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Minbak
*A RADIO 2 WINTER BOOK CLUB PICK*
A sweeping story of three generations of women who cross continents and decades to find truth, forgiveness and compassion.
Incheon, 1985. A nameless baby is born in a minbak in South Korea and vanishes nine days later.
London, 2008. When tragedy strikes, Hana faces ruin. She is forced to move her family – her teenage daughter Ada and ailing mother Youngja – into a single room with her, converting the rest of their home into a minbak, in a painful echo of her past life.
In the confined space of their shared room, there is nowhere to hide. As the past collides with the present, all three women are forced to face not only their family’s dark history, but that of an entire country.
A sweeping story of three generations of women who cross continents and decades to find truth, forgiveness and compassion.
Incheon, 1985. A nameless baby is born in a minbak in South Korea and vanishes nine days later.
London, 2008. When tragedy strikes, Hana faces ruin. She is forced to move her family – her teenage daughter Ada and ailing mother Youngja – into a single room with her, converting the rest of their home into a minbak, in a painful echo of her past life.
In the confined space of their shared room, there is nowhere to hide. As the past collides with the present, all three women are forced to face not only their family’s dark history, but that of an entire country.
352 pages, Kindle Edition
Published March 5, 2026
49 people are currently reading
2780 people want to read
About the author
Ela Lee
4 books220 followersEla Lee's debut novel JADED was published in 2024 by Vintage in the UK and Simon & Schuster in the US. It was an Amazon Best Fiction Book of the Year, and Lee was named a Spotify Breakout Author. She has also been selected for Forbes 30 under 30, class of 2025. Her second novel MINBAK publishes in March 2026, and has been selected for BBC Radio 2 Book Club. Her newsletter Elaborate can be found at elalee.substack.com
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 81 reviews
April 20, 2026
Ela Lee’s absorbing intergenerational novel follows three women from one family, at its centre is Hana now settled in London, after her husband’s sudden death she lives with daughter Ada and mother Youngha who’s been diagnosed with a form of dementia. I was a bit uncertain about this one at first, I’ve had some less-than-positive experiences of polyphonic, family sagas but this worked surprisingly well perhaps because Lee’s such a skilful storyteller – elements of her plot reminded me of Korean weekend dramas, thinking of favourites like My Golden Life or Sunny Again Tomorrow, showcasing aspects of everyday Korean culture and society alongside the usual birth secret, family rifts, and threat of revelations yet to come. But Lee’s delivery is far more restrained and realistic with an unexpectedly strong political dimension.
Grounded in extensive research, Lee’s novel moves between London at the height of the 2008 financial crisis and South Korea in 1985 during a particularly turbulent period in which progressive forces clashed with a markedly authoritarian government. In Incheon a child’s born in a local minbak (guest house) not officially named or registered, he disappears not long after. His mother Hana is 17, his father’s an American who’s long since abandoned her. This forbidden love, this lost child thought to have died in an orphanage, haunt Hana for decades to come, fracturing her relationship with Youngha and later affecting her ability to bond with daughter Ada. Lee’s fragmented narrative shifts between timelines and characters to tell Hana’s story which in turn provides insights into Korea’s past as well as the experiences of members of London’s Korean diaspora. The 1980s storyline also highlights harsh conditions endured by working-class, Korean factory workers - struggling to organise and better their lot in the face of a particularly vicious form of capitalism imported from, and propped up by America.
As Lee’s plot progresses it broadens out to examine the now-notorious Korean adoption scandal in which around 200,000 babies and children were exported overseas. Many of these children were forcibly removed from their birth parents, some reported as dead, some kidnapped off the streets, many given falsified paperwork certifying their status as orphaned – even when they weren’t. Organisations and agencies involved in obtaining these children and facilitating these adoptions, like Holt’s Children’s Services, made massive profits. Documentaries and films like Davy Chou’s arresting Return to Seoul have explored the aftermath for Korean children essentially trafficked in this way. But Lee focuses on the possible impact on the families left behind: Youngha’s guilt, Hana’s ongoing grief and trauma, Ada’s confusion and uncertainty about her mother’s past, her curiously detached parenting. Gripping, illuminating and incredibly moving.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Harvill for an ARC
Rating: 3.5
Grounded in extensive research, Lee’s novel moves between London at the height of the 2008 financial crisis and South Korea in 1985 during a particularly turbulent period in which progressive forces clashed with a markedly authoritarian government. In Incheon a child’s born in a local minbak (guest house) not officially named or registered, he disappears not long after. His mother Hana is 17, his father’s an American who’s long since abandoned her. This forbidden love, this lost child thought to have died in an orphanage, haunt Hana for decades to come, fracturing her relationship with Youngha and later affecting her ability to bond with daughter Ada. Lee’s fragmented narrative shifts between timelines and characters to tell Hana’s story which in turn provides insights into Korea’s past as well as the experiences of members of London’s Korean diaspora. The 1980s storyline also highlights harsh conditions endured by working-class, Korean factory workers - struggling to organise and better their lot in the face of a particularly vicious form of capitalism imported from, and propped up by America.
As Lee’s plot progresses it broadens out to examine the now-notorious Korean adoption scandal in which around 200,000 babies and children were exported overseas. Many of these children were forcibly removed from their birth parents, some reported as dead, some kidnapped off the streets, many given falsified paperwork certifying their status as orphaned – even when they weren’t. Organisations and agencies involved in obtaining these children and facilitating these adoptions, like Holt’s Children’s Services, made massive profits. Documentaries and films like Davy Chou’s arresting Return to Seoul have explored the aftermath for Korean children essentially trafficked in this way. But Lee focuses on the possible impact on the families left behind: Youngha’s guilt, Hana’s ongoing grief and trauma, Ada’s confusion and uncertainty about her mother’s past, her curiously detached parenting. Gripping, illuminating and incredibly moving.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Harvill for an ARC
Rating: 3.5
March 9, 2026
I finished this and messaged my mum and my amah straightaway.
What an incredibly powerful book taking on a story which spans decades, pain from a thousand words left unsaid, and the love which ties family and home so inextricably together. I loved Ela Lee's debut novel Jaded and quickly fell in love with Minbak, drawn in by complex relationships between mother and daughter, and a secret so heavy it burdens our characters decades later. I couldn't put this book down and it has lingered on my mind ever since I finished it.
Youngja (grandmother), Hana, (mother) and Ada (daughter) are forced to open their house as a minbak (boarding house) and live in one room due to financial hardship. All have a POV in this story which straddles two time periods South Korea 1985 and London 2008. We see how Hana grew up, her ambition and dreams which had to be put on hold when her family needed her to work at the minbak and all that happens after. The choices which were made as a result of societal pressures and duty to family all lead up to who Hana is today, still harbouring a deep sadness despite her life now in the UK.
I particularly loved how this didn't shy away from exploring complex family relationships and the love that is shown by a mother which doesn't necessarily come with words but in action and small gestures. How people you love can make mistakes while also trying to do what they think is best for you. I felt like I was holding my breath throughout this book until the secrets started to stream out. My heart was in my throat, I couldn't see the pages through tears, and all I wanted to do was hold these women who had been through so much but were still so strong.
Ada is the youngest character in the book and where she could've easily got lost in the story, the author really made her arc work alongside the her mother and her grandmother. I found my heart breaking for her constantly throughout this book. How she wrestles with pleasing her mother, moulding herself into what she thinks her mother needs, feeling close to her culture through her mother and grandmother but also feeling wholly inadequate when faced with all she doesn't know and hasn't experienced. May that be writing in the language or not knowing Korean history that her grandmother has lived through.
'Ada thought of Magna Carta. Of Normans and Plantagenets. York and Tudor. The English Reformation, all six of Henry's downtrodden wives. Suffrage. Austrian archdukes, kaisers and tsars. Hitler, Mussolini, Churchill, Roosevelt.
And then what? A great big blank over the war that raised the grandmother she loved?'
