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When We Fell Apart
A profoundly moving and suspenseful drama that untangles the complicated ties that bind families together—or break them apart—as a young Korean American man’s search for answers about his girlfriend’s mysterious death becomes a soul-searching journey into his own bi-cultural identity
When the Seoul police inform Min that his girlfriend Yu-jin has committed suicide, he’s sure it can't be true. She was successful, ambitious, happy, just on the cusp of graduating from university and claiming the future she’d always dreamed of.
Min, on the other hand, born to an American father and Korean mother, has never felt quite the same certainty as Yu-jin about his life’s path. After growing up in California, where he always felt “too Korean” to fit in, he’s moved to Seoul in the hope that exploring his Korean heritage will help him find a sense of purpose. And when he meets Yu-jin, little does he know that their carefree relationship will set off a chain of events with tragic consequences for them both.
Devastated by Yu-jin’s death, Min throws himself into finding out why she could have secretly wanted to die. Or did she? With a controlling and powerful government official father, and a fraught friendship with her alluring and destructive roommate So-ra, Yu-jin’s life was much more complex than she chose to reveal to Min. And the more he learns about her, the more he begins to doubt he ever really knew her at all.
As Yu-jin’s story—a fraught exploration of selfhood, coming-of-age, and family expectations—collides with Min’s, the result is an engrossing page-turner that poses powerful, urgent questions about cultural identity, family bonds, secrets, and what it truly means to belong.
When the Seoul police inform Min that his girlfriend Yu-jin has committed suicide, he’s sure it can't be true. She was successful, ambitious, happy, just on the cusp of graduating from university and claiming the future she’d always dreamed of.
Min, on the other hand, born to an American father and Korean mother, has never felt quite the same certainty as Yu-jin about his life’s path. After growing up in California, where he always felt “too Korean” to fit in, he’s moved to Seoul in the hope that exploring his Korean heritage will help him find a sense of purpose. And when he meets Yu-jin, little does he know that their carefree relationship will set off a chain of events with tragic consequences for them both.
Devastated by Yu-jin’s death, Min throws himself into finding out why she could have secretly wanted to die. Or did she? With a controlling and powerful government official father, and a fraught friendship with her alluring and destructive roommate So-ra, Yu-jin’s life was much more complex than she chose to reveal to Min. And the more he learns about her, the more he begins to doubt he ever really knew her at all.
As Yu-jin’s story—a fraught exploration of selfhood, coming-of-age, and family expectations—collides with Min’s, the result is an engrossing page-turner that poses powerful, urgent questions about cultural identity, family bonds, secrets, and what it truly means to belong.
368 pages, Hardcover
First published April 26, 2022
160 people are currently reading
14765 people want to read
About the author
Soon Wiley
2 books105 followersA native of Nyack, New York, Soon Wiley is the author of the novel When We Fell Apart. He currently teaches English in the upper school at Greenwich Country Day School, where he also serves as chair of the English department. He resides with his family in Connecticut.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 422 reviews
August 6, 2022
this isnt a fast-paced mystery, but more of an in-depth investigation into the human psyche.
this follows two POVs and times - present day chapters narrated by min as he searches for meaning behind his girlfriends supposed suicide and past chapters outlining key moments in yu-jins life leading up to the night she died.
while i think yu-jins chapters offer a great opportunity to explore how familial pressures and societal standards can place an overwhelming burden on young people, i found myself always wanting to get back to mins chapters. my heart ached reading his struggle of being judged as too korean for america, yet also being perceived as too american for korea and feeling like he doesnt have a place to call home. i found his desire to find somewhere to fit in the most compelling aspect of the story and loved how he grew to accept himself as he learned more about his girlfriend and her challenges.
overall, a very solid debut. not quite the mystery/thriller i was expecting when i picked this up, but the interesting character study made up for that!
↠ 3.5 stars
this follows two POVs and times - present day chapters narrated by min as he searches for meaning behind his girlfriends supposed suicide and past chapters outlining key moments in yu-jins life leading up to the night she died.
while i think yu-jins chapters offer a great opportunity to explore how familial pressures and societal standards can place an overwhelming burden on young people, i found myself always wanting to get back to mins chapters. my heart ached reading his struggle of being judged as too korean for america, yet also being perceived as too american for korea and feeling like he doesnt have a place to call home. i found his desire to find somewhere to fit in the most compelling aspect of the story and loved how he grew to accept himself as he learned more about his girlfriend and her challenges.
overall, a very solid debut. not quite the mystery/thriller i was expecting when i picked this up, but the interesting character study made up for that!
↠ 3.5 stars
January 7, 2022
When We Fell Apart is the debut novel of Soon Wiley.
It is told in alternating chapters from two perspectives of two characters, Min and Yu-jin, both of whom have come to Seoul in search of something.
Min was born in America of a Korean mother (whose parents emigrated to the US pre WW2) and an American father, now separated from his family. In America, Min never quite fell he belonged, and has come to Korea, working for Samsung (where he advises Korean businesspeople on US culture), only loosely attached to the ex-pat community:
No matter where he went, people couldn’t put their finger on him, puzzling over his ambiguous origins. Tolerance was what Min practiced whenever he spent time with expats. It was the trade‑ off for getting to play rugby, getting hit. They were a lost bunch anyway, the expats. ESL teachers, ex‑military, burnout backpackers, forty‑year‑old nothings with penchants for Asian women, these were the types of foreign men in Korea. Min considered himself different from them, somehow special, here for a reason. Biracial, Los Angeles–bred Samsung consultants were the exception in Seoul, something Min took pride in.
He was here because of ancestry, because he’d never seen the country whose language he spoke, because he’d never felt wholly American, because in the snuggest kernel of his heart, he hoped to find some sense of belonging.
Yu-jin, whose section is narrated in the first person, ending when Min's begins, was brought up in Gyeryong (계룡시) a small military town, but as her narration opens in aiming for admission to the prestiguous women's university 이대, or to give it its full name 이화여자대학교 (Ewha Womans University).
Our eyes were on the prize, unflinching: gaining admittance to a university in Seoul. For those with even loftier goals, SKY (Seoul National University, Korea University, or Yonsei University) was the ultimate— admittance to any one of the three instantaneously setting you on a course for financial, social, and marital success. College wasn’t just the next logical step. It was the foundation upon which your entire adult life was built. It was everything. Slip up on a test at school, mess around during night classes at hagwon, or, worst of all, bomb the College Scholastic Ability Test— there went your future, all your hopes and dreams gone in an instant, every future self you’d ever imagined, vanished.
I had plans of my own. Or, I should say, my family had made plans for me: Ewha Womans University. It was my mother’s alma mater, one of Seoul’s most prestigious schools, and an all‑ girls one at that, something my father particularly approved of. But more than the promise of Ewha’s rigorous education, more than its vaunted postgraduation connections, more than the alluring prospect of escaping my parents’ house, more than anything, I wanted to be in Seoul, in the center of it all. As long as I was there, somewhere in that city, I knew everything would work itself out.
Yu-jin indeed gains entry to Ewha, although rather to her surprise her family also move to Seoul, her conservative, nationalistic and fiercely ambitious father taking up a prestiguous governmental post as Minister of Defence. She persuades him to let her live out, sharing a house with two other Ewha students, So-ra (from Busan) and a Japanese student, Misaki. Towards the end of her university course she meets Min at a noraebang (rather oddly the book refers to it as karaoke) and the two start dating.
We learn very early on that Yu-jin is dead, of suspected suicide, leaving Min bereft and confused. And in her first person account we also soon learn, although Min is entirely ignorant of this, that So-ra was, and indeed still is, her lover.
The story that follows has, going forward, Min trying to unravel the reasons behind Yu-jin's death (which he initially refuses to believe is suicide), while Yu-jin's own account shows us what actually lead to the fateful events. At times this part of the story strays a little too far into 'murder-mystery' type territory for my taste, with Yu-jin's father, also in search of the truth, bugging Min's phone and having him trailed by his men, while Min is passed information by a Detective assigned to the case.
And the more mundate, but harrowing, truth of Yu-jin's despair is a little diminished in force by the key revelation - her secret relationship with So-ra - being revealed very early in the novel (hence this isn't a spoiler).
The novel was for me at its strongest in its description of the city Seoul, almost another character in the novel. It has to be said my normal reading in Korean literature is of books written originally in Korean, and this is very different to those, with much more exposition that a Korean reader would need (or indeed I have to say I needed), although this is justified given that Min, Yu-jin, So-ra and Misaki are all outsiders who have come to Seoul seeking something, and it is very evocatively done. For example (and note the exposition added in brackets):
This was Seoul’s counterculture —something Min had only heard about, never seen — churning and writhing like some pissed‑off beast. It was a world away from the silent commuter metro rides, the suits and ties, the pencil skirts, the astronomical academic expectations, the conscription, the soju, the plastic surgery, the DMZ. These were the rebels, rejecting the patriarchy, the gender pay gap. This was their collective rage against a society and country that demanded perfection, filial piety, and allegiance; rage against the demilitarized zone just thirty‑five miles north, running like a jagged scar across their country, cut by milky‑faced foreign ministers in Berlin; rage that they still carried this burden, so many years later (all able‑bodied men required to defend South Korea for two years, forming one of the largest standing armies in the world). This was their rallying cry, their lament.
