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Osiedle Sielskiej Przyszłości
Czy mieszkanie na tym osiedlu to na pewno sielanka?
Władze Korei Południowej, walcząc z niskim przyrostem naturalnym, wdrażają innowacyjny projekt – na obrzeżach Seulu powstaje kompleks socjalnych bloków nazwany Osiedlem Sielskiej Przyszłości. Rząd oferuje młodym małżeństwom atrakcyjne lokale, ale pod warunkiem, że zadeklarują chęć posiadania co najmniej trojga dzieci.
Yo-jin i Eun-o, nowi lokatorzy, wychowują wspólnie córkę. To nietypowa rodzina – kobieta zarabia na utrzymanie, a mąż opiekuje się dzieckiem.
Dan-hui, samozwańcza liderka osiedla, jest kobietą wścibską, narzucającą mieszkańcom różne inicjatywy. Jej mąż, Jae-gang, żyje pod pantoflem apodyktycznej żony.
Hyo-ne uchodzi za outsiderkę – wycofana ilustratorka unika opieki nad dzieckiem i zaangażowania w życie sąsiedzkie, przez co uważana jest za samolubną.
Ostatnie małżeństwo, Yeo-san i Gyo-won, wychowuje dwoje dzieci i zmaga się z trudnościami finansowymi. Kobieta wydaje się zadowolona, ale pod uśmiechem kryją się problemy z samoakceptacją i zdrowiem psychicznym.
Czy wszystkie osoby przetrwają próbę czasu i zostaną na Osiedlu Sielskiej Przyszłości?
Władze Korei Południowej, walcząc z niskim przyrostem naturalnym, wdrażają innowacyjny projekt – na obrzeżach Seulu powstaje kompleks socjalnych bloków nazwany Osiedlem Sielskiej Przyszłości. Rząd oferuje młodym małżeństwom atrakcyjne lokale, ale pod warunkiem, że zadeklarują chęć posiadania co najmniej trojga dzieci.
Yo-jin i Eun-o, nowi lokatorzy, wychowują wspólnie córkę. To nietypowa rodzina – kobieta zarabia na utrzymanie, a mąż opiekuje się dzieckiem.
Dan-hui, samozwańcza liderka osiedla, jest kobietą wścibską, narzucającą mieszkańcom różne inicjatywy. Jej mąż, Jae-gang, żyje pod pantoflem apodyktycznej żony.
Hyo-ne uchodzi za outsiderkę – wycofana ilustratorka unika opieki nad dzieckiem i zaangażowania w życie sąsiedzkie, przez co uważana jest za samolubną.
Ostatnie małżeństwo, Yeo-san i Gyo-won, wychowuje dwoje dzieci i zmaga się z trudnościami finansowymi. Kobieta wydaje się zadowolona, ale pod uśmiechem kryją się problemy z samoakceptacją i zdrowiem psychicznym.
Czy wszystkie osoby przetrwają próbę czasu i zostaną na Osiedlu Sielskiej Przyszłości?
176 pages, Paperback
First published June 15, 2018
148 people are currently reading
11683 people want to read
About the author
Gu Byeong-mo
23 books201 followersAssociated Names:
* 구병모 (Korean)
* Gu Byeong-mo (English)
* คูบยองโม (Thai)
Gu Byeong-mo is a South Korean writer. She made her literary debut in 2009 when her novel Wizard Bakery won the 2nd Changbi Prize for Young Adult Fiction. Her 2015 short story collection Geugeosi namaneun anigireul received the Today's Writer Award and Hwang Sun-won New Writers' Award.
* 구병모 (Korean)
* Gu Byeong-mo (English)
* คูบยองโม (Thai)
Gu Byeong-mo is a South Korean writer. She made her literary debut in 2009 when her novel Wizard Bakery won the 2nd Changbi Prize for Young Adult Fiction. Her 2015 short story collection Geugeosi namaneun anigireul received the Today's Writer Award and Hwang Sun-won New Writers' Award.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 516 reviews
April 15, 2025
me and my friends.
this book, about four families living in a communal apartment building, convinced me that we need to wait for men to die out and then start society over.
the writing is simple and abrupt, as is the ending...and the plot...but this successfully made me feel some type of way about the family unit.
and that's more than some can say!
bottom line: the system is broken!!! at least within this fictional story.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
this book, about four families living in a communal apartment building, convinced me that we need to wait for men to die out and then start society over.
the writing is simple and abrupt, as is the ending...and the plot...but this successfully made me feel some type of way about the family unit.
and that's more than some can say!
bottom line: the system is broken!!! at least within this fictional story.
(thanks to the publisher for the e-arc)
July 6, 2024
This book was so quiet, but it made you feel the oppression of weaponized incompetence and really demonstrated the impossibility of speaking out against men, especially when women force themselves to ignore the crossing of boundaries, gaslighting themselves in order to be more agreeable.
March 11, 2025
Gu Byeong-mo’s fluid, absorbing novel tells the story of four families who’ve staved off fierce competition to take part in Dream Future, a communal housing, pilot programme. They’ve all moved to a remote rural location to inhabit subsidised apartments in a small complex. But there’s a catch: each has been chosen because their family has proven ability to produce children; each must have one stay-at-home-parent; and each must commit to producing at least three children over ten years. The point of this government-sponsored pilot to test out another means of encouraging traditional, heterosexual families to reproduce, in order to combat South Korea’s exceptionally low birth rate.
Gu’s narrative centres on the women in these families, striving to be, or struggling with, what the dominant culture considers a ‘good mother’. Gu explores the pressures exerted on them via unstated cultural expectations, rigidly gendered roles, and social conventions. All of which constrain these women’s everyday lives and potential futures. Gu’s characters are somewhat stereotypical from awkward, antisocial Hyonae to the officious Danhui who attempts to control the actions and attitudes of the other mothers. But I think this is deliberate, Gu’s attempt to construct a microcosm of wider Korean society; and demonstrate difficulties faced by Korean mothers such as negotiating and carving out personal space.
The Dream Future project reinforces the idea that biology is destiny, at least where women are concerned. Another belief informing the project’s creation is that families in similar situations will eventually form a supportive community - a version of the mythical child-rearing village. But subsequent events at Dream Future, from domestic abuse to sexual harassment, cast doubt on notions of neighbourliness and togetherness, calling into question key cultural concepts like jeong or gounjeong (고운정) – roughly that shared experiences and proximity override individual identities and create deep, shared emotional bonds.