5 stars. Love love love. This story also leaves the door open for you to look into more about the illegal adoption of Korean children to countries around the world, which I had no idea about. The author also cites all her research at the end of the book.
What an incredibly powerful book taking on a story which spans decades, pain from a thousand words left unsaid, and the love which ties family and home so inextricably together. I loved Ela Lee's debut novel Jaded and quickly fell in love with Minbak, drawn in by complex relationships between mother and daughter, and a secret so heavy it burdens our characters decades later. I couldn't put this book down and it has lingered on my mind ever since I finished it.
Youngja (grandmother), Hana, (mother) and Ada (daughter) are forced to open their house as a minbak (boarding house) and live in one room due to financial hardship. All have a POV in this story which straddles two time periods South Korea 1985 and London 2008. We see how Hana grew up, her ambition and dreams which had to be put on hold when her family needed her to work at the minbak and all that happens after. The choices which were made as a result of societal pressures and duty to family all lead up to who Hana is today, still harbouring a deep sadness despite her life now in the UK.
I particularly loved how this didn't shy away from exploring complex family relationships and the love that is shown by a mother which doesn't necessarily come with words but in action and small gestures. How people you love can make mistakes while also trying to do what they think is best for you. I felt like I was holding my breath throughout this book until the secrets started to stream out. My heart was in my throat, I couldn't see the pages through tears, and all I wanted to do was hold these women who had been through so much but were still so strong.
Ada is the youngest character in the book and where she could've easily got lost in the story, the author really made her arc work alongside the her mother and her grandmother. I found my heart breaking for her constantly throughout this book. How she wrestles with pleasing her mother, moulding herself into what she thinks her mother needs, feeling close to her culture through her mother and grandmother but also feeling wholly inadequate when faced with all she doesn't know and hasn't experienced. May that be writing in the language or not knowing Korean history that her grandmother has lived through.
'Ada thought of Magna Carta. Of Normans and Plantagenets. York and Tudor. The English Reformation, all six of Henry's downtrodden wives. Suffrage. Austrian archdukes, kaisers and tsars. Hitler, Mussolini, Churchill, Roosevelt.
And then what? A great big blank over the war that raised the grandmother she loved?'
5 stars. Love love love. This story also leaves the door open for you to look into more about the illegal adoption of Korean children to countries around the world, which I had no idea about. The author also cites all her research at the end of the book.
December 11, 2025
wow, what a gorgeous book. one that has cemented ela lee as one of my new favourite authors. i absolutely loved her debut novel, jaded, and now minbak has blown me away too. just gorgeous writing and really powerful storytelling.
March 12, 2026
I'm still trying to articulate my feelings upon finishing this book. It was.. remarkable, profoundly heartbreaking. A multi-generational trauma that feels like a stab to my heart with every page I turn.
Each woman in this story has been hurt, lied to, loved, and sacrificed themselves for the sake of others. It's painful to read about, I shed tears and had to pause a couple of times just to take everything in.
Hana, who I initially thought was heartless and selfish for reacting the way she did, turns out she has just been dealing with her pain the way she knows how to. Youngja, the grief and regret literally eats up alive that she has to live the rest of her lives with only fragments of memories. Ada, the good girl, moulding herself into a perfect daughter so Hana wouldn't leave.. and everything is just deeper than what it seems from the outside.
I think this book will stick with me for a long time. I fell in love with the writer's writing and would love to read her debut novel, which unfortunately I haven't already done prior to discovering this book. One of my best reads of 2026.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC!
Each woman in this story has been hurt, lied to, loved, and sacrificed themselves for the sake of others. It's painful to read about, I shed tears and had to pause a couple of times just to take everything in.
Hana, who I initially thought was heartless and selfish for reacting the way she did, turns out she has just been dealing with her pain the way she knows how to. Youngja, the grief and regret literally eats up alive that she has to live the rest of her lives with only fragments of memories. Ada, the good girl, moulding herself into a perfect daughter so Hana wouldn't leave.. and everything is just deeper than what it seems from the outside.
I think this book will stick with me for a long time. I fell in love with the writer's writing and would love to read her debut novel, which unfortunately I haven't already done prior to discovering this book. One of my best reads of 2026.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC!
April 6, 2026
What had Ada been expecting?
Of course, the writing was in Korean. Not the boxy, typed-up Korean with neat characters that she could sort-of read, albeit at the speed of a drunk six-year-old. Hurried words, slanting into each other, the ink faded and blurry. Brimming with legend, like long-lost war journals, hieroglyphics on stone, love letters stashed in a biscuit tin. Words that bore witness to alienation. Ada's stomach churned at the sheer volume. Her mother's thoughts unravelling like bundles of yarn. There was a rhythm to the writing, still breathing, fully in motion. She searched the pages for something familiar - any mention of herself or her dad - but the shapes didn't add up to words.
Minbak (민박) is the second novel by Ela Lee after her debut Jaded.
It tells the story of three generations of women - 영자 (Youngja), 하나 (Hana) and Ada (에이다) - and is set in 인천 (Incheon) in 1985-6 and Wimbledon in 2008-9.
The opening scene is set in 인천 in 1985, and as riot police move in on militant workers, a young woman gives birth to a baby.
In the novel's present day, Hana, born in 1968 (a 원숭이띠 like me) and now aged 40 lives in a house in Wimbledon village (ditto) in a Anglo-Korean marriage (tick), with her 15 year old daughter Ada (I've girls either side of that age) who attends a high-achieving all girls private school (OK this is spooky).
하나 moved to the UK in 1986, aged just 18, after the events that took place in Korea, eventually marrying a businessman, Tim Perry, in 1992, after a short relationship.
With a name like Hannan Penny, Tim's Surrey friends had expected his bride to be creamy-cheeked and impeccably mannered. But when they first met Hana, they found that she was small, with hard black eyes, and a face that was beautiful but, they'd agreed, not attractive. She was kind of sexy, but marred by a lack of ease and simplicity; an unsettling concoction to those who didn't venture beyond easy and simple. An elopement, they'd commented, how Austenian. Tim had bobbed an unfazed smile in response, his arm cradling her waist, backing his subtly sharp twenty-four-year-old Korean bride who'd appeared one day like an apparition.
Privately though, she'd never forgotten that he'd scrawled 'Hannah' instead of 'Hana' on the wedding register, and, in that moment, she realised he hadn't known her well enough to marry her.
Ada was born shortly after, and the family moved to Wimbledon in 2001. Hana's Korean mother 영자 moved to the UK a few years ago after she started to suffer from dementia, and is now in a care home.
But as the present-day narration begins, Tim has died in a car accident, and picking up the pieces of his finances, she realises that his construction business is failing as the financial crisis starts to bite, and that he has recently remortgaged their house to finance his business debts for more than it is worth.
Back in Incheon, Hana's mother ran a boarding house, a 민박 (minbak), although technically a 하숙집 as the author acknowledges in an afterword, and inspired by Youngja's confusion (in her dementia, she often thinks she still runs it in Korea), Hana reaches a decision.
Unable to sell the house and crystallise the negative equity, and unable to afford the care home fees, she will turn their house into an upmarket minbak (think B&B), the three generations of women moving into the living room, where they sleep on the floor. Advertising in the New Malden Korean supermarkets (although I'm not sure if H-Mart existed in 2008) and press, they soon draw a clientele, their house a home-from-home for Korean businessmen and students craving home comforts. And Hana talks Ada's private school into giving her a scholarship.
But the echoes of what happened in 1985, and why Hana came to the UK, echo into their lives and the relationship between the three generations of women.
Hana was Korean, and an immigrant, but she hadn't been much of a Korean immigrant. When she first arrived in 1986, she accompanied the family she was staying with a few Sundays to the Korean church. A buzzing tribe, replicating microcosms of home for three hours a week. They welcomed her, she bolted. Not because she was arrogant enough to think she didn't need the protection of a commu-nity, but because she had to provide a ledger of her where, when, how and why. She wondered if these smiling women who force-fed her japchae would hate her if they knew. Now, when all else was lost, it was Koreans who looked after their own. This was her life now. She woke and she served, and she made others feel at home and, at every moment, her old self nipped at her heels.