Overall, a novel I found more interest for its evocation of one of my favourite cities, but a little over-dramatic in terms of the main plot. 2.5 stars
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC.
It is told in alternating chapters from two perspectives of two characters, Min and Yu-jin, both of whom have come to Seoul in search of something.
Min was born in America of a Korean mother (whose parents emigrated to the US pre WW2) and an American father, now separated from his family. In America, Min never quite fell he belonged, and has come to Korea, working for Samsung (where he advises Korean businesspeople on US culture), only loosely attached to the ex-pat community:
No matter where he went, people couldn’t put their finger on him, puzzling over his ambiguous origins. Tolerance was what Min practiced whenever he spent time with expats. It was the trade‑ off for getting to play rugby, getting hit. They were a lost bunch anyway, the expats. ESL teachers, ex‑military, burnout backpackers, forty‑year‑old nothings with penchants for Asian women, these were the types of foreign men in Korea. Min considered himself different from them, somehow special, here for a reason. Biracial, Los Angeles–bred Samsung consultants were the exception in Seoul, something Min took pride in.
He was here because of ancestry, because he’d never seen the country whose language he spoke, because he’d never felt wholly American, because in the snuggest kernel of his heart, he hoped to find some sense of belonging.
Yu-jin, whose section is narrated in the first person, ending when Min's begins, was brought up in Gyeryong (계룡시) a small military town, but as her narration opens in aiming for admission to the prestiguous women's university 이대, or to give it its full name 이화여자대학교 (Ewha Womans University).
Our eyes were on the prize, unflinching: gaining admittance to a university in Seoul. For those with even loftier goals, SKY (Seoul National University, Korea University, or Yonsei University) was the ultimate— admittance to any one of the three instantaneously setting you on a course for financial, social, and marital success. College wasn’t just the next logical step. It was the foundation upon which your entire adult life was built. It was everything. Slip up on a test at school, mess around during night classes at hagwon, or, worst of all, bomb the College Scholastic Ability Test— there went your future, all your hopes and dreams gone in an instant, every future self you’d ever imagined, vanished.
I had plans of my own. Or, I should say, my family had made plans for me: Ewha Womans University. It was my mother’s alma mater, one of Seoul’s most prestigious schools, and an all‑ girls one at that, something my father particularly approved of. But more than the promise of Ewha’s rigorous education, more than its vaunted postgraduation connections, more than the alluring prospect of escaping my parents’ house, more than anything, I wanted to be in Seoul, in the center of it all. As long as I was there, somewhere in that city, I knew everything would work itself out.
Yu-jin indeed gains entry to Ewha, although rather to her surprise her family also move to Seoul, her conservative, nationalistic and fiercely ambitious father taking up a prestiguous governmental post as Minister of Defence. She persuades him to let her live out, sharing a house with two other Ewha students, So-ra (from Busan) and a Japanese student, Misaki. Towards the end of her university course she meets Min at a noraebang (rather oddly the book refers to it as karaoke) and the two start dating.
We learn very early on that Yu-jin is dead, of suspected suicide, leaving Min bereft and confused. And in her first person account we also soon learn, although Min is entirely ignorant of this, that So-ra was, and indeed still is, her lover.
The story that follows has, going forward, Min trying to unravel the reasons behind Yu-jin's death (which he initially refuses to believe is suicide), while Yu-jin's own account shows us what actually lead to the fateful events. At times this part of the story strays a little too far into 'murder-mystery' type territory for my taste, with Yu-jin's father, also in search of the truth, bugging Min's phone and having him trailed by his men, while Min is passed information by a Detective assigned to the case.
And the more mundate, but harrowing, truth of Yu-jin's despair is a little diminished in force by the key revelation - her secret relationship with So-ra - being revealed very early in the novel (hence this isn't a spoiler).
The novel was for me at its strongest in its description of the city Seoul, almost another character in the novel. It has to be said my normal reading in Korean literature is of books written originally in Korean, and this is very different to those, with much more exposition that a Korean reader would need (or indeed I have to say I needed), although this is justified given that Min, Yu-jin, So-ra and Misaki are all outsiders who have come to Seoul seeking something, and it is very evocatively done. For example (and note the exposition added in brackets):
This was Seoul’s counterculture —something Min had only heard about, never seen — churning and writhing like some pissed‑off beast. It was a world away from the silent commuter metro rides, the suits and ties, the pencil skirts, the astronomical academic expectations, the conscription, the soju, the plastic surgery, the DMZ. These were the rebels, rejecting the patriarchy, the gender pay gap. This was their collective rage against a society and country that demanded perfection, filial piety, and allegiance; rage against the demilitarized zone just thirty‑five miles north, running like a jagged scar across their country, cut by milky‑faced foreign ministers in Berlin; rage that they still carried this burden, so many years later (all able‑bodied men required to defend South Korea for two years, forming one of the largest standing armies in the world). This was their rallying cry, their lament.
Overall, a novel I found more interest for its evocation of one of my favourite cities, but a little over-dramatic in terms of the main plot. 2.5 stars
Thanks to the publisher via Netgalley for the ARC.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
February 4, 2022
I was pleasantly surprised when I discovered that this novel is written in a dual narrative, and I was even more surprised when I found out there’s an important queer storyline as well.
Alternating between past and present, Yu-jin’s first-person and Min’s third-person narrative, Soon Whitley tells a captivating and well-written story about Korean American Min and his Korean girlfriend Yu-jin, who’s supposedly committed suicide. Slowly Min learns he didn’t know his girlfriend that well and slowly unravels what led to the death of Yu-jin. The author’s writing is prosaic and still so easily readable. This is a story about family relationships, power, (cultural) identity, and expectations.
Although I understood Yu-jin’s battles, the pressure she felt, Min’s voice appealed to me the most. Throughout this story, I clearly felt his struggle as a biracial man, his feelings of not belonging, never wholly being able to fit in. Sometimes I even wanted to know more of his life in the US; now, we only get snippets.
I loved that this novel was set in Seoul. I know next to nothing about Seoul, but Soon’s writing is so vivid that I could picture the city so well in my head.
Overall this is a great debut, and I highly recommend this novel. I can’t wait to read more by Soon Whiley.
I received an ARC from Simon & Schuster UK and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
Alternating between past and present, Yu-jin’s first-person and Min’s third-person narrative, Soon Whitley tells a captivating and well-written story about Korean American Min and his Korean girlfriend Yu-jin, who’s supposedly committed suicide. Slowly Min learns he didn’t know his girlfriend that well and slowly unravels what led to the death of Yu-jin. The author’s writing is prosaic and still so easily readable. This is a story about family relationships, power, (cultural) identity, and expectations.
Although I understood Yu-jin’s battles, the pressure she felt, Min’s voice appealed to me the most. Throughout this story, I clearly felt his struggle as a biracial man, his feelings of not belonging, never wholly being able to fit in. Sometimes I even wanted to know more of his life in the US; now, we only get snippets.
I loved that this novel was set in Seoul. I know next to nothing about Seoul, but Soon’s writing is so vivid that I could picture the city so well in my head.
Overall this is a great debut, and I highly recommend this novel. I can’t wait to read more by Soon Whiley.
I received an ARC from Simon & Schuster UK and NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.
December 19, 2024
5 Stars....
A heart felt story that takes on a few different issues with the characters.
The setting is in South Korea, mostly in Seoul. I never really got a strong recognition of what the City looks like or its good/bad. I was hoping to but never really happened, wasn't really part of the story.
The smallness of South Korea did come across well, it seems like a small state here in the US. So you get this feeling of being part of a community you cant get away from.
So the MC is Yu-Jin who is smart, has a Father that is like the Minister of Intelligence. She is saddled with huge expectations from a young child and living up to them pretty well. Then she goes to University in Seoul and she takes another path.
Without giving too much away the story is about largely about expectations and to finding your own path in the world. There are other good characters struggling with similar issues. I did learn a lot about Korean culture and enjoyed the setting.
A heart felt story that takes on a few different issues with the characters.
The setting is in South Korea, mostly in Seoul. I never really got a strong recognition of what the City looks like or its good/bad. I was hoping to but never really happened, wasn't really part of the story.
The smallness of South Korea did come across well, it seems like a small state here in the US. So you get this feeling of being part of a community you cant get away from.
So the MC is Yu-Jin who is smart, has a Father that is like the Minister of Intelligence. She is saddled with huge expectations from a young child and living up to them pretty well. Then she goes to University in Seoul and she takes another path.
Without giving too much away the story is about largely about expectations and to finding your own path in the world. There are other good characters struggling with similar issues. I did learn a lot about Korean culture and enjoyed the setting.