The Dream Future women are also grappling with their wider socio-economic environment: from contending with insta-style images of perfect mothers never too tired to source organic food or cook from scratch to rising unemployment that makes it increasingly unlikely they’ll be able to fund even their relatively basic lifestyles. Pressures often manifested here via judgemental, coercive Danhui. Some of the women’s more immediate problems stem from the building’s layout and lack of amenities: there’s no daycare available within it or affordable nurseries in the vicinity, and it’s unclear whether this is an oversight or a deliberate strategy to tie women to the home.
Overall, Gu’s is an interesting, credible critique, although some aspects are specific to South Korea, there’s a lot here that will be familiar to readers outside this setting. However, I’d have liked her to probe a bit deeper, she doesn’t for example question the premise behind these kinds of government policies particularly potential links to pronatalism and ethnic nationalism. She simply takes as given that low birth rates are a problem. Nor does she propose any alternatives, either for women or for South Korea - one obvious possibility is the kind of managed migration that seems to be working well in Spain, at least so far. So that it’s hard not to view Gu’s perspective as limited and ultimately quite fatalistic. Translated by Chi-young Kim.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Hanover Square Press for an ARC
Gu’s narrative centres on the women in these families, striving to be, or struggling with, what the dominant culture considers a ‘good mother’. Gu explores the pressures exerted on them via unstated cultural expectations, rigidly gendered roles, and social conventions. All of which constrain these women’s everyday lives and potential futures. Gu’s characters are somewhat stereotypical from awkward, antisocial Hyonae to the officious Danhui who attempts to control the actions and attitudes of the other mothers. But I think this is deliberate, Gu’s attempt to construct a microcosm of wider Korean society; and demonstrate difficulties faced by Korean mothers such as negotiating and carving out personal space.
The Dream Future project reinforces the idea that biology is destiny, at least where women are concerned. Another belief informing the project’s creation is that families in similar situations will eventually form a supportive community - a version of the mythical child-rearing village. But subsequent events at Dream Future, from domestic abuse to sexual harassment, cast doubt on notions of neighbourliness and togetherness, calling into question key cultural concepts like jeong or gounjeong (고운정) – roughly that shared experiences and proximity override individual identities and create deep, shared emotional bonds.
The Dream Future women are also grappling with their wider socio-economic environment: from contending with insta-style images of perfect mothers never too tired to source organic food or cook from scratch to rising unemployment that makes it increasingly unlikely they’ll be able to fund even their relatively basic lifestyles. Pressures often manifested here via judgemental, coercive Danhui. Some of the women’s more immediate problems stem from the building’s layout and lack of amenities: there’s no daycare available within it or affordable nurseries in the vicinity, and it’s unclear whether this is an oversight or a deliberate strategy to tie women to the home.
Overall, Gu’s is an interesting, credible critique, although some aspects are specific to South Korea, there’s a lot here that will be familiar to readers outside this setting. However, I’d have liked her to probe a bit deeper, she doesn’t for example question the premise behind these kinds of government policies particularly potential links to pronatalism and ethnic nationalism. She simply takes as given that low birth rates are a problem. Nor does she propose any alternatives, either for women or for South Korea - one obvious possibility is the kind of managed migration that seems to be working well in Spain, at least so far. So that it’s hard not to view Gu’s perspective as limited and ultimately quite fatalistic. Translated by Chi-young Kim.
Thanks to Edelweiss and publisher Hanover Square Press for an ARC
February 13, 2025
Jestem pod dużym wrażeniem jak bardzo obnażający oraz krytyczny charakter ma ta książka. Chociaż niewielka forma nie zapowiada tak złożonej historii, to sama fabuła toczy się wokół naprawdę znaczących tematów takich jak opresja, wyzwania rodzicielstwa, budowanie społeczności, a raczej pewnego rodzaju wspólnoty. Bardzo trafnie napisana lektura, bo do uchwycenia sedna wielu wątków nie trzeba było tutaj skomplikowanych, rozbudowanych opisów. Autentyczności niewątpliwie dodaje też bezpośrednia ekspresja bohaterów i uchwycenie ich portretów w różnych perspektywach. Naprawdę ciekawa książka.
May 11, 2024
I quite enjoy Asian literature, and don’t too often take issue with translations; however, either Gu Byeong-mo’s Apartment Women is suffering from a translation disconnect or this book is lacking in some necessary style. The premise sounds pretty incredible, if I am being honest - several families move into an apartment complex in the middle of nowhere as part of a government experiment on communal living. This is my cup of tea because I love social studies. However, this book is written (or translated) so incoherently, that I had difficulty following much of it. The storyline is not clear, neither are the families and members within them delineated. I found myself confused throughout much of this book, not quite understanding where it was going or what I was supposed to get out of it.
June 20, 2024
The goals of this apartment complex were clear in prioritizing reproduction, in contrast to other social welfare programs.
Your Neighbour's Table (2024) is Chi-Young Kim's translation of 네 이웃의 식탁 (2018) by 구병모 (Gu Byeong-mo). This is the second of the author's work in English after Old Woman with the Knife (2022), from 파과 (2013), and is the 12th translation by Chi-Young Kim I've read.
This is a novel centred around perhaps the greatest threat faced by the projected population of South Korea - not the North, but rather the demographic time-bomb from the extremely low, and still falling, fertility rate, the world's lowest.
Here, the authorities have set up a new housing project in the countryside outside Seoul, the 꿈미래공동실험주택 (Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments), but one with a different approach and an unusual contract:
The Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments was a small, twelve-unit building way out in the tranquil mountains without any urban amenities, a good distance from the homes that had been halfway developed about a decade ago during a modest building boom. At first glance, it appeared to be a random inn built on a vacant lot, without even a creek nearby. Still, it was brand-new and had been built with care by the government; it was clean and the decently sized units had a good floor plan, and, most crucially, it was public rental housing. But the conditions of residency were strict and you had to handwrite a pledge as part of the twenty-odd documents required for your application.
[...]
—you were asked to promise to do your best to have at least three children, given that the purpose of these pilot communal apartments was to reverse the plummeting birth rate. Only those below the age of forty-two who already had at least one child were eligible to apply—in other words, heterosexual Korean couples who had proven their ability to reproduce.
Preference was given to couples with at least two children, in particular those with only one parent working outside the home. The goals of this apartment complex were clear in prioritizing reproduction, in contrast to other social welfare programs, which gave the greatest preference to grandparents raising grandchildren, followed by single parents, and only then dual-income families.