[...]
Ada was the lost third generation. Trying to envision a real place, with its flora and fauna, craters and hills, from the broad strokes of an impressionist painting. Gatherer of microscopic fragments and whispers. Witness to the ache, detached from the context. Bearer of the weight of the better life. Miner of layers and voids. Who cannot have the nerve not to strive to be the best, do the most, to squander what has been given. Who are silenced because what could they possibly understand of the dignity and indignity of pain? All Ada knew was that heartache flowed from the woman she came from and the woman who came before her, until it trickled into a girl in London, lonely and letting another girl drive holes in her ears.
Rich in both plot and character (and in that sense not my usual fare), the novel is distinguished by the author's extensive research, but compassionately told and largely implicit (a unnecessarily didatic late chapter aside), into Korean political history of the mid 1980s, but more specifically the findings of the 해외입양 관련 사건 조사 (which I will leave to the review reader to translate for fear of spoilers).
Another strong novel from a very talented young writer.
Of course, the writing was in Korean. Not the boxy, typed-up Korean with neat characters that she could sort-of read, albeit at the speed of a drunk six-year-old. Hurried words, slanting into each other, the ink faded and blurry. Brimming with legend, like long-lost war journals, hieroglyphics on stone, love letters stashed in a biscuit tin. Words that bore witness to alienation. Ada's stomach churned at the sheer volume. Her mother's thoughts unravelling like bundles of yarn. There was a rhythm to the writing, still breathing, fully in motion. She searched the pages for something familiar - any mention of herself or her dad - but the shapes didn't add up to words.
Minbak (민박) is the second novel by Ela Lee after her debut Jaded.
It tells the story of three generations of women - 영자 (Youngja), 하나 (Hana) and Ada (에이다) - and is set in 인천 (Incheon) in 1985-6 and Wimbledon in 2008-9.
The opening scene is set in 인천 in 1985, and as riot police move in on militant workers, a young woman gives birth to a baby.
In the novel's present day, Hana, born in 1968 (a 원숭이띠 like me) and now aged 40 lives in a house in Wimbledon village (ditto) in a Anglo-Korean marriage (tick), with her 15 year old daughter Ada (I've girls either side of that age) who attends a high-achieving all girls private school (OK this is spooky).
하나 moved to the UK in 1986, aged just 18, after the events that took place in Korea, eventually marrying a businessman, Tim Perry, in 1992, after a short relationship.
With a name like Hannan Penny, Tim's Surrey friends had expected his bride to be creamy-cheeked and impeccably mannered. But when they first met Hana, they found that she was small, with hard black eyes, and a face that was beautiful but, they'd agreed, not attractive. She was kind of sexy, but marred by a lack of ease and simplicity; an unsettling concoction to those who didn't venture beyond easy and simple. An elopement, they'd commented, how Austenian. Tim had bobbed an unfazed smile in response, his arm cradling her waist, backing his subtly sharp twenty-four-year-old Korean bride who'd appeared one day like an apparition.
Privately though, she'd never forgotten that he'd scrawled 'Hannah' instead of 'Hana' on the wedding register, and, in that moment, she realised he hadn't known her well enough to marry her.
Ada was born shortly after, and the family moved to Wimbledon in 2001. Hana's Korean mother 영자 moved to the UK a few years ago after she started to suffer from dementia, and is now in a care home.
But as the present-day narration begins, Tim has died in a car accident, and picking up the pieces of his finances, she realises that his construction business is failing as the financial crisis starts to bite, and that he has recently remortgaged their house to finance his business debts for more than it is worth.
Back in Incheon, Hana's mother ran a boarding house, a 민박 (minbak), although technically a 하숙집 as the author acknowledges in an afterword, and inspired by Youngja's confusion (in her dementia, she often thinks she still runs it in Korea), Hana reaches a decision.
Unable to sell the house and crystallise the negative equity, and unable to afford the care home fees, she will turn their house into an upmarket minbak (think B&B), the three generations of women moving into the living room, where they sleep on the floor. Advertising in the New Malden Korean supermarkets (although I'm not sure if H-Mart existed in 2008) and press, they soon draw a clientele, their house a home-from-home for Korean businessmen and students craving home comforts. And Hana talks Ada's private school into giving her a scholarship.
But the echoes of what happened in 1985, and why Hana came to the UK, echo into their lives and the relationship between the three generations of women.
Hana was Korean, and an immigrant, but she hadn't been much of a Korean immigrant. When she first arrived in 1986, she accompanied the family she was staying with a few Sundays to the Korean church. A buzzing tribe, replicating microcosms of home for three hours a week. They welcomed her, she bolted. Not because she was arrogant enough to think she didn't need the protection of a commu-nity, but because she had to provide a ledger of her where, when, how and why. She wondered if these smiling women who force-fed her japchae would hate her if they knew. Now, when all else was lost, it was Koreans who looked after their own. This was her life now. She woke and she served, and she made others feel at home and, at every moment, her old self nipped at her heels.
[...]
Ada was the lost third generation. Trying to envision a real place, with its flora and fauna, craters and hills, from the broad strokes of an impressionist painting. Gatherer of microscopic fragments and whispers. Witness to the ache, detached from the context. Bearer of the weight of the better life. Miner of layers and voids. Who cannot have the nerve not to strive to be the best, do the most, to squander what has been given. Who are silenced because what could they possibly understand of the dignity and indignity of pain? All Ada knew was that heartache flowed from the woman she came from and the woman who came before her, until it trickled into a girl in London, lonely and letting another girl drive holes in her ears.
Rich in both plot and character (and in that sense not my usual fare), the novel is distinguished by the author's extensive research, but compassionately told and largely implicit (a unnecessarily didatic late chapter aside), into Korean political history of the mid 1980s, but more specifically the findings of the 해외입양 관련 사건 조사 (which I will leave to the review reader to translate for fear of spoilers).
Another strong novel from a very talented young writer.
March 30, 2026
I love a good family saga, and this was excellent. I found it more accomplished than Jaded, by the same author, and I loved the three characters - Hana, a somewhat mysterious young woman, keeps to herself, left Korea in the 1980s; her daughter Ada, half British, half Korean; and Hana's mother Youngja who lives with them in London and has dementia. Hana's husband has just died and Ada is trying to understand her mother better, but the key isn't in 2008 Richmond, it's in 1985 Korea under military dictatorship.
It was well written and enjoyable, a solid historical fiction. The relationship between Hana and her mother Youngja was really moving, complex and interesting, and I loved the chapters written from Youngja's perspective, I think an unreliable narrator isn't always easy to pull off but Ela Lee did it superbly. I'll definitely read what she writes next.
Free ARC sent by Netgalley.
It was well written and enjoyable, a solid historical fiction. The relationship between Hana and her mother Youngja was really moving, complex and interesting, and I loved the chapters written from Youngja's perspective, I think an unreliable narrator isn't always easy to pull off but Ela Lee did it superbly. I'll definitely read what she writes next.
Free ARC sent by Netgalley.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
I expect this book to win awards during 2026
Minbak by Ela Lee is a quietly powerful novel that unfolds with patience and emotional clarity. At its core, this story is deeply rooted in culture and how it is preserved, strained, and reshaped across generations. I loved that Lee explored everything in depth but showed fragility in doing so.
What surprised me most was the beauty of the love in this book. The love of family through every challenge, showing that love is also complicated, imperfect, and often unspoken. Lee captures how love can exist alongside disappointment and distance, which made the relationships feel especially real
The shifting time periods do take some getting used to. While the transitions eventually add richness and perspective, there were moments early on where I had to pause and reorient myself.
