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Midnight Timetable: A Novel in Ghost Stories
From the author and translator of the National Book Award finalist and Booker Prize shortlisted Cursed Bunny, comes a new novel-in-ghost-stories, set in a mysterious research center that houses cursed objects, where those who open the wrong door might find it’s disappeared behind them, or that the echoing footsteps they’re running from are their own....
The acclaimed Korean horror and sci-fi writer’s goosebump-inducing new book follows an employee on the night shift at the Institute. They soon learn why some employees don't last long at the center. The handkerchief in Room 302 once belonged to the late mother of two sons, whose rivalry imbues the handkerchief with undue power and unravels those around it. The cursed sneaker down the hall is stolen by a live-streaming, ghost-chasing employee, who later finds he can’t escape its tread. A cat in Room 206 reveals the crimes of its former family, trying to understand its own path to the Institute’s halls.
But Chung's haunted institute isn't just a chilling place to play. As in her astounding collections Cursed Bunny and Your Utopia, these violent allegories take on the horrors of animal testing, conversion therapy, domestic abuse, and late-stage capitalism. Equal parts bone-chilling, wryly funny, and deeply political, The Midnight Timetable is a masterful work of literary horror from one of our time's greatest imaginations.
The acclaimed Korean horror and sci-fi writer’s goosebump-inducing new book follows an employee on the night shift at the Institute. They soon learn why some employees don't last long at the center. The handkerchief in Room 302 once belonged to the late mother of two sons, whose rivalry imbues the handkerchief with undue power and unravels those around it. The cursed sneaker down the hall is stolen by a live-streaming, ghost-chasing employee, who later finds he can’t escape its tread. A cat in Room 206 reveals the crimes of its former family, trying to understand its own path to the Institute’s halls.
But Chung's haunted institute isn't just a chilling place to play. As in her astounding collections Cursed Bunny and Your Utopia, these violent allegories take on the horrors of animal testing, conversion therapy, domestic abuse, and late-stage capitalism. Equal parts bone-chilling, wryly funny, and deeply political, The Midnight Timetable is a masterful work of literary horror from one of our time's greatest imaginations.
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First published June 1, 2023
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About the author
Bora Chung
18 books1,115 followersBora Chung has written three novels and three collections of short stories. She has an MA in Russian and East European area studies from Yale University and a PhD in Slavic literature from Indiana University. She currently teaches Russian language and literature and science fiction studies at Yonsei University and translates modern literary works from Russian and Polish into Korean.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 473 reviews
October 17, 2025
‘Her dead skin had not decayed and was still soft and pale, her hair was still dark and lustrous, and her dead eyes, as they had in the man’s hallucination, stared darkly. It felt as if she would sit up if he called her name. Only the red handprints on her neck attested to her death. And next to her lay her cat, staring up at him with its green eyes…’
I’ve read all of Bora Chung’s books now, and honestly, she never misses. Her imagination is on another level, strange, dark, and somehow deeply emotional all at once. The Midnight Timetable might be my favourite yet. It’s a collection of interconnected ghost stories set inside a mysterious institute that looks after cursed objects, and each story feels like stepping into a new, haunted room.
A few that really stuck with me were, Why Does the Cat, a heartbreaking and weirdly touching story told from a cat’s perspective and Cursed Sheep and Silence of the Sheep, which blend horror, absurdity, and a little social commentary in the way only Bora Chung can. Tunnel was another standout for me, it’s eerie and dreamlike, the kind of story that stays in your head long after you’ve finished it. Even the quieter ones, like the handkerchief story, have this lingering sadness that sneaks up on you.
I just love how she writes. Her stories are unsettling but beautiful, funny in the darkest ways, and always full of heart. If you liked Cursed Bunny or Your Utopia, this one’s a must read, it’s creepy, clever, and completely original.
Another brilliant, unsettling, and totally unforgettable read from Bora Chung. Translated from the Korean by the wonderful Anton Hur.
I Highly Recommend.
Thank you Scribe for my early readers copy.
Available Now!
4.5
I’ve read all of Bora Chung’s books now, and honestly, she never misses. Her imagination is on another level, strange, dark, and somehow deeply emotional all at once. The Midnight Timetable might be my favourite yet. It’s a collection of interconnected ghost stories set inside a mysterious institute that looks after cursed objects, and each story feels like stepping into a new, haunted room.
A few that really stuck with me were, Why Does the Cat, a heartbreaking and weirdly touching story told from a cat’s perspective and Cursed Sheep and Silence of the Sheep, which blend horror, absurdity, and a little social commentary in the way only Bora Chung can. Tunnel was another standout for me, it’s eerie and dreamlike, the kind of story that stays in your head long after you’ve finished it. Even the quieter ones, like the handkerchief story, have this lingering sadness that sneaks up on you.
I just love how she writes. Her stories are unsettling but beautiful, funny in the darkest ways, and always full of heart. If you liked Cursed Bunny or Your Utopia, this one’s a must read, it’s creepy, clever, and completely original.
Another brilliant, unsettling, and totally unforgettable read from Bora Chung. Translated from the Korean by the wonderful Anton Hur.
I Highly Recommend.
Thank you Scribe for my early readers copy.
Available Now!
4.5
November 10, 2025
At an isolated Institute in South Korea, a select group watch over a sinister array of objects from haunted handkerchiefs to macabre animal corpses. Bora Chung’s episodic novel bears a resemblance to shows like Warehouse 13, Mystic Pop-Up Bar or The X-Files, as well as to collections by writers like Stephen King. It revolves around a recent hire at the mysterious, research-based Institute who slowly learns of the histories behind its bizarre collection, some of which are curiously intertwined. This conceit enables Bora Chung to build on her love of ghost stories to construct a series of uncanny narratives. Most are set in the present-day - although one “Blue Bird” is loosely inspired by the Chinese classic Romance of the Three Kingdoms which is popular in Korea.
Chung’s dubbed this her Covid novel reflected in its themes which range from explorations of alienation and loneliness, to a preoccupation with deep-seated existential anxieties. It’s also an explicitly political book, unsurprising given Chung’s well-publicised activism. “You Can’t Come in Here” critiques the marginalisation of Korea’s queer communities; male violence, the near-routine subjugation and abuse of women is a recurring concern dominating entries like the Poe-like “Why Does the Cat.” The damage wrought by Korea’s mainstream patriarchal culture informs pieces like “Silence of the Sheep” which also, unusually for Korean fiction, forms part of a running commentary on speciesism and the mistreatment of animals from everyday cruelties to disturbing representations of the aftermath of barbaric vivisection.
I’m fully on board with Chung’s particular social and political concerns but her treatment here is often less-than-subtle, far too much is spelled out as if she’s worried readers won’t make the necessary connections or come to the right conclusions. And sometimes this threatens to overwhelm the content, so that the supernatural elements can seem almost incidental at times. Although maybe that’s the point? The succession of horrors that permeate the contemporary world make imagined ones seem far less potent. But Chung’s approach makes stretches of her novel a little ponderous and overly-didactic, despite the inclusion of her trademark inventive flourishes. That’s not to say there’s nothing noteworthy here. Numerous passages made a strong impression. I particularly liked the menacing shoe in “Cursed Sheep” and the recurring images of the hideously brutalised sheep were quite powerful and often incredibly moving. So, mixed feelings overall, worth reading but not as consistently entertaining as some of Chung’s earlier work. Translated by Anton Hur.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Dialogue Books for an ARC
Chung’s dubbed this her Covid novel reflected in its themes which range from explorations of alienation and loneliness, to a preoccupation with deep-seated existential anxieties. It’s also an explicitly political book, unsurprising given Chung’s well-publicised activism. “You Can’t Come in Here” critiques the marginalisation of Korea’s queer communities; male violence, the near-routine subjugation and abuse of women is a recurring concern dominating entries like the Poe-like “Why Does the Cat.” The damage wrought by Korea’s mainstream patriarchal culture informs pieces like “Silence of the Sheep” which also, unusually for Korean fiction, forms part of a running commentary on speciesism and the mistreatment of animals from everyday cruelties to disturbing representations of the aftermath of barbaric vivisection.
