondary character is losing his sight. Like the woman, he is losing a part of himself that he once had full control over. There are many types of loss. Losing a loved one. Moving away from your home. Having a relationship end. However, this book also describes losing yourself. As this man stands in front of the class, a lecturer of Ancient Greek, he knows he may no longer be able to teach. Once he is honest about his condition, he knows there is a possibility that people will not want to accommodate his needs. His vision starts to betray him and take away his ability to live his daily life.

In a world that is uncomfortable with the vulnerability of strangers, these two have met at the most critical parts of their lives. However, it is this vulnerability that shows how important human connection is. Isolating yourself because you feel like you will only burden others can be extremely lonely.

People find ways to communicate and support each others needs. Regardless of spoken or written language. People can look each other’s eyes and understand the journey one has been through. People can draw on each other’s skin in the absence of a pen and paper. People can read lips, hand movements and bumps along a surface. There are so many forms of language. Han Kang delivers this message with such honesty and raw emotion.

Thank you NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with an arc.

What a beautiful tale of two lost souls able to bond over language, one thought to be just as lost as they felt. I am thankful to read this story in mine at last!

Quiet, contemplative, philosophical literary fiction about two lost people trying to find their way in the world after their lives are upended by losing one of their treasured senses. One of them loses the ability to speak, while the other loses their eyesight. Stuck in some in-between space they search for new way of relating to the world, new ways of being, of not losing themselves completely. Full of mediations on language, the power of language, linguistics and human connection, Greek Lessons is a very interesting read, but a lot less intense and weird than The Vegetarian, which might scare some readers away.

I liked The Vegetarian when I read it years ago, so when I saw Han Kang’s latest offering, I snatched it up. Unfortunately, Greek Lessons went mostly over my head. Even though it’s quite short, it’s one you may want to take your time with.

This story follows a young woman who signs up for Ancient Greek Language lessons after losing her voice. Meanwhile, her Greek Language instructor is losing his sight.

As the title suggests, this book examines language and the variety of ways people communicate. It is very introspective and philosophical-leaning.

The writing is stunning, as you’d expect from this author. Deborah Smith and Emily Yae Won translated it beautifully.

Even though the writing was exceptional, it felt detached. I don’t need to connect or relate to characters, but if I feel there is any distance, or detachment in the writing style, then it’s hard for me to become invested in the story, which was the case here.

If you enjoy philosophy and languages, you may enjoy this novel. It’s been years since I’ve studied Greek, so bumbling my way through the few bits in this book was fun.

Thank you to Random House for providing an arc via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

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I would read anything that Han Kong wrote. She is one of my favorite novelists. I was very excited to get an ARC of her new novel Greek Lessons. It was not what I expected. It's very different from The Vegetarian, Human Acts and the White Book. It's a story of a two people, one lsoing his sight and a woman who has lost her voice. It's not as easy to get into as her previous novels but it has a lot to say so don't get discouraged. The cover really describes the novel well in that it is told in layers and as things get peeled back you see the people in this novel are very complex and have more layers than an a person would think. Everybody makes judgements about others without really knowing what happned to them before you met them. It's kind of what's going on in our world today. It also show how women are becoming invisble to the things that men are doing to them and the men are becoming blind to what they are doing. (This novel was published in Korean in 2011 so it's very interesting that things seem to be worse for US readers in 2023.) This is a very short novel so please be patient with it because the rewards of this novel are great. Thank you to Hogarth Books and #Netgalley for the read.

Greek Lessons contains many absolutely beautiful passages about language and expression. Like in her other work, Han Kang has excelled at creating characters whose sorrow is palpable and heart-wrenching.

Despite the beauty of the writing and the characters, though, I found it difficult to stay connected with this story. The dual perspective was sometimes confusing. Several times, I had to stop my reading and flip backward to confirm which character was the focus of a particular section. Furthermore, the connection between the two characters was ultimately minimal. Other than in classes (where they don't communicate), it's not until the very end of Greek Lessons that they have an opportunity to connect in a way that transcends spoken language.

Ultimately, I was disappointed by this novel because I wanted much more from it. Every other Han Kang book that I have read has become an all-time favorite. Perhaps my expectations for Greek Lessons were just too high.

I read Kang’s The Vegetarian recently, and had mixed feelings. It gave me much to think about, but I found the novel uneven. I had a sense of disconnection to the story, only finding emotional attachment to the last section, but it was intriguing and I wanted to read Kang again. Greek Lessons was published in Korean in 2016, and the English translation is out this month.