Though there were places where I wished certain emotional threads had been explored a bit more deeply, Minbak remains a thoughtful and beautiful read. I enjoyed this book greatly
Minbak by Ela Lee is a quietly powerful novel that unfolds with patience and emotional clarity. At its core, this story is deeply rooted in culture and how it is preserved, strained, and reshaped across generations. I loved that Lee explored everything in depth but showed fragility in doing so.
What surprised me most was the beauty of the love in this book. The love of family through every challenge, showing that love is also complicated, imperfect, and often unspoken. Lee captures how love can exist alongside disappointment and distance, which made the relationships feel especially real
The shifting time periods do take some getting used to. While the transitions eventually add richness and perspective, there were moments early on where I had to pause and reorient myself.
Though there were places where I wished certain emotional threads had been explored a bit more deeply, Minbak remains a thoughtful and beautiful read. I enjoyed this book greatly
February 2, 2026
Thank you to Vintage for the proof of one of my most anticipated reads of the year. I read Jaded when it came out and absolutely adored the writing and how honest and raw Ela’s writing was.
Minbak is a beautifully written, multigenerational story set between London and Korea. The authors ability to take the reader on a journey and weave the past and present together seamlessly blew me away.
Characters are introduced who provide context and I loved that there is no filler, everyone has a purpose. There are no wasted words or chapters. I enjoyed everyone’s perspective- sometimes with a multi perspective story I prefer one characters POV to another’s but that didn’t happen here.
This is written with a lot of heart and it’ll will stay with me for a long time.
Minbak is a beautifully written, multigenerational story set between London and Korea. The authors ability to take the reader on a journey and weave the past and present together seamlessly blew me away.
Characters are introduced who provide context and I loved that there is no filler, everyone has a purpose. There are no wasted words or chapters. I enjoyed everyone’s perspective- sometimes with a multi perspective story I prefer one characters POV to another’s but that didn’t happen here.
This is written with a lot of heart and it’ll will stay with me for a long time.
December 22, 2025
★★★★★
#pr — gifted
𝙩𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢, 𝙗𝙤𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙘𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙚𝙖. 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
once again, ela lee brings a CORKER of a novel with 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗮𝗸. effortless storytelling mixed with vibrant, memorable characters, made this book so very good, and one of my top reads of 2025 🏆
after reading and loving 𝗷𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 last year (review posted on my grid, ★★★★½) I was super keen to read ela’s next book and had my hopes set high… and boy, this book delivered. grief, loss, heartbreak, displacement, secrets, lies, generational trauma + the things we do for the ones we love. and I’m BARELY scratching the surface here!! it’s unbelievable what ela covers in this book.
𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭: three generations of women cross continents and decades to find truth, forgiveness and compassion. tragedy strikes mother and daughter, hana and ada, while they are living in london, and they are forced to convert their house into a minbak. youngja, hana’s mother, moves in with them and as her dementia settles deeper, the three women must face their family’s dark history and the life-shattering secret of an entire country, long overdue its exposure.
read if you like:
📕 multigenerational fiction novels
📕 truly gorgeous + tender writing that moves you
📕 authors who consistently deliver great new reads
*huge thank you to penguin vintage + ela for sending me an advanced proof, I cannot wait for everyone to read this wonderful novel and fall in love with ada, hana + youngja (coming march 2026!) 🫶
#pr — gifted
𝙩𝙤𝙬 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙪𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙣𝙩 𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙢, 𝙗𝙤𝙞𝙡 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙖 𝙘𝙪𝙥 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙚𝙖. 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙞𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙡𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.
once again, ela lee brings a CORKER of a novel with 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗯𝗮𝗸. effortless storytelling mixed with vibrant, memorable characters, made this book so very good, and one of my top reads of 2025 🏆
after reading and loving 𝗷𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗱 last year (review posted on my grid, ★★★★½) I was super keen to read ela’s next book and had my hopes set high… and boy, this book delivered. grief, loss, heartbreak, displacement, secrets, lies, generational trauma + the things we do for the ones we love. and I’m BARELY scratching the surface here!! it’s unbelievable what ela covers in this book.
𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭: three generations of women cross continents and decades to find truth, forgiveness and compassion. tragedy strikes mother and daughter, hana and ada, while they are living in london, and they are forced to convert their house into a minbak. youngja, hana’s mother, moves in with them and as her dementia settles deeper, the three women must face their family’s dark history and the life-shattering secret of an entire country, long overdue its exposure.
read if you like:
📕 multigenerational fiction novels
📕 truly gorgeous + tender writing that moves you
📕 authors who consistently deliver great new reads
*huge thank you to penguin vintage + ela for sending me an advanced proof, I cannot wait for everyone to read this wonderful novel and fall in love with ada, hana + youngja (coming march 2026!) 🫶
December 11, 2025
All I can say is WOW!
This is an emotional story following three generations of Korean women - a story filled with trauma, grief and compassion.
I thought it was beautifully written, moving from the past in 1980s to 2008 and capturing a very complicated time in Korean history. I thought the characters were written well and I liked being able to feel the emotion from each one of them - even those characters who only had a minor role.
I was hooked from the start and had to fight back tears at some points! I'm so glad I had the chance to read it.
Thank you Random House UK, Vintage & NetGalley for the advanced copy!
This is an emotional story following three generations of Korean women - a story filled with trauma, grief and compassion.
I thought it was beautifully written, moving from the past in 1980s to 2008 and capturing a very complicated time in Korean history. I thought the characters were written well and I liked being able to feel the emotion from each one of them - even those characters who only had a minor role.
I was hooked from the start and had to fight back tears at some points! I'm so glad I had the chance to read it.
Thank you Random House UK, Vintage & NetGalley for the advanced copy!
March 18, 2026
Minbak, Ela Lee’s second novel, starts as a dark personal story but slowly opens out to reveal a national tragedy. The story takes as its centre three generations of women who circle around an event kept secret for many years. The “minbak” of the title is a Korean word for a family-run boarding house or guest house. The plot will oscillate between two of these in different time periods as the secrets slowly come to light.
The main plot opens in London in 2008. Hana has just lost her husband and soon finds things are much worse than that as he dies with serious debts that he accrued through the global financial crisis. In order to make ends meet Hana decides to turn her house into a minbak, she moves her mother Youngja out of care and together with teenage daughter Ada moves into a single room of the house while renting out the other rooms to Korean tourists and visitors. This way of living reflects her young adulthood in the mid 1980s in Incheon, living and working in the minbak run by her mother. The narration will drop back often to this time and place and the impact of events there on Hana and Youngja. All three women have secrets and their close living arrangements and Youngja’s dementia, where she confuses her granddaughter for her daughter, start to bring the secrets from that earlier time to the surface.
Minbak is a beautifully observed novel of three generations of women, the differences between them but also some of the resonances of their past and present. Each is a slight step further from their Korean heritage – Ada was born in England to a Korean mother and English father, Hana came to England as a young adult and her mother Youngja only came later in life as neither of Hana’s siblings would care for her. So their experience and understanding of the central mystery in this book is very different.
But Minbak is more than just the story of one family. At first it is unclear why Lee drops in short chapters from the point-of-view of very minor characters in terms of the main story. But slowly it comes clear that she has a bigger story that she wants to tell. And that is the story of the large scale exporting of Korean babies for adoption, particularly to the United States, in the 1980s. This puts the story of Youngja and Hana into the context of a much larger, almost industrial, process which fed off the social pressure for women not to try and be single mothers.
Minbak works on a number of levels. It is first and foremost an emotionally resonant tale of three women coming to terms with both their past and their present. But it also exposes the South Korean adoption industry of the 1980s which saw possibly thousands of babies sold to parents overseas and evidence of their parentage either hidden or destroyed. But while the subject matter is dark and poignant, Lee also celebrates her protagonists and focusses on the importance of their connection to each other and their resilience.