I’m fully on board with Chung’s particular social and political concerns but her treatment here is often less-than-subtle, far too much is spelled out as if she’s worried readers won’t make the necessary connections or come to the right conclusions. And sometimes this threatens to overwhelm the content, so that the supernatural elements can seem almost incidental at times. Although maybe that’s the point? The succession of horrors that permeate the contemporary world make imagined ones seem far less potent. But Chung’s approach makes stretches of her novel a little ponderous and overly-didactic, despite the inclusion of her trademark inventive flourishes. That’s not to say there’s nothing noteworthy here. Numerous passages made a strong impression. I particularly liked the menacing shoe in “Cursed Sheep” and the recurring images of the hideously brutalised sheep were quite powerful and often incredibly moving. So, mixed feelings overall, worth reading but not as consistently entertaining as some of Chung’s earlier work. Translated by Anton Hur.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Dialogue Books for an ARC
June 5, 2024
Bora Chung już nie raz udowodniła, że świetnie czuje się nie tylko w krótkich formach, ale przede wszystkim w łączeniu różnych gatunków na przestrzeni tych krótkich form. „Rozkład północy” to opowieść nieoczywista, ukazująca historię instytutu badawczego, w którym przeprowadzane są eksperymenty nad jeszcze bardziej nieoczywistymi przedmiotami. Autorka, aby nadać opowiadaniom nieco bardziej fantastycznego wymiaru, postanowiła połączyć ze sobą horror, science fiction, a takze fantasy. Surrealistyczny charakter wprowadza czytelnika w stan wielkiej niepewności, a jednocześnie zaprasza go do zagłębienia się w historię bohaterów. Co więcej, jak zawsze, czujemy dużą nutę groteski i dziwności, za co osobiście tak bardzo cenię jej twórczość. Wielokrotnie polecam Wam wszystkie książki, wychodzące spod jej pióra, a w tym wypadku myślę, że będzie to idealna pozycja to rozpoczęcia swojej przygody z literaturą południowokoreańską, ze względu na swoją niepowtarzalność i płynny, angażujący styl pisania. Przeczytajcie, jeśli poszukujecie książki jedynej w swoim rodzaju.
December 10, 2025
Powerfully creepy and compulsively readable
November 19, 2025
A short story bundle that revolves arounds an institute investigating haunted items. Not high on the scary, and if anything how society treats queer people and females is the true horror in the bundle
The key difference between being a housemaid and a wife was the amount of severance payment either job would entitle her to.
You can’t come in here
A cleaning lady is misled to her car by a nondescript man.
Gay conversion therapy and a mysterious Institute where haunted objects are investigated and where stairs appear and white blobs in the views of blind people
Hallucinations and love being an answer out of society’s demands
Handkerchief
Females rebel against doting on men, including a blue skinned ghost appearance and an obsession for a handkerchief, the only item that was not meant for a spoiled younger son.
Cursed sheep
Podcaster/livestreamer gets more than he expected when he nicks a tennis shoe from the Institute and he gets into a Kafkaesk situation.
Silence of the Sheep
Man addicted to online gambling leads to a marriage falling apart, with debt flowing downwards to the weakest people in the family.
Test animals roaming around on a university campus, resulting in seemingly psychic sheep.
We get the source of the tennis shoe in this story.
Blue bird
The wedding turned into a funeral
A historical drama involving a sole surviving princess. A embroidered bird (on a handkerchief!) and a bluebird bring revenge.
Why does the cat
Widow gets confronted by possessive friend of her deceased husband. Violence against women seems universal in these stories.
Violence to animals recur here.
Sunning day
Freeing ghost by putting the objects on the lawn in the sun once a month.
The key difference between being a housemaid and a wife was the amount of severance payment either job would entitle her to.
You can’t come in here
A cleaning lady is misled to her car by a nondescript man.
Gay conversion therapy and a mysterious Institute where haunted objects are investigated and where stairs appear and white blobs in the views of blind people
Hallucinations and love being an answer out of society’s demands
Handkerchief
Females rebel against doting on men, including a blue skinned ghost appearance and an obsession for a handkerchief, the only item that was not meant for a spoiled younger son.
Cursed sheep
Podcaster/livestreamer gets more than he expected when he nicks a tennis shoe from the Institute and he gets into a Kafkaesk situation.
Silence of the Sheep
Man addicted to online gambling leads to a marriage falling apart, with debt flowing downwards to the weakest people in the family.
Test animals roaming around on a university campus, resulting in seemingly psychic sheep.
We get the source of the tennis shoe in this story.
Blue bird
The wedding turned into a funeral
A historical drama involving a sole surviving princess. A embroidered bird (on a handkerchief!) and a bluebird bring revenge.
Why does the cat
Widow gets confronted by possessive friend of her deceased husband. Violence against women seems universal in these stories.
Violence to animals recur here.
Sunning day
Freeing ghost by putting the objects on the lawn in the sun once a month.
November 1, 2025
franchement mims et super pour clôturer la Halloween season
October 29, 2025
‘Cats will do whatever they want and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, but since I was the one who brought in the cat, I felt responsible—.’
RTC later. Admittedly, I’m partial to Cursed Bunny but this is still fantastic, and ever so glad that Bora Chung x Anton Hur keeps writing/translating their beautiful prose/work.
‘But for now, the cat is enjoying the warmth of the sun. Next to it is the deputy director’s sheep. All the animals of the Institute seem to get along, in general. On sunning days, the cat likes to groom the sheep, and sometimes crawls up on its wool and falls asleep. The sheep’s wounds are also disappearing, and new wool is growing over its scars. When that live-streamer who infiltrated us for content stole the shoe, the sheep ended up with multiple new wounds and lost wool, according to the deputy director. Just as I worry over the cat, the deputy director worries over the sheep. Unlike with my cat, however, her sheep represents a whole flock, and it will take many sunning days for them all to move on.’
April 25, 2025
ARC for review. To be published September 30, 2025.
3 stars
Translated from the Korean by Anton Hur.
The narrator is a night watchman (watch person?) at a mysterious institute that houses cursed objects….an employees often don’t last long there. Through various short tales you’ll visit rooms with a haunted handkerchief, a cursed sneaker and a very interesting cat.
Each haunting is an allegory for something bigger in the real world which is very clear within the tale. I found these to be typical Korean ghost stories, at least from what I have seen; objects seem to play a big role. The book itself is very short, but there are some nice stories here; I particularly enjoyed “Tunnel” and the hopeful end of the entire book. In the Afterword the author explains some of the motivation behind the tales and notes that ghost stories are a great cure for writers’ block.
3 stars
Translated from the Korean by Anton Hur.
The narrator is a night watchman (watch person?) at a mysterious institute that houses cursed objects….an employees often don’t last long there. Through various short tales you’ll visit rooms with a haunted handkerchief, a cursed sneaker and a very interesting cat.
