I came into this having gotten tons of hype from friends, which can be a double-edged sword, but it delivered for me. Multi-generational family stories often appeal to me, and this one taught me quite a lot that I hadn’t known about the relationship between Korea and Japan while telling a powerful story. I really loved it!

I don't often come across a book like Pachinko. It had won literary awards and covers three generations of a Korean and Korean-Japanese family, so I had mistakenly thought it would be very sad. When I read the first chapters it reminded me of The Good Earth and I delayed reading further.

I was so wrong and had wasted so much time! When I returned to Pachinko the second time around, the story drew me in and I couldn't stop reading. I had thought that it would be one bad thing after another, but it was the opposite. Somehow, even in the hardest of times and under the most difficult possible conditions, Sunja perseveres and she does this with grace and determination. Her early love, the family that she makes, the path that she forges are all part of this sympathetic and engrossing story. I enjoyed learning more about Korea and Japan, about the experiences and treatment of Koreans in Japan, about the Korean War and how it affected families. Pachinko incorporates larger, human questions as it tells the story of Sunja and Hanso and the families that they have.

Also, knowing that Lee Min Ho will be in the serialized version of Pachinko will surely bring more people to appreciate the story.

This is such a beautiful book. It tells the story of several generations of a Korean family that ends up living in Japan. Even the characters that are only a part of the story briefly are wonderfully written. This reminded me of books by Lisa See (though her topics are obviously different). I wish I had read this much sooner. If you enjoy multi-generational tomes with well developed characters, or if you just like history, I definitely recommend this one.

Immersive writing and storytelling that pulled me in from the start. This will be a modern classic, I'm sure.

A strong 4.5 stars. Pachinko is a very good read, and I was caught up in the stories of a Korean family in pre and postwar Japan. Japan prides itself on its history and homogenious culture, and this does not bode well for Korean immigrants. The characters in the book strive for dignity and success, while their adopted country treats them like thugs and criminals. Solomon, one of the grandsons of the main character, has to go to immigration court and be questioned and fingerprinted in order to get a visa to stay in the country where he and his father were born. The visa will be reviewed every three years for as long as he stays in Japan.

The first two sections of the book were perfect, and I was mesmerized by the family's stoic courage in existing in a country that did not want them. The last section speeded too quickly through at least twenty years. I like meaty novels, and would have been happy to read another 200 pages or so about these intriguing characters. This cost the book .5 stars for me, but the first two sections are definitely worth 5 stars on their own.

<p>So tonnes of people loved <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/17833481/book/164666977">Pachinko</a>. The <a href="https://www.netgalley.com/">Netgalley</a> blurb gives me:</p>

<blockquote>
NATIONAL BOOK AWARD FINALIST * A NEW YORK TIMES BOOK REVIEW TOP TEN OF THE YEAR * NEW YORK TIMES NOTABLE BOOK OF 2017 *A USA TODAY TOP TEN OF 2017 * JULY PICK FOR THE PBS NEWSHOUR-NEW YORK TIMES BOOK CLUB NOW READ THIS * FINALIST FOR THE 2018 DAYTON LITERARY PEACE PRIZE
Roxane Gay's Favorite Book of 2017, Washington Post
NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * #1 BOSTON GLOBE BESTSELLER * USA TODAY BESTSELLER * WALL STREET JOURNAL BESTSELLER * WASHINGTON POST BESTSELLER
</blockquote>

<p>Okay. But you know what: I did not love <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/17833481/book/164666977">Pachinko</a>. It isn't as if I think the book is unimportant; in fact, I think it is an important book, documenting the story of ethnic Koreans in Japan over generations. It just isn't very ... um ... <i>good</i> isn't the right word, because it isn't the goodness or badness that annoyed me throughout. I guess, at a level, it's fairly shallow a book. It's almost like if a photo album was a novel: we get scenes, and strung together, the scenes tell a story, but there is just as much narrative in the gaps that gets completely written off as lonely sentences here and there (i.e., <i>Oh, so and so's wife died, moving on</i>). As for the characters, again, somewhat stock ones, like in a photograph, never moving very far beneath the surface. You can see the people in the photos, you can see them smiling, or fake-smiling, or frowning and say to yourself, "On that day they were happy/faking/angry," but in the end, a photo doesn't tell you what type of happiness they felt, whether some of their fakery was tinged with regret, whether the anger was a joke on the photographer, etc. <a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/17833481/book/164666977">Pachinko</a> is like that. You can almost feel it all, but really, it's pretty flat. </p>

