A man and a woman orbit each other as they deal with the suicides of their family members, and the woman, a sculptor, plans her own death by eating toxic blowfish.

This is a unique novel and deals more in meditations on death and life and art and fear rather than a traditional plot. Even though things happen in this book (the encounters with ghosts were a highlight), it feels secondary to the internal thoughts of the two main characters. I usually love an unorthodox structure, but I could not connect to these characters at all and found it very slow reading.

You should read this for beautiful writing and imagery that will stay with you. You should skip it if you’re looking for something with a traditional plot structure and character studies.

The tantalizing synopsis drew me in, “a successful sculptor decides to commit suicide by artfully preparing and deliberately eating a lethal dish of blowfish. The story was as melancholic as to be expected, gloom lingers over the lives of these characters in a suffocating and unrelenting way, with that readers should be in a certain head space before diving in. Through alternating perspectives, this story follows a moment in the lives of two unnamed protagonists contemplating existence. Taking place in both Seoul Korea and Tokyo, we journey with the characters as they navigate their shared experiences of grief, death (specifically suicide and suicidal ideation) of a family member.

The element of this story that resonated most for me was the complexities of finding connection through shared trauma, one could go their whole life and the people closest to them not really knowing or understanding them fully, but a chance meeting with a stranger and there’s this deep understanding and knowing, in spite of attempts to keep those “parts” well hidden.

I also enjoyed the backdrop of Seoul and Tokyo, it was descriptive and detailed, I found it effortless to visualize the spaces, buildings, and crowded streets. Brilliantly done. I also really was intrigued by the discussions of architecture, while we have the artist's perspective from the sculptor and we get to see her create some interesting art pieces, the other protagonist is an Architect-through his eyes we are given this insight into how an Architect analyzes space and structures. It was really fascinating and I found myself drawn to those parts in the story.

Overall, this is the kind of book that will appeal to readers who enjoy melancholic stories that don’t rely heavily on a structured plot. Its more about sitting with the characters and seeing the world through their eyes. What held me back from rating this higher is that I honestly did not connect with these characters. We get glimpses into their present lives and some flashbacks of some of the more traumatic events from their past. I feel had I been given more of the formative years of their lives I would possibly had a better understanding of all the pieces of them. It is possible that this was intentional in driving home the point of the story. As a reader I tend to need a lot of context when it comes to connecting with characters. That is, however, a personal “hangup”, I am sure that other readers might feel a bit more connection.

As much as I enjoyed this, I wouldn’t widely recommends, it's quite a slow burn, personally I enjoyed the pace, I was able to immerse myself in the prose. I could imagine some readers would need a bit more plot. If you enjoy books on sadness and existence I’d say this is one you should add to your list.

Many thanks to #netgalley, Astrahouse Publishing, and the author for an opportunity to ready a digital copy in exchange for my honest opinion.

I've read quite a few similar books meditating on depression, suicide, and their impacts on everyday Korean people before, so I knew what to expect in some ways before going into this novel. We alternate between two different people impacted by suicides in their immediate families, so there are a lot of musings on death and what it would be like to die right now. However: the prose in this book is stunning, and it almost seems like the worlds of Tokyo and Seoul are closing in on these characters. They're full of gorgeous descriptions of buildings and scenery, which are such a stark contrast to what the characters are dealing with internally. I really enjoyed this novel--it's going to be a staple in contemporary Korean literature for me.

Kyung-Ran Jo’s "Blowfish" is a haunting, atmospheric novel that explores the intersection of art, love, and mortality through the parallel lives of a female sculptor and a male architect. The suicides within their families deeply mark both protagonists—the sculptor’s grandmother by blowfish poisoning and the architect’s brother by a fatal leap—casting long shadows over their own struggles with despair. Their stories unfold in alternating chapters, set against the urban backdrops of Seoul and Tokyo, and are rendered in spare, lyrical prose that captures both the numbness and the intensity of their inner worlds. The sculptor’s meticulous study of the lethal blowfish becomes a metaphor for her contemplation of death and the inexorable pains of creation, while the architect’s journey is one of guilt and the faint hope of redemption.