But human bodies being what they are, nobody knew whether anyone would be able to follow this mandate; couples could apply to be reimbursed for the cost of in vitro fertilization if that became necessary, and if they were unable to have three children (pregnancies included) within ten years of residence despite various efforts, they could simply move out. They wouldn’t need to pay anything back—neither for the benefits they’d reaped by having a reasonable lease nor for any normal wear and tear in the apartment. All they’d need to do was submit a doctor’s note confirming that they had faithfully sought medical assistance and tried their best to fulfil their end of the contract. Without such proof, their failure to bear three children would be considered an intentional breach of contract and they would have to reimburse the government for their use of the apartment according to the terms of the agreement.
The novel opens with the fourth couple arriving, Yojin and Euno, with their 6yo daughter Siyul. Their initial experience is positive - a warm communal welcome, and being treated as adults (rather than the usual 'Siyul's mother' appellation):
Earlier, Jaegang had introduced Yojin and Euno to the other residents: “Calling someone So-and-so’s mom or So-and-so’s dad is no fun at all, don’t you think? Here we prefer to be called by our given names.” Now, reeling from the strangeness of hearing someone uttering her name outside of the doctor’s or a government office, Yojin murmured her own name like an immigrant savoring the rarely used pronunciation of her native language.
But as the novel progresses, we see the different compromises each family is having to make, dealing with being parents while finding work in an increasingly insecure world; societal expectations and gendered differences; the challenges of communal living; and sexual harrassment:
Becoming an adult meant you became shameless, or, if you weren’t fully shameless, you became someone who covered that sense of shame with a shoddy lid or stitched it closed with a nylon thread. Any woman climbing onto the exam table at the obgyn’s office was forced to recognize that her body no longer reacted to any stimulation or insult; it was now an inanimate object, incapable of annoyance or sorrow. Those who followed what was often considered the normal route were inured to most physical contact. A relaxing numbness draped over you once you resigned yourself to not react—if you considered yourself an object, you couldn’t get exhausted.
산부인과의 검사대에 올라가는 여자라면 누구라도, 자신의 몸이 어떤 자극이나 모욕에도 반응하지 않는, 동요나 서글픔 따위를 제거한 무생물에 가까운 오브제라는 사실을 철저히 인식하지 않고 지나갈 수 없었다. 그 과정을 흔히 정상 내지는 보편이라고 간주되는 경로를 거쳐 통과한 이는, 타인과의 어지간한 신체적 접촉 정도로는 눈을 부라리지 않게 되는 것이었다. 일일이 그래 봤자 성격 까다롭다는 조소를 감당하고 비참함을 곱씹는 쪽은 자신이라는, 차라리 스스로를 오브제로 간주했을 때 피로의 역치가 그나마 높아진다는 사실을 몇 번이나 확인한 자로서의 체념, 그 끝에 마침내 일말의 안식처럼 찾아드는 무감각 같은 것이었다.
As she nursed Siyul, a thought tore through her that maybe ajummas—the universal embodiment of toughness and violence and shamelessness, middle-aged women who cut in line and shoved their way through a crowd and threw their bags across the aisle to claim a seat on public transit and elbowed their way loudly to the front to get a few extra samples at the store—had become that way after enduring an onslaught of inappropriate looks and touches
This is a slightly different book to I expected from the blurb / set-up, which sounds almost dystopian. The authorities aren't involved at all, indeed it wasn't totally obvious to me what the housing project really offered/required other than subsidised housing. The drama here is much more domestic and low-key, which doesn't always make for a terribly compelling read, although in practice the causes behind Korea's problem do lie in the minutiae of the daily grind, and perhaps that the solutions may also lie there rather than in grandoise social engineering is perhaps the novel's key message.
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
Your Neighbour's Table (2024) is Chi-Young Kim's translation of 네 이웃의 식탁 (2018) by 구병모 (Gu Byeong-mo). This is the second of the author's work in English after Old Woman with the Knife (2022), from 파과 (2013), and is the 12th translation by Chi-Young Kim I've read.
This is a novel centred around perhaps the greatest threat faced by the projected population of South Korea - not the North, but rather the demographic time-bomb from the extremely low, and still falling, fertility rate, the world's lowest.
Here, the authorities have set up a new housing project in the countryside outside Seoul, the 꿈미래공동실험주택 (Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments), but one with a different approach and an unusual contract:
The Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments was a small, twelve-unit building way out in the tranquil mountains without any urban amenities, a good distance from the homes that had been halfway developed about a decade ago during a modest building boom. At first glance, it appeared to be a random inn built on a vacant lot, without even a creek nearby. Still, it was brand-new and had been built with care by the government; it was clean and the decently sized units had a good floor plan, and, most crucially, it was public rental housing. But the conditions of residency were strict and you had to handwrite a pledge as part of the twenty-odd documents required for your application.
[...]
—you were asked to promise to do your best to have at least three children, given that the purpose of these pilot communal apartments was to reverse the plummeting birth rate. Only those below the age of forty-two who already had at least one child were eligible to apply—in other words, heterosexual Korean couples who had proven their ability to reproduce.
Preference was given to couples with at least two children, in particular those with only one parent working outside the home. The goals of this apartment complex were clear in prioritizing reproduction, in contrast to other social welfare programs, which gave the greatest preference to grandparents raising grandchildren, followed by single parents, and only then dual-income families.
But human bodies being what they are, nobody knew whether anyone would be able to follow this mandate; couples could apply to be reimbursed for the cost of in vitro fertilization if that became necessary, and if they were unable to have three children (pregnancies included) within ten years of residence despite various efforts, they could simply move out. They wouldn’t need to pay anything back—neither for the benefits they’d reaped by having a reasonable lease nor for any normal wear and tear in the apartment. All they’d need to do was submit a doctor’s note confirming that they had faithfully sought medical assistance and tried their best to fulfil their end of the contract. Without such proof, their failure to bear three children would be considered an intentional breach of contract and they would have to reimburse the government for their use of the apartment according to the terms of the agreement.
The novel opens with the fourth couple arriving, Yojin and Euno, with their 6yo daughter Siyul. Their initial experience is positive - a warm communal welcome, and being treated as adults (rather than the usual 'Siyul's mother' appellation):
Earlier, Jaegang had introduced Yojin and Euno to the other residents: “Calling someone So-and-so’s mom or So-and-so’s dad is no fun at all, don’t you think? Here we prefer to be called by our given names.” Now, reeling from the strangeness of hearing someone uttering her name outside of the doctor’s or a government office, Yojin murmured her own name like an immigrant savoring the rarely used pronunciation of her native language.