The plot is simple. There is a woman, who has lost her words; and a man, who is losing his sight. They share space in an ancient Greek language course: she the student, he the teacher. Ever so gradually we learn their backstories, which illuminate their present.

Greek Lessons has the same emotional tone as The Vegetarian. It is a cerebral novel. Again, there’s a sense of detachment most of the way through this book, but there were points of true connection that punctured the intellectualism and brought me close to the characters. It made me invested. Kang at once kept me at a slight distance because of its philosophical and intellectual bent, but then suddenly brought me close to the characters in a rush of emotion.

The beginning of the book was fascinating. I contemplated the themes and motifs: blood, tears, silence, isolation. It weaved simple threads of Buddhism, existentialism and Greek logic into the story. There were so many beautiful passages! The translation seemed well done.

Gradually, the prose became more abstract. Dreams took on meaning and weight, and at one point, Kang’s writing morphed seamlessly into what I can only describe as poetry. Such a beautiful device on the page and an absorbing reading experience. The ending was so fractured that I’m not sure what to make of it, but that’s okay with me. It left me with a feeling of both connection and loss.

This book left me feeling philosophical and wistful. A short, contemplative read that whispers rather than shouts, it’s the epitome for me of a “no plot just vibes” novel. I read it slowly, and because it’s short, it felt approachable. Despite its intellectual bent, Greek Lessons had emotional heart, felt balanced, and led me somewhere I wanted to explore. This book won’t be for everyone, and I can see it being something that one might need to pick up when in a particularly relaxed frame of mind. To me, it’s a “day when you have a chunk of free time, a quiet nook, and a good pot of tea” kind of book.

Thanks to @netgalley and @randomhouse for a copy in exchange for my review.

I did not finish this book as I realized it was not a book for me. Although I’m interested in languages and motherhood, the story did not pull me in.

Han Kang's writing is complex, eloquent, and though provoking! Greek Lessons explores the intricacies and importance of communication and how vital it is to human connection. I really loved this!

Greek Lessons follows the story of two isolated people living in Seoul - a woman taking Greek lessons when she finds herself no longer able to speak, and a man teaching Greek while slowly losing his eyesight.

This was my first Han Kang novel and while the writing was beautiful I was at times lost and disoriented in the story, not knowing whose perspective I was reading or what was happening. Even so, I wasn’t ready for the book to end when it did.

A beautiful story about two people going through physical trials and personal struggles when they find each other in their darkest moments and help each other. The end of their story was more hopeful than I expected.

I definitely think this, like Kang's other works, is open to every reader's individual interpretation and that is what makes me a fan of her writing. Every reader comes with their own personal struggles, beliefs, and ideas; that is what transforms Han Kang's story into something memorable. The individual experiences of the reader will determine how they perceive this story.

Recommended for: literary fiction readers and fans of Han Kang

I received a digital ARC of this book from NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

Strange and disorienting. It's hard to situate yourself in this dream-like novel. (I expected that, given The Vegetarian.) When I was reading it, the story was compelling. But the disorientation made it hard to pick back up once I put it down. Where was I? What was happening?

This would be a perfect book for a cold, gray day with nothing to do but read.

"The only person who knew that her life was split violently in two was she herself."

Greek Lessons is my second Hang Kang novel and my second time feeling haunted after reading the last page. Following a woman who, after a number of traumas, is mute, and her ancient Greek professor, who is near blind (a hereditary fate that he has known since being very young), Kang explores concepts of language, loneliness, and mundane intimacies. These two perspectives, which alternate between first, second, and third-person narration, ask a multitude of philosophical questions that I honestly felt lost me at a certain point. Perhaps I am not the intended audience? Perhaps.

Nonetheless, Kang's writing is beautiful, and her questions are thoughtful and complex. The parallels between both her characters help to solidify the moment their paths, almost inevitably, coalesce. Despite the short length of this novel, I don't think this is for anyone searching for a light, easily digestible read. Greek Lessons is meant to be consumed carefully and closely.

"Language, by comparison, is an infinitely more physical way to touch. It moves lungs and throat and tongue and lips, it vibrates the air as it wings its way to the listener."

A deeply intimate story of two strangers meeting at the crisis point of their lives and bonding at the point of their vulnerabilities. This wisely written novel reminds us that our greatest weakness can be someone else’s strength.