What sets "Blowfish" apart is its refusal to offer easy answers or dramatic resolutions. Instead, Jo crafts a subtle meditation on the fragility of existence and the small, luminous threads—art, fleeting connection, the act of being present for another—that can tether us to life. The novel’s melancholic tone is balanced by moments of beauty and insight, as the protagonists’ encounters, though brief and understated, hint at the possibility of meaning even in the darkest places. Jo’s minimalist style and the depersonalized, almost universal quality of her characters invite readers to reflect on the broader human experience of loss, hope, and the search for purpose.

Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC.

With thanks to the author, Astra Publishing and NetGalley for the opportunity to read and review this eARC.

I will preface this review with the statement that I don’t think I was reading this book at the right time, I was pushing to get it read within a time restraint and therefore feel I hurried through it, when taking time to pause and reflect on the journey of the two main characters would have seen me appreciate this book more than I did.

It was beautifully written, both characters studied carefully through their everyday lives, their differences and their similarities. The story flits back and forth between time frames, where we see the reasoning behind why both of our main characters, no longer wish to be alive.

The novel is heavy, it is dripping in impending death. A view into the darkest machinations of the human mind and spirit and the tiny, fragile connections that have us still living. It is hard to sum up the way in which the author writes. It is both intelligent, and simple, emotional, yet clinical, beautiful yet sombre.

This is an introspection on art, what it does to those who make it, and how art is an imperative, not a whim. With art being subjective and not for everyone, this book is no exception, I wanted to like this book more than I did, but it is still a worthwhile read. I would recommend this book to people who enjoy character studies, with the caveat that truly nothing happens in this entire novel. It feels more appropriate to call this a collection of connected (very short) stories, about a relationship (if it could be called that) between an artist and an architect. Death and suicide are main topics in this novel as a forewarning. Overall, not my cup of tea as I felt that no decisions were made and nothing truly changed throughout the entire book, but for some people that's what they enjoy. Thank you to NetGalley for the eARC of this novel, I am leaving this review of my own choice.

Melancholic and dreary, Blowfish tells the story of a woman who is obsessed with death, more specifically her own, by her own hand. This story is told in 4 parts, and we have alternating chapters from 2 different perspectives. I personally was non-plussed by the "voice" of the male protagonist and found myself slightly bored by his chapters, although I do understand and appreciate the impact having his perspective adds to the nuance of the relationship he has to our female character. Sharing not only familial grief, but the trauma one carries after a loved one commits suicide, our two characters are energetically drawn to each other, meeting several times over the course of a few years and appearing in once another's dreams. The way the passage of time was portrayed in Kyung-Ran Jo's writing was a bit confusing for me, but in the end I don't feel as though this took away from the story or my ability to enjoy the writing. This is a story of grief, how we carry it with us, and what it means to truly value life. How will you live your life knowing that it ends in death?

Thank you NetGalley & Astra Publishing House for the arc.

As a fan of literary fiction, I found Blowfish to be thought-provoking read. The writing is absolutely beautiful—filled with quotes that stopped me in my tracks and made me reflect deeply. The emotional depth, especially around themes of death, love, and connection, was powerful and resonated with me.

That said, the pacing was quite slow. It felt like a rollercoaster that never fully launched—steady, but lacking a sense of momentum or narrative urgency. There were also occasional grammatical issues in the translation that took me out of the story at times.

Still, I appreciated how the two characters’ perspectives and the insight into very human struggles. If you enjoy quiet, introspective stories with poetic prose, this book may resonate with you.

Thank you to NetGalley, Astra Publishing House, and Kyung-Ran Jo for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I loved this! The way of writing about suicide talked to me on so many levels. It's slow but I feel like that's the Korean way and I like it.