Each haunting is an allegory for something bigger in the real world which is very clear within the tale. I found these to be typical Korean ghost stories, at least from what I have seen; objects seem to play a big role. The book itself is very short, but there are some nice stories here; I particularly enjoyed “Tunnel” and the hopeful end of the entire book. In the Afterword the author explains some of the motivation behind the tales and notes that ghost stories are a great cure for writers’ block.
September 27, 2025
I raced through Midnight Timetable as if my life depended on it. I was electrified by reading something a little spooky, a little weird, a little magical. It was raining, dark, and dreary—a perfect afternoon to read ghost stories. Coming off of some really heavy litfic/memoir books, I needed a break with something fun. The timing couldn't have been more ideal.
This is the second book now that I have read by Bora Chung, and I'm pretty solidly convinced that I am in love. "Honey, I'm home!" I exclaim as I crack open the pages of another BC book—as if I belong to what lies inside. Her writing style—simplistic but intricate, like a finely woven wool sweater—continues to impress me each time I delve back into her books. She is expertly adept at subtly blending important societal themes into seemingly unrelated stories—stories about ghost sheep, haunted shoes, and disappearing stairwells, such as those in Midnight Timetable.
So what did I think about Midnight Timetable? First of all, it was so good I read it all in one sitting. The stories in this collection all tie together, deviating from the structure of her previous short story collections. All of the same magic, the same "Bora Chungness," is still there. I would consider it a little bit more subtle than CB, but it doesn't pack any less of a punch.
The book opens, and we follow an unnamed narrator who works at The Institute, a mysterious center that houses...well...I can't REALLY give that away, can I? That would spoil the fun for you. As we read, we come to learn about why employees don't retain their jobs long-term—let's just say it's due to "supernatural" reasons. We read about a haunted shoe, ghost sheep, a mystical handkerchief, and a cat that saw one too many things while living with its owner. The stories are all interconnected. I have read similar collections with a framework such as this, and I have to say this is so, so brilliantly done; I truly felt like I was sitting around a campfire being told ghost stories.
In typical BC fashion, the stories aren't just stories. She chooses words carefully—with intention, with meaning. Who would think that woven into ghost stories would be big topics/emotions such as mental health, sexuality, greed, stealing, grief, fear, capitalism, parenting, guilt, and life and death?
Chop me up, throw me in a bowl—add some veggies, your choice of toppings, and a sprinkle of parmesan—and call me a salad. I'll take Bora Chung's story salads any day. The best thing about a salad is that it usually has something for everyone. 😘 🥗
I want to thank Algonquin Books for the gifted copy! I had written a review of Cursed Bunny a little over a month ago, and someone from Algonquin contacted me right away, told me they loved my review, and wanted to send me Midnight Timetable. I said YES! Of course I did; I was so thrilled—one, because they read my review and liked it so much, and two, because they liked it so much they wanted to add me to the list to receive the early finished copy of the book! My humble thanks! 🙏🏻
9/26/25
9/25/25
I am in love with Bora Chung and I think I will probably love anything she writes. While this collection is a little bit more subtle than Cursed Bunny, once completed, and if you were paying attention, you can appreciate how she has so masterfully weaved all of these stories together—each with their own important themes. Ugh! I loved it! I will have a full review tomorrow. Just wanted to get that out.
Many thanks to Algonquin Books for an early gifted copy of the finished book!
This is the second book now that I have read by Bora Chung, and I'm pretty solidly convinced that I am in love. "Honey, I'm home!" I exclaim as I crack open the pages of another BC book—as if I belong to what lies inside. Her writing style—simplistic but intricate, like a finely woven wool sweater—continues to impress me each time I delve back into her books. She is expertly adept at subtly blending important societal themes into seemingly unrelated stories—stories about ghost sheep, haunted shoes, and disappearing stairwells, such as those in Midnight Timetable.
So what did I think about Midnight Timetable? First of all, it was so good I read it all in one sitting. The stories in this collection all tie together, deviating from the structure of her previous short story collections. All of the same magic, the same "Bora Chungness," is still there. I would consider it a little bit more subtle than CB, but it doesn't pack any less of a punch.
The book opens, and we follow an unnamed narrator who works at The Institute, a mysterious center that houses...well...I can't REALLY give that away, can I? That would spoil the fun for you. As we read, we come to learn about why employees don't retain their jobs long-term—let's just say it's due to "supernatural" reasons. We read about a haunted shoe, ghost sheep, a mystical handkerchief, and a cat that saw one too many things while living with its owner. The stories are all interconnected. I have read similar collections with a framework such as this, and I have to say this is so, so brilliantly done; I truly felt like I was sitting around a campfire being told ghost stories.
In typical BC fashion, the stories aren't just stories. She chooses words carefully—with intention, with meaning. Who would think that woven into ghost stories would be big topics/emotions such as mental health, sexuality, greed, stealing, grief, fear, capitalism, parenting, guilt, and life and death?
Chop me up, throw me in a bowl—add some veggies, your choice of toppings, and a sprinkle of parmesan—and call me a salad. I'll take Bora Chung's story salads any day. The best thing about a salad is that it usually has something for everyone. 😘 🥗
I want to thank Algonquin Books for the gifted copy! I had written a review of Cursed Bunny a little over a month ago, and someone from Algonquin contacted me right away, told me they loved my review, and wanted to send me Midnight Timetable. I said YES! Of course I did; I was so thrilled—one, because they read my review and liked it so much, and two, because they liked it so much they wanted to add me to the list to receive the early finished copy of the book! My humble thanks! 🙏🏻
9/26/25
9/25/25
I am in love with Bora Chung and I think I will probably love anything she writes. While this collection is a little bit more subtle than Cursed Bunny, once completed, and if you were paying attention, you can appreciate how she has so masterfully weaved all of these stories together—each with their own important themes. Ugh! I loved it! I will have a full review tomorrow. Just wanted to get that out.
Many thanks to Algonquin Books for an early gifted copy of the finished book!
September 6, 2025
My first Bora Chung, and I immediately understood what all the fuss is about. Creepy, weird, and loose. There is plot horror and vibes horror and here the balance leans more heavily towards vibes. But the small stories here all sucked me in, kept me going from one to the next. Chung has a sensibility that feels both modern and ancient, these stories are like fairy tales critiquing capitalism. I thoroughly enjoyed my journey through the Institute and I will definitely be reading more Chung.
November 11, 2025
As absurd, dark and disturbing these stories were, there are this sense of sadness lingered in each of these stories. Midnight Timetable is a collection of 7 interconnected short stories of the hauntings faced by the employees working in the Institute. Each stories was told by the worker as she relay the stories she heard from her sunbae on the Room 302 where they kept objects in there, the sneakers with sheep embroidery stolen by a ghost chasing employee for his livestream, a cat haunted the killer after its owner was murdered, a handkerchief left by a dead mother and the two sons that fight over it and so on. Chung pulled off these dark, ghostly tales spinning them with horrifying details and spookiness but also at the same time, it was cozy like having a ghost stories told during campfire or outing
The stories are not merely paranormal ghost stories but more on the horror of the real life, of humans vileness, touched upon abandonment, the discrimination and treatment of children as a mother's love varies and can be unfair, domestic abuse, toxic love led to murder and death, the judgement of a person's sexuality, animal cruelty, experimentation and so on. The Institute was an enigma, a research center that housed these mysterious objects, its not a real place but a fictionalized or a subsitution to abandoned places that very much existed in our life such as factories, hospitals or houses. These places while deemed to be haunted are also place of fascination for paranormal investigators. I have always love ghost stories, to me they are what made me confront my own fears and this collection was actually more sad than scary. Humans are scarier to me than ghosts.