But as the novel progresses, we see the different compromises each family is having to make, dealing with being parents while finding work in an increasingly insecure world; societal expectations and gendered differences; the challenges of communal living; and sexual harrassment:
Becoming an adult meant you became shameless, or, if you weren’t fully shameless, you became someone who covered that sense of shame with a shoddy lid or stitched it closed with a nylon thread. Any woman climbing onto the exam table at the obgyn’s office was forced to recognize that her body no longer reacted to any stimulation or insult; it was now an inanimate object, incapable of annoyance or sorrow. Those who followed what was often considered the normal route were inured to most physical contact. A relaxing numbness draped over you once you resigned yourself to not react—if you considered yourself an object, you couldn’t get exhausted.
산부인과의 검사대에 올라가는 여자라면 누구라도, 자신의 몸이 어떤 자극이나 모욕에도 반응하지 않는, 동요나 서글픔 따위를 제거한 무생물에 가까운 오브제라는 사실을 철저히 인식하지 않고 지나갈 수 없었다. 그 과정을 흔히 정상 내지는 보편이라고 간주되는 경로를 거쳐 통과한 이는, 타인과의 어지간한 신체적 접촉 정도로는 눈을 부라리지 않게 되는 것이었다. 일일이 그래 봤자 성격 까다롭다는 조소를 감당하고 비참함을 곱씹는 쪽은 자신이라는, 차라리 스스로를 오브제로 간주했을 때 피로의 역치가 그나마 높아진다는 사실을 몇 번이나 확인한 자로서의 체념, 그 끝에 마침내 일말의 안식처럼 찾아드는 무감각 같은 것이었다.
As she nursed Siyul, a thought tore through her that maybe ajummas—the universal embodiment of toughness and violence and shamelessness, middle-aged women who cut in line and shoved their way through a crowd and threw their bags across the aisle to claim a seat on public transit and elbowed their way loudly to the front to get a few extra samples at the store—had become that way after enduring an onslaught of inappropriate looks and touches
This is a slightly different book to I expected from the blurb / set-up, which sounds almost dystopian. The authorities aren't involved at all, indeed it wasn't totally obvious to me what the housing project really offered/required other than subsidised housing. The drama here is much more domestic and low-key, which doesn't always make for a terribly compelling read, although in practice the causes behind Korea's problem do lie in the minutiae of the daily grind, and perhaps that the solutions may also lie there rather than in grandoise social engineering is perhaps the novel's key message.
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC
Want to read
January 11, 2025South Korea is the subject of my latest hyperfixation, but not for the reasons you might presume.
December 29, 2025
male weaponized incompetence: ubiquitous in every universe
December 20, 2024
Too hectic for a neighborhood drama, tense and so provocative in a way of how it explored that dark side and flaws of living and residing in a communal environment. Centered through the life of 4 families, I followed the women of the household in their challenges and pressures of dealing with motherhood, career, societal expectations and the shared responsibilities each need to fill while living at the Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments, an experimental housing complex near Seoul that was designed to boost the national birth rate.
Frankly I was feeling a bit anxious in following each perspective as it progressed; none favourable much and it frustrates me to see how each having to deal with all the demanding familial and societal mess, those perceptions, sharp outlooks and critiques on parenting as well the gender roles issues in between. Too straightforward in its execution with minimal emotional tone on the writing yet it intrigued me on how the author explored those cultural pressures on the women, with highlight on the norms and those glimpses from the men’s POV.
Yojin’s narrative hooked me the most as it deals with harassment incident in between her relationship issues with Euno, not a fan to Danhui for her bossy and judgemental attitude and having a love-hate for both Hyonae and Gyowon; too frantic on their sides yet too real of how their settings tackled the modern household burdens— both physically and mentally. The relentless drama coupled with their lack of communications and mutual understandings piqued an empathetic suspense, engaging much of how that ‘warm community’ somehow no longer ideal and perhaps can be too haunting to few.
The no title on chapters can be a bit nuisance as no hint on the upcoming perspective but other than that, I enjoyed the read all in all for its lifestyle, familial and societal commentary premise. Loved that newcomer’s narrative at the end, a subtle depiction that the cycle continues; reality hits and life would just move on.
Thank you Times Reads for the gifted review copy!
Frankly I was feeling a bit anxious in following each perspective as it progressed; none favourable much and it frustrates me to see how each having to deal with all the demanding familial and societal mess, those perceptions, sharp outlooks and critiques on parenting as well the gender roles issues in between. Too straightforward in its execution with minimal emotional tone on the writing yet it intrigued me on how the author explored those cultural pressures on the women, with highlight on the norms and those glimpses from the men’s POV.
Yojin’s narrative hooked me the most as it deals with harassment incident in between her relationship issues with Euno, not a fan to Danhui for her bossy and judgemental attitude and having a love-hate for both Hyonae and Gyowon; too frantic on their sides yet too real of how their settings tackled the modern household burdens— both physically and mentally. The relentless drama coupled with their lack of communications and mutual understandings piqued an empathetic suspense, engaging much of how that ‘warm community’ somehow no longer ideal and perhaps can be too haunting to few.
The no title on chapters can be a bit nuisance as no hint on the upcoming perspective but other than that, I enjoyed the read all in all for its lifestyle, familial and societal commentary premise. Loved that newcomer’s narrative at the end, a subtle depiction that the cycle continues; reality hits and life would just move on.
Thank you Times Reads for the gifted review copy!
Read
April 10, 2024I tried. I failed. DNF.
It may be the translation. It may be me. But, lord, this was slow and I just couldn't.
I give up.
It may be the translation. It may be me. But, lord, this was slow and I just couldn't.
I give up.
November 13, 2025
4.5/5
I didn't expect this to resonate so much. You can feel the female rage simmering below the surface of this really short, simple book. It's so well-writtent you feel like you could almost go in there and slap all the male characters yourself. It's definitely an emotional read and I really liked it.
The author's first book was really cool in a different way, so I'll be on the lookout for what she releases next.
I didn't expect this to resonate so much. You can feel the female rage simmering below the surface of this really short, simple book. It's so well-writtent you feel like you could almost go in there and slap all the male characters yourself. It's definitely an emotional read and I really liked it.