May 5, 2022
Can you truly be known by others, or be known? That is the central theme of this novel, explored via issues of identity—cultural and country--as well as through friendships, romantic ties, and family expectations. A desire to belong is inspired by the city of Seoul itself. Two main characters alternate narratives in a suspenseful, well-paced coming-of-age story that occasionally veers to “thriller” territory. Primarily set in Seoul, Wiley injected a sense of place that was by turns sensory, tangible, and ephemeral. Seoul also extends the target theme; the author lays out a city that, on the one hand, can be familiar in all its layout, and yet still be strange when immersed in it. How deeply can we connect with the people in our lives? How can we belong, be known, and yet savor our privacy?
Min Ford is a Korean American from LA, and has always felt displaced in the States, so he moves to Seoul after college for a nice job with Samsung, helping Korean businessmen relate to American culture. He meets Yu-jin Kim, a young university student whose very conservative father is the Minister of Defense. Yu-jin lives in a carefully circumscribed world, designed by her father for her to achieve success, without veering from the rigid path. But, when Yu-jin gets to Seoul to attend Ewha Women’s University , a whole new world opens up, including two secret love affairs that are prohibited by her family—one would get in the way of success, her father would think, and the other would be an outrage to her family.
Min and Yu-jin carry on a casual entanglement, no promises made except that it is understood that it will end when she graduates. Min is also intrigued by Yu-jin’s roommates, So-ra and Misaki (a Japanese student). So-ra and Yu-jin are besties, often inseparable. So-ra introduces Yu-jin into the world of the arts, a film course that Min decides to audit. Her father would veto this if he knew about it. Yu-jin discovers personal agency, and can’t seem to reconcile the life she wants with the life she is proscribed. She wants her parents’ approval, but realizes that she doesn’t want their life.
We know early on that Yu-jin is dead, ostensibly by suicide. Min is shocked when he learns this, as she is found the day after they were together exploring the city. In his despair, he seeks to uncover the truth. Is it really suicide, or something more sinister? Her death begins to rule his life, his reason for carrying on. Grasping how little he knew her, Min is desperate now to understand her more deeply, posthumously, as he wanders the city in a mournful haze. He’s never met her family, but is determined to mine what role they may have played in her death. HE doesn’t believe Yu-jin would kill herself.
Wiley paces out his story gradually but at an even clip, alternating between Min’s, third person pov, and Yu-jin’s first person pov. Wily lures the reader into both their worlds, especially Yu-jin’s, by drawing out her last years with a measured intensity. At times, there was a bit too much exposition, which strained the narrative; I could see the author behind the curtain, laboring unnecessarily. However, I was compelled by the nuanced layers, peeling away to expose a universal truth about struggle, and about the expression of Han:
“’it’s a feeling of sorts. A kind of collective despair in response to being conquered and oppressed for long periods of time, over generations. To choose your own destiny—that’s what an individual, a nation, craves most. Han is a result of that most basic desire being crushed.’”
Thank you kindly to Dutton for sending me a copy for review.
Min Ford is a Korean American from LA, and has always felt displaced in the States, so he moves to Seoul after college for a nice job with Samsung, helping Korean businessmen relate to American culture. He meets Yu-jin Kim, a young university student whose very conservative father is the Minister of Defense. Yu-jin lives in a carefully circumscribed world, designed by her father for her to achieve success, without veering from the rigid path. But, when Yu-jin gets to Seoul to attend Ewha Women’s University , a whole new world opens up, including two secret love affairs that are prohibited by her family—one would get in the way of success, her father would think, and the other would be an outrage to her family.
Min and Yu-jin carry on a casual entanglement, no promises made except that it is understood that it will end when she graduates. Min is also intrigued by Yu-jin’s roommates, So-ra and Misaki (a Japanese student). So-ra and Yu-jin are besties, often inseparable. So-ra introduces Yu-jin into the world of the arts, a film course that Min decides to audit. Her father would veto this if he knew about it. Yu-jin discovers personal agency, and can’t seem to reconcile the life she wants with the life she is proscribed. She wants her parents’ approval, but realizes that she doesn’t want their life.
We know early on that Yu-jin is dead, ostensibly by suicide. Min is shocked when he learns this, as she is found the day after they were together exploring the city. In his despair, he seeks to uncover the truth. Is it really suicide, or something more sinister? Her death begins to rule his life, his reason for carrying on. Grasping how little he knew her, Min is desperate now to understand her more deeply, posthumously, as he wanders the city in a mournful haze. He’s never met her family, but is determined to mine what role they may have played in her death. HE doesn’t believe Yu-jin would kill herself.
Wiley paces out his story gradually but at an even clip, alternating between Min’s, third person pov, and Yu-jin’s first person pov. Wily lures the reader into both their worlds, especially Yu-jin’s, by drawing out her last years with a measured intensity. At times, there was a bit too much exposition, which strained the narrative; I could see the author behind the curtain, laboring unnecessarily. However, I was compelled by the nuanced layers, peeling away to expose a universal truth about struggle, and about the expression of Han:
“’it’s a feeling of sorts. A kind of collective despair in response to being conquered and oppressed for long periods of time, over generations. To choose your own destiny—that’s what an individual, a nation, craves most. Han is a result of that most basic desire being crushed.’”
Thank you kindly to Dutton for sending me a copy for review.
June 14, 2022
This is a novel set in Seoul about an American-Korean immigrant trying to find out what happened to his girlfriend Yu-jin who appears to have committed suicide.
I constantly had the feeling the author was in two minds about what this novel should be: a murder mystery for a large audience or a literary novel about identity, mixed race etc. – a bit in the style of recent works by Elisa Dusapin or Jessica Au. It felt like he wanted to say more on these themes but refrained from doing so in order to keep the plot central – in the end it was much more a murder mystery than a literary novel. The plot was quite intriguing but I would have appreciated more ‘atmosphere’.
I constantly had the feeling the author was in two minds about what this novel should be: a murder mystery for a large audience or a literary novel about identity, mixed race etc. – a bit in the style of recent works by Elisa Dusapin or Jessica Au. It felt like he wanted to say more on these themes but refrained from doing so in order to keep the plot central – in the end it was much more a murder mystery than a literary novel. The plot was quite intriguing but I would have appreciated more ‘atmosphere’.
April 12, 2022
dual narratives and different POV’s that alternate between third and first person confuses and scared me. 3.25 stars review to come
July 9, 2022
TITLE: WHEN WE FELL APART
AUTHOR: Soon Wiley
AUDIO: @prhaudio
TIME: 11 hrs
NARRATED: Daniel K Isaac and Shannon Tyo
PUB DATE: 04.26.2022 Now Available
REVIEW:
Unforgettable, Unputdownable, Unflinching
WHEN WE FELL APART is a deftly written, poignant, and powerful story about love, identity, belonging, and finding one’s self amidst familial and societal expectations, while living in two worlds, and yet belonging to none. The writing is brilliant. Wiley is a master choreographer, slowly revealing secrets and layers of this complex mystery of Yu-Jin’s death, presented in two points of views, and two distinct timelines that meet in just the perfect time.
Min, who is half Korean, takes a job in Seoul from California, and meets Yu-Jin, an intelligent, happy, and carefree University student. He learns she commits suicide, and finds she knows very little of who Yu-Jin really is. In an effort to understand why she took her own life, he learns about Yu-Jin’s life, and in this quest learns about his own identity of either being too Korean or not Korean enough, always a little bit short of others’ expectations.
Wiley illuminates the underbelly of the Korean culture, the cost of perfection, and the desperation of wanting to belong.
HIGHLY RECOMMEND!!
AUTHOR: Soon Wiley
AUDIO: @prhaudio
TIME: 11 hrs
NARRATED: Daniel K Isaac and Shannon Tyo
PUB DATE: 04.26.2022 Now Available
REVIEW:
Unforgettable, Unputdownable, Unflinching
WHEN WE FELL APART is a deftly written, poignant, and powerful story about love, identity, belonging, and finding one’s self amidst familial and societal expectations, while living in two worlds, and yet belonging to none. The writing is brilliant. Wiley is a master choreographer, slowly revealing secrets and layers of this complex mystery of Yu-Jin’s death, presented in two points of views, and two distinct timelines that meet in just the perfect time.
Min, who is half Korean, takes a job in Seoul from California, and meets Yu-Jin, an intelligent, happy, and carefree University student. He learns she commits suicide, and finds she knows very little of who Yu-Jin really is. In an effort to understand why she took her own life, he learns about Yu-Jin’s life, and in this quest learns about his own identity of either being too Korean or not Korean enough, always a little bit short of others’ expectations.
Wiley illuminates the underbelly of the Korean culture, the cost of perfection, and the desperation of wanting to belong.
HIGHLY RECOMMEND!!
Read
May 20, 2022What a beautiful, complicated, and spell-binding debut novel. Many thanks to Dutton Books for allowing me to read this story and to Katie @thegratefulread for recommending it!