Thank you to Times Reads for the review copy
The stories are not merely paranormal ghost stories but more on the horror of the real life, of humans vileness, touched upon abandonment, the discrimination and treatment of children as a mother's love varies and can be unfair, domestic abuse, toxic love led to murder and death, the judgement of a person's sexuality, animal cruelty, experimentation and so on. The Institute was an enigma, a research center that housed these mysterious objects, its not a real place but a fictionalized or a subsitution to abandoned places that very much existed in our life such as factories, hospitals or houses. These places while deemed to be haunted are also place of fascination for paranormal investigators. I have always love ghost stories, to me they are what made me confront my own fears and this collection was actually more sad than scary. Humans are scarier to me than ghosts.
Thank you to Times Reads for the review copy
November 22, 2025
In a labyrinthine research facility (known as the Institute), if you open the wrong door, you might find yourself disappeared, or you might hear echoing footsteps, or find yourself followed by a sheep.
Through interconnected stories told to an unnamed night shift worked by their sun bae, Chung explores heavy content where the supernatural isn’t the scariest part. It’s the humans and their entitlement.
It is dark and provocative, but keeps some humour alongside poignant straight-forward, hit-you-over-the-head statements about the state of humanity and relationships.
This isn’t subtle in its messaging, but I appreciated that you are shown an ambiguous story with a clear moral to take away.
I think with surreal short story collections, one can be left feeling confused. It is always a fine line between frustrating obvious and fever dream.
This is great if you can only commit to a few pages at a time.
Bookstagram
Tiktok
Through interconnected stories told to an unnamed night shift worked by their sun bae, Chung explores heavy content where the supernatural isn’t the scariest part. It’s the humans and their entitlement.
It is dark and provocative, but keeps some humour alongside poignant straight-forward, hit-you-over-the-head statements about the state of humanity and relationships.
This isn’t subtle in its messaging, but I appreciated that you are shown an ambiguous story with a clear moral to take away.
I think with surreal short story collections, one can be left feeling confused. It is always a fine line between frustrating obvious and fever dream.
This is great if you can only commit to a few pages at a time.
Bookstagram
Tiktok
October 27, 2025
A collection of linked ghost stories, all set in a mysterious research institute housing various haunted objects. This reminded me more of Uketsu’s
Strange Pictures
than Chung’s own Cursed Bunny; the style is similarly simple and plainspoken, the stories resembling campfire tales with a bit of a YA feel. Although specific details, such as characters’ names, are often eschewed, it’s the unique hauntings that prove most affecting: an endless tunnel in ‘You Can’t Come In Here’, a possessed shoe in ‘Cursed Sheep’, a psychic sheep in ‘Silence of the Sheep’. The more fairytale-like ‘Blue Bird’ doesn’t work quite so well, and I found ‘Sunning Day’ an unnecessary coda. All in all, enjoyable, a nice easy read I was thankful for in the midst of a slump – if not a book I feel I’m going to remember for very long. Also, the US market definitely got the better cover design.
July 4, 2025
This collection was not as bizarre as “Cursed Bunny.” Centered mostly around a “research center for haunted objects” and the employees that work there, most of the scares are spirit and ghost related. But there’s still some cruelty and violence to be found as well.
The first story was fun, creepy, and even kind of reminded me a tiny bit of the office from “Severance” but with a ghostly element. The objects themselves and the reverence with which they’re treated by the employees also made me think of one of my favorite video games, “Control.”
The second story was confusing because none of the characters had names and it involved not only a large, extended family but other people as well. I had a tough time figuring out who was who and keeping track of what was happening. This problem continued throughout the collection, but I found it to be the most prevalent here.
“The Silence of the Sheep” was my favorite story, until it wasn’t. Honestly, I could have done without the violence against women and animals throughout this collection. Typically I just expect that in horror and sometimes I think I might even be a little numb to it but I think I’m in a sensitive headspace right now. (Fellow cat lovers especially be wary.)
I think I enjoyed the experience of being inside the research center the most. It felt dreamlike and strange, and while the various rooms and objects held different stories I felt like a couple of them took me a bit too far from the building at times.
I appreciated the insightful and informative afterword. I wish more story collections included those.
3.5 stars.
Thank you to Netgalley and to the Publisher for this ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
Biggest TW: Sexual assault, Mention of Homophobia/Religious Conditioning, Mention of Suicide, Domestic abuse, Animal harm/death/experimentation, Harm to babies
The first story was fun, creepy, and even kind of reminded me a tiny bit of the office from “Severance” but with a ghostly element. The objects themselves and the reverence with which they’re treated by the employees also made me think of one of my favorite video games, “Control.”
The second story was confusing because none of the characters had names and it involved not only a large, extended family but other people as well. I had a tough time figuring out who was who and keeping track of what was happening. This problem continued throughout the collection, but I found it to be the most prevalent here.
“The Silence of the Sheep” was my favorite story, until it wasn’t. Honestly, I could have done without the violence against women and animals throughout this collection. Typically I just expect that in horror and sometimes I think I might even be a little numb to it but I think I’m in a sensitive headspace right now. (Fellow cat lovers especially be wary.)
I think I enjoyed the experience of being inside the research center the most. It felt dreamlike and strange, and while the various rooms and objects held different stories I felt like a couple of them took me a bit too far from the building at times.
I appreciated the insightful and informative afterword. I wish more story collections included those.
3.5 stars.
Thank you to Netgalley and to the Publisher for this ARC in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.
Biggest TW: Sexual assault, Mention of Homophobia/Religious Conditioning, Mention of Suicide, Domestic abuse, Animal harm/death/experimentation, Harm to babies
February 28, 2025
OUI OUI OUI
Qu’est-ce que c’était bien
Qu’est-ce que c’était bien
December 10, 2025
A version of this review can be found in The Korea Times here:
At the cusp of a cul-de-sac in the California suburbs, my great grandmother passed away. Grief and guilt washed over my mother’s side of the family, leaving the house a quiet orchestration of decluttering. Yellowed papers. Moth-chewed clothes. Lost photographs. All stinking of blood, sweat and tears of building up an American Dream after escaping the Vietnam War. The whole family had spent so many hours of the day throwing things out that we were too tired to return to our respective homes and slept over.
In the middle of the night, I went downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Through the dark, my eyes adjusted well enough not to bump into hollow drawers and cabinets. I turned. At the foot of the stairs back up, there, at the top of the stairwell, a great white glow glared down at me.
Hall lights off.
No moon.
Not even the wink of a night light.
In a rush of silence, the white glow tumbled down the stairs, racing towards me. I ran back to the kitchen, throwing the refrigerator door open to emit a light to protect me from the light after me.
Nothing. The light was gone and I was alone.
I went back to bed where I stayed awake until the break of dawn.
When there was enough sun in the morning and everyone had gone back to slamming things in and out, I went to my mother and asked her, “How did great grandma pass away?” Saying this, I realized that the flurry of throwing out her history made me miss the core reason of why I was here in the first place, emptying out this house.
My mother said she had died falling down the stairs.
“𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴,” (Chung 131).