The author's first book was really cool in a different way, so I'll be on the lookout for what she releases next.
January 14, 2026
This was certainly a book that had words written in it.
Read
February 17, 20252.5*
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August 2, 2025
4.5⭐️
MEN ARE EVILLLLLLLL OMFGGGgUOOGHHH MEN ARE SO FUCKING EVILLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
MEN ARE EVILLLLLLLL OMFGGGgUOOGHHH MEN ARE SO FUCKING EVILLLLL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
August 12, 2025
This is one of those books that will have a lasting impression on me. Not necessarily because of its commentary on being a woman in a heteronormative relationship, where it is also quite powerful - though all four women had their own struggles, I was most emotionally entangled with Yojin, feeling increasingly disgusted with Jaegang's advances to the point where I felt incredibly uncomfortable, as if I were Yojin. It's incredibly difficult to capture that focusing on one character over hundreds of pages, let alone in a novella, so it's a testament to Byeong-mo's writing. I leave Apartment Women remembering that feeling, and will do my bit to try ensure that doesn't happen to women within my circle of influence. But, this isn't strictly novel to me - just repackaging information I already knew and delivering it in a way which impacted me.
The only thing, on the feminist front, that I haven't thought about too much other than in conversations with BS about her eldest niece, is the "parentification" of the eldest daughter (with Siyul). Although Yojin was atune to this, Euno was negligent and the other parents didn't care. This probably mirrors many families, and I'd go even further to say that in bigger families, both parents may willingly place this duty on their eldest daughter (especially where fathers are not active parents and take no child rearing responsibilities). Ahona Guha in "Reclaim" conceptualises this phenomenon as traumatic in a sense, as the eldest daughter is stunted developmentally as she absorbs and adopts the traits/characteristics of her active parent (i.e. mother) instead of forming her own sense of self and identity through play and exploration. You can't place these duties on a child, and it's something I feel pretty strongly about - as a teacher, I loved seeing children play during recess/lunchtime as they were the purest version of themselves (and humanity tbh). The only duty of a child should be to play. This, to me, is one of the most upsetting cycles in the patriarchy, in taking away a girl's ability to play by forcing them to be a parent. Big digression but all this to say Euno is a real bum, in failing all his duties to his family and his daughter. Again, though I haven't thought about this much, it still fit neatly within my worldview - if anything, this falls squarely within what I'm most passionate about as someone that wanted to (and would still like to) transition to education/working with children.
But, the reason this book leaves a mark on me is that it challenged one aspect of my worldview (with some success). Though I don't agree with it completely, it did make me stop, reflect and acknowledge the issues that may arise when living communally - and I'm giving it a 5 predominantly on this basis. It wasn't balanced at all, focusing solely on the negatives, but it managed to crack my armour as this was something that I previously viewed overwhelmingly in a positive way, as someone that lives in Aus and feels quite isolated without a clear sense of community. The thought of raising children communally, where they can live/learn amongst multiple adults, thus becoming more well-rounded, empathetic and ouvert-d'esprit sounded incredibly appealing. And although it still does, my expectations have been tempered, with some of the very real issues that may arise in such contexts. These issues may all but be guaranteed with patriarchal families, especially when they are not bound with similar values/interests or a common ethos. I still do believe these communal projects can thrive if everyone buys in; where there's no hierarchy and steps are taken to break gender/class/caste orders, where there is a commonly articulated goal/vision, where (ultimately) compassion is centred. Maybe I was misguided and overly optimistic prior to reading Apartment Women, believing that the world was ready to shift towards living in this way as someone in their late 20s at the heart of the loneliness epidemic where the cost of living is so high (especially housing). But, after reading this, I'm reminded that many of us aren't ready to live communally, especially given the state of the world; disappointingly, toxic masculinity and the erosion of women's rights appears to be taking root again (see: the shift from Roe v Wade to Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the "manosphere", Andrew Tate etc).
The only thing, on the feminist front, that I haven't thought about too much other than in conversations with BS about her eldest niece, is the "parentification" of the eldest daughter (with Siyul). Although Yojin was atune to this, Euno was negligent and the other parents didn't care. This probably mirrors many families, and I'd go even further to say that in bigger families, both parents may willingly place this duty on their eldest daughter (especially where fathers are not active parents and take no child rearing responsibilities). Ahona Guha in "Reclaim" conceptualises this phenomenon as traumatic in a sense, as the eldest daughter is stunted developmentally as she absorbs and adopts the traits/characteristics of her active parent (i.e. mother) instead of forming her own sense of self and identity through play and exploration. You can't place these duties on a child, and it's something I feel pretty strongly about - as a teacher, I loved seeing children play during recess/lunchtime as they were the purest version of themselves (and humanity tbh). The only duty of a child should be to play. This, to me, is one of the most upsetting cycles in the patriarchy, in taking away a girl's ability to play by forcing them to be a parent. Big digression but all this to say Euno is a real bum, in failing all his duties to his family and his daughter. Again, though I haven't thought about this much, it still fit neatly within my worldview - if anything, this falls squarely within what I'm most passionate about as someone that wanted to (and would still like to) transition to education/working with children.
But, the reason this book leaves a mark on me is that it challenged one aspect of my worldview (with some success). Though I don't agree with it completely, it did make me stop, reflect and acknowledge the issues that may arise when living communally - and I'm giving it a 5 predominantly on this basis. It wasn't balanced at all, focusing solely on the negatives, but it managed to crack my armour as this was something that I previously viewed overwhelmingly in a positive way, as someone that lives in Aus and feels quite isolated without a clear sense of community. The thought of raising children communally, where they can live/learn amongst multiple adults, thus becoming more well-rounded, empathetic and ouvert-d'esprit sounded incredibly appealing. And although it still does, my expectations have been tempered, with some of the very real issues that may arise in such contexts. These issues may all but be guaranteed with patriarchal families, especially when they are not bound with similar values/interests or a common ethos. I still do believe these communal projects can thrive if everyone buys in; where there's no hierarchy and steps are taken to break gender/class/caste orders, where there is a commonly articulated goal/vision, where (ultimately) compassion is centred. Maybe I was misguided and overly optimistic prior to reading Apartment Women, believing that the world was ready to shift towards living in this way as someone in their late 20s at the heart of the loneliness epidemic where the cost of living is so high (especially housing). But, after reading this, I'm reminded that many of us aren't ready to live communally, especially given the state of the world; disappointingly, toxic masculinity and the erosion of women's rights appears to be taking root again (see: the shift from Roe v Wade to Dobbs v. Jackson Women's Health Organization, the "manosphere", Andrew Tate etc).
