It’s customary to begin writing on North Korea by acknowledging how difficult it is to get reliable information from such a secretive and tightly-controlled regime in such a highly politicized context. Though an undoubtedly repressive regime, in an information vacuum misinformation can spread, such as the easily-disproved but persistent misconception that all North Korean citizens must sport the same distinctive hairstyle as their leader Kim Jong-un.

South Korea is famous for its workaholic culture: although things are slowly changing, white collar workers often feel pressure to work long hours and to satisfy every whim of their superiors in a rigidly hierarchical company structure. There is pressure to spend evenings at company dinners and even weekends hiking with the team. Among OECD countries, South Korea is ranked at number 5 for working hours, and at number 33 for worker productivity. The anthropologist David Graeber, author of Bullshit Jobs, would have had a field day studying Korean office workers and their creative strategies for seeming busy.

Kyungha, a woman living in contemporary Seoul, is burdened by the emotional toll of her past. Deeply empathetic, Kyungha experiences panic attacks and symptoms of anxiety and depression stemming from a harrowing book she wrote about a massacre in a South Korean city. When her friend Inseon suffers an accident, she asks Kyungha to travel to Jeju, an island of Korea’s south coast, to feed her pet bird which will die soon if not tended to. Arriving on Jeju in the midst of a massive blizzard, Kyungha races against the elements to reach the bird, but finds herself in a figurative space where dreams, nightmares and memories collide. phenomena in celebrity practices, cultures, politics, fandom, and economies.

For fans of Korean film, the uncompromising film director Lee Chang-dong needs little introductions. With a brief but powerful filmography of six films made between 1997 and 2018, he has braved controversial topics to critical acclaim. Burning, his 2018 comeback film after an eight-year hiatus, was shortlisted for an Oscar and won numerous other awards. Lee also served as South Korea’s Minister of Culture from 2003 to 2004. Less known is that Lee began his career as a writer, penning novellas and short stories for literary magazines.

Millennials: The word conjures the tired cliches of internet ragebait: avocado toast and participation trophies. For a long time, millennials were a stereotype of feckless, tech-addicted youth, yet the oldest of us are now in our early 40s. But what of millennials in North Korea? Here, stereotypes of a coddled generation do not apply, and reliable information is not easily accessed. How has North Korea reacted to the information age, the ubiquity of the mobile phone, and the millennial development of its neighbor to the south? These are the questions that Suk-young Kim, author of numerous books on the cultures of North and South Korea, sets out to answer in her most recent book. 

Eating out alone in Korea is not the done thing: minimum orders are often for three or four, and restaurants have an intensely communal atmosphere. Some coffee shops and restaurants have installed giant plush Moomins, Pengsoos and other characters so that solo drinkers won’t feel so alone (this may have inspired the cover of Table For One, which shows an anthropomorphic Zebra diner).

Healing fiction is currently hugely popular in South Korea, and has been since the 2022 release of Welcome to the Hyunam Dong Bookshop by Hwang Bo-reum. A raft of English translations are aiming to capitalize on the trend for all things hallyu to make Korean healing fiction an internationally known literary genre. This is a genre that aims to soothe readers exhausted by the pressures of a hypercompetitive and hierarchical society. 

BTS are one of the biggest pop culture phenomena to emerge in the 21st century, a fragmented era where one struggles to name similarly hegemonic icons. Perhaps only the Marvel Cinematic Universe or Harry Potter have had a similar reach and staying power. BTS have transcended their original (and already sufficiently lucrative) market of South Korean idol pop, collaborated with western radio mainstays such as Coldplay and Ed Sheeran, and become megastars—only recently fragmenting into solo careers as the members face South Korea’s compulsory military service.  For the band’s legion of fans, who refer to themselves as ARMY (this is singular too, a fan can refer to oneself as an ARMY), they need no introduction. 

A 2016 Associated Press article entitled “S Korea covered up mass abuse, killings of ‘vagrants’” told the English-speaking world about one of the biggest human rights abuses in modern South Korean history. In the 1980s, in the run-up to  the Seoul Olympics, President Chun Doo-hwan’s dictatorship intensified a crackdown on “undesirables”, rounding them up and “rehabilitating” them. At one of the largest rehabilitation centers, known as the Brothers Home, the rehabilitation in fact consisted of slave labour and institutionalized physical and psychological abuse. Sexual violence was especially prevalent.

Futaro Yamada, discovered by the hugely influential mystery writer Edogawa Rampo, was hugely prolific in his lifetime, with many of his stories being adapted to film, such as Nagisa Ōshima’s thriller Pleasures of the Flesh (1965) and Samurai Reincarnation (Kinji Fukusaku, 1981). If Yamada’s name is known in the Anglophone world, however, it is usually for the manga and anime adaptations of his series The Kouga Ninja Scrolls. This newly translated edition of his 1979 novel The Meiji Guillotine Murders is an opportunity to experience his work more directly. Though published by Pushkin Press’s Vertigo imprint, which publishes detective fiction from around the world, The Meiji Guillotine Murders is a historical fiction. It has neither the narrative nor the feel of a traditional detective story, exemplified by the work of fellow Vertigo-published authors Seishi Yokomizo and Yukito Ayatsuji.