The hours between one and three a.m. are a measure of feelings. It’s in these hours, if and when I am awake, I feel the most. Thinking and feeling things that don’t make themselves aware in broad daylight. It’s when the unsaid materializes in the coldness of these hours that things appear to me, strange and ghostly in odd-hour manners. I’m less like myself in this zone of time.
Bora Chung has given us the weird and wonderful through great short story collections like Cursed Bunnyand Your Utopia, and returns to these same charms with 𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, a series of ghost stories that congeal into the form of a novel.
My own ghost story is one I’ve rarely shared. It’s a story that has only felt right enough to tell with evening glow, trusted company, and company that is willing to hear my own vulnerability. It’s a story that can only be passed down word of mouth.
With Bora’s newest novel, the paranormal invites you to sit close to our sunbae who relays ghost stories to Sook, the newest employee of the Institute, a hotspot for paranormal activity. We get stories of haunted handkerchiefs and animal corpses. Sheep with missing eyes, bloodshot if there, all covered in surgical wounds roam around, carrying the weight of abuse and murder. A green-eyed cat nailed to death is pinned with the spirit of a woman that haunts. As eldest of the company, our sunbae is a container of many stories, relaying the stories with a conversational tone so that we’re almost right next to her. But our sunbae makes for an interesting storyteller because she is visually impaired. For most of us, seeing is believing, but here, belief is a form of perception that unearths the horrors of the story. And at the end of each ghost story do we realize that the horrors are in the living.
Horror here is atmospheric. The unsettling runs as undercurrent throughout the stories to stitch together the real horror of the book. Though we get killings and disappearing stairwells and visits from the undead, the true horror actually lies in the living. Misogyny. Extreme evangelical ideals. Capitalism. Though we are tired of these words and their buzzed overuse, they strike through these stories like barks of lightning, demanding to be sounded out. Seen. To be believed.
I was young, lost, and full of angst when my great grandmother was still around. I still was young, lost, and full of angst when she passed. The difference was that I tried to fill that light I saw in the dark with other possibilities. At the top of the stairs, looking down at me in the dark, was that my subconscious showing me the peripheries of my own skewed reality? Was it nightmare or dream communicating not thought but projected images that struggled to appear to me in broad daylight? Or was it actually my grandmother, trying to tell me something? In the tired days that followed after her death, many questions filled the void of that white light.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥,” 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘢𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴, “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯,”(Chung 170).
Chung fills the voids of ghostly horrors with social commentary, making omens out of them to help us realize the brittle seams of reality and our actions towards it. And as each injustice appears to us in each short story, they come together in the shape of the novel to Frankenstein the horrors of life with prescient urgency. Omens, however they choose to invite us into their lives, are neither good nor bad, but offer us timequakes, quick shifts in time to differentiate then and now. And then what now will become.
Some weeks ago at the rooftop of DB Books’ warehouse, Bora Chung sat in conversation with booktube’s beloved caricakest to celebrate the release of Midnight Timetable. I got the chance to ask her if she believed in ghosts and if she had a ghost story of her own. She said she believed in ghosts, but never has she ever encountered one, and hopes not to.
I think back to my own ghost story, the white light, and what forewarnings I have to make the reality I’m living a little more real, what little action I need to make to differentiate the boy who saw the ghost and the boy who lived with seeing it.
At the cusp of a cul-de-sac in the California suburbs, my great grandmother passed away. Grief and guilt washed over my mother’s side of the family, leaving the house a quiet orchestration of decluttering. Yellowed papers. Moth-chewed clothes. Lost photographs. All stinking of blood, sweat and tears of building up an American Dream after escaping the Vietnam War. The whole family had spent so many hours of the day throwing things out that we were too tired to return to our respective homes and slept over.
In the middle of the night, I went downstairs to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Through the dark, my eyes adjusted well enough not to bump into hollow drawers and cabinets. I turned. At the foot of the stairs back up, there, at the top of the stairwell, a great white glow glared down at me.
Hall lights off.
No moon.
Not even the wink of a night light.
In a rush of silence, the white glow tumbled down the stairs, racing towards me. I ran back to the kitchen, throwing the refrigerator door open to emit a light to protect me from the light after me.
Nothing. The light was gone and I was alone.
I went back to bed where I stayed awake until the break of dawn.
When there was enough sun in the morning and everyone had gone back to slamming things in and out, I went to my mother and asked her, “How did great grandma pass away?” Saying this, I realized that the flurry of throwing out her history made me miss the core reason of why I was here in the first place, emptying out this house.
My mother said she had died falling down the stairs.
“𝘐 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘢𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘵 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘦𝘦 𝘢.𝘮. 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘥𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴,” (Chung 131).
The hours between one and three a.m. are a measure of feelings. It’s in these hours, if and when I am awake, I feel the most. Thinking and feeling things that don’t make themselves aware in broad daylight. It’s when the unsaid materializes in the coldness of these hours that things appear to me, strange and ghostly in odd-hour manners. I’m less like myself in this zone of time.
Bora Chung has given us the weird and wonderful through great short story collections like Cursed Bunnyand Your Utopia, and returns to these same charms with 𝘔𝘪𝘥𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘛𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘦, a series of ghost stories that congeal into the form of a novel.
My own ghost story is one I’ve rarely shared. It’s a story that has only felt right enough to tell with evening glow, trusted company, and company that is willing to hear my own vulnerability. It’s a story that can only be passed down word of mouth.
With Bora’s newest novel, the paranormal invites you to sit close to our sunbae who relays ghost stories to Sook, the newest employee of the Institute, a hotspot for paranormal activity. We get stories of haunted handkerchiefs and animal corpses. Sheep with missing eyes, bloodshot if there, all covered in surgical wounds roam around, carrying the weight of abuse and murder. A green-eyed cat nailed to death is pinned with the spirit of a woman that haunts. As eldest of the company, our sunbae is a container of many stories, relaying the stories with a conversational tone so that we’re almost right next to her. But our sunbae makes for an interesting storyteller because she is visually impaired. For most of us, seeing is believing, but here, belief is a form of perception that unearths the horrors of the story. And at the end of each ghost story do we realize that the horrors are in the living.
Horror here is atmospheric. The unsettling runs as undercurrent throughout the stories to stitch together the real horror of the book. Though we get killings and disappearing stairwells and visits from the undead, the true horror actually lies in the living. Misogyny. Extreme evangelical ideals. Capitalism. Though we are tired of these words and their buzzed overuse, they strike through these stories like barks of lightning, demanding to be sounded out. Seen. To be believed.
I was young, lost, and full of angst when my great grandmother was still around. I still was young, lost, and full of angst when she passed. The difference was that I tried to fill that light I saw in the dark with other possibilities. At the top of the stairs, looking down at me in the dark, was that my subconscious showing me the peripheries of my own skewed reality? Was it nightmare or dream communicating not thought but projected images that struggled to appear to me in broad daylight? Or was it actually my grandmother, trying to tell me something? In the tired days that followed after her death, many questions filled the void of that white light.
“𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘴 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘭𝘪𝘮𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘥,” 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘣𝘢𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴, “𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘰 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘴 𝘪𝘵’𝘴 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘵 𝘢𝘭𝘭. 𝘞𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘥, 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯,”(Chung 170).
Chung fills the voids of ghostly horrors with social commentary, making omens out of them to help us realize the brittle seams of reality and our actions towards it. And as each injustice appears to us in each short story, they come together in the shape of the novel to Frankenstein the horrors of life with prescient urgency. Omens, however they choose to invite us into their lives, are neither good nor bad, but offer us timequakes, quick shifts in time to differentiate then and now. And then what now will become.