January 26, 2025
Compelling precisely because it’s so mundane. Despite different economic and marital situations, all of the mothers confront losing their identity by having children. (The dads, notably, do not — while that’s the point, I would’ve appreciated a little more nuance.)
January 2, 2025
In her latest novel, award-winning author Gu Byeong-mo crafts an intricate narrative that delves deep into the lives of four women brought together by an experimental housing project. Following the success of her previous work, The Old Woman with the Knife, Gu once again demonstrates her keen ability to dissect social issues through compelling storytelling. Apartment Women presents a microcosm of modern Korean society, examining the intersection of government policy, personal ambition, and the ever-present pressure to conform to traditional family values.
The Premise and Setting
The Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments, situated on the outskirts of Seoul, serve as more than just a backdrop—they become a character in their own right. This government initiative, designed to boost the nation's declining birth rate, requires residents to commit to having three children within ten years. The setting's isolation from urban amenities creates a pressure cooker environment where tensions simmer beneath a veneer of neighborly cooperation.
Character Dynamics and Social Commentary
At the heart of the novel are four distinct women:
- Yojin: A pharmacy cashier supporting her stay-at-home husband, wrestling with both financial instability and social expectations
- Danhui: The self-appointed community leader whose perfectionism masks deeper insecurities
- Hyonae: A freelance illustrator struggling to balance her artistic ambitions with motherhood
- Gyowon: A devoted homemaker whose carefully curated social media presence belies her domestic troubles
Writing Style and Narrative Structure
Gu's prose is remarkably precise, wielding detail like a surgeon's scalpel. She masterfully shifts perspectives among the characters, allowing readers to witness how the same events ripple differently through each woman's consciousness. The author's background in both literary and genre fiction shines through in her ability to maintain tension while delivering profound social commentary.
Themes and Social Critique
The Weight of Motherhood
The novel excels in its examination of how motherhood intersects with personal identity. Through Hyonae's artistic struggles and Yojin's role as primary breadwinner, Gu challenges traditional narratives about maternal sacrifice and fulfillment.
Community vs. Privacy
The communal living experiment raises questions about the boundaries between public and private life. The shared backyard table—a powerful symbol throughout the novel—represents both the promise and the pressure of forced community.
Government Intervention in Personal Lives
The novel's premise cleverly critiques state attempts to engineer social outcomes through policy. The requirement to have three children serves as a metaphor for broader societal pressures faced by women in contemporary Korea.
Strengths and Notable Elements
- Psychological Depth: The character portrayals are nuanced and complex, avoiding easy stereotypes
- Environmental Symbolism: The recurring motif of animal stench perfectly captures the underlying rot in seemingly perfect social structures
- Dialogue: Conversations feel authentic while carrying multiple layers of meaning
- Pacing: The tension builds organically through small incidents and revelations
Areas for Improvement
While the novel is overwhelmingly successful, there are moments where:
- The symbolism becomes slightly heavy-handed
- Some secondary character arcs feel underdeveloped
- The resolution might leave readers wanting more concrete closure
Cultural Context and Universal Appeal
Though deeply rooted in Korean society, the themes of Apartment Women resonate globally. The pressure to conform to social expectations, the challenge of maintaining individual identity within community structures, and the complex dynamics of modern parenthood are universal experiences.
Impact and Significance
Apartment Women joins a growing body of contemporary Korean literature examining women's roles in society, alongside works like Cho Nam-joo's Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. However, Gu's unique focus on communal living and government intervention in family planning adds a fresh perspective to the conversation.
Final Verdict
Apartment Women is a masterful exploration of modern motherhood and social pressure. Gu Byeong-mo has created a work that is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant. The novel successfully balances its critique of social policies with intimate character studies, resulting in a compelling narrative that will stay with readers long after they turn the final page.
Pros:
- Masterful character development
- Incisive social commentary
- Beautiful prose and symbolism
- Complex exploration of contemporary issues
Cons:
- Occasional heavy-handedness in metaphors
- Some subplots could be more developed
- Ending might feel unresolved for some readers
The Premise and Setting
The Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartments, situated on the outskirts of Seoul, serve as more than just a backdrop—they become a character in their own right. This government initiative, designed to boost the nation's declining birth rate, requires residents to commit to having three children within ten years. The setting's isolation from urban amenities creates a pressure cooker environment where tensions simmer beneath a veneer of neighborly cooperation.
Character Dynamics and Social Commentary
At the heart of the novel are four distinct women:
- Yojin: A pharmacy cashier supporting her stay-at-home husband, wrestling with both financial instability and social expectations
- Danhui: The self-appointed community leader whose perfectionism masks deeper insecurities
- Hyonae: A freelance illustrator struggling to balance her artistic ambitions with motherhood
- Gyowon: A devoted homemaker whose carefully curated social media presence belies her domestic troubles
Writing Style and Narrative Structure
Gu's prose is remarkably precise, wielding detail like a surgeon's scalpel. She masterfully shifts perspectives among the characters, allowing readers to witness how the same events ripple differently through each woman's consciousness. The author's background in both literary and genre fiction shines through in her ability to maintain tension while delivering profound social commentary.
Themes and Social Critique
The Weight of Motherhood
The novel excels in its examination of how motherhood intersects with personal identity. Through Hyonae's artistic struggles and Yojin's role as primary breadwinner, Gu challenges traditional narratives about maternal sacrifice and fulfillment.
Community vs. Privacy
The communal living experiment raises questions about the boundaries between public and private life. The shared backyard table—a powerful symbol throughout the novel—represents both the promise and the pressure of forced community.
Government Intervention in Personal Lives
The novel's premise cleverly critiques state attempts to engineer social outcomes through policy. The requirement to have three children serves as a metaphor for broader societal pressures faced by women in contemporary Korea.
Strengths and Notable Elements
- Psychological Depth: The character portrayals are nuanced and complex, avoiding easy stereotypes
- Environmental Symbolism: The recurring motif of animal stench perfectly captures the underlying rot in seemingly perfect social structures
- Dialogue: Conversations feel authentic while carrying multiple layers of meaning
- Pacing: The tension builds organically through small incidents and revelations
Areas for Improvement
While the novel is overwhelmingly successful, there are moments where:
- The symbolism becomes slightly heavy-handed
- Some secondary character arcs feel underdeveloped
- The resolution might leave readers wanting more concrete closure
Cultural Context and Universal Appeal
Though deeply rooted in Korean society, the themes of Apartment Women resonate globally. The pressure to conform to social expectations, the challenge of maintaining individual identity within community structures, and the complex dynamics of modern parenthood are universal experiences.