Min is a young Korean American man living in Seoul when he finds out that his girlfriend, Yu-jin, has committed suicide. Yu-jin seems to have everything in life going for - she is beautiful, smart, talented, and seems to know exactly what she wants in life. Her suicide makes no sense and as Min tries to make sense of her death, he is left with more questions than answers that make him believe the woman he knew didn't even exist.
This book is so much more than a simple mystery book. At the heart of this novel is the idea of identity; who we are, what makes us who we are, and how well can we really know a person. As Min struggles to reconcile the woman he knew and who she truly was, he begins to explore his past and his own identity. I loved the dual storylines - Min in the present day and Yu-jin as a reflection of the events that brought her to her fateful death. There is so much that impacts us and makes us who we are - culture, family expectations, and the desire to belong. Wiley also weaves in a beautiful queer storyline that I was not expecting but worked so well. All of these topics are beautifully weaved in Wiley's flawless writing style. This novel is a slow burn, the ending is worth the wait.
Min is a young Korean American man living in Seoul when he finds out that his girlfriend, Yu-jin, has committed suicide. Yu-jin seems to have everything in life going for - she is beautiful, smart, talented, and seems to know exactly what she wants in life. Her suicide makes no sense and as Min tries to make sense of her death, he is left with more questions than answers that make him believe the woman he knew didn't even exist.
This book is so much more than a simple mystery book. At the heart of this novel is the idea of identity; who we are, what makes us who we are, and how well can we really know a person. As Min struggles to reconcile the woman he knew and who she truly was, he begins to explore his past and his own identity. I loved the dual storylines - Min in the present day and Yu-jin as a reflection of the events that brought her to her fateful death. There is so much that impacts us and makes us who we are - culture, family expectations, and the desire to belong. Wiley also weaves in a beautiful queer storyline that I was not expecting but worked so well. All of these topics are beautifully weaved in Wiley's flawless writing style. This novel is a slow burn, the ending is worth the wait.
April 19, 2022
Thank you Penguin Dutton for another engaging and diverse read; When We Fell Apart is an impressive novel in many ways and I appreciate the chance to review it. At the heart is a persistent love story wrapped in a mystery. The vivid writing and context add depth to the story and I appreciate the chance to read a cross cultural mystery. I think this would be an excellent fit for many book clubs as it crosses many interests: mystery, culture, diversity, and literary fiction.
3 strengths
1. I love examination of identity and this novel captures effectively, as far as I know, experiences with bias and prejudice. The sense of otherness that Min experiences is one I often hear immigrant and multiracial students talk about, not feeling here or there, being "too Asian" or "too American/not Asian enough".
2. Detailed writing, at times the writing was bit dense/too much in terms of exposition, but the writing really took me into places and into feelings. writing that evokes connection is always powerful.
3. I liked the blending of love and mystery, this was well done and made the mystery work really effectively for me. I am a thriller/mystery/procedural fan and it was nice to read a different approach to a mystery.
3 strengths
1. I love examination of identity and this novel captures effectively, as far as I know, experiences with bias and prejudice. The sense of otherness that Min experiences is one I often hear immigrant and multiracial students talk about, not feeling here or there, being "too Asian" or "too American/not Asian enough".
2. Detailed writing, at times the writing was bit dense/too much in terms of exposition, but the writing really took me into places and into feelings. writing that evokes connection is always powerful.
3. I liked the blending of love and mystery, this was well done and made the mystery work really effectively for me. I am a thriller/mystery/procedural fan and it was nice to read a different approach to a mystery.
May 13, 2022
“Korea is a bridge. Geographically, culturally, geopolitically – countries have crossed into us, over us they’ve burnt us and built us back up. That does something to a place, to its identity. To be neither on one side nor the other-that is a different thing about being a bridge. You are neither here nor there. You are simply between.”
The same description could be applied to Min Ford, a biracial Korean American who goes back to Seoul after living in LA to find “that elusive and tenuous sense that he’d finally come home.”
Instead, his quest for fitting in and feeling whole never truly reaches fruition. He becomes involved with a Korean woman, Yu-jin – a brilliant and beautiful young woman whose controlling father happens to be the National Minister of Defense. The father is ornately proud of Yu-jin – as he would of any prized possession – and personally charts her life, starting with a prestigious college and moving forward to the financial and political arena.
All begins to go off track when Yu-jin is matched by an algorithm with So-ra for a roommate with a 98% probability of success. As Yu-jin begins to discover and reinvent herself and as her attraction to her independent and strong-willed roommate grows, her father’s scrutiny increases. Crushed by familial and cultural judgments, Yu-jin dies of a suspected suicide early on and Min is determined to find out the truth behind this desperate act.
Told in alternating chapters – Yu-jin’s and Min’s – the book questions how well any of us really know each other. The yearning for a more authentic self is shared by both, although Min’s chapters tend to pale compared to Yu-jin’s, who is the more interesting character. The glue that holds Min and Yu-jin together takes time to understand, as these two outsiders recognize something in each other.
Overlaid with this story is the tendrils of a country that squashes non-conformity and by doing so, sets in motion the tragic events that occur. When choosing one’s own destiny becomes impossible, when that most basic desire is crushed, the result is despair.
When We Fell Apart is a cinematic book – perhaps overly so. The scenes take shape before the reader’s eyes and at times, the author controls the nuances. I can absolutely see this book as a choice not only for adult readers, but for discerning YA readers based on its messages. I’m grateful to Dutton, an imprint of Penguin Random House, for enabling me to be an early reader in exchange for an honest review.
May 2, 2022
In WHEN WE FELL APART, his poignant and complex debut, Soon Wiley explores cultural identity, familial expectations and obligations, and the mysterious death of a girl on the brink of her full potential.
Born to an American father and a Korean mother, Min has never felt certain about his identity or sense of belonging. Growing up in California, he stood out among his peers as more Korean than American, despite his mother’s marriage to (and subsequent divorce from) a white man, casting them as decidedly different among their Korean church community. In college, Min comfortably straddled the line between his white and Asian friends. But as friend groups grew tighter and couples formed, he felt forced to choose an identity, a lens through which to view himself and the world around him. Unable to find meaning or purpose in either side of himself, Min travels to Seoul, Korea, in search of a sense of belonging, a place where his differences are not differences at all, but qualities he can share with an entire country of people who look, long and dream like him.
For over a year, Min has found some success in Seoul: a lucrative job as a cultural consultant, a recreational sports league and even a girlfriend, Yu-jin. A brilliant and self-assured business student, Yu-jin presents a compelling certainty to Min: to her, he is American through and through, not half this or half that. Her easy classification of his identity is a relief, yet their relationship has a guaranteed expiration date between her graduation and his eventual return to the states. And so the two are able to embark on a relationship with no real strings or expectations, which allows them to be open and honest with one another in a way that they cannot be with their peers. Or so Min thinks.
When the Seoul police inform Min that Yu-jin has died by suicide only hours after her last exam and their last date, Min is beside himself. Yu-jin was excelling in her classes, fulfilled in her relationships and, after a lifetime of hard work and dedication, destined for the kind of success that many people can only dream of. She was not floundering under the pressure of educational or career stress, nor was she lonely or prone to sadness. So why would she have ended her bright, promising life? Although Min knows that what he and Yu-jin had was not necessarily love, he becomes obsessed with learning the truth about her life and its tragic end. It’s a quest that will send him not only into the deepest, darkest corners of Yu-jin’s secrets, but also into the shortcomings of his assumptions and the breaking point of his own search for belonging.
In alternating chapters, Wiley approaches Yu-jin’s life from two perspectives: her own, as she is accepted into prestigious Ewha University and moves to vibrant Seoul for the first time, and Min’s, as he simultaneously grieves and investigates the events leading up to her death. As readers learn, Yu-jin was not only a devoted, nearly obsessive student, she was a young girl desperate to escape her military hometown and her supportive but controlling parents and reinvent herself. Her acceptance to Ewha not only fulfills her parents’ dreams for her, but offers her a chance to wipe the slate clean and declare herself to the world.
Upon arriving at Ewha, Yu-jin meets her roommate, So-ra, a dancer who, like her, has been in pursuit of a single goal. The two become fast friends, supporting each other in their divergent but similarly passionate ambitions. But while the support of Yu-jin’s parents has always felt contingent on her potential, So-ra’s faith in her feels larger, more about accepting who she is at any given moment than about who she might be. And with that faith comes something that feels much deeper than friendship --- a relationship that unbinds Yu-jin from all the restraints of her parents’ ambitions and her own standards, and allows her to emphatically and earnestly declare herself to another person. This freedom comes with an impossible cost, but of course, Min knows none of that.
Writing in both first- and third-person, Wiley paints a tragic, haunting portrait of a woman who was happy to live under the constraints of her family’s expectations until she learned how much was really out there, and how much of herself she was limiting by following the course set for her since birth. At the same time, through Min’s perspective, Wiley explores the ways that cultural, racial and familial identities shape, form and even blind us, all while we attempt to pin down a single narrative or cultural lens. The dual narrative sets a propulsive, suspenseful pace, while the emotionally resonant and searing analyses of relationships give each storyline weight and complexity.