Some weeks ago at the rooftop of DB Books’ warehouse, Bora Chung sat in conversation with booktube’s beloved caricakest to celebrate the release of Midnight Timetable. I got the chance to ask her if she believed in ghosts and if she had a ghost story of her own. She said she believed in ghosts, but never has she ever encountered one, and hopes not to.
I think back to my own ghost story, the white light, and what forewarnings I have to make the reality I’m living a little more real, what little action I need to make to differentiate the boy who saw the ghost and the boy who lived with seeing it.
October 12, 2025
Under the sign that said NIGHT BUSES was a ticketing window with a small light lit above it. A white screen stood against the window, however, and she could not see the other side. The deputy director stared at the sign and the English words MIDNIGHT TIMETABLE stamped in blue under it. Someone had written under this that "Night buses will be unavailable for the time being".
“심야 매표소”라는 조그만 팻말이 달린 창구 안에는 불이 켜져 있었다. 그러나 창구는 하얀 칸막이로 안쪽이 보이지 않게 가려진 채 닫혀 있었다. 부소장님은 “심야 매표소”와 그 밑에 영어로 MIDNIGHT TIMETABLE이라고 적혀 있는 파랗고 두꺼운 글씨를 멍하니 쳐다보았다. 아래쪽에 손으로 쓴 작은 글씨로 “심야버스 당분간 운행 중단합니다”라고 적혀 있었다.
from the story 양의 침묵 - Silence of the Sheep
The Midnight Timetable (2025) is Anton Hur's translation of 한밤의 시간표 (2023) by 정보라 (Bora Chung).
This is perhaps best thought of as a novel in the form of connected short stories. The stories with the original and translated titles are:
여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다 - You Can't Come in Here
손수건 - Handkerchief
저주 양 - Cursed Sheep
양의 침묵 - Silence of the Sheep
푸른 새 - Blue Bird
고양이는 왜 - Why Does the Cat
햇볕 쬐는 날 - Sunning Day
plus an author's afterword
귀신 이야기의 즐거움에 관하여 - On The Joys of Ghost Stories
The first story - 여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다 - You Can't Come in Here - opens:
“여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다.”
숙이 계단을 걸어 내려가 주차장으로 나가는 문을 열자 문 앞에 서 있던 직원이 말했다.
직원은 평범했다. 평범한 체격에 평범한 어두운색 정장 차림이었고 목소리도 말투도 평범했다. 주차장으로 나가는 문 앞을 막아서지 않고 길에서 마주쳤다면 돌아서자마자 잊어버려 한 시간 뒤에는 생각도 나지 않을, 그런 특징 없는 사람이었다.
"You can't come in here."
That's what the man who stood behind the parking lot door said to Sook when she opened it.
The man looked utterly nondescript. A nondescript build. A nondescript dark suit. A voice and manner of speaking that was very nondescript. He was the kind of person she would've immediately forgotten if she'd passed him on the street. But she hadn't passed him on the street, she'd been stopped by him at the Institute's basement-level parking lot.
Sook is an employee at at Institute, one which is described from the perspective of another employee as 'a research centre for haunted objects, where he would check the doors of rooms that either existed or didn’t exist, according to some midnight timetable.' The stories are essentially narrated by another employee, although largely as stories told to him, in particular by his 선배 (which I was pleased to see Hur Romanise as sunbae, rather than translate), a more senior, at least in years of service, female employee (and who has the advantage, working in a rather haunted building, of being visually blind), and they tell the tales behind some of the haunted objects (which include animate beings such as a cat, and a sheep).
On the first day of work, my sunbae, as she did for everyone, passed on some guidelines: that he did not need to go into every single lab room, that he only needed to check if the door was locked; that if he heard footsteps in the hall, he should ignore it; and that he should never look back or talk to anyone he sees.
The figure from the first story is a mysterious one who appears to warn the workers of where they should not go, injunctions they typically disobey, then regret doing so. The author has commented that (followed by ChatGPT's translation):
《한밤의 시간표》에 등장하는 연구소는 밤이 오면 그제야 존재하기 시작하는 비존재들의 장소입니다. 모두가 잠든 시간에 깨어나는 사물들과 사람들의 이야기를 통해 이성과 합리, 과학과 지성의 서사로는 감당할 수 없는 이야기가 시작됩니다.
The Institute that appears in The Midnight Timetable is a place for non-beings that only begin to exist when night falls. Through the stories of objects and people who awaken while everyone else is asleep, tales unfold that cannot be contained within the narratives of reason, logic, science, or intellect.
Although there are dark elements within the stories, there is a playful fable-like element to the story (and I'm not sure if it was just the sheep that reminded me of Murakami), which are cleverly constructed, and the author notes, in an informative afterword, that she had a lot of fun writing it.
And perhaps that is my reservation - while a quick and enjoyable read, with a light element of seasonal spookiness (I suspect the late September/early October US/UK release date was deliberately picked), it doesn't have the impact of 저주 토끼 (Cursed Bunny) which for me remains the author's best work in translation. 3.5 stars.
“심야 매표소”라는 조그만 팻말이 달린 창구 안에는 불이 켜져 있었다. 그러나 창구는 하얀 칸막이로 안쪽이 보이지 않게 가려진 채 닫혀 있었다. 부소장님은 “심야 매표소”와 그 밑에 영어로 MIDNIGHT TIMETABLE이라고 적혀 있는 파랗고 두꺼운 글씨를 멍하니 쳐다보았다. 아래쪽에 손으로 쓴 작은 글씨로 “심야버스 당분간 운행 중단합니다”라고 적혀 있었다.
from the story 양의 침묵 - Silence of the Sheep
The Midnight Timetable (2025) is Anton Hur's translation of 한밤의 시간표 (2023) by 정보라 (Bora Chung).
This is perhaps best thought of as a novel in the form of connected short stories. The stories with the original and translated titles are:
여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다 - You Can't Come in Here
손수건 - Handkerchief
저주 양 - Cursed Sheep
양의 침묵 - Silence of the Sheep
푸른 새 - Blue Bird
고양이는 왜 - Why Does the Cat
햇볕 쬐는 날 - Sunning Day
plus an author's afterword
귀신 이야기의 즐거움에 관하여 - On The Joys of Ghost Stories
The first story - 여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다 - You Can't Come in Here - opens:
“여기 들어오시면 안 됩니다.”
숙이 계단을 걸어 내려가 주차장으로 나가는 문을 열자 문 앞에 서 있던 직원이 말했다.
직원은 평범했다. 평범한 체격에 평범한 어두운색 정장 차림이었고 목소리도 말투도 평범했다. 주차장으로 나가는 문 앞을 막아서지 않고 길에서 마주쳤다면 돌아서자마자 잊어버려 한 시간 뒤에는 생각도 나지 않을, 그런 특징 없는 사람이었다.
"You can't come in here."
That's what the man who stood behind the parking lot door said to Sook when she opened it.
The man looked utterly nondescript. A nondescript build. A nondescript dark suit. A voice and manner of speaking that was very nondescript. He was the kind of person she would've immediately forgotten if she'd passed him on the street. But she hadn't passed him on the street, she'd been stopped by him at the Institute's basement-level parking lot.
Sook is an employee at at Institute, one which is described from the perspective of another employee as 'a research centre for haunted objects, where he would check the doors of rooms that either existed or didn’t exist, according to some midnight timetable.' The stories are essentially narrated by another employee, although largely as stories told to him, in particular by his 선배 (which I was pleased to see Hur Romanise as sunbae, rather than translate), a more senior, at least in years of service, female employee (and who has the advantage, working in a rather haunted building, of being visually blind), and they tell the tales behind some of the haunted objects (which include animate beings such as a cat, and a sheep).