<p>But then again, what do I know compared to everyone else who love, love, loved this book.</p>

<p><a href="https://www.librarything.com/work/17833481/book/164666977">Pachinko</a> by Min Jin Lee went on sale February 7, 2017.</p>
<p><small>I received a copy free from <a href="https://www.netgalley.com/">Netgalley</a> in exchange for an honest review.</small></p>

Absolutely one of the best books I've ever read. I feel so ignorant to the plight of Koreans, specifically before/during/after the World Wars, the amount of prejudice faced by so many men and women (even through the modern years, institutionalized racism continued!). The writing is incredible, and I have recommended it to as many people as I could. I have no words, just read it!

It’s the last Saturday of the month, which means it’s Give a Sh*t Book Club time! This month’s book is Pachinko by Min Jin Lee, a generational saga following a Korean family through much of the 20th century. It was a finalist for the National Book Award, and I think the honor was well deserved.

Pachinko came out in February of last year, but I had put off reading it because of its length. However, this year I’ve made a bookish resolution to slow down my reading and tackle some of the “bricks” that I’ve been putting off, so Pachinko seemed like a great choice for our first book club book of 2018. I had heard from various sources that it was a page-turner, and holy wow they were not kidding! Once I got into the story, I couldn’t put it down.

I think what makes Pachinko so readable is a combination of the accessible prose and the appeal of the characters. I’m not saying the writing is plain or lacks finesse; in fact, quite the opposite, as only the most talented writers can make the reading of their work feel effortless. I appreciated that the writing wasn’t too dense or flowery because it helped propel me through the story. I really cared about the characters and had to know what was going to happen to them!

My favorite stories, the ones that stick with me the longest, are ones that illuminate the divine humanity in their characters. That probably sounds cheesy, but what I mean is the characters are treated as whole but flawed human beings, and even as they make poor decisions or bad luck befalls them, there are glimmers of hope and kindness that give them strength. That resonates with my own life experiences, that even in the dark there is at least the possibility of a spark of light. The characters in Pachinko carried this spark with them—even through tragedy, they kept going.

And some of the tragedies hit me in the gut. Noa’s suicide after his mother found him and by her presence threatened to expose him as Korean was somehow both unsurprising and totally wrenching. I ached for all of them. His death powerfully illustrated, though, how the shame and stigma of being Korean in Japan has affected people’s lives. This is when I think historical fiction is at its most powerful, when it shows us what life was like for real people and allows us to understand and empathize with them in a way we might not be able to do otherwise.

And can I say how fascinating it was to read historical fiction taking place during World War II that wasn’t from an American or European perspective? It was called a “world war” for a reason, after all, and through reading Pachinko I realized there were holes in my knowledge when it came to WW2 as experienced by Korean and Japanese people. I was also largely ignorant of the fallout of the division of Korea and the way it left many Koreans living in Japan stranded, without a homeland.

I really enjoyed Pachinko, and I hope you did too! Leave your thoughts in the comments below. Can’t wait to hear what you think!

This review first appeared at LitChat (http://litchat.com/pachinko).

Reviewed by Carolyn Burns Bass

Pachinko by Min Jin LeeI downloaded Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee, shortly after it published last year and let it doze on my reader until last week. A multi-generational saga of a Korean family living in Japan, the novel was a finalist for the 2017 National Book Award.

Pachinko tells the story of the Baek family who immigrate from Korea to Japan during the Japanese occupation of Korea in the early 20th century. Isak Baek’s family are Christian landowners in the north of a unified Korea during this time. When Isak, a sickly Christian missionary, meets young Sunja who is unmarried and pregnant, he is convinced God is leading him to marry the fallen girl just as the Bible’s Hosea was directed to marry the prostitute Gomer. The couple are married in Korea, then immediately depart for Japan where Isak pastors a small Korean Presbyterian church. The child is a male, named Noa (Noah) and Isak is a loving and devoted father. After several years and miscarriages Isak and Sunjin have a child together, the boisterious Mozasu (Moses).