At once a noir-like mystery and a deeply compelling coming-of-age story that poignantly examines agency, expectations and perspective, WHEN WE FELL APART is a beautiful novel perfect for readers of EVERYTHING I NEVER TOLD YOU, WHAT’S LEFT OF ME IS YOURS and MEMORIAL.
Reviewed by Rebecca Munro
Born to an American father and a Korean mother, Min has never felt certain about his identity or sense of belonging. Growing up in California, he stood out among his peers as more Korean than American, despite his mother’s marriage to (and subsequent divorce from) a white man, casting them as decidedly different among their Korean church community. In college, Min comfortably straddled the line between his white and Asian friends. But as friend groups grew tighter and couples formed, he felt forced to choose an identity, a lens through which to view himself and the world around him. Unable to find meaning or purpose in either side of himself, Min travels to Seoul, Korea, in search of a sense of belonging, a place where his differences are not differences at all, but qualities he can share with an entire country of people who look, long and dream like him.
For over a year, Min has found some success in Seoul: a lucrative job as a cultural consultant, a recreational sports league and even a girlfriend, Yu-jin. A brilliant and self-assured business student, Yu-jin presents a compelling certainty to Min: to her, he is American through and through, not half this or half that. Her easy classification of his identity is a relief, yet their relationship has a guaranteed expiration date between her graduation and his eventual return to the states. And so the two are able to embark on a relationship with no real strings or expectations, which allows them to be open and honest with one another in a way that they cannot be with their peers. Or so Min thinks.
When the Seoul police inform Min that Yu-jin has died by suicide only hours after her last exam and their last date, Min is beside himself. Yu-jin was excelling in her classes, fulfilled in her relationships and, after a lifetime of hard work and dedication, destined for the kind of success that many people can only dream of. She was not floundering under the pressure of educational or career stress, nor was she lonely or prone to sadness. So why would she have ended her bright, promising life? Although Min knows that what he and Yu-jin had was not necessarily love, he becomes obsessed with learning the truth about her life and its tragic end. It’s a quest that will send him not only into the deepest, darkest corners of Yu-jin’s secrets, but also into the shortcomings of his assumptions and the breaking point of his own search for belonging.
In alternating chapters, Wiley approaches Yu-jin’s life from two perspectives: her own, as she is accepted into prestigious Ewha University and moves to vibrant Seoul for the first time, and Min’s, as he simultaneously grieves and investigates the events leading up to her death. As readers learn, Yu-jin was not only a devoted, nearly obsessive student, she was a young girl desperate to escape her military hometown and her supportive but controlling parents and reinvent herself. Her acceptance to Ewha not only fulfills her parents’ dreams for her, but offers her a chance to wipe the slate clean and declare herself to the world.
Upon arriving at Ewha, Yu-jin meets her roommate, So-ra, a dancer who, like her, has been in pursuit of a single goal. The two become fast friends, supporting each other in their divergent but similarly passionate ambitions. But while the support of Yu-jin’s parents has always felt contingent on her potential, So-ra’s faith in her feels larger, more about accepting who she is at any given moment than about who she might be. And with that faith comes something that feels much deeper than friendship --- a relationship that unbinds Yu-jin from all the restraints of her parents’ ambitions and her own standards, and allows her to emphatically and earnestly declare herself to another person. This freedom comes with an impossible cost, but of course, Min knows none of that.
Writing in both first- and third-person, Wiley paints a tragic, haunting portrait of a woman who was happy to live under the constraints of her family’s expectations until she learned how much was really out there, and how much of herself she was limiting by following the course set for her since birth. At the same time, through Min’s perspective, Wiley explores the ways that cultural, racial and familial identities shape, form and even blind us, all while we attempt to pin down a single narrative or cultural lens. The dual narrative sets a propulsive, suspenseful pace, while the emotionally resonant and searing analyses of relationships give each storyline weight and complexity.
At once a noir-like mystery and a deeply compelling coming-of-age story that poignantly examines agency, expectations and perspective, WHEN WE FELL APART is a beautiful novel perfect for readers of EVERYTHING I NEVER TOLD YOU, WHAT’S LEFT OF ME IS YOURS and MEMORIAL.
Reviewed by Rebecca Munro
April 30, 2022
3.5 stars Thanks to @duttonbooks for an ARC of #WhenWeFellApart.
From the beginning, Soon Wiley had me with his debut, 𝗪𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝗪𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓. It’s the story of a Korean American man, Min, whose girlfriend, Yu-jin, has committed suicide in her Seoul apartment. Min is blindsided and cannot accept that Yu-jin would kill herself. He goes on a hunt looking for answers, quickly coming to discover that there were many layers to Yu-jin he knew nothing about.
I loved the set up of this book and getting to know all the characters and their backstories. These were complicated young people, who for different reasons, tended to hold big parts of themselves back, making it harder to put the pieces together. Throughout the first half, I was all in, but you know that feeling when a book just goes on too long? By the second half, it started to feel repetitive, a little slow, and harder to hold my interest. The ending of 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘦 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘈𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 was satisfying, but I think the whole book would have been stronger had it been a little shorter. Despite that, I will definitely be reading whatever Wiley writes next.
From the beginning, Soon Wiley had me with his debut, 𝗪𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝗪𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓. It’s the story of a Korean American man, Min, whose girlfriend, Yu-jin, has committed suicide in her Seoul apartment. Min is blindsided and cannot accept that Yu-jin would kill herself. He goes on a hunt looking for answers, quickly coming to discover that there were many layers to Yu-jin he knew nothing about.
I loved the set up of this book and getting to know all the characters and their backstories. These were complicated young people, who for different reasons, tended to hold big parts of themselves back, making it harder to put the pieces together. Throughout the first half, I was all in, but you know that feeling when a book just goes on too long? By the second half, it started to feel repetitive, a little slow, and harder to hold my interest. The ending of 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘞𝘦 𝘍𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘈𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 was satisfying, but I think the whole book would have been stronger had it been a little shorter. Despite that, I will definitely be reading whatever Wiley writes next.
May 15, 2022
(3.5 stars)
I thoroughly enjoyed this authors writing style and hope to pick up more of Wiley’s works. That being said although I enjoyed this book the pacing was very slow. I was so invested during the first half of this book, but my interest ebbed in the second half. I feel like the book could have been 100 pages shorter and have been more impactful.
Thank you Dutton books for this complimentary copy.
I thoroughly enjoyed this authors writing style and hope to pick up more of Wiley’s works. That being said although I enjoyed this book the pacing was very slow. I was so invested during the first half of this book, but my interest ebbed in the second half. I feel like the book could have been 100 pages shorter and have been more impactful.
Thank you Dutton books for this complimentary copy.
May 30, 2022
Soul to Seoul
Review of the Viking paperback edition (May 2022) of the original Dutton hardcover (April 2022)
Korean-American Min Ford has come to Seoul, South Korea to discover his Korean identity after growing up feeling an outsider in the USA where he was born to a Korean mother and an American father. He becomes the boyfriend of university student Yu-Jin and befriends, by association, her roommates, the dance student So-Ra and a mysterious Japanese student Misaki. Both Min and Yu-Jin are treating the relationship as a passing thing without commitments, but when Yu-Jin inexplicably commits suicide, Min becomes obsessed with discovering the reason behind the apparently questionable death.
Actors Marcelo Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg in the famous Trevi Fountain scene from La Dolce Vita (1960) by dir. Frederico Fellini. Yu-Jin's reenactment of the scene for a film studies class becomes a key plot element of 'When We Fell Apart.' Image sourced from the Toronto Star.
Both of the roommates are initially reluctant to share any information, but Min does find an ally in the police investigator of the case. That is probably the weakest part of the novel, in the extent that the investigator shares an enormous amount of information with a civilian, and a non-Korean at that. The reason for the sympathy is given a reason though later in the book. Min learns that Yu-Jin's father is the Korean government's Minister of National Defense and his suspicions are raised that something nefarious is going on. The suspicion is heightened further by learning that the authorities arrived at the apartment even before the roommates had discovered the body.
First time novelist Soon Wiley builds effective suspense in this debut where we discover that each of the 4 main protagonists are seeking to define their identities in a world where they feel they do not fit in. The story toggles between alternating chapters of Min's search for the truth after Yu-Jin's death and flashbacks of Yu-Jin's own story leading up to it. Aspects of Korean history and its independence movement are built into the plot. South Korea itself is given an aura of being a more repressive society than I had otherwise imagined from my own casual acquaintance through films and music. Perhaps that was required to build up the noir ambiance and tension of the story.
Korean-American author Wiley lived through somewhat similar identity experiences when he taught English in Seoul after graduating college in America as he explains in his bio introduction to the Book Club kit linked below.
Trivia and Links
Author Soon Wiley introduces When We Fell Apart in a brief YouTube clip.
