Isadora Myung Hee Sohn, known as Isa, worships her mother, an exceptional beauty. Isa’s father, a scientist and professor, and an orphan, is haunted by the war in which he served as a South Korean soldier and by a painful secret that he keeps from his wife. Still mourning the death of Isa’s younger brother her parents are traditional enough to prize their dead son over their living daughter; to them, Isa only half exists. Recommended for older teens and adults.
But unlike many Asian American daughters, Isa is neither meek nor a quiet victim of tradition. Despite her parents’ success and sophistication—they’ve achieved the American dream—she repudiates their values, embarks on her own sexual education, and runs away with an albino boy, Hero. At the same time, Isa suspects that despite her mother’s strict adherence to Korean traditional values, she is involved with another man, and Isa determines to make the affair known. What begins as a child’s unthinking fury at her mother soon leads to more deadly consequences.
Katherine Min was born in Champaign, Illinois, and was raised in Charlottesville, Virginia and Clifton Park, New York. She attended Amherst College and the Columbia School of Journalism. She has been the recipient of writing grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and the New Hampshire Arts Council. She lives with her husband and children in New Hampshire.
This was depressing without being really being uplifting. Not that is a bad thing, mind you. I did give it four stars.
I completely understand the half generation angst. I had it too. I also have been telling my best friend who has married a Korean guy, that a lot of what he does has to do with the PTSD that HIS parents have from the Korean War. My parents were deeply affected by the war, just like any other Korean from that generation. My father was a little less affected (His uncle was a general and moved his entire family to the furthest southern point of the peninsula as soon as the war broke out on June 25th.) My mother, on the other hand, did the march toward the south with the rest of the people and she experienced some incredibly gruesome things on the way.
The generation of parents that was produced from the war is really quite sad. Most never moved on beyond the survival mode (like Isa's father). While excelling in education and career, these adults tended to be very guarded. Some may see it as selfish. I see it as withdrawn and emotinally stunted. They never did make peace with their emotions, most of all, their fear. The women who married those men felt ever so unfulfilled. Many cheated on the marriage (especially in the late 70s and the early 80s). It was like Betty Friedan's Femine Mystique took over the Korean penincula. Housewives began to feel the meloncholy of being in relationships with these men who were instinctively afraid all the time, thus strict (for routine will save us). Many cheated on their marriage. Many were discovered and were thrown in jail. At the time infidelity was illegal (for both men and women). I think Isa's mother suffered from a similar malady.
So that leaves my generation, Isa's generation, especially those of us who moved to America. We are the generation of orphans with parents. Children were born out of obligation, without the commitment to the children being examined beforehand with any scrutiny. Most of us, like Isa, felt the neglect and the filial expectation that felt suffocating at times. All the while, not realizing that our parents were really no more than children themselves, emotionally stuck in 1950s, whether they were 8, 9, 10 or in their teens. We are the children who are Korean, but not entirely. We are American, but with strong ties to the unknown and unfamiliar mother country. We, who had to bridge the generation gap as well as a big cultural one, all for the sake of earning the parental love and kindness.
And as the book depicts beautifully, we have been resilliant. Most of us coming out at the end, to appreciate what it means to be a survivor. I can't think of a better analogy that Isa recovering from her burns, as my generation recovered from the patchwork of childhood, tinged with being little caretakers, that was given to us.
I would have like to blame Isa's mother for what she did (I won't spoil the ending). I also would have like to blame Isa's father for his actions and inactions. But who am I kidding? I know as much as anyone that the two parents couldn't help themselves. They were simply the casualties of war. It would be like blaming someone who is mentally handicapped for their actions. Only, Isa's parents were emotionally disabled. Yes, a tragedy. But as someone very wise once said, "Shit happens". And we move on.
I think I would have given the book 5 stars, except I cannot stand it when writers use anglosized foreign words without a proper English translation, even when I speak that foreign language. After all, it is a book written in English. Like Mahndoo gook (dumpling soup). I don't know why the authors assume that we know those words, or that we would even bother looking them up. After all, these books are written mostly for entertainment, not for foreign language lessons.
And lastly, although I understand Isa's facination with Hero, his being so different from everyone else, I don't see the point of the threesome in Salt Lake City with her best friend, Isa and Hero. I think it was rather gratuitous. Or perhaps, I am just a prude. Although I don't mind steamy scenes if it is relevant to the story.