On the first day of work, my sunbae, as she did for everyone, passed on some guidelines: that he did not need to go into every single lab room, that he only needed to check if the door was locked; that if he heard footsteps in the hall, he should ignore it; and that he should never look back or talk to anyone he sees.
The figure from the first story is a mysterious one who appears to warn the workers of where they should not go, injunctions they typically disobey, then regret doing so. The author has commented that (followed by ChatGPT's translation):
《한밤의 시간표》에 등장하는 연구소는 밤이 오면 그제야 존재하기 시작하는 비존재들의 장소입니다. 모두가 잠든 시간에 깨어나는 사물들과 사람들의 이야기를 통해 이성과 합리, 과학과 지성의 서사로는 감당할 수 없는 이야기가 시작됩니다.
The Institute that appears in The Midnight Timetable is a place for non-beings that only begin to exist when night falls. Through the stories of objects and people who awaken while everyone else is asleep, tales unfold that cannot be contained within the narratives of reason, logic, science, or intellect.
Although there are dark elements within the stories, there is a playful fable-like element to the story (and I'm not sure if it was just the sheep that reminded me of Murakami), which are cleverly constructed, and the author notes, in an informative afterword, that she had a lot of fun writing it.
And perhaps that is my reservation - while a quick and enjoyable read, with a light element of seasonal spookiness (I suspect the late September/early October US/UK release date was deliberately picked), it doesn't have the impact of 저주 토끼 (Cursed Bunny) which for me remains the author's best work in translation. 3.5 stars.
November 7, 2025
The cover was way too adorable for how underwhelming this turned out to be. All the short stories started to blend together… same themes of money problems, crappy family relationships, and not much else.
For something called Ghost Stories, the “ghost” part was really glossed over.
They were all loosely tied together through people working at the same institute, which could’ve been interesting, but it just never clicked for me.
I don’t like to call a book boring, but it kind of was.
If I hadn’t bought it, I probably would’ve DNF’d.
For something called Ghost Stories, the “ghost” part was really glossed over.
They were all loosely tied together through people working at the same institute, which could’ve been interesting, but it just never clicked for me.
I don’t like to call a book boring, but it kind of was.
If I hadn’t bought it, I probably would’ve DNF’d.
September 25, 2025
A mixed bunch. Some stories I really liked, others less so. Cursed Bunny is still my favourite Bora Chung.
Thank you Algonquin Books and Edelweiss for the ARC.
Thank you Algonquin Books and Edelweiss for the ARC.
August 30, 2024
powiem szczerze, że bałam się czytać 'rozklad północy' po zmroku, a na owce i tenisówki już nigdy nie spojrze tak samo...
bora chung straszy po prostu genialnie, ale - co najważniejsze - horror przeplata z palącymi kwestiami społecznymi i robi to w najlepszy możliwy sposób, pełen empatii i szacunku. już czytając 'sny umarłych' byłam pod ogromnym wrażeniem jej wrażliwości i pozostaję absolutnie zachwycona.
bora chung straszy po prostu genialnie, ale - co najważniejsze - horror przeplata z palącymi kwestiami społecznymi i robi to w najlepszy możliwy sposób, pełen empatii i szacunku. już czytając 'sny umarłych' byłam pod ogromnym wrażeniem jej wrażliwości i pozostaję absolutnie zachwycona.
March 15, 2025
No nie zagrało między nami, wspólny motyw łączący opowiadania wydawał się ciekawy, ale poszczególne historie przyprawiły mnie o co najwyżej wzruszenie ramion. Przeklęte przedmioty i duchy to nie moja bajka, ale miałem nadzieję, że Bora opisze to w ciekawszy i bardziej angażujący sposób, a jednak się wynudziłem.
October 19, 2025
"It’s not that there were no strange things happening whatsoever, It’s just that my life has always been full of strange things…"
Bora came into my life at a strange time. Our first introduction was a short story about a woman being haunted by a head in a toilet. After that day, I’ve never looked back and Bora has become my go to for the truly bizarre and horrifying tales that I need in my life.
This novel is filled with several short ghostly tales that all eventually link together in the end. The stories were short and sweet and downright spooky. There was one story I read before bed and I shouldn’t have done that. It created a nightmare that I thought was real. Never had that happen before and I’m impressed.
‘Midnight Timetable’ was a great novel that even spooked me some. Which is very hard to do. This was well worth the read and I highly suggest all of her works.
Bora came into my life at a strange time. Our first introduction was a short story about a woman being haunted by a head in a toilet. After that day, I’ve never looked back and Bora has become my go to for the truly bizarre and horrifying tales that I need in my life.
This novel is filled with several short ghostly tales that all eventually link together in the end. The stories were short and sweet and downright spooky. There was one story I read before bed and I shouldn’t have done that. It created a nightmare that I thought was real. Never had that happen before and I’m impressed.
‘Midnight Timetable’ was a great novel that even spooked me some. Which is very hard to do. This was well worth the read and I highly suggest all of her works.
October 4, 2025
3.5
"'Don't think of what you'll leave behind. Just leave. That's the best way.'"
creepy? (check), weird? (check), translated from Korean (check) ...so yeah, this checked all the boxes for me. The ending wasn't as strong as the rest of the novel but I still really enjoyed Midnight Timetable. I'm excited to read Cursed Bunny now.
"'Don't think of what you'll leave behind. Just leave. That's the best way.'"
creepy? (check), weird? (check), translated from Korean (check) ...so yeah, this checked all the boxes for me. The ending wasn't as strong as the rest of the novel but I still really enjoyed Midnight Timetable. I'm excited to read Cursed Bunny now.
March 8, 2025
Après avoir adoré Lapin maudit de la même autrice, j’avais vraiment hâte de découvrir ce nouveau recueil que j’ai bien apprécié dans l’ensemble. Maintenant est-ce que je l’ai trouvé aussi bon que Lapin maudit ? Peut-être pas.
⠀
Ce qu’il faut savoir, c’est que ce recueil est en fait un fixup, c’est à dire un ensemble de nouvelles interconnectées. En l’occurrence, on parle ici d’« objets » maudits (pour moi on est plus sur des animaux maudits que sur des objets mais admettons) qui sont tous stockés dans un institut assez étrange.
⠀
Dans l’idée ça m’allait bien mais dans les faits, j’avais parfois l’impression que le lien entre les différentes nouvelles était un peu artificiel, un peu forcé. Je trouve que pour la plupart, les nouvelles auraient été aussi efficaces, peut-être plus même, si l’autrice n’avait pas tenu absolument à les connecter. D’autant plus que ça passait parfois par des répétitions un peu intempestives de certains schémas.
⠀
Ceci étant dit, ça n’enlève rien à la qualité des nouvelles prises individuellement. Il y en a bien une qui ne m’a pas parlé du tout (pour moi c’est systématique dans n’importe quel recueil de nouvelles) mais l’ensemble était vraiment bon. Comme dans Lapin maudit, les nouvelles sont souvent très engagées, généralement assez bizarres, et parfois vraiment inquiétantes. Personnellement, c’est tout ce que j’attendais donc je suis pleinement satisfait de ce côté là !