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the chance to read this ARC. All opinions are my own.

Blowfish was one of my most highly anticipated reads for 2025. I can guess at what Kyung-ran Jo (or perhaps translator Chi Young Kim) were aspiring to accomplish, but its execution was rather disappointing.

The central motif in Blowfish is suicide and we follow two people whose perspectives and motivations flow from how suicide has touched their lives. The novel has a bleak and moody atmosphere, reminiscent of a dreamy Sofia Coppola film, but its writing style fails to create emotional stakes. I found myself adrift for most of it, unable to invest in or understand any of the characters to care about what they were doing.

Blowfish is rather dull, which is exacerbated by its lack of emotional core. From its premise, you would expect to be heading into a poignant exploration of mental illness and suicide from a country that has one of the highest suicide rates among OECD countries. However, suicide's use as a motif falls flat, and feels tokenistic. At most, it guides you through a meandering meditation on loss and the existential impact on those left behind.

Thank you to NetGalley and Astra Publishing for the ARC.

I thought the premise for this novel sounded amazing, but I had a really hard time getting through it. I’ve read plenty of double-POV novels before, and while they’re not necessarily my favorite, I can still appreciate the structure and how the dueling stories come together. This one, however, I struggled to get through. I think the woman’s perspective was far more interesting. Perhaps the man’s perspective could have come in closer to the middle of the book, but not right in the beginning. Overall, this one just didn’t hit for me like I thought it would. The novel’s premise is right up my alley, but the execution just wasn’t for me.

In full honesty, I DNF-ed this ARC. I was already struggling to latch on to the story, and then 12% in, the author made mention of an Israeli artist.

This put a sour taste in my mouth because the nationality of the artist was seemingly inconsequential, so why choose an Israeli at a time when they’re committing some of the most atrocious crimes against humanity?

I could not in good conscience keep going after that point.

Blowfish is a novel that attempts a quiet reflection on loss, isolation, and the search for meaning, but it ultimately feels too slow and emotionally distant. While there are moments of lyrical writing and genuine emotional insight, much of the book comes across as dull and forgettable. Though marketed as a story about two people contemplating suicide, it’s more of a meandering meditation than a focused exploration. The English translation is also marred by distracting typos, which raises questions about the editing process. In the end, the book isn’t bad—it just fails to leave a lasting impact. And for a story about life, death, and the loneliness in between, that may be its greatest flaw.

I was instantly captivated by the premise but my favorite thing where was the writing! It took on a serious topic with a bizarre premise and handled everything with such care.

Blowfish is an artistic exploration of death in all of its forms. It looks at the effects of loss, as well as the intentions behind suicide. As you can probably imagine, it is a gloomy, bleak, and uncomfortable read that I would not recommend to anyone struggling with similar issues. The story is not entirely hopeless, but it does not do much to uplift either.

We follow two separate lives that come together at some point, one of a female sculptor and one of a male architect. Both people have been marked by previous suicides in their family, and now naturally gravitate toward one another; this book is not really a romance, which to me makes it a lot more intriguing, and I am glad the plot didn’t fully go in that direction.

The book’s chapters are short and alternate between the two characters. My main issue was that the man’s chapters are a lot less engaging than the woman's, and it felt like the author definitely had a favourite character writing this. I wish we could’ve solely focused on her and gotten more depth to her experience, rather than constantly switching between the two.

Another complaint I have is about the book’s length. I think this could’ve become a 4-star read if it were a short, impactful story, without any distractions. Instead, it drags on and on, especially in the architect’s chapters, making it a bit boring at times.

What I enjoyed most was the exploration of art as a tool to process emotions and as a driving force to stay alive. I picked this up specifically because I love art talk, and I have always felt humans need creativity in order to survive. Blowfish delivered exactly what I wanted it to from this point of view.