The main plot opens in London in 2008. Hana has just lost her husband and soon finds things are much worse than that as he dies with serious debts that he accrued through the global financial crisis. In order to make ends meet Hana decides to turn her house into a minbak, she moves her mother Youngja out of care and together with teenage daughter Ada moves into a single room of the house while renting out the other rooms to Korean tourists and visitors. This way of living reflects her young adulthood in the mid 1980s in Incheon, living and working in the minbak run by her mother. The narration will drop back often to this time and place and the impact of events there on Hana and Youngja. All three women have secrets and their close living arrangements and Youngja’s dementia, where she confuses her granddaughter for her daughter, start to bring the secrets from that earlier time to the surface.
Minbak is a beautifully observed novel of three generations of women, the differences between them but also some of the resonances of their past and present. Each is a slight step further from their Korean heritage – Ada was born in England to a Korean mother and English father, Hana came to England as a young adult and her mother Youngja only came later in life as neither of Hana’s siblings would care for her. So their experience and understanding of the central mystery in this book is very different.
But Minbak is more than just the story of one family. At first it is unclear why Lee drops in short chapters from the point-of-view of very minor characters in terms of the main story. But slowly it comes clear that she has a bigger story that she wants to tell. And that is the story of the large scale exporting of Korean babies for adoption, particularly to the United States, in the 1980s. This puts the story of Youngja and Hana into the context of a much larger, almost industrial, process which fed off the social pressure for women not to try and be single mothers.
Minbak works on a number of levels. It is first and foremost an emotionally resonant tale of three women coming to terms with both their past and their present. But it also exposes the South Korean adoption industry of the 1980s which saw possibly thousands of babies sold to parents overseas and evidence of their parentage either hidden or destroyed. But while the subject matter is dark and poignant, Lee also celebrates her protagonists and focusses on the importance of their connection to each other and their resilience.
March 29, 2026
4.5
“The sun rose, the seasons rolled, the moon hugged the planet, powerful men plotted their great design. Ordinary families played like pawns.”
“Deep in her subterranean, she had already learned to be loved for what she could do, more than who she was.”
“Same old, all across the globe. Women exaggerated into whores, victims or saints. Nothing changes if nothing changes.”
“We all have our stories, every single one of us.”
“Home wasn’t a place. It was your people.”
Through the perspective of three women, Lee illustrates how a choice made in one timeline (made to ameliorate a problem) affects the generations to come. Especially when said choice is made a time of political unrest.
The way books can transport us to worlds and histories that we weren’t privy to - Is just so awe inducing. It’s also then difficult to know that people have suffered so much in the different corners of world, their plight stifled from the masses. A bittersweet feeling really.
I won’t say much about the narrative because going in blind, really sucked me into the story and caused me to contemplate the book’s quiet intensity about a common yet intricate issue.
“The sun rose, the seasons rolled, the moon hugged the planet, powerful men plotted their great design. Ordinary families played like pawns.”
“Deep in her subterranean, she had already learned to be loved for what she could do, more than who she was.”
“Same old, all across the globe. Women exaggerated into whores, victims or saints. Nothing changes if nothing changes.”
“We all have our stories, every single one of us.”
“Home wasn’t a place. It was your people.”
Through the perspective of three women, Lee illustrates how a choice made in one timeline (made to ameliorate a problem) affects the generations to come. Especially when said choice is made a time of political unrest.
The way books can transport us to worlds and histories that we weren’t privy to - Is just so awe inducing. It’s also then difficult to know that people have suffered so much in the different corners of world, their plight stifled from the masses. A bittersweet feeling really.
I won’t say much about the narrative because going in blind, really sucked me into the story and caused me to contemplate the book’s quiet intensity about a common yet intricate issue.
April 3, 2026
A multi-generational family story following three women between South Korea in 1985 and London 2008. Set in a boarding house the story is followed with guilt, resilience and family secrets.
What I Struggled With:
⭐️ The characters felt somewhat flat, and some of the narratives came across as boring.
⭐️ I enjoyed learning about South Korean culture, but at times it felt as though certain parts were presented in a non-fiction style rather than through storytelling. (I think with further editing and maybe a change from 3rd person to 1st person narrative may have worked better here).
What I Loved:
⭐️ The exploration of the fine line between a mother making a decision for herself and one that is truly in her child’s best interest.
⭐️ The family secrets were written incredibly well. The sense of the unknown created a chilling atmosphere throughout the story, especially as the characters felt so disconnected from one another.
⭐️ The themes of Alzheimer’s, young pregnancy, and shame.
Even though I wasn’t completely engrossed in this book and probably won’t be thinking about it much in the near future, I still think the story is worth reading. I’ve seen many raving reviews about it, so my opinion may just be an unpopular one. 😀
What I Struggled With:
⭐️ The characters felt somewhat flat, and some of the narratives came across as boring.
⭐️ I enjoyed learning about South Korean culture, but at times it felt as though certain parts were presented in a non-fiction style rather than through storytelling. (I think with further editing and maybe a change from 3rd person to 1st person narrative may have worked better here).
What I Loved:
⭐️ The exploration of the fine line between a mother making a decision for herself and one that is truly in her child’s best interest.
⭐️ The family secrets were written incredibly well. The sense of the unknown created a chilling atmosphere throughout the story, especially as the characters felt so disconnected from one another.
⭐️ The themes of Alzheimer’s, young pregnancy, and shame.
Even though I wasn’t completely engrossed in this book and probably won’t be thinking about it much in the near future, I still think the story is worth reading. I’ve seen many raving reviews about it, so my opinion may just be an unpopular one. 😀
April 17, 2026
4.5 but rounding up cos - generosity!
Slow start for me but also I kept picking it up and putting it down due to la bebe. I felt at parts the writing was a bit obvious, and it was a bit neat. BUT it actually surprised me at towards the end, I didn’t know it was going to go in that direction - commentary on the adoption industry of South Korea in the 70s-80s. Fascinating, harrowing and tragic. Yet again women being the ultimate losers of a patriarchal and misogynistic system. Leaving out the narratives of Yohan and John i thought was a well calculated choice, and I loved the authors note at the back that showed it was clearly a well researched and considered novel, aiming to give those stripped of identity a voice.
Lots to love about this one.
Slow start for me but also I kept picking it up and putting it down due to la bebe. I felt at parts the writing was a bit obvious, and it was a bit neat. BUT it actually surprised me at towards the end, I didn’t know it was going to go in that direction - commentary on the adoption industry of South Korea in the 70s-80s. Fascinating, harrowing and tragic. Yet again women being the ultimate losers of a patriarchal and misogynistic system. Leaving out the narratives of Yohan and John i thought was a well calculated choice, and I loved the authors note at the back that showed it was clearly a well researched and considered novel, aiming to give those stripped of identity a voice.
Lots to love about this one.
April 26, 2026
At the moment this is 4.5 stars but I sense I may come back & change to 5 stars. Once again I learnt something about a time in history I had no knowledge of, but I also feel I know more about Korean culture, particularly from the female perspective. The language and imagery is beautifully described and the audible version was narrated by Lee herself which I think also enhanced the experience. 3 generations of women - daughter , mother & grandmother tell the story - and Lee explains whilst fiction, this scenario was very real to many Korean families. Their story will stay with me ❤️
April 29, 2026
An amazing piece of writing that takes you on a journey of motherhood through 3 generations. It also touches on dementia and adoption issues of South Korea that started in the 1950s and became an economical treasure.
March 7, 2026
Set in a non-sequential plot across a few decades from the 80s to early 2000s, Minbak follows the story of 3 generations of women, Young-ja, her daughter, Hana and granddaughter, Ada. It tells the story of Hana, growing up during the Korea uprisings, and American influences through its Christian mercenaries, industrialisation and economy in the 80s.
The author, being half Korean uses an abundant number of Korean words, some are already widely known eg. minbak, banchan etc. while some need assistance from Google translate. As someone who has read similar premise of the hardship of early Korea especially during the wars, the themes continued by the author from various other sides like rising from dictator leadership and the resultance of America in shaping Korea we see today.