You can download a Book Club kit for When We Fell Apart at author Soon Wiley's website here.
R.J. Julia Booksellers interviews author Soon Wiley on the 7-year process of writing the book on YouTube here.
Review of the Viking paperback edition (May 2022) of the original Dutton hardcover (April 2022)
Korean-American Min Ford has come to Seoul, South Korea to discover his Korean identity after growing up feeling an outsider in the USA where he was born to a Korean mother and an American father. He becomes the boyfriend of university student Yu-Jin and befriends, by association, her roommates, the dance student So-Ra and a mysterious Japanese student Misaki. Both Min and Yu-Jin are treating the relationship as a passing thing without commitments, but when Yu-Jin inexplicably commits suicide, Min becomes obsessed with discovering the reason behind the apparently questionable death.
Actors Marcelo Mastroianni and Anita Ekberg in the famous Trevi Fountain scene from La Dolce Vita (1960) by dir. Frederico Fellini. Yu-Jin's reenactment of the scene for a film studies class becomes a key plot element of 'When We Fell Apart.' Image sourced from the Toronto Star.
Both of the roommates are initially reluctant to share any information, but Min does find an ally in the police investigator of the case. That is probably the weakest part of the novel, in the extent that the investigator shares an enormous amount of information with a civilian, and a non-Korean at that. The reason for the sympathy is given a reason though later in the book. Min learns that Yu-Jin's father is the Korean government's Minister of National Defense and his suspicions are raised that something nefarious is going on. The suspicion is heightened further by learning that the authorities arrived at the apartment even before the roommates had discovered the body.
First time novelist Soon Wiley builds effective suspense in this debut where we discover that each of the 4 main protagonists are seeking to define their identities in a world where they feel they do not fit in. The story toggles between alternating chapters of Min's search for the truth after Yu-Jin's death and flashbacks of Yu-Jin's own story leading up to it. Aspects of Korean history and its independence movement are built into the plot. South Korea itself is given an aura of being a more repressive society than I had otherwise imagined from my own casual acquaintance through films and music. Perhaps that was required to build up the noir ambiance and tension of the story.
Korean-American author Wiley lived through somewhat similar identity experiences when he taught English in Seoul after graduating college in America as he explains in his bio introduction to the Book Club kit linked below.
Trivia and Links
Author Soon Wiley introduces When We Fell Apart in a brief YouTube clip.
You can download a Book Club kit for When We Fell Apart at author Soon Wiley's website here.
R.J. Julia Booksellers interviews author Soon Wiley on the 7-year process of writing the book on YouTube here.
August 4, 2024
A heartbreaking but touching story about trying to find oneself against life’s external pressures and how one becomes blind to certain realities and truths in the process.
I thought the format of this book was quite creative, each chapter alternating perspectives between two main characters, detailing their relationship while simultaneously revealing their individual lives, self-discoveries, and struggles. Usually I’m used to novels providing only one point of view so this was a refreshing read.
I also found the murder mystery undertone captivating.
Wiley uses his story to push back against archaic, conservative aspects of Korean culture, while maintaining respect for the struggles the country has endured over the years.
I thought the format of this book was quite creative, each chapter alternating perspectives between two main characters, detailing their relationship while simultaneously revealing their individual lives, self-discoveries, and struggles. Usually I’m used to novels providing only one point of view so this was a refreshing read.
I also found the murder mystery undertone captivating.
Wiley uses his story to push back against archaic, conservative aspects of Korean culture, while maintaining respect for the struggles the country has endured over the years.
January 11, 2022
when we fell apart is essentially about the mystery of min's (our korean american main character) girlfriend yu jin who reportedly died because of a suicide attempt in her apartment. min, who didn't think yu jin was capable and had any reasons to kill herself, think there was more to her death than the police had let on.
at first, from the blurb, i really thought this was going to be just about the mystery surrounding yu jin's death, but soon i realized that this book was more than that. we follow 2 perspective here - from min in third person as he tries to uncover what happened to yu jin and also as he tries to deal with the grief that he was left with, and also from yu jin in first as she recounted her story from the beginning of her time in seoul until her death. the two different perspectives we've gotten here for me was interesting to say the least because of how different the two paths are so i was curious about how these two paths will intersect later on in the stories. nevertheless, it made the story more gripping and interesting.
i loved the exploration of acceptance, identity, family expectations and belonging in this book. yu jin's story is more about her life, about how she wanted to become free of her family's expectations towards her but also wanting for them to accept her, about how she feels suffocated by her loved ones. i also loved the gorgeous wriiting of modern seoul, and i think the setting of this book was just a pleasant addition for the mystery as a whole.
the ending was also satisfying enough to me, although i would honestly love to see more explanation on min's background as well. i think there was so much that could be explored from min's part about his bi-cultural identity.
thank you to netgalley and the publisher for the arc!
at first, from the blurb, i really thought this was going to be just about the mystery surrounding yu jin's death, but soon i realized that this book was more than that. we follow 2 perspective here - from min in third person as he tries to uncover what happened to yu jin and also as he tries to deal with the grief that he was left with, and also from yu jin in first as she recounted her story from the beginning of her time in seoul until her death. the two different perspectives we've gotten here for me was interesting to say the least because of how different the two paths are so i was curious about how these two paths will intersect later on in the stories. nevertheless, it made the story more gripping and interesting.
i loved the exploration of acceptance, identity, family expectations and belonging in this book. yu jin's story is more about her life, about how she wanted to become free of her family's expectations towards her but also wanting for them to accept her, about how she feels suffocated by her loved ones. i also loved the gorgeous wriiting of modern seoul, and i think the setting of this book was just a pleasant addition for the mystery as a whole.
the ending was also satisfying enough to me, although i would honestly love to see more explanation on min's background as well. i think there was so much that could be explored from min's part about his bi-cultural identity.
thank you to netgalley and the publisher for the arc!
June 16, 2022
I was looking forward to read this debut because of its intriguing combination of mystery and psychological themes; a narrative on selfhood and coming-of-age that revolves around a young couple, Min and Yujin; told after the incident that took Yujin's life-- a search of truth on why Yujin did it, of those secrets that she kept away, and the chain of events that getting Min into troubles, as well as in doubts.
A mellow slow-burn narrative in dual and alternating perspective of both Min; in 3rd POV following the post-suicide scene, and Yujin; 1st person narrator with a flashback of her life until the moment she decided to end her life. I love how emotionally driven it was-- a deep and poignantly written prose, an exquisite exploration that revolves around love, relationship, family bonds, youth, freedom and sexuality. An elusive mystery for Min who wanted to uncover the truth of Yujin's action, trying to dig into her past, messing with her political related dad, adjusting his thoughts to adapt the possibilities that somehow it struck me in sadness too when Sora goes--𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?-- to Min.
Melancholic and depressing; to understand Yujin's stance and feeling-- her anxiety and stress to fulfill her obligation and to fit her narrative into her parents' expectations. Also on Min of being a biracial to struggle with his own issues of identity and acceptance-- the prejudice he gets despite being a half Korean. Suspenseful and bit thrilling, and I think the author really nailed it with the plot's exposition.
Such a searing portrait of how domestic pressure and expectations could impacted one's psyche and emotions, a critic to transgenerational trauma and the rigid culture that think parents should predetermined their child's future. Bit draggy nearly the end but truly love Min's part and thoughts about Yujin, at last. 3.8 stars to this.
Thank you Times Reads for sending me a complimentary copy in exchange for my review!
A mellow slow-burn narrative in dual and alternating perspective of both Min; in 3rd POV following the post-suicide scene, and Yujin; 1st person narrator with a flashback of her life until the moment she decided to end her life. I love how emotionally driven it was-- a deep and poignantly written prose, an exquisite exploration that revolves around love, relationship, family bonds, youth, freedom and sexuality. An elusive mystery for Min who wanted to uncover the truth of Yujin's action, trying to dig into her past, messing with her political related dad, adjusting his thoughts to adapt the possibilities that somehow it struck me in sadness too when Sora goes--𝘮𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?-- to Min.
Melancholic and depressing; to understand Yujin's stance and feeling-- her anxiety and stress to fulfill her obligation and to fit her narrative into her parents' expectations. Also on Min of being a biracial to struggle with his own issues of identity and acceptance-- the prejudice he gets despite being a half Korean. Suspenseful and bit thrilling, and I think the author really nailed it with the plot's exposition.
Such a searing portrait of how domestic pressure and expectations could impacted one's psyche and emotions, a critic to transgenerational trauma and the rigid culture that think parents should predetermined their child's future. Bit draggy nearly the end but truly love Min's part and thoughts about Yujin, at last. 3.8 stars to this.
Thank you Times Reads for sending me a complimentary copy in exchange for my review!