The first half of the book speeds by as the Baek family struggles to thrive amid the prejudicial policies and outright hostility of the Japanese. Koreans are forced to live in ghettos, cannot expect good jobs at living wages, are bullied in schools, have little hope for education beyond high school. Even those Koreans who are born in Japan must register with the government every three years after they turn 14 or face deportation. Sound eerily familiar?

When Isak refuses to bow to a statue of the emperor, he and other church leaders are arrested and jailed. Isak languishes in prison for years, only to be released upon his deathbed. Sunji and her sons are left dependent upon her childless brother- and sister-in-law because travel back to Korea is unthinkable as war breaks out.

The Baek family scrapes by during the first half of the war through Sunji and her sister-in-law Kyunghee’s entrepreneurial efforts in peddling homemade kimchee and sweets from a cart at the train station. Lee doesn’t expand on the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, nor does she dwell on the gore and aftermath. Instead, we see the human horror in Isak’s brother Ysef who is severely injured while working in Nagasaki and suffers throughout his remaining years.

As the tide of war changes for the Japanese a new threat rises over the Baek family. Koh Hansu, the blood-father of Noa and now a powerful Korean powerbroker, swoops in with offers to help the family. Sunji had loved Hansu back in Korea when Noa was conceived, but refused to take his help with the child when she learned he was married and couldn’t be a legal husband to her. Hansu’s appearance sets off a wake that ripples deep into Sunjin’s life with tragic consequences.

Sunjin’s sons grow up as the novel begins jumping numerous years following the war. A multi-generational saga of this scope can’t feature every little act. Lee treads wide around specific events such as death scenes, marriages and births when they occur, circling back to them through character recollection and motivation. Although Japan continues its prejudicial policies against foreigners throughout the novel, the Baek family prospers through diligence, hard work and the clanging of Pachinko balls.

Pachinko, the eponymous Japanese pinball game, comes into play during the second half of the novel when Mosasu, the second son, eschews education (his older brother, Noa, is a scholar headed for university) and begins working for a local Korean boss named Goro. The Japanese love their pachinko, it’s a national pastime, but they despise the fact that Koreans built the industry. Lee takes great care to portray the Baeks and Goro as clean pachinko bosses, but the underlying taint can’t be removed in the eyes of Japanese society.

The ending of Pachinko was abrupt, almost unresolved, and left me hungering for more. The hunger is evidence of a good saga, but the abruptness felt rushed, too quickly tied off as if the author had run out of yarn. The Biblical names play into characters somewhat, particularly with Mosasu leading his family from poverty to wealth. Prior to the sudden ending I kept expecting the author to loop back to the beginning of the saga with the final male heir, Solomon, marrying the fallen woman, Hana. This would have paralleled the Biblical Hosea theme opened with his grandfather’s marriage to the shamed Sunji and his father Mosasu’s second marriage to the disgraced Etsuko. We don’t see this happen, though we do see Solomon make difficult relationship decisions that manifest the wisdom of his Biblical namesake.

Pachinko ends in the early 1990s, leaving much for the young Solomon to experience as an American-educated, third-generation-born Japanese resident of Korean descent.

Having lived in Japan for several years, I’ve experienced the underlying bigotry of some Japanese people toward gaijin (non-Japanese). Several times I heard Japanese people speak disparagingly of Koreans, along with Philippinos and even Okinawans.

As an American in Japan, I always felt welcomed and appreciated, though other Americans I knew shared stories of bigotry—especially among older and the very young Japanese. Being a guest of the Japanese government through the Status of Forces Agreement (my husband was a military officer), I was blissfully unaware of the discriminatory policies enforced by Japan against foreigners living in Japan.

Pachinko is Min Jin Lee’s second novel. Her debut novel, Free Food for Millionaires, was a critically acclaimed glance into the life of wealthy, well-educated Korean-Americans in contemporary New York.