I will soon film a full review on my TikTok account (@thegeminireads), but these were the first thoughts I had after finishing it. Many, many thanks to the publisher for providing me with this digital copy! This was the first work I got approved to review here on NetGallery, and I am extremely grateful to join this space.

A meditation on death and grief told through the POV of two unnamed characters, whose lives intersect in unexpected, intimate ways. It was quite an atmospheric and haunting read. However, I’m unsure how to say more about this book without acknowledging the passing mention of a settler-colony nationality around 13% in, which left a sour taste in my mouth.

so this was an interesting read.

for starters, it had the hollowness that all translated works seem to have. additionally, the MMC was a terrible person - there were times where his anger at women led him to have violent and degrading thoughts about the FMC. like seriously crazy stuff.

i didn’t really feel the connection between the main characters, and i didn’t enjoy either of the main characters on their own, although this might have been the author’s intention.

thank you to the author, publisher, and NetGalley for the ARC!

"There were two kinds of lives. A life you were born into and a life you built. it was all a question of choice"

Thank you Astra House for this early copy. What an atmospheric experience. Reading this book was like entering a room where every corner was filled with the scent of death. Each chapter continuously explores the trauma experienced by the two characters, the artist and the architect.

The exploration of these suicides, accompanied by the world of art and architecture, and the people who left them, shapes how they see the world and how they live. Alienated from who they are.

"Only now did she wonder if those scars had been evidence of his struggle to live, not his attempts to die"

Non-linear stories have never been my favorite, but I can somewhat understand why that writing style was used in this book. Romantic Love has never been the main plot here; it's not the kind of book where someone's life becomes more vibrant with the arrival of another person. This book emphasizes a character who is progressively growing for themselves.

I was so excited to read this novel. The premise--two main characters whose lives have both been impacted by suicides, with one of the characters now planning her own suicide by eating poisonous blowfish--was so promising. Unfortunately, the novel itself is very dull, long-winded, and awkwardly paced.

I love a slow, thoughtful book, but this was not that. The relationship between the male and female main characters should be what propels the story forward, yet they barely interact, and when they do, they hardly talk to each other. Instead of developing their relationship, pages and pages are spent describing the environment and other things that are of no consequence to the plot, like this:

"It was Sunday morning. Wind blew from the southwest through the streets of the still-slumbering city. Black plastic bags, newspapers, flyers, and playbills fluttered at knee height before settling back onto the ground. He couldn't spot the pigeons he always had to take care not to step on or the chickadees that would flit away in a panic. He passed by Hyehwa Station and headed toward Hansung University Station. From exit number six, he walked about a hundred yards to the three-way intersection. He turned right and began climbing the hill. It was about a mile to the Bugak Skyway trailhead. About a forty-minute walk. He walked briskly. He knew it was good to work up a sweat when he felt like this. He tensed his calves and swung his arms. When he stood at the observatory across from the Seongbuk-gu Community Center, he could see all of Dobongsan. This was where the trail began."

Scenes go on and on and on like this. It's very tedious to read so many of these descriptions, and to have so little of the best parts of the book, which to me are the fish market and blowfish scenes.

It's also very strange to me that the synopsis spoils the nature of the main characters' relationship. There is just not enough chemistry between them, in my opinion. Honestly, this story might be better as a film or TV show adaptation, where the characters' chemistry could more physically evident.

This novel had good bones. If a third of it had been cut and if it had focused more on the plot, this would've been a lot more compelling than it was.

Parts dreamy, parts thoughtful, parts dull. There are many things to enjoy about Blowfish. I really like the female main character's chapters. Her story is the most engaging to follow and you get a real sense of her development as a person and as an artist. Her trauma, grief and suicidal tendencies are shared little by little in a way that's not overly dramatic or cliched, even when they are unrealistic. She's an artist and her relationship with her art, and what that does to her relationships with other people, is very poignant. The male characters chapters are outrageously boring. I honestly skimmed them towards the end. Overall, I don't regret reading the book, but I'm not left with much more than that.