While I generally do not have an issue with the non-linear storytelling, jumping back and forth across decades, transitions between scenes felt uneven and abrupt for me. I occasionally found myself having to reread the pages a few times for clarity.
Despite it all, Minbak is a perfect pick for the month of #KoreanMarch and #Womenhistorymonth with the themes of women empowerment in a patriarchal society in Korea.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC.
The author, being half Korean uses an abundant number of Korean words, some are already widely known eg. minbak, banchan etc. while some need assistance from Google translate. As someone who has read similar premise of the hardship of early Korea especially during the wars, the themes continued by the author from various other sides like rising from dictator leadership and the resultance of America in shaping Korea we see today.
While I generally do not have an issue with the non-linear storytelling, jumping back and forth across decades, transitions between scenes felt uneven and abrupt for me. I occasionally found myself having to reread the pages a few times for clarity.
Despite it all, Minbak is a perfect pick for the month of #KoreanMarch and #Womenhistorymonth with the themes of women empowerment in a patriarchal society in Korea.
Thank you Netgalley for the ARC.
April 5, 2026
I do love a generational family saga and this was no exception. I read most of this novel in one day as I just couldn’t put it down. Very informative and very emotional. I had no idea about this part of Korea’s history, and the heartache this would have caused so many people. This novel was a powerful insight into the lives of three strong women surrounded by trauma and heartache, these words highlight the power of truth telling as a method towards healing deep wounds.
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Minbak is a beautifully written multi-generational novel which covers many important themes. This is my first novel by Ela Lee but I will certainly read more. I particularly enjoyed the exploration of female generational relationships within a cultural lens.
Thanks NetGalley for this ARC.
Thanks NetGalley for this ARC.
April 20, 2026
I picked up this book from a book shop, with only reading the blurb on the back and refusing to go on Goodreads. Best decision I’ve made, truely such a beautiful, heart wrenching story
March 16, 2026
wow, what a wonderful book
March 26, 2026
very, very slow start for me , but very interesting topic
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
4.5 stars for emotionally destroying me by intergenerational trauma and Korean boarding houses
This is the story of three Korean women crammed into one room in 2008 London: teenage Ada, her secretive mother Hana, and ailing grandmother Youngja running a minbak (boarding house) out of their home because tragedy struck and life said "suffer beautifully." But it's also 1985 South Korea, dictatorship era, where teen Hana gets yanked out of school to work at her family's boarding house and her whole future gets swallowed by family obligation, shame, and a nameless baby who vanishes after nine days. The dual timeline weaves between these moments, and it's giving "generational secrets unraveling in the most devastating slow burn possible."
Scenes that absolutely wrecked me:
The 1985 sections where Hana is literally just a bright girl with dreams, stuck running a minbak while South Korea's military chaos hums in the background, watching students and factory workers pass through like glimpses of lives she'll never have? That longing, that quiet suffocation.... it hit WAY too close, and I was reading this at work pretending my eyes weren't doing that stinging thing. I was obsessed with the cramped single-room dynamic in 2008 London where all three women are forced to exist in proximity with nowhere to hide from each other's resentment, grief, and unspoken rage. And Ada, desperately trying to piece together her mother's past like a detective but also just a teen who wants to KNOW her own family, had me in my feelings constantly.
Why it's a 4.5 and not a full 5??
Look, this book is stunning, lyrical, tender, utterly devastating in the best literary fiction way. But it's also SLOW, like "meditative character study" slow, and sometimes I just wanted someone to SAY THE THING instead of circling it for thirty pages in beautiful, painful prose. The pacing occasionally felt like it was prioritizing atmosphere over momentum, and while I respect the craft, there were moments I was like "bestie, I am READY for the revelation, please." Also, this is not a "feel-good" read, it's about misunderstandings, heartbreak, choices that haunt you across decades, and the specific kind of immigrant grief that sits in your chest forever, so if you're expecting comfort, maybe grab tissues and emotional support instead.
Ultimately, this is a masterclass in empathy, a love letter to the Korean women erased from history books, and an achingly real portrait of mothers and daughters failing and loving each other in equal measure. I closed it feeling hollowed out but also weirdly grateful, like I'd been trusted with something precious and painful, which is exactly what intergenerational storytelling should feel like. (And also like I needed to go home and call my mum immediately.)
4.5 stars for emotionally destroying me by intergenerational trauma and Korean boarding houses
This is the story of three Korean women crammed into one room in 2008 London: teenage Ada, her secretive mother Hana, and ailing grandmother Youngja running a minbak (boarding house) out of their home because tragedy struck and life said "suffer beautifully." But it's also 1985 South Korea, dictatorship era, where teen Hana gets yanked out of school to work at her family's boarding house and her whole future gets swallowed by family obligation, shame, and a nameless baby who vanishes after nine days. The dual timeline weaves between these moments, and it's giving "generational secrets unraveling in the most devastating slow burn possible."
Scenes that absolutely wrecked me:
The 1985 sections where Hana is literally just a bright girl with dreams, stuck running a minbak while South Korea's military chaos hums in the background, watching students and factory workers pass through like glimpses of lives she'll never have? That longing, that quiet suffocation.... it hit WAY too close, and I was reading this at work pretending my eyes weren't doing that stinging thing. I was obsessed with the cramped single-room dynamic in 2008 London where all three women are forced to exist in proximity with nowhere to hide from each other's resentment, grief, and unspoken rage. And Ada, desperately trying to piece together her mother's past like a detective but also just a teen who wants to KNOW her own family, had me in my feelings constantly.
Why it's a 4.5 and not a full 5??
Look, this book is stunning, lyrical, tender, utterly devastating in the best literary fiction way. But it's also SLOW, like "meditative character study" slow, and sometimes I just wanted someone to SAY THE THING instead of circling it for thirty pages in beautiful, painful prose. The pacing occasionally felt like it was prioritizing atmosphere over momentum, and while I respect the craft, there were moments I was like "bestie, I am READY for the revelation, please." Also, this is not a "feel-good" read, it's about misunderstandings, heartbreak, choices that haunt you across decades, and the specific kind of immigrant grief that sits in your chest forever, so if you're expecting comfort, maybe grab tissues and emotional support instead.
Ultimately, this is a masterclass in empathy, a love letter to the Korean women erased from history books, and an achingly real portrait of mothers and daughters failing and loving each other in equal measure. I closed it feeling hollowed out but also weirdly grateful, like I'd been trusted with something precious and painful, which is exactly what intergenerational storytelling should feel like. (And also like I needed to go home and call my mum immediately.)
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
‘Minbak’ by Ela Lee is a gem of a novel. Elegant, deeply moving, and quietly powerful. I could spend days discussing it, dedicate tomes to enthusing over its subtle brilliance, but all I really need to say is this: Read it!
The plot is simple. In Incheon, South Korea, in the 1980s, after falling on hard times, a family is forced to turn their home into a minbak—a guesthouse. Twenty years later, following a tragedy, the daughter of that family finds herself recreating the arrangement in London, this time with her teenage daughter and her ageing mother, who is living with Alzheimer’s. With three generations of women sharing one room, the past echoes through the present, leading to secrets being revealed and old wounds confronted. There are no shocks or big twists. Even the most dramatic moments retain a quiet subtlety. The novel’s beauty lies in its relationships, its characters’ lived experiences, and its thoughtful exploration of love, grief, memory, and identity.
Lee’s prose is simple yet vivid. A line such as “He was a smile surrounded by a person” perfectly captures her precision and economy. The characters are beautifully realised, with each feeling real and distinct, while the shifts across voices and time unfold with impressive fluidity. Equally notable is how the novel engages with numerous themes without ever feeling crowded or imbalanced. Coming-of-age narratives, the immigrant experience, kindnesses wrapped in betrayals, and the complexity of mother-daughter relationships—all are given their due weight; all weave together seamlessly.