I really enjoyed this saga of a Korean family from the 1930's to 1989. The story centers around Sunja, who is a teenager in Korea in the early 30's. Her father has died and she and her mother run a boarding house, earning money by taking in lodgers. Sunja is seduced by a mysterious businessman who lives in Japan and becomes pregnant by him. The businessman cannot marry Sunja and she makes a marriage of convenience to a Korean Christian minister who takes her to Japan, where she lives the remainder of her life and raises her family.

It's an interesting tale full of memorable characters and storylines. As with all historical fiction, I learned something I didn't know - in this case, I learned about Japanese contempt for and distrust of Koreans. Much of this book dealt with overt and systemic racism in Japan.

I also learned what Pachinko is - I had never heard of this game, which sounds a bit like gambling on pinball. I have been absolutely obsessed with the cover of this book since it came out just because of its beauty, but I had no idea what it represented. Well, it's a Pachinko game board. Duh. Pachinko plays a significant role in this family's story.

This is a lengthy book (485 pages) but it sure kept my interest and flowed well. I had less interest in the stories of the later family generations, but that was mostly because the early part of the book was so spellbinding.

I highly recommend this one to historical fictions fans, especially those interested in Asian culture. It's a gem. A 4.5 for me.

Thanks to Netgalley and Grand Central Publishing for an ARC of this novel. My review, however, is based on the hardcover edition.

I couldn't get into this book. The narrative seemed very distant. Didn't draw me in.

Set against the backdrop of Japanese occupation,
Min Jin Lee's Pachinko tells an earnest and heartfelt saga that encompasses nearly 80 years in the lives of one family. The story follows Sunja, the daughter of a Korean innkeeper, who marries a virtual stranger after a love affair with an older man leaves her pregnant and adrift. What could devolve into either melodrama or tawdriness does neither, as Pachinko deftly examines the little generosities that even the worst among us are capable of.

Although Lee's places her historical novel at the height of Japan's annexation of Korea, the setting will feel familiar to many readers of historical fiction. Sunja and her husband Isak relocate to Japan, and their home country soon grows foreign; by the mid-point of Pachinko, there are whisperings of a conflict brewing between the northern and southern halves of the peninsula. In Osaka, the couple live with Yoseb and Kyunghee, Isak's brother and sister-in-law, in the Korean ghettos, where conditions call to mind certain parts of New York City at the turn of the 20th century, or Europe during the Second World War.

Readers see Sunja, Isak, and their extended family as people, but the restrictions placed on them by the Japanese government drive home a fact that many folks know too well: Japanese policy viewed the conquered Koreans as little more than animals. Poor conditions lead to poorer outcomes for many, and many of the men — including Sunja's sons, Noa and Mosazu, and Yoseb — internalize Japanese bigotry so extensively that they believe ethnic Koreans to be inferior to their colonizers.

As Sunja's boys grow up, Pachinko shifts focus to them. When Noa's biological father re-enters the picture, years after Isak's death, Noa runs away and assumes an ethnic Japanese identity, breaking all contact with his Korean family. Meanwhile, Mosazu deals with his split identity — ethnically Korean, but raised in a thoroughly Japanese environment — by re-purposing stereotypes about Koreans to his advantage.

The young men are true to their namesakes. Cast into the sea of Japan's mistreatment of ethnic Koreans, Noa constructs an ark to sail above, while Mosazu treks across the sea floor to make a path of his own. At the close of Pachinko, however, it is the women who weather the storm.

I received a copy of this book from the publisher in exchange for this review.

The link to the review will be added once the review has been finalised.

A fabulous novel, worth all of the attention it has been receiving during award and Top 10 list season. In dealing with multiple generations of a family, Lee has done so well to give each character a distinct voice and memorable characteristics. I had no trouble keeping the family tree clear. In addition to the interesting characters, the historical and cultural setting is so well described and realized. I really enjoyed this book so much.

This story is a wonderful, complex, sprawling saga that takes us from 1910 Korea to 1989 Japan. The tale takes us through four generations, civil war and World Wars.
Tirelessly researched, the author weaves the politics of the Korean Peninsula and Koreans in Japan into a brilliant family saga.
Recommended.

Enjoyed this multigenerational family story. Also appreciated leaning about the history of Koreans on Japan.