February 22, 2024
What a beautiful book about belonging and what it means to feel seen. It is written as a dual narrative, and it made the book so much better! It makes you question if you belong anywhere but in a good way. It also gives a story of what love can look like. 10/10
Read
October 9, 2025one of those books that should be a movie or a mini series you know?
did-not-finish
April 20, 2022I unfortunately stopped reading this book at 48%. I really loved the beginning however I felt like the death happened so quickly and then everything afterwards happened so slowly. I was intrigued up until about 30% then found it repetitive and it didn't hold my attention anymore. I think it definitely has potential and has some very important topics which I haven't read in a book before. I really enjoyed the cultural aspects especially.
Thank you to netgalley for this earc in exchange for an honest review.
Thank you to netgalley for this earc in exchange for an honest review.
August 5, 2022
Engages some important themes of Korean diasporic identity, masculinity, postwar generational clashes, etc. but I had a problem with how the book dragged on and on, especially in the last third. The book Is told through internal monologues of the two lovers and protagonists, but the first person narration near the end just felt so repetitive, revealing little new information about the characters. There was a point where I felt the character’s very valid concerns dragged so much that the narrative voice almost felt whiny. The other issue I had with the book is that so many of the actions lacked clear motive or explanation. I think one big issue was that much of the narrative rests on the motives of the father, who does not occupy one of the first person perspectives. Although that is fine, I felt like it caused a lot of confusion with the intricacies of the plot. Because this book deals with heavy topics, these failed plot issues made it feel like the overarching dilemma felt trivialized or overly sensationalized. I’ve been on a reading kick this summer, and this book unfortunately was a bit of a damper on my trajectory.
January 7, 2024
I really wanted to like this book, but it didn’t grab my full attention listening to it on audiobook😭I did like the topics it was trying to tackle, as well as the ending.
May 26, 2022
This was a beautifully written story that revolved around a suicide and the mystery of events leading up to such devastation.
Written in two point of views including Yu-Jin , a young Korean woman who died by suicide , told in 1st person and Min, Yu-Jin’s American Korean boyfriend, told in 3rd person. Alternating between past and present we get to follow Yu-Jin and Min’s story that revolved around love, friendship, acceptance and betrayal.
Soon Wiley did such an excellent job creating these realistic and likeable characters (Yu-Jin being more likeable than Min) and also included such a fantastic portrayal of traditional Korean culture, values and beliefs throughout the story.
Definitely an emotional read with some mystery to keep you asking questions right until the very last page.
I found a letter from the author online that was dedicated to the readers of this book and it added that extra special touch and made the book much more personable. I only wish that letter was included right in the back of the book as the authors note so that it is more accessible for all readers.
Thank you Penguin Canada for providing me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
This book is available for purchase now!
Written in two point of views including Yu-Jin , a young Korean woman who died by suicide , told in 1st person and Min, Yu-Jin’s American Korean boyfriend, told in 3rd person. Alternating between past and present we get to follow Yu-Jin and Min’s story that revolved around love, friendship, acceptance and betrayal.
Soon Wiley did such an excellent job creating these realistic and likeable characters (Yu-Jin being more likeable than Min) and also included such a fantastic portrayal of traditional Korean culture, values and beliefs throughout the story.
Definitely an emotional read with some mystery to keep you asking questions right until the very last page.
I found a letter from the author online that was dedicated to the readers of this book and it added that extra special touch and made the book much more personable. I only wish that letter was included right in the back of the book as the authors note so that it is more accessible for all readers.
Thank you Penguin Canada for providing me a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review!
This book is available for purchase now!
May 28, 2022
A moving story about identity and finding a sense of belonging set in modern day Seoul, Korea. This book starts off strong with Min, a Korean American man, discovering his Korean girlfriend Yu-jin has taken her own life. From there the story alternates from the present and the past as we learn what was going on in Yu-jin's life to cause her to commit suicide.
Beautifully written and very heartfelt. This debut book had me hooked from the start and I couldn't put it down. I instantly was sympathetic to Min as he slowly learns he really didn't know his girlfriend at all. For her part, Yu-jin was a dutiful daughter, trying to please her father in order to be given a small amount of freedom to live her life on campus with her secret girlfriend.
Highly recommended for fans of The last story of Mina Lee or anything by Celeste Ng. Great on audio narrated by Daniel K Isaac & Shannon Tyo. Much thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for my advance review copy!
Beautifully written and very heartfelt. This debut book had me hooked from the start and I couldn't put it down. I instantly was sympathetic to Min as he slowly learns he really didn't know his girlfriend at all. For her part, Yu-jin was a dutiful daughter, trying to please her father in order to be given a small amount of freedom to live her life on campus with her secret girlfriend.
Highly recommended for fans of The last story of Mina Lee or anything by Celeste Ng. Great on audio narrated by Daniel K Isaac & Shannon Tyo. Much thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for my advance review copy!
June 30, 2022
A gorgeous thriller with great Asian representation.
May 2, 2022
"To not know what's going on inside someone else's head. Trust me. I see alot. Sometimes it's the people who seem perfectly fine that are going through hell on the inside. Somehow they're the best at hiding it."
When We Fell Apart by Soon Wiley was stunning debut. It was a gorgeously written story about identity, agency, family and social restrictions, markers of otherness, self discovery and the masks people wear to deal with it all. Wiley depicts Seoul, Korea through the eyes of each character and you are introduced to how each sees Seoul as the metaphor a d actualization of who they want to become. This novel also touches on the ideas of safety, intimacy and the ways people hide within themselves as well as in relation to others.
The story is told from the POV's of Min, a biracial American and Yu-jin, his girlfriend who dies by suicide. Each one is trying to find and connect to their authentic selves under the strict constraints of Korean society. Min doesn't accept Yu-jin's suicide and as the story unravels the pieces of the puzzle unravel and discovers all the buried secrets that were laying beneath the surface.
I am left reflecting on:
🇰🇷 how familial expectations can be suffocating when they reflect oppressive national views rooted in history
🇰🇷 the ways that women bear burdens invisible to others
🇰🇷 how biracial people have to constantly straddle the in between
🇰🇷 the masks people have to wear to be accepted
🇰🇷 the ways that one's personhood is measured against otherness
🇰🇷 how suicide leaves a void with those left behind
🇰🇷 how you never truly know someone else's breaking point
🇰🇷 how pervasive homophobia still is globally
🇰🇷 how the arts are an expression of ones identity and desires
🇰🇷 how secrets slowly chip away at you and create shame
🇰🇷 shame vs. desire vs. family
Thanks to @duttonbooks for the gifted copy. If you are looking for a compelling, propulsion read for AAPI & Mental Health Month, I highly recommend this one as a buddy read. You will want to talk to someone about this story because there is so much to unpack. Wiley is author I will definitely read in the future.
#WhenWeFellApart #SoonWiley #Korea #books
When We Fell Apart by Soon Wiley was stunning debut. It was a gorgeously written story about identity, agency, family and social restrictions, markers of otherness, self discovery and the masks people wear to deal with it all. Wiley depicts Seoul, Korea through the eyes of each character and you are introduced to how each sees Seoul as the metaphor a d actualization of who they want to become. This novel also touches on the ideas of safety, intimacy and the ways people hide within themselves as well as in relation to others.
The story is told from the POV's of Min, a biracial American and Yu-jin, his girlfriend who dies by suicide. Each one is trying to find and connect to their authentic selves under the strict constraints of Korean society. Min doesn't accept Yu-jin's suicide and as the story unravels the pieces of the puzzle unravel and discovers all the buried secrets that were laying beneath the surface.
I am left reflecting on:
🇰🇷 how familial expectations can be suffocating when they reflect oppressive national views rooted in history
🇰🇷 the ways that women bear burdens invisible to others
🇰🇷 how biracial people have to constantly straddle the in between
🇰🇷 the masks people have to wear to be accepted
🇰🇷 the ways that one's personhood is measured against otherness
🇰🇷 how suicide leaves a void with those left behind
🇰🇷 how you never truly know someone else's breaking point
🇰🇷 how pervasive homophobia still is globally
🇰🇷 how the arts are an expression of ones identity and desires
🇰🇷 how secrets slowly chip away at you and create shame
🇰🇷 shame vs. desire vs. family
Thanks to @duttonbooks for the gifted copy. If you are looking for a compelling, propulsion read for AAPI & Mental Health Month, I highly recommend this one as a buddy read. You will want to talk to someone about this story because there is so much to unpack. Wiley is author I will definitely read in the future.
#WhenWeFellApart #SoonWiley #Korea #books
June 27, 2022
WHEN WE FELL APART is a story told from two perspectives: a biracial Korean American ex-pat named Min and a Korean woman named Yu-Jin. When something happens to Yu-Jin, Min must piece together elements of her life that end up being very different from what he thought he knew of her.
TW: Suicide (including descriptions of the scene)
I really enjoyed this debut novel from Soon Wiley! I loved the immediate mystery of the novel and finished 2/3rds of the book in one sitting during on a 4.5 hour flight. The story discussed biracial identity a lot and feeling lost between cultures, which is something that always resonates with me. I also enjoyed the dual perspectives of Min and Yu-Jin. You could really feel the weight of filial expectations Yu-Jin experienced through her storyline. I think both perspectives were well written and very authentic. Even though the story came to the conclusion I suspected, it was still a compelling read.