‘Minbak’ really is a special book—one that lingers long after the final page, and one I am certain to return to. For readers drawn to Korean literature and multi-generational narratives—particularly those centred on mothers and daughters—it is a must-read.
Many thanks to NetGalley, Ela Lee and Harvill for the ARC.
⚠️ Death of parent, death of a child, grief, racism, disordered eating
The plot is simple. In Incheon, South Korea, in the 1980s, after falling on hard times, a family is forced to turn their home into a minbak—a guesthouse. Twenty years later, following a tragedy, the daughter of that family finds herself recreating the arrangement in London, this time with her teenage daughter and her ageing mother, who is living with Alzheimer’s. With three generations of women sharing one room, the past echoes through the present, leading to secrets being revealed and old wounds confronted. There are no shocks or big twists. Even the most dramatic moments retain a quiet subtlety. The novel’s beauty lies in its relationships, its characters’ lived experiences, and its thoughtful exploration of love, grief, memory, and identity.
Lee’s prose is simple yet vivid. A line such as “He was a smile surrounded by a person” perfectly captures her precision and economy. The characters are beautifully realised, with each feeling real and distinct, while the shifts across voices and time unfold with impressive fluidity. Equally notable is how the novel engages with numerous themes without ever feeling crowded or imbalanced. Coming-of-age narratives, the immigrant experience, kindnesses wrapped in betrayals, and the complexity of mother-daughter relationships—all are given their due weight; all weave together seamlessly.
‘Minbak’ really is a special book—one that lingers long after the final page, and one I am certain to return to. For readers drawn to Korean literature and multi-generational narratives—particularly those centred on mothers and daughters—it is a must-read.
Many thanks to NetGalley, Ela Lee and Harvill for the ARC.
⚠️ Death of parent, death of a child, grief, racism, disordered eating
Review of advance copy received from Publisher
Whilst not as accusatory and powerfully raw as Lee’s debut, this is a multigenerational story that is internally emotional and destabilising.
1985, Incheon, Hana, a young girl is forced to abandon her education to work in her family’s minbak (a guesthouse in a private home) during a turbulent time in South Korea’s society.
2008, London: now a mother, Hana is forced to move her teenage daughter, Ada, and her own forgetting mother, into a single room, transforming their home into a minbak to survive.
Simply put, this is an exploration on memory, reflection, and quiet, unshared suffering.
A stolen schoolgirl, replaced by a working girl, replaced by a wife. A stolen schoolgirl, replaced by a working girl, replaced by a wife.
Hana spends her life trying to achieve something more feeling cheated for reasons explored in the heartbreaking novel that turns a naive, hopeful girl into a hardened, fragile woman (oxymoronic, I know).
Ada, a second generation immigrant, feeling half of a person. Desperate to fit in, desperate to please her mother and care for her grandmother, desperate for external affirmation.
The writing is soft and beautiful and compulsively readable.
I wish this had delved more into the impact of society on each women. This tale is very internal which means we get raw inner reflections, but we miss bigger ripples.
Similarly, the characters are trapped in a similar, repetitive thought cycle slowing down momentum and emotional resonance.
I kept waiting for a confrontation or climax.
If you go in expecting a slow, generational character study akin to a more internal Pachinko; you will be satisfied.
Physical arc gifted by Vintage, Penguin Books.
Bookstagram
Tiktok
1985, Incheon, Hana, a young girl is forced to abandon her education to work in her family’s minbak (a guesthouse in a private home) during a turbulent time in South Korea’s society.
2008, London: now a mother, Hana is forced to move her teenage daughter, Ada, and her own forgetting mother, into a single room, transforming their home into a minbak to survive.
Simply put, this is an exploration on memory, reflection, and quiet, unshared suffering.
A stolen schoolgirl, replaced by a working girl, replaced by a wife. A stolen schoolgirl, replaced by a working girl, replaced by a wife.
Hana spends her life trying to achieve something more feeling cheated for reasons explored in the heartbreaking novel that turns a naive, hopeful girl into a hardened, fragile woman (oxymoronic, I know).
Ada, a second generation immigrant, feeling half of a person. Desperate to fit in, desperate to please her mother and care for her grandmother, desperate for external affirmation.
The writing is soft and beautiful and compulsively readable.
I wish this had delved more into the impact of society on each women. This tale is very internal which means we get raw inner reflections, but we miss bigger ripples.
Similarly, the characters are trapped in a similar, repetitive thought cycle slowing down momentum and emotional resonance.
I kept waiting for a confrontation or climax.
If you go in expecting a slow, generational character study akin to a more internal Pachinko; you will be satisfied.
Physical arc gifted by Vintage, Penguin Books.
Bookstagram
Tiktok
March 18, 2026
I recently finished Minbak by Ela Lee and it is definitely one of those stories that stays with you long after you close the final page. I loved the way it explores the "paper orphan" history of South Korea is both eye opening and incredibly heartbreaking.
The book manages to take a massive national scandal and make it feel so personal through the lives of three generations of women. It is a heavy read but the writing is so beautiful that you find yourself flying through the chapters despite the difficult subject matter.
One thing I really appreciated was how the author used the physical space of the minbak to build tension. Having three women living in a single room in London while renting out the rest of the house felt so suffocating and realistic. It forced all their secrets to come to the surface because there was literally nowhere else for them to go. The lack of privacy acted like a pressure cooker for the plot and made the eventual revelations feel earned rather than forced.
The characters of Hana and Ada were especially well drawn and their complicated relationship felt very authentic to the immigrant experience. Hana is so guarded and silent about her past which is frustrating but you eventually understand it is her way of surviving.
Seeing Ada try to piece together her family history from fragments of her grandmother’s fading memory was one of the most moving parts of the book. It really captures that specific feeling of trying to understand a heritage that your parents are trying to protect you from.
This is a powerful piece of literary fiction that I would recommend to anyone who likes complex family sagas or historical mysteries. It is a haunting look at how the choices of the past can travel across oceans and show up on your doorstep decades later.
The book manages to take a massive national scandal and make it feel so personal through the lives of three generations of women. It is a heavy read but the writing is so beautiful that you find yourself flying through the chapters despite the difficult subject matter.
One thing I really appreciated was how the author used the physical space of the minbak to build tension. Having three women living in a single room in London while renting out the rest of the house felt so suffocating and realistic. It forced all their secrets to come to the surface because there was literally nowhere else for them to go. The lack of privacy acted like a pressure cooker for the plot and made the eventual revelations feel earned rather than forced.
The characters of Hana and Ada were especially well drawn and their complicated relationship felt very authentic to the immigrant experience. Hana is so guarded and silent about her past which is frustrating but you eventually understand it is her way of surviving.
Seeing Ada try to piece together her family history from fragments of her grandmother’s fading memory was one of the most moving parts of the book. It really captures that specific feeling of trying to understand a heritage that your parents are trying to protect you from.
This is a powerful piece of literary fiction that I would recommend to anyone who likes complex family sagas or historical mysteries. It is a haunting look at how the choices of the past can travel across oceans and show up on your doorstep decades later.
March 18, 2026
I signed up to GoodReads just so I could shout about this book.
This story is a perfect example of why I love reading historical fiction, especially when it's so exquisitely written and full of heart.
First of all, it usually takes me a fair chunk of the story in order to feel attached and invested in the characters, but on page 10 of this story I was quietly weeping, already so completely sold, and the familiar feeling of wanting to protect a fictional character was very welcome.
We follow the story of three generations of women, and a combination of born & raised, born & displaced, and not-born in Korea.
The story explores the unfairness of working women kept away from education. It explores the dynamic of ostracism and isolation. It taught me so much about the Babies Exodus of South Korea, born in the face of economical and societal hardship and witnessed by all those who survived occupation, war and dictatorships. Morphed later into something horrific, exploitative and profit-driven.
Different people will relate to different characters. For me, this book was a masterpiece, a perfect exercise in empathy and survival.