All in all, a good story. I recommend this to all 1/2 generation Korean born in the 60s and 70s. Or those who want to understand us better.
Quick yet powerful read - the short chapters make getting through this book quickly but the story is just amazing. A great inside look into a tragedy that follows the family and a look into a not so "sugar coated" way a Korean American lived during the 1970's growing up.
A taxi driver near downtown London once told me that to truly love a thing you must first identify what you hate about it. Though he was responding to my inquiries concerning his profession, and his feelings towards it, the words seemed universally applicable and managed to stay with me.
Min’s, Secondhand World, follows the protagonist, high school student Isadora Myung Hee Sohn, through stages of personal development that are at once painful and necessary. If being a teenager isn’t difficult enough, Isadora must struggle with the corrosive effects of bigotry, her father’s suffocating old world, South Korean values, and her mother’s quest to make her more “beautiful” by requesting she have her eyelids surgically altered to be more rounded. Isadora ultimately rebels against convention and seeks her own path. Running away from home with her boyfriend, an albino boy from class affectionately dubbed “Hero”, and her best friend, Rachel, she learns a few lessons about sex and its power to warp relationships. When she discovers that her mother has been having an affair with a literature professor at a nearby community college, Isadora’s actions quite possibly lead to her parent’s murder-suicide.
Secondhand World appears to be yet another installment of the seemingly plotless, memoir-style novels coming to market these days. Readers desiring a salient plot they can follow will most likely identify its absence as what they hate most about this work. Be that as it may, it should be noted that Min cannot be described as anything less that a strong, solicitous author. Within her paragraphs the challenges and awkwardness of cultural assimilation are boldly illuminated and the isolation (and sometimes shame) that people of immigrant cultures often experience is revealed in notable contrast to their indispensability to the host culture in which they reside. As the reader begins to discover the heart and mind of Isadora, a young girl clearly struggling to define herself as an individual while measuring her relevance, empathy segues to pity and then anger at her profound selfishness. Min does a marvelous job in creating and developing such a complex, if not irritating, character.
Min does not bring to the page a complicated prose style, though the thoughtfulness felt in her words and the deliberation sensed in her inner literary voice at first seems to introduce one. The brooding way in which Isadora’s emotional pronouncements are delivered serves to somehow maximize their impact and suggests that Min may have intimate experiences with synonymous ruminations – that they are not merely fiction. In this light it’s worthwhile noting that Isadora’s sexual anecdotes seem gratuitous and lack the magic found elsewhere in the novel. In short, the sex talk seems forced, is unimaginative, and is stylistically incongruous within the larger work: meandering, at times, dangerously close to that line which separates literature from the trashy novel. Thankfully, these instances are few and the work remains superbly well written and consequential. Min’s Secondhand World should emerge amongst conscientious readers as a novel to truly love.
I feel like I generally have lot more to say about books I don't enjoy than the ones I love, and...wow. This one is amazing. It's got the struggles of growing up in a bi-cultural household (Korean/American), the beauty and tragedy of an intense first love, sexual exploration and teenage rebellion that challenges a best friendship, miscommunication between children and parents, the haunting loss of a younger sibling...and Katherine Min is an author skillful enough to weave the narratives together in a way that had me fully satisfied while still yearning for more.
This is a must-read, and I recommend it to anyone who loves a great novel.
Young Asian girl growing up in America. Wonderfully written. Fave quotes: "the problem with relations between people was that the range of passion and disquiet was infinite in its variety, and none of us could escape the cell and the blessing of our own solitude." "I saw the flaw that extended throughout the world open upon her face." "The state of being beautiful was indiscriminate; it was there for peasant and kings. You couldn't reclaim it for yourself. You could hide it under chador or veil, but it would be there still. The state of being unbeautiful was a more exacting affair. If a man found you attractive, you knew it must be so, that he must have looked hard and long to see something within you and was not just another wistful aesthete panting after loveliness." "It's (the skin) the boundary wall between all we are and all we are not...It is the container of our corporeal selves and the vessel for our ethereal ones. When it burns, the border is breached and we're suddenly permeable, undefined and undefended." "It's a secondhand world we're born into. What is novel to us is only so because we're newborn, and what we cannot see, that has come before-what our parents have seen and been and done-are the hand-me-downs we begin to wear as swaddling clothes, even as we ourselves are naked. The flaw runs through us, implicating us in its imperfection even as it separates us, delivers us onto opposite sides of a chase. It is both terribly beautiful and terribly sad, but it is finally, the fault in the universe that gives birth to us all."