I was hooked by <i>The Vegetarian</i>, and since then have read everything by Han Kang that gets translated into English. Unfortunately, her books have never quite hit me in the same way again. This feels like a me problem, not a Han Kang problem, as all of the problems that I have with her subsequent work I think were present in <i>The Vegetarian</i>, too (perhaps to a lesser degree?). Certainly, if I were less than enthused by this book, it's not because it was lesser than, say, <i>Human Acts</i>. It contains all Han's usual skill and style; perhaps I'm just not the right reader for her work. If you are, you'll enjoy this, and it seems like most reviewers do. But I start to wonder if I, personally, don't need to keep running out to read every Han Kang novel the moment it drops.

The most poetic of prose writers has given us a novel about communication and connection-- what happens when one of our senses is lost, what happens when someone we love is lost, what happens when we find an unexpected connection. Beautiful, touching, visceral.

An unusual novel about a woman who lost her speech as a teen and regained it through French lessons- and who is now taking Greek lessons because she is once again without language as a result of the trauma of losing custody of her son. Her teacher is losing his sight due to age related macular degeneration. Their stories, their losses, are twined In this tale of love and loss. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. For Kang's fans and fans of literary fiction.

𝘊𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘧𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺—

At the lick of the last page, I drifted off into that very furious sleep. It's in this sleep that my conscious clicks out, leaves my body to wander around in hellscapes, desires dripping with so much need to be understood. So much so that it hurts. To demand. To constantly demand in the dark, behind the shades of eyelids is an exhausting way of living, my very being. Here, one who cannot speak and another who is going blind, these are people that demand to be understood when parts of them are lost.

Cold, rigid and inaccessible, this is my first in Han Kang's work. It is perhaps not the greatest introduction, but it has allowed me to look at the playscapes of her worlds when I will examine her older work.

But I've always feared that Korean literature has this empty, complacent feel to it. Look at any 홍상수 영화 but also look at any article regarding Deborah Smith's translation of 강's work. It is inherent in the culture. So much so that I had reasons to fear that translated Korean work might not fit the western palette (take a look at the recent English publication of 죽고 싶지만 떡볶이는 먹고 싶어 ).

It is in the righteousness of the western 𝘐 does Deborah seek claim in changing the original text for 채식주의자, but here I think she manages a tricky balance. One that focuses on the big brain energy of philosophical linguistic queries, but also maintaining the original 한 of the mother tongue in order to achieve something democratic for both the west and Korea. Smith plays it safe with the translation. But by doing so, we are left snow deep in this cold slim book. In this early April, the cherry blossoms are ending with swift cold heavy downpours, washing pale petals down the sides of fine dusted cars and a thick smog. Tonight, I slept with a sweater on because my bones were cold, because this text was cold.

But in its icicle-like prose, I am reminded of a film I recently watched, 𝘛𝘰𝘬𝘺𝘰.𝘚𝘰𝘳𝘢, which is a film so quiet that I feared any sound I made would disrupt the film, would rip the screen in half. There were moments I held my breath as the prose of 강's book numbed me, dropping me pinpoint in a state of trance-like hypnosis that if I stirred, I would rip myself from the text in a violent manner, like peeling a tongue from a pole stuck dead deep in winter.

But that is what 강 is writing towards. An inaccessibility. It is in the inaccessible do things like words, puzzle pieces, become unknown. It is in the unknown that there is room to roam. A kind of liberty, a freeing of language, so much so that once we are free we can moves 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 our bones. In the space before language can exist is the abstract and here do we revel in 강's diet existentialism.

"𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘨𝘦- 𝘢𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘬, 𝘯𝘰, 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘣𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦, 𝘢𝘣𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘣𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.."

Reading this was realizing that words on a page are not actually printed, but floating just right above blankets of blankness, just before speech and thought leap towards each other to create meaning, just before lips touch to create an expression of lust or love. It is that exact moment, that leap of faith, between lust and love. A deep longing, a deep sorrow. All in tested trust. The painful way in which we exist in meat sacks flung from here to there, forced to form words around days that shovel through us like blind, speechless freight trains, if on a winter's night a stone cold soul.

𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘥? [I] 𝘢𝘴𝘬, 𝘢𝘯𝘹𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘺.

I think the audience for this book might be someone who reads Greek. This novel has been translated to English, but it feels as though there is another level of translation required. I usually love books about language, but I felt like meaning was being purposely obscured at times. There were glimpses of story, two lonely characters, but mostly I was confused. The POV character kept changing, and sometimes I wasn't sure whose voice it was. For a very short book it is taking a lot of work and too much time to finish.

A story about the power of language and human connection told through a woman who became mute because of past traumas and a man who is slowly losing his vision. Han Kang's beautiful writing shines through in this novel yet again, but I felt it was too intelligent for me to fully grasp the message. I want to revisit this in the future to gain a better understanding and appreciate Han Kang's brilliance.