⠀
Malgré mon petit bémol concernant le format fixup, c’est donc plutôt une belle réussite pour moi et je vous encourage vraiment à découvrir cette autrice. Et si vous ne l’avez pas encore découvert, vous pourrez même enchaîner avec Lapin maudit qui est sorti en poche en même temps que ce nouveau recueil !
⠀
Ce qu’il faut savoir, c’est que ce recueil est en fait un fixup, c’est à dire un ensemble de nouvelles interconnectées. En l’occurrence, on parle ici d’« objets » maudits (pour moi on est plus sur des animaux maudits que sur des objets mais admettons) qui sont tous stockés dans un institut assez étrange.
⠀
Dans l’idée ça m’allait bien mais dans les faits, j’avais parfois l’impression que le lien entre les différentes nouvelles était un peu artificiel, un peu forcé. Je trouve que pour la plupart, les nouvelles auraient été aussi efficaces, peut-être plus même, si l’autrice n’avait pas tenu absolument à les connecter. D’autant plus que ça passait parfois par des répétitions un peu intempestives de certains schémas.
⠀
Ceci étant dit, ça n’enlève rien à la qualité des nouvelles prises individuellement. Il y en a bien une qui ne m’a pas parlé du tout (pour moi c’est systématique dans n’importe quel recueil de nouvelles) mais l’ensemble était vraiment bon. Comme dans Lapin maudit, les nouvelles sont souvent très engagées, généralement assez bizarres, et parfois vraiment inquiétantes. Personnellement, c’est tout ce que j’attendais donc je suis pleinement satisfait de ce côté là !
⠀
Malgré mon petit bémol concernant le format fixup, c’est donc plutôt une belle réussite pour moi et je vous encourage vraiment à découvrir cette autrice. Et si vous ne l’avez pas encore découvert, vous pourrez même enchaîner avec Lapin maudit qui est sorti en poche en même temps que ce nouveau recueil !
June 7, 2024
Nigdy nie sądziłam, że wzruszę się książką o obiekcie badawczym, który przytrzymuje nawiedzone byty, ale oto jestem.
Rozkład Północy to według mnie wyjątkowy utwór. Początkowe historie wydają się proste z czasem jednak każdy rozdział dokłada swoją cegiełkę dziwności i unikatowych opowieści.
Nie jest to lektura specjalnie straszna (dobra, moment z butem mnie przestraszył, ale ja bardzo boję się obuwia), klimat jest zachowany i jest to coś, co uwielbiam. Ci, co kiedyś zaczną czytać, wspomną moje słowa, jak będą co rozdział wytrzeszczać oczy i zakrywać usta dłonią ze zdziwienia.
Rozkład Północy to według mnie wyjątkowy utwór. Początkowe historie wydają się proste z czasem jednak każdy rozdział dokłada swoją cegiełkę dziwności i unikatowych opowieści.
Nie jest to lektura specjalnie straszna (dobra, moment z butem mnie przestraszył, ale ja bardzo boję się obuwia), klimat jest zachowany i jest to coś, co uwielbiam. Ci, co kiedyś zaczną czytać, wspomną moje słowa, jak będą co rozdział wytrzeszczać oczy i zakrywać usta dłonią ze zdziwienia.
October 1, 2025
alright so after three books I can officially say one of Bora Chung or Anton Hur is a bad writer and I’d like to know who
November 16, 2025
This is my first book by Bora Chung & I enjoyed it enough that I’ll definitely be reading more down the line! It is a series of ghost stories that are being told to or by the narrator. Each story is well written but none of them were remotely scary. They fall more into the category of cautionary fable. I’m not sure if there’s something cultural that’s getting lost in translation but the themes in each tale didn’t particularly grab me. It felt like the stories were driving collectively towards an overarching theme but I’m not sure I know what that was…
I did think the author has a real grasp on how people inflict trauma on each other particularly in family units. There were many insightful moments where she talks about parent child of relationship dynamics. I suspect these dynamics are supposed to be what scares us but that side of it didn’t work for me.
Anyways I would recommend this but I think it might be better to try one of her other books first!
I did think the author has a real grasp on how people inflict trauma on each other particularly in family units. There were many insightful moments where she talks about parent child of relationship dynamics. I suspect these dynamics are supposed to be what scares us but that side of it didn’t work for me.
Anyways I would recommend this but I think it might be better to try one of her other books first!
December 21, 2025
I loved how creepy and immersive these ghost stories were. Although I don’t usually like short story collections, because the stories in this were interconnected and all set at the same institute, it became really easy to follow and to get invested in each of the stories because of what they revealed about the characters from the whole collection. The first story about the tunnel will really stick with me and I adored the surreal imagery that was being used. Bora Chung is getting better and better with each thing she writes and I really loved this collection.
November 1, 2025
I love ghost stories and urban legends involving unfortunate victims so this collection of seven ghost stories was a treat for a nosy person like me. I will say, though, that if your tolerance for the supernatural/creepy is low or if you're the kind to start imagining the hauntings in real life, this may not be for you. All the stories have to do with a research centre called the Institute, which houses haunted objects in various rooms.
'You Can't Come in Here' is, on the surface, about the Institute's strange going-ons like shifting staircases, an extra basement where there should be none, supernatural entities walking about, and a warping landscape. It really is a story within a story about a man recovering from conversion therapy PTSD and the absurd environment he finds himself in is a metaphor for his struggle to making a new life for himself.
'Handkerchief' was funny, if you like inheritance drama, critique of boy-moms, and seeing grown men cut down to size. The protagonist of 'Cursed Sheep' is a content creator who applied for the job so he could secretly film content. He steals an object and gets his just desserts. 'Silence of the Sheep' is related, and I found the idea of a sheep being a vehicle for revenge or for embodying karmic retribution very intriguing because sheep are usually associated with meekness and slaughter, whereas here, the author is implying the reverse.
'Blue Bird' likewise is related to 'Handkerchief' and features the embroidered bird, this time in a wonderful fable-like story about generational karma. 'Why Does the Cat' is a story about an egocentric man who ruins his own life even further with every selfish act he commits. 'Sunning Day' wrapped it all up with a heartwarming story about the Institute routinely sunning the haunted objects to help the attached spirits move on faster. Personally, I really enjoyed this collection and I especially liked what the author was doing by making the men characters such burdens to the unfortunate women in their lives.
'You Can't Come in Here' is, on the surface, about the Institute's strange going-ons like shifting staircases, an extra basement where there should be none, supernatural entities walking about, and a warping landscape. It really is a story within a story about a man recovering from conversion therapy PTSD and the absurd environment he finds himself in is a metaphor for his struggle to making a new life for himself.
'Handkerchief' was funny, if you like inheritance drama, critique of boy-moms, and seeing grown men cut down to size. The protagonist of 'Cursed Sheep' is a content creator who applied for the job so he could secretly film content. He steals an object and gets his just desserts. 'Silence of the Sheep' is related, and I found the idea of a sheep being a vehicle for revenge or for embodying karmic retribution very intriguing because sheep are usually associated with meekness and slaughter, whereas here, the author is implying the reverse.
'Blue Bird' likewise is related to 'Handkerchief' and features the embroidered bird, this time in a wonderful fable-like story about generational karma. 'Why Does the Cat' is a story about an egocentric man who ruins his own life even further with every selfish act he commits. 'Sunning Day' wrapped it all up with a heartwarming story about the Institute routinely sunning the haunted objects to help the attached spirits move on faster. Personally, I really enjoyed this collection and I especially liked what the author was doing by making the men characters such burdens to the unfortunate women in their lives.
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