The writing felt sure-footed and emotional. Not a lot of how our protagonists are feeling is left between the lines for you to pick up, it's all laid bare and raw. Whether you like this or not is a matter of taste. It didn't feel tell-not-show, to me. It was beautiful.
I'll add that multiple PoV chapters is something I love, but additional chapters from the point of view of marginal characters are a hard thing to do correctly, as they can feel like padding if not done well, but can enrich the story if well written and purposeful. So happy that in this case, it was the latter.
I read this back in January on NetGalley and I wish I could read it again for the first time.
This story is a perfect example of why I love reading historical fiction, especially when it's so exquisitely written and full of heart.
First of all, it usually takes me a fair chunk of the story in order to feel attached and invested in the characters, but on page 10 of this story I was quietly weeping, already so completely sold, and the familiar feeling of wanting to protect a fictional character was very welcome.
We follow the story of three generations of women, and a combination of born & raised, born & displaced, and not-born in Korea.
The story explores the unfairness of working women kept away from education. It explores the dynamic of ostracism and isolation. It taught me so much about the Babies Exodus of South Korea, born in the face of economical and societal hardship and witnessed by all those who survived occupation, war and dictatorships. Morphed later into something horrific, exploitative and profit-driven.
Different people will relate to different characters. For me, this book was a masterpiece, a perfect exercise in empathy and survival.
The writing felt sure-footed and emotional. Not a lot of how our protagonists are feeling is left between the lines for you to pick up, it's all laid bare and raw. Whether you like this or not is a matter of taste. It didn't feel tell-not-show, to me. It was beautiful.
I'll add that multiple PoV chapters is something I love, but additional chapters from the point of view of marginal characters are a hard thing to do correctly, as they can feel like padding if not done well, but can enrich the story if well written and purposeful. So happy that in this case, it was the latter.
I read this back in January on NetGalley and I wish I could read it again for the first time.
April 2, 2026
Mlle Alice, pouvez-vous nous raconter votre rencontre avec Minbak ?
"J'avais déjà vu passer le premier roman de l'autrice, Jaded, qui me tentait beaucoup même si je n'ai pas encore eu l'occasion de l'ajouter à ma PAL. Celui-ci, c'est grâce à Netgalley que je l'ai découvert et que j'ai pu le lire."
Dites-nous en un peu plus sur son histoire...
"Entre le présent à Londres et la fin des années 80 en Corée, nous suivons trois générations de femmes avec leurs joies, leurs peines et leurs secrets..."
Mais que s'est-il exactement passé entre vous ?
"Le roman est efficace pour nous attirer dans ses filets dès les premières pages et il devient très difficile de le reposer. Il est plein de secrets et de non-dits mais pas seulement. L'autrice ne se repose pas là-dessus pour nous entraîner avec elle parce qu'après tout, il est assez facile de deviner sur quel chemin on s'engage. Mais tout de suite, j'ai voulu savoir comment Hana allait s'en sortir et comment ses trois femmes pourraient surmonter les blessures du passé pour affronter les épreuves du présent. J'ai aimé en découvrir plus aussi sur un sujet de société, marquant dans l'histoire de la Corée, que je n'avais pas encore vu abordé en littérature (et que je ne préciserai pas pour ne pas vous spoiler). La seule chose qui m'a un peu gênée, au-delà du changement d'époque, c'est le changement de narrateur constant, j'avais parfois du mal à savoir où et quand on était. Et puis, si ça aide à appréhender le contexte, ça n'apportera pas grand chose, et j'aurais préféré que d'autres parties, comme celle d'Ada, soient plus approfondies."
Et comment cela s'est-il fini ?
"Comme souvent en littérature coréenne, nous sommes plutôt sur une fin douce amère, réaliste, qu'une happy end. J'aurais voulu ne pas les quitter si vite et qu'on suive encore quelques temps Youngja, Hana et Ada."
"J'avais déjà vu passer le premier roman de l'autrice, Jaded, qui me tentait beaucoup même si je n'ai pas encore eu l'occasion de l'ajouter à ma PAL. Celui-ci, c'est grâce à Netgalley que je l'ai découvert et que j'ai pu le lire."
Dites-nous en un peu plus sur son histoire...
"Entre le présent à Londres et la fin des années 80 en Corée, nous suivons trois générations de femmes avec leurs joies, leurs peines et leurs secrets..."
Mais que s'est-il exactement passé entre vous ?
"Le roman est efficace pour nous attirer dans ses filets dès les premières pages et il devient très difficile de le reposer. Il est plein de secrets et de non-dits mais pas seulement. L'autrice ne se repose pas là-dessus pour nous entraîner avec elle parce qu'après tout, il est assez facile de deviner sur quel chemin on s'engage. Mais tout de suite, j'ai voulu savoir comment Hana allait s'en sortir et comment ses trois femmes pourraient surmonter les blessures du passé pour affronter les épreuves du présent. J'ai aimé en découvrir plus aussi sur un sujet de société, marquant dans l'histoire de la Corée, que je n'avais pas encore vu abordé en littérature (et que je ne préciserai pas pour ne pas vous spoiler). La seule chose qui m'a un peu gênée, au-delà du changement d'époque, c'est le changement de narrateur constant, j'avais parfois du mal à savoir où et quand on était. Et puis, si ça aide à appréhender le contexte, ça n'apportera pas grand chose, et j'aurais préféré que d'autres parties, comme celle d'Ada, soient plus approfondies."
Et comment cela s'est-il fini ?
"Comme souvent en littérature coréenne, nous sommes plutôt sur une fin douce amère, réaliste, qu'une happy end. J'aurais voulu ne pas les quitter si vite et qu'on suive encore quelques temps Youngja, Hana et Ada."
Review of advance copy received from Netgalley
The book follows three generations of South Korean women, moving between 1985 Incheon and 2008 London. The central character is Hana, Youngja’s daughter and Ada’s mother. In 2008 she lives a diminished, half-life, and a personal tragedy forces long-buried wounds to reopen and, slowly, begin to heal. Ada, fifteen, is caught between her South Korean heritage—about which she has been told very little—and her contemporary life in London as the child of a mixed family. Youngja, in 2008, is slowly losing her memories, yet must confront a difficult decision she made for her daughter in 1985, a choice that has continued to haunt her even as her faculties fade.
The book approaches a national tragedy through an intimate, personal lens. It is difficult to discuss this without giving away too much, but I learned a great deal and was struck by the scale and recency of the events it depicts.
Overall, I liked the book. It is well written, with vivid characters and an engaging plot that held my interest even if it never truly gripped me. Still, something felt missing. The story, serving as a vessel for a broader agenda, sometimes felt clinically executed, with insufficient depth given to the overarching narrative. It also lacked the emotional urgency and complexity I expected; the emotions were described clearly, yet I rarely felt them. Compared with a work like Pachinko, this story feels comparatively muted.
I recommend it to readers interested in modern South Korean history, especially the experiences of South Korean women in the latter half of the twentieth century. Without its illuminating historical focus, I might have suggested skipping it. 3.5* rounded up.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an early copy in exchange for an honest review.
The book approaches a national tragedy through an intimate, personal lens. It is difficult to discuss this without giving away too much, but I learned a great deal and was struck by the scale and recency of the events it depicts.
Overall, I liked the book. It is well written, with vivid characters and an engaging plot that held my interest even if it never truly gripped me. Still, something felt missing. The story, serving as a vessel for a broader agenda, sometimes felt clinically executed, with insufficient depth given to the overarching narrative. It also lacked the emotional urgency and complexity I expected; the emotions were described clearly, yet I rarely felt them. Compared with a work like Pachinko, this story feels comparatively muted.
I recommend it to readers interested in modern South Korean history, especially the experiences of South Korean women in the latter half of the twentieth century. Without its illuminating historical focus, I might have suggested skipping it. 3.5* rounded up.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an early copy in exchange for an honest review.
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