Impact and Significance
Apartment Women joins a growing body of contemporary Korean literature examining women's roles in society, alongside works like Cho Nam-joo's Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. However, Gu's unique focus on communal living and government intervention in family planning adds a fresh perspective to the conversation.
Final Verdict
Apartment Women is a masterful exploration of modern motherhood and social pressure. Gu Byeong-mo has created a work that is both intellectually stimulating and emotionally resonant. The novel successfully balances its critique of social policies with intimate character studies, resulting in a compelling narrative that will stay with readers long after they turn the final page.
Pros:
- Masterful character development
- Incisive social commentary
- Beautiful prose and symbolism
- Complex exploration of contemporary issues
Cons:
- Occasional heavy-handedness in metaphors
- Some subplots could be more developed
- Ending might feel unresolved for some readers
January 7, 2025
Apartment Women accurately describes the experience of being a woman and how impossible it is. I really liked how Byeon-mo described how choices we make when it comes to men can end up being harmful to ourselves and our relationships (not just romantic, but also platonic and communal as well) even when we did not cause the situation that then requires choices to be made. An example in this novel was a married male character continually hits on a separately married woman, which not only makes her incredibly uncomfortable, but also leads to her monologue about how any choice she makes to respond to the situation could be detrimental to her marriage and her relationship with her apartment mates. I also really like how this book navigated discussions regarding child rearing in a patriarchal society, and how as young girls we are conditioned to be motherly by societal pressures.
February 11, 2025
Your Neighbour’s Table is a deeply character-driven Korean novel that examines marriage, gender roles, and societal pressures through the lives of four couples living in a government-run communal apartment - the Dream Future Pilot Communal Apartment.
The story offers sharp social commentary on the expectations placed on women—particularly the pressure to be agreeable and self-sacrificing. While not all characters are likable, they feel realistic, making their struggles both frustrating and thought-provoking. The husbands—Euno, Jaegang, and Yeosan—are particularly infuriating 😤,and their actions make marriage seem unappealing. Initially, Danhui comes across as insensitive, but as the story unfolds, her perspective, especially regarding Hyonae, becomes more understandable. The novel also raises questions about gratitude and social expectations—some people, like Hyonae, may not realize they’re supposed to express gratitude, rather than intentionally neglecting it.
The book is engaging, though the shifting perspectives can be confusing, requiring careful attention to identify each narrator. It would have been helpful if the author included the character’s name at the start. The book has a lot of characters, and while I occasionally referred back to the character summary, I eventually got the hang of all their names.
The ending, while satisfying, feels somewhat rushed and strays from the main storyline. Despite these minor issues, the novel effectively explores familiar themes in life—marriage, family, and societal expectations—in a compelling way.
Thank you, Pansing Distribution, for the review copy 🫰🏻
The story offers sharp social commentary on the expectations placed on women—particularly the pressure to be agreeable and self-sacrificing. While not all characters are likable, they feel realistic, making their struggles both frustrating and thought-provoking. The husbands—Euno, Jaegang, and Yeosan—are particularly infuriating 😤,and their actions make marriage seem unappealing. Initially, Danhui comes across as insensitive, but as the story unfolds, her perspective, especially regarding Hyonae, becomes more understandable. The novel also raises questions about gratitude and social expectations—some people, like Hyonae, may not realize they’re supposed to express gratitude, rather than intentionally neglecting it.
The book is engaging, though the shifting perspectives can be confusing, requiring careful attention to identify each narrator. It would have been helpful if the author included the character’s name at the start. The book has a lot of characters, and while I occasionally referred back to the character summary, I eventually got the hang of all their names.
The ending, while satisfying, feels somewhat rushed and strays from the main storyline. Despite these minor issues, the novel effectively explores familiar themes in life—marriage, family, and societal expectations—in a compelling way.
Thank you, Pansing Distribution, for the review copy 🫰🏻
January 12, 2025
This was a frustrating and haunting read due to its uncanny reflection of reality for an overwhelming proportion of women.
While a lot of us have the privilege and luck to make our own choices, meet amazing friends and partners or be content on our own, many more are trapped in unhappy, even abusive relationships, forced to be mothers before they are ready, forced to be mothers because not having children is an unfathomable or unacceptable concept, forced to mother their male partners in a society that has for generations spoiled their sons (weaponised incompetence is widely explored).
On top of that, very few governments are actually taking logical, sustainable steps to aid parenthood in response to declining birth rates. Is it any wonder we are less enthusiastic about bringing children to the world?
While a lot of us have the privilege and luck to make our own choices, meet amazing friends and partners or be content on our own, many more are trapped in unhappy, even abusive relationships, forced to be mothers before they are ready, forced to be mothers because not having children is an unfathomable or unacceptable concept, forced to mother their male partners in a society that has for generations spoiled their sons (weaponised incompetence is widely explored).
On top of that, very few governments are actually taking logical, sustainable steps to aid parenthood in response to declining birth rates. Is it any wonder we are less enthusiastic about bringing children to the world?
February 24, 2025
'Apartment Women' is a story about families who come to live together in an apartment complex financed by the government, in a dystopian, sci fi ish story.
The story, first of all, has a slow start, but the ending is worth it, as, in the progress, touches on many matters, like how women are treated in the family sphere, as mothers or even providers.
Overall, not a bad story.
The story, first of all, has a slow start, but the ending is worth it, as, in the progress, touches on many matters, like how women are treated in the family sphere, as mothers or even providers.
Overall, not a bad story.
December 3, 2024
Not what I expected, but thoroughly enjoyed anyways!
April 7, 2025
Apartment Women follows a new family living in a building that’s part of a government-funded program to promote reproduction. This family is a little unusual because the mother is a freelancer and the dad’s a stay at home dad.
I’m a little confused, is this supposed to be sci-fi? I’ve seen people call it a dystopia. But… is it? Korea has a big issue with their birth rate (I could write 50 pages on this lol) and they actually have programs like this. On top of this, let’s not forget my favorite “solutions.”
- Free kegel exercises for women so they feel like having sex more often (this program won a prize two years ago!)