"Pachinko" is an absolutely fabulous read. This book follows four generations of a Korean family through their trials and tribulations at a time when their homeland is divided into two countries. They go to Japan seeking a better life. Having little knowledge of Korean history, I learned so much and became so engrossed in this story that although the book is 500 pages long, I did not want it to end. I highly recommend it and feel it is a must read.

This book was excellent, and I am recommending it highly in our library. The characters were so richly drawn and the writing was simply beautiful. I definitely enjoyed the first half of the book more than the second, but that's ok. I was not at all familiar with the plight of Koreans living in Japan during the past century, so I was incredibly interested in what I learned by reading this book. Sometimes I think we believe that prejudice is primarily an American sin, and forget that there are cultures around the world that are just as good at it as we are.

****4.0****

Before I started this book, I didn’t know what “Pachinko” is and even though I had watched several Japanese and Korean movies I was totally unaware of the crisis that happened between them.

This is a story that spans a Korean family from 1910 to 1989, the struggles to survive and settle. To forget what was theirs, where they belonged and the failure to fit in what they have is very heartbreaking.

“a man must learn to forgive—to know what is important, that to live without forgiveness was a kind of death with breathing and movement.”

Main Protagonist being Sunja who was the daughter of a boarding house in a small fishing village near Busan. After her father’s death, Sunja’s mother a hardworking girl, looks after her and the boarding house. Sunja turns into a efficient, silent, well-behaved, hard-working girl. But her unplanned teen pregnancy and marriage to Presbyterian minister Baek Isak takes her to Osaka, where she raises sons Noa and Mozasu. After her husband’s death, with the help from her brother-in-law and his wife, she manages to work hard as she can for Noa’s education. Mozasu on the other hand is content with a job in Pachinko.


“Sunja-ya, a woman’s life is endless work and suffering. There is suffering and then more suffering….no matter what, always expect suffering, and just keep working hard.”

The story focuses more on Noa and Mozasu from here and it’s their life that is highlighted. Their life is not much different from their parents, but they were born in Osaka,Japan and whatever the people might have said, it was their home. Noa sacrifices his Korean identity to become Japanese, but fails. Mozasu finds a life in being Pachinko owner and moving in life forward as a wealthy businessman.


“You are very brave, Noa. Much, much braver than me. Living every day in the presence of those who refuse to acknowledge your humanity takes great courage.”

It’s difficult to tell a story which is connected to a family’s generations along with a nation’s political-cultural changes. Min Jin Lee has done a great job with a brilliant narration. A tough plot with tough, diverse characters and a great literary treat.

ARC from NetGalley in exchange for an unbiased review. Thanks for making this available!


Happy Reading!!!

The experience of Korean immigrants in Japan is a terrific theme for a novel and not one I have seen treated elsewhere. Lee has clearly researched the topic in depth, and portrays both the discrimination they suffer at a day-to-day level, and the diversity of their various life paths.

Despite this, I struggled to get into the book and had to give it two or three tries. The story is told in a flat and unadventurous prose style, which does little to draw the reader in - for that, you have to rely just on the twists and turns of the plot. There are also a great many characters, some of whom feel quite two-dimensional. If a new female protagonist appears, chances are we get told whether or not she has "big breasts" and a "big ass" - as though this somehow sheds light on her character.

Even Sunja, the heroine of the story, is kind of an enigma. I started out under the impression that she was pretty and attractive (because Hansu fell for her), but then we are told repeatedly that she is plain and unattractive. I also assumed that she was naive and clueless (because she took up with Hansu), but in Japan she magically becomes a savvy negotiator and business person. This all felt a bit inconsistent.

The core stories with Sunja and her immediate family were well told and kept me engaged. I enjoyed especially the parts with Hansu - he seemed to be channeling Rhett Butler and was by far my favourite character. However, there are many ancillary stories about other characters that seem fragmented and even bizarre - for instance, the one about the married couple where the husband is homosexual and the wife finds out - an interesting scenario but then we don't hear what happens to them.

I'd recommend this if you're interested in reading about extended Korean families, but I think there are probably stronger, more compelling immigration novels out there.

I am grateful to NetGalley and Grand Central Publishing for the chance to read an advance copy of this work.