This looked like a good book, and I enjoyed the first few chapters, but in the end . . . it just seemed like little substance and a lot of sex. The main character was rather disappointing, not sure exactly why. Short book, as well - I would've liked the chapters to be a bit longer.
I don't know what's up with me lately. I don't seem to read like I used to. And I find most of what I read... *sigh* I don't know. Reading is starting to seem like a chore, not a pleasure, and I think it has something to do with Goodreads, like I'm reading for an audience now. And reviewing for one. Maybe I miss the days when reading was just a solitary pleasure, me and the book, the story, the poem, intimacy... Whatever's going on, I also seem to have become unenamoured with "life" stories. It's not that I don't think the whole life experience matters and doesn't affect this very moment, but I mostly just want to see this very moment anymore. Maybe I just want visuals right now. Maybe there's too much text in my life. All this angst aside, the writing in this book was quite lovely, if the story itself didn't really speak to me (and again I think that says more about me than about the story right now). I think I'll go watch some films now.
I liked it, but wasn't blown away. It smelled of first novel out of MFA workshop to me. Min is a "lyrical" writer (I hate this phrase, but it's what all MFA types use to say "really good"), but it felt way too tightly controlled and alas, rather predictable in an alterna-indie sort of way. Anyway, it certainly is worth a read.
If there weren't so many other novels about the daughters of immigrant Asians to the U.S., this book would be more impressive. As it is, there's not enough about the Korean experience differentiated from other Eastern cultures. Though there's a lot more about growing up in the 70's. The chapters are often short (2-3 pages) and the writing is good, so it's an easy read. But not astonishing.
Really strange, disturbing book. ALmost stopped reading it. Korean-born parents of Isa living in New York. Isa's friends are Rachel and Hero. Isa is bullied at school and barely noticed at home. Depressing story. Drugs, alcohol, sex. Don't need to read this book again.
Secondhand World is more of the coming-of-age story readers will be used to, or at least what I'm used to. I was engaged in Isa figuring out her place in the world by finding love (but not the kind that lasts forever) and maneuvering her family's dynamics post a tragic death, plus Min's writing at points was incredibly poetic and flowed from page to page.
I do think some subplots weren't developed as well as the main plot, the sex was a bit much at points, and the ending was a little abrupt, but I do see why this got critical acclaim back in 2006 and how it holds up to readers now.
This is one of several Korean authors I've been introduced to by my Korean friend.
Although I have qualms with tragedy, I appreciate that this book nails it down in the opening paragraph, and then proceeds to tell the story of the events leading up to it. I guess it's really "surprise" tragedy that bugs the hell out of me.
Even though I know what's coming, I am enthralled by the journey, which can simply be described as a coming of age story. Min's writing, however, keeps the novel from falling into predictable or cheesy territory. The author writes beautifully, with honesty, sensitivity, and careful insight and the novel's simple language often surprises the reader with poignant and memorable one-liners and philosophical observations on life and one's inheritance.
The only part of the novel that seems weak to me is Hero's albinism. I feel that this is forced symbolism on Min's part, and it causes the character to feel a little contrived and unreal to me, although I understand what Min is getting at by pairing him with Isa. I didn't dwell much on this point, because Min's writing was otherwise natural and honest, especially in her depiction of the self-conscious and rebellious teen, Isa.
I am very interested in the huge back story of a PTSD Korean generation of parents, and the effects that this has had on subsequent generations. I think Min writes Isa beautifully in the novel's last pages, as she comes to understand and know her father, who has seemed so distant and unfamiliar to her, to the point in which she realizes/guesses her mom was really the culprit in the fire. I am also sympathetic towards her mom, and don't feel like there is any one person to "blame" for the family's tragedy, both prior to the fire and in the tragedy of the fire itself. I think it is more difficult to depict a family or situation in this way, as it is much easier to define a clear villain, and absolve our protagonists of guilt. The real tragedy is that each of these characters is conflicted and emotionally deprived, and the complexity of these relationships with each individuals burden of their own history pulling them towards and away from each other simultaneously, resonates with me.