- Premium beef for women after they give birth.
- Buddhist temples hosting matchmaking days (they even accept foreigners).
Anyways, an apartment complex with cheap rent for families who want to have more kids sounds less stupid than trying to increase birth rates with one (1) free steak.
Well, book-wise, I didn’t enjoy it. This was clearly relevant and very feminist, the type of book that has you shaking your fist in the air and huffing and puffing at the utter stupidity of it all. A frustrating read as a woman, for sure.
But… idk, it was a little whatever. I wasn’t engaged. I didn’t care about the characters. The writing wasn’t anything special IMO. Brilliant discussion but it had nothing else going on.
2.5 stars rounded up.
PS, the author also wrote The Old Woman with a Knife, I hadn’t noticed it was the same writer when I picked this up 👀
I’m a little confused, is this supposed to be sci-fi? I’ve seen people call it a dystopia. But… is it? Korea has a big issue with their birth rate (I could write 50 pages on this lol) and they actually have programs like this. On top of this, let’s not forget my favorite “solutions.”
- Free kegel exercises for women so they feel like having sex more often (this program won a prize two years ago!)
- Premium beef for women after they give birth.
- Buddhist temples hosting matchmaking days (they even accept foreigners).
Anyways, an apartment complex with cheap rent for families who want to have more kids sounds less stupid than trying to increase birth rates with one (1) free steak.
Well, book-wise, I didn’t enjoy it. This was clearly relevant and very feminist, the type of book that has you shaking your fist in the air and huffing and puffing at the utter stupidity of it all. A frustrating read as a woman, for sure.
But… idk, it was a little whatever. I wasn’t engaged. I didn’t care about the characters. The writing wasn’t anything special IMO. Brilliant discussion but it had nothing else going on.
2.5 stars rounded up.
PS, the author also wrote The Old Woman with a Knife, I hadn’t noticed it was the same writer when I picked this up 👀
February 21, 2025
3,5/5 ⭐️
March 13, 2025
Loved it. Gu Byeong-Mo is fast becoming a favorite author of mine. I really don’t understand the low ratings on her books.
This is a really thought provoking book for women about women.
In a bid to increase the population, families are offered the chance go live a brand new unit with very low rent. The only catch, they must already have at least one child, and they must vow to have at least two more while there.
Four couples are currently living there and this book focuses on their struggles. Some of the women really suffer and I felt particularly for the one working in the pharmacy with the lazy husband and the artist. I was livid all through most of this at the whole situation and the pressures put on the women.
The ending was unexpected (in a good way).
This is a really thought provoking book for women about women.
In a bid to increase the population, families are offered the chance go live a brand new unit with very low rent. The only catch, they must already have at least one child, and they must vow to have at least two more while there.
Four couples are currently living there and this book focuses on their struggles. Some of the women really suffer and I felt particularly for the one working in the pharmacy with the lazy husband and the artist. I was livid all through most of this at the whole situation and the pressures put on the women.
The ending was unexpected (in a good way).
March 17, 2025
Intelligent et troublant. Une réflexion sur le statut de la femme, de l’homme et de l’oppression de la société. Une sensation d’étouffement qui vous accompagne tout du long.
December 24, 2018
A couple with a young child moves into a government funded apartment and meets three other couple with children. If each couple have three children within 10-year period, the newly constructed, cheap apartment in nice, quite rural area becomes their own. The four family starts a community based child care for their children, and started to get to know each other-perhaps a bit too much.
There were so many phrases, sentences that describes how women go through while/after becoming mom. The terror that you feel when someone completely become dependent on you was described so vividly. The difficult partnership between male and female, especially with males grown up in Korean standard of gender role feels to touch the reality so well. There was one chapter going through how women (moms) end up with so much more mental/emotional burden of everyday life at work and with family- I think only woman who had struggled with the family duties and her own work would be able to illustrate so well.
I felt one of the main character, YoJin's inner narrative resonate with me so much. Yojin, she continuously doubts herself whether her reaction to social relationship is appropriate. She does not try to listen how she feels, but keep churning whether her reaction is appropriate to avoid conflicts and for being not perceived as a difficult women. I wonder how many of us who grow up with long list of to-dos and must-not-dos as being a girl would go through such inner justification and doubts endlessly, instead of trying to listen to what you're truly feeling or thinking.
There were so many phrases, sentences that describes how women go through while/after becoming mom. The terror that you feel when someone completely become dependent on you was described so vividly. The difficult partnership between male and female, especially with males grown up in Korean standard of gender role feels to touch the reality so well. There was one chapter going through how women (moms) end up with so much more mental/emotional burden of everyday life at work and with family- I think only woman who had struggled with the family duties and her own work would be able to illustrate so well.
I felt one of the main character, YoJin's inner narrative resonate with me so much. Yojin, she continuously doubts herself whether her reaction to social relationship is appropriate. She does not try to listen how she feels, but keep churning whether her reaction is appropriate to avoid conflicts and for being not perceived as a difficult women. I wonder how many of us who grow up with long list of to-dos and must-not-dos as being a girl would go through such inner justification and doubts endlessly, instead of trying to listen to what you're truly feeling or thinking.
February 12, 2025
Somewhere between 3.5 and 4.5, I need more time to settle on a final rating.
This was a very to the point, quiet kind of book that focused on weaponized incompetence, societal expectations from women, and gender roles. It talked a lot about how women hesitate before going against men, often gaslighting themselves into thinking they are overreacting. Nothing in the book was an eye opener for me, it was more like reading things I already knew, just laid out in a way that felt validating.
One thing that really messed with my reading experience was keeping track of the names. I kept losing track of who was who, which took me out of the story a lot. But overall, it was a solid read, especially for people who like books about women’s everyday realities.
This was a very to the point, quiet kind of book that focused on weaponized incompetence, societal expectations from women, and gender roles. It talked a lot about how women hesitate before going against men, often gaslighting themselves into thinking they are overreacting. Nothing in the book was an eye opener for me, it was more like reading things I already knew, just laid out in a way that felt validating.
One thing that really messed with my reading experience was keeping track of the names. I kept losing track of who was who, which took me out of the story a lot. But overall, it was a solid read, especially for people who like books about women’s everyday realities.
January 3, 2025
It has an intriguing beginning...but then it feels as if its spinning its wheels. It wants to say some interesting things about female roles and living in the suburbs, but I think it loses itself in its own dream-like miasma. A short book that feels as if it's taking forever to make a point.
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