Great for mystery lovers or those looking for stories about self discovery and identity!
TW: Suicide (including descriptions of the scene)
I really enjoyed this debut novel from Soon Wiley! I loved the immediate mystery of the novel and finished 2/3rds of the book in one sitting during on a 4.5 hour flight. The story discussed biracial identity a lot and feeling lost between cultures, which is something that always resonates with me. I also enjoyed the dual perspectives of Min and Yu-Jin. You could really feel the weight of filial expectations Yu-Jin experienced through her storyline. I think both perspectives were well written and very authentic. Even though the story came to the conclusion I suspected, it was still a compelling read.
Great for mystery lovers or those looking for stories about self discovery and identity!
Read
October 19, 2022DNF at page 160.
The writing style didn’t work for me at ALL and I felt no pull towards the characters. Thank you to the publisher for my gifted copy
The writing style didn’t work for me at ALL and I felt no pull towards the characters. Thank you to the publisher for my gifted copy
May 2, 2022
'How do you say goodbye without saying goodbye? How do you thank someone, ask for their forgiveness, without uttering a word?' — When We Fell Apart, Soon Wiley, (2022), p.316.
'How well do you know your loved ones?' That's the question Soon Wiley invites us to reflect upon with his debut novel When We Fell apart. The story follows Min, a Korean American who seeks to find his place in the world. After struggling to find it in America, he decides to give a chance to Korea by taking a job at Samsung in Seoul. Here, he meets Yu-Jin, a young and beautiful Korean student at Ewha (University for women), who quickly wins his heart. They fall in love for ten months, after which, one day, Yu-jin is mysteriously found dead in her apartment. For Min, the possibility of suicide is not even to be considered, despite what the police and everybody believe. Why would his happy girlfriend commit suicide? But who knows if Yu-jin didn't have secrets... Min is desperate to find the truth behind her death, no matter the risks he must take and the people he must confront.
When We Fell Apart is a novel which I anticipated a lot since I discovered it on Netgalley (I was desperate to read it and discover what was behind this amazing summary!). Seeing my rating, needless is to say that I was not disappointed. WWFA was everything I could have hoped for. From the beginning of the novel, I was thrust into the narratives of Min and Yu-jin and grew more eager to unravel their backstory to know the truth about what happened to Yu-jin. The suspense and mystery were so well built-up that I got surprised a few times by the turn the story was taking. One of them was the theme of queerness, tackled in the story of Yu-jin and Soora. As it wasn't mentioned in the blurb, I encountered it and felt agreeably surprised to find out that Soon Wiley decided to go for very controversial themes when it came to Korean society. I thought that he did well in introducing queerness and in representing the way Korean society perceived it today. The fact that he chose to insert Yu-jin's narrative, too, helped concerning this point; it gave more tension as to when and how other characters would find out about it, and I happened to feel as anxious as Yu-jin about what would happen to her (even knowing her fate in advance).
I was really intrigued by the narrative choice that Wiley made. The idea of having two perspectives, one from Yu-jin and one from Min, made things very interesting in my opinion. I got curious about Wiley's choice concerning the narration as well, for I thought it curious that Yu-jin was telling her story from the first-person narrative and Min from the third-person. It felt like the story belonged to Yu-jin exclusively, in a sense, and that Min was living in it, trying to maintain it alive while its main protagonist was dead. The flashbacks and flashforwards flowed quite easily though, first because Wiley simply decided to alternate their perspectives from chapter to chapter, and second because he kept things in chronological order. I didn't feel disorientated in the process, which was good.
Concerning the characters, I think the one I related the most to was Min. I could understand his frustration of feeling 'out of space' and 'out of time' in a country which was said to be his. I could understand his wish to travel somewhere else in hopes of finding the little something he longed for without knowing it. I could understand his loneliness in Seoul, despite being in a space which was buzzing with crowds everywhere. I could relate to the way he spoke about his body as being 'disembodied', as being lost between what he wanted to be and what people expected him to be. As for Yu-jin, I connected with her in her impression of feeling locked up in a life prepared for her. Her frustration for being restricted to the image her father wanted her to take up, for being unable to shape her own body and desires—romantic desires and professional aspirations. And of course, I identified a lot with Misaki through her anger and feeling of not being desired anywhere, of being used by everyone she encounters and thought her friends.
If readers are not familiar with the Korean way of life, I think they could at least recognise themselves in all those little human frustrations one discovers in society. The anxieties that society arises in us and which make our life sometimes unbearable. There was something inexplicably moving about Yu-jin's, Soora's, Min's, and Misaki's stories, I think they'll stay in my head for a while. The writing style and atmosphere of the novel somewhat made me think about Joël Dicker's 'The Truth about the Harry Québert Affair' (I loved this novel!), so I would totally encourage people who read this author to give a chance to Soon Wiley's writing. As for me, I would love to read more of Wiley's works in the future, for I really enjoyed the experience with WWFA.
Many thanks to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster (UK) for the opportunity of reviewing When We Fell Apart!
'How well do you know your loved ones?' That's the question Soon Wiley invites us to reflect upon with his debut novel When We Fell apart. The story follows Min, a Korean American who seeks to find his place in the world. After struggling to find it in America, he decides to give a chance to Korea by taking a job at Samsung in Seoul. Here, he meets Yu-Jin, a young and beautiful Korean student at Ewha (University for women), who quickly wins his heart. They fall in love for ten months, after which, one day, Yu-jin is mysteriously found dead in her apartment. For Min, the possibility of suicide is not even to be considered, despite what the police and everybody believe. Why would his happy girlfriend commit suicide? But who knows if Yu-jin didn't have secrets... Min is desperate to find the truth behind her death, no matter the risks he must take and the people he must confront.
When We Fell Apart is a novel which I anticipated a lot since I discovered it on Netgalley (I was desperate to read it and discover what was behind this amazing summary!). Seeing my rating, needless is to say that I was not disappointed. WWFA was everything I could have hoped for. From the beginning of the novel, I was thrust into the narratives of Min and Yu-jin and grew more eager to unravel their backstory to know the truth about what happened to Yu-jin. The suspense and mystery were so well built-up that I got surprised a few times by the turn the story was taking. One of them was the theme of queerness, tackled in the story of Yu-jin and Soora. As it wasn't mentioned in the blurb, I encountered it and felt agreeably surprised to find out that Soon Wiley decided to go for very controversial themes when it came to Korean society. I thought that he did well in introducing queerness and in representing the way Korean society perceived it today. The fact that he chose to insert Yu-jin's narrative, too, helped concerning this point; it gave more tension as to when and how other characters would find out about it, and I happened to feel as anxious as Yu-jin about what would happen to her (even knowing her fate in advance).
I was really intrigued by the narrative choice that Wiley made. The idea of having two perspectives, one from Yu-jin and one from Min, made things very interesting in my opinion. I got curious about Wiley's choice concerning the narration as well, for I thought it curious that Yu-jin was telling her story from the first-person narrative and Min from the third-person. It felt like the story belonged to Yu-jin exclusively, in a sense, and that Min was living in it, trying to maintain it alive while its main protagonist was dead. The flashbacks and flashforwards flowed quite easily though, first because Wiley simply decided to alternate their perspectives from chapter to chapter, and second because he kept things in chronological order. I didn't feel disorientated in the process, which was good.
Concerning the characters, I think the one I related the most to was Min. I could understand his frustration of feeling 'out of space' and 'out of time' in a country which was said to be his. I could understand his wish to travel somewhere else in hopes of finding the little something he longed for without knowing it. I could understand his loneliness in Seoul, despite being in a space which was buzzing with crowds everywhere. I could relate to the way he spoke about his body as being 'disembodied', as being lost between what he wanted to be and what people expected him to be. As for Yu-jin, I connected with her in her impression of feeling locked up in a life prepared for her. Her frustration for being restricted to the image her father wanted her to take up, for being unable to shape her own body and desires—romantic desires and professional aspirations. And of course, I identified a lot with Misaki through her anger and feeling of not being desired anywhere, of being used by everyone she encounters and thought her friends.
If readers are not familiar with the Korean way of life, I think they could at least recognise themselves in all those little human frustrations one discovers in society. The anxieties that society arises in us and which make our life sometimes unbearable. There was something inexplicably moving about Yu-jin's, Soora's, Min's, and Misaki's stories, I think they'll stay in my head for a while. The writing style and atmosphere of the novel somewhat made me think about Joël Dicker's 'The Truth about the Harry Québert Affair' (I loved this novel!), so I would totally encourage people who read this author to give a chance to Soon Wiley's writing. As for me, I would love to read more of Wiley's works in the future, for I really enjoyed the experience with WWFA.
Many thanks to Netgalley and Simon & Schuster (UK) for the opportunity of reviewing When We Fell Apart!
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