I am also fascinated with the dual-identity inherent to 1st and 2nd generation immigrants. Although this theme is repeated throughout much multicultural literature (ripe in Native American, Hispanic, and African-American novels/memoirs) it never gets old to me. I think everyone can relate, regardless of ethnicity, because aren't we all the products of a preceding (and now, to us, "foreign") generation?
“It’s a secondhand world we’re born into. What is novel to us is only so because we’re newborn, and what we cannot see, that has come before- what our parents have seen and been and done- are the hand-me-downs we begin to wear as swaddling clothes, even as we ourselves are naked. The flaw runs through us, implicating us in its imperfection even as it separates us, delivers us onto opposite sides of a chasm. It is both terribly beautiful and terribly sad, but it is, finally, the fault in the universe that gives birth to us all.”
I was really pleasantly surprised by this novel. Books often boast “stellar, haunting first novel”… but this one really was. It was extremely well written. I sometimes say that I can’t relate to the character because the language used, or some other excuse, but the thing is, that’s not the problem. It’s just plain poor writing, which this novel didn't suffer from at all.
It had the capacity to be less than cohesive, the way it was written, in short little chapters, some of them focused entirely on one memory, one moment. Others continuing into the next chapter, maintaining the rhythm of the story. But it was cohesive, the writing carried the feeling and the moments perfectly.
This book started as an interesting story of a girl who is first-generation American born to Korean parents. The story gives you insights into her parents's struggles to keep their culture while at the same time becoming successful in the States. She offers insights into her own struggles to become acculturated and accepted even though she was born here. The incident involving her little brother and mother and then the whole family is unfortunate and sad. Then, she becomes a teenager and the whole book turns to one story after another of sexual experiences and encounters. It seemed like another writer had taken over the book. This style continued until almost the end when another crisis takes place in the family and all of a sudden the old writer returns to once more provide insights into her family and cultural experiences. Finally she seems to get messages that help her to understand her parents and herself. During the middle of the book the character appeared selfish and almost without a sense of what is right and wrong. I thought the writer decided to use a cliche to explain the struggles of a first-genration American and that she also decided to exploit sexual stories to sell. The original story got derailed until the end of the book.
'A strange paradox: after a severe burn, the body manufactures collagen to form scar tissue atop the injured area. The new surface is harder than normal skin. It has the look and feel of rope. Yet a healed scar is twenty percent weaker than the skin it replaces. It's more sensitive to air currents, to heat or cold, and even to touch. Which means, I suppose, that despite appearances to the contrary, I've grown more thin-skinned.'
Katherine Min has amazed me with this work. The diction she uses to portray Isa, a Korean American's ordeals with her traditional family and the culture she is presently growing up in, is is just awesome.
Her bittersweet and short sentences make for a simple yet inspiring syntax.
'Poetry, unlike science, was a subjective thing, I reasoned. One person's sublime was another person's ridiculous.'
Gosh, this book just inspired me to be a better person.
Can't quite recommend this one despite the fact that she writes well, its an economical read and the culture clash themes are pretty fascinating particularly when diving into specifics. There's just too much of this ridiculously predictable "coming of age in the American 70's" stuff including the loss of narrator's virginity at a Who concert, first experiences with (gasp!) the devil weed marijuana and that never-ending search for a perfect-fitting pair of jeans. I kid, but I skimmed through a lot of this mid-section. As I said above, it reads a bit too much like a troubled teen movie of the week excepting the fact that the girl in question is a first-generation Korean American outcast, misunderstood by her peers and her maladjusted parents, who dares to fall in love with (I kid you not) an albino! Ok, so there is a good bit of quality writing within but I advise interested parties to wait until Min can put her considerable skills to use on some better subject matter.
