Abstract
“I like my breasts, nothing can be killed by them. Hand, foot, tongue, gaze, all weapons from which nothing is safe. But not my breasts. With my round breasts, I’m okay. Still okay” (p. 41).
This book comprises three interconnected novellas — The Vegetarian, Mongolian Mark, and Flaming Trees — following the life of protagonist Yeong-hye, as seen through the perspectives of her husband, brother-in-law, and sister, In-hye. Yeong-hye, after experiencing unsettling dreams filled with blood and flesh, suddenly refuses to eat meat altogether. This radical decision sets her on a transformative journey driven by a desire to become a tree herself — an enduring embodiment of nonviolence, equality, and freedom — sustained solely by sunlight and water. Yet, this pursuit results in harsh societal sanctions.
Han's narratives center on the themes of violence against women, their resistance, and frustrations arising from their ongoing struggle within a patriarchal Korean society. She portrays the pervasive nature of this violence through acts such as the force-feeding of meat, physical assault, sexual violence, objectification, and institutionalization, thereby shedding light on various forms of injustice to women. Han particularly emphasizes that meat is a potent symbol of violence against women, traditionally linked as it has been to power, masculinity, and social hierarchy. The novel demonstrates how this association of patriarchy and meat is manifested in everyday life. One example is Yeong-hye's father attempting to force-feed her meat, and in a fit of anger, striking her in the face when he was unable to pry open her tightly clenched teeth. The connection that Han makes between meat and male violence is also culturally significant. Historically, when meat was scarce and expensive, men took priority as its consumers. Such practices not only reinforced male privilege and authority within the household, but also perpetuated male dominance as an unquestioned social norm, often justifying violence against women.
However, as shown by Yeong-hye's experience, any defiance of this established gender order meets with severe societal repercussions. Han emphasizes the critical need for structural reform and collective female bonding as essential tools to combat systemic sexism. For example, Yeong-hye, the quintessential “good” Korean woman, who is quiet, submissive, compliant, and fulfills traditional gender roles, seeks to break free from the cycles of violence and exploitation imposed upon her by refusing to eat meat. However, in the absence of structural changes or support from other women, her individual acts of resistance only lead to profound frustration, expressed through self-harm. Similarly, although In-hye gains insight into Yeong-hye's suffering through observation, her understanding does not evolve into solidarity or meaningful dialogue, leaving Yeong-hye alone in intensifying despair. Han's narrative serves as a powerful reminder of the perils inherent in focusing on individual efforts in feminist work when the oppressive system remains undisturbed.
To advocate for an inclusive and just world for all beings, Han adopts an ecofeminist perspective, drawing parallels between oppression of women and violence inflicted on animals. Through this juxtaposition, she contrasts the male-dominated world, characterized by brutality, control, and hierarchy, with the natural world, embodying co-peace, equality, and existence. A poignant example occurs in Yeong-hye's childhood when she witnesses her father's brutal killing of the family dog that bit her by chaining it to his motorcycle and then eating a meal of dog soup with a group of middle-aged men in town. This traumatic experience eventually leads her to recognize the interconnected exploitation of women and animals under male dominance. Han's integration of ecofeminism is particularly relevant in contemporary Korea, where feminism is often dismissed as aggressive and exclusionary. The inclusive, nonviolent ethos of ecofeminism offers a transformative lens to reshape societal perceptions of feminism.
A major shortcoming of The Vegetarian lies in its essentialist portrayal of gender, reinforcing binary opposition between men and women. Han repeatedly aligns men with power, artistic thoughts, and violence, while women are associated with the body, nature, and submission. Although this thematic repetition effectively highlights the widespread violence inflicted by men upon women, it inadvertently implies irreconcilable gender differences and suggests that women's identity and value inherently depend upon men. This implication apparently contradicts Han's own advocacy for gender equality and female autonomy. Objectification of women's bodies constitutes a form of violence; however, Yeong-hye passively submits to being gazed upon and filmed by her brother-in-law, both through his naked eyes and the camcorder lens. The excessive focus on her body and detailed description of it risk reinforcing the very violence the narrative critiques, ultimately undermining the portrayal of Yeong-hye's resistance and agency.
The Vegetarian has advanced the Korean feminist movement. Ecofeminist ideas are now more accessible and have broader appeal beyond intellectual circles because of Han's novel. As the first Korean work to win a Nobel Prize, it has also inspired discussion groups nationwide, allowing many to learn about feminist movements and engage in critical conversations on gender issues. Most notably, its global recognition provided a moment of unity for Koreans, enabling them to envision gender reconciliation amidst escalating political tensions.