an atypical account (as far as I know) of a Korean-American girl living in upstate New York in the 70s. she feels like an outsider in dozens of ways: there are no other Asian people in her area, she falls in with friends on the fringes, her parents are secretly at each others throats yet the house is like a tomb full of contradictory rules, and she falls in love with an Albino boy, contributing to her freak factor at school. this is not simpy a coming of age story -- it includes many subtle and overt mysteries: who were and are her parents and her ancestors? what is the source of the violence within her home? does her mother only live for the love she cannot have and value physical beauty above all else? there is an element of tradedy running through this novel which the author captures well but does not exploit. it's well written and well plotted and well worth the read
This was an alright book; better than a lot of stuff I've been reading these days, but I wasn't completely involved with the characters. This book is about a teenager's experience as a Korean-American and the growing distance between her and her parents, especially their expectations for her to be a "good Korean girl." The best parts concerned her relationship with her first boyfriend, and I thought that the "typical teenager" parts of the book-- all the emotion and experimenting and trying to break free from your family a little bit-- really rang true. I've read books about the immigrant experience that really involved me and made me feel it, but this one seemed a little harder to get into.
A poignant story of a girl, Isa, growing up in a house coated in memories and grief. I read Secondhand World first when I was in college. I loved it, and yet I don't think I understood some of the saddest pieces until I re-read it recently. This story explores the youthful joy of childhood and first loves, as well as the empty sorrow of loss and loneliness. One of the most tragically beautiful phrases, for me, was "But my brother, by his absence, remained the strongest presence in our house." A wonderful read, despite the times it made me tear up and fight back a strong sense of sorrow on behalf of Isa.
So so achingly beautiful. I felt especially touched by this novel because many of the experiences Isa went through and her ethnic background were reflective in my own life. I felt so connected to her, and in many parts of the book, I shared similar opinions. Written by a distinguished professor, who is also my cooler than the cool kids college advisor, Katherine Min writes with an eloquent and tender voice that captures the mind of American born Asians. Min does a great job describing the Sohn's, their alienated life in the States and Isadora's struggle to find her identity, while experiencing loss and strife with friends and family.
Secondhand World is a powerful coming of age story of Isadora Myung Hee Sohn—Isa—who has just spent ninety-five days in a pediatric burn unit in Albany, New York, recovering from the fire that burned her house and killed her parents. The book moves back in time revealing the circumstances that led to the fire. The relationship between Isa and her emotionally distant father is particularly complex, compelling and ultimately heartbreaking, but is only second to the experiences Isa had growing up in Albany. There is an emotional truth, an honesty about this book that was refreshing; great debut.
This get's 3.5 stars because, while it was lovely, the first half failed to distinguish itself from so many other similar coming-of-age/immigrant novels. It picks up in the second half and becomes genuinely moving, but it read like two novellas held together by a bridge rather than a proper novel. I wanted her to scrap this and start again with a better structure and rewrite it from the beginning. It could have been a stronger book, although the author clearly has a gift for nuanced description.
I'm reading a lot of immigration literature, and this is one of the strongest so far. Min's style is odd, a series of short, almost choppy chapters that feel like journal entries. Her metaphors are not subtle: albino skin, scars, burning, naming, orphans. But the overall impact was very strong and poignant, and I'll be reflecting on the themes for some time. I also came to appreciate the style, as Min veers between minimalist, spare re-telling of event and flashes of lyricism and potent imagery.
I have read several reviews of this book downing it for being negative or nihilistic. What in this world around you makes you believe every story must be happy. In this story, Isa learns that inheritance can be emotional, not just material. And yet it is a story of hope and growth and self-discovery, showcasing the ability to survive when cards and or karma are against you.
This is a well-written, emotional and poignant book. Definitely recommended!
Amazon reviews this book as the Adult/High School level and I can see why. It deals with an American-Korean girl born into an emotionally struggling family. Pretty sad and tragic but the characters carry a thread of strength that is also encouraging. Although the book is based around racial strife, the discomfort is something we can all relate to at some point in our lives.
I thought this was an amazing story. It was gut retching, surprising, and heart breaking- but that is exactly what I book should do! As a person with parents from different cultures I was able to feel their struggle, although I believe that anyone could be consumed by the story of these characters.
Told from the point of view of a second generation Korean American who grew up in Connecticut in the 1960s, it's an interesting view of what it's like to be a minority during that time. She has the same attitude of a normal American teenager, but also has to deal with her parents who don't quite understand "normal" American life.