This was a work of revelation and inspiration in many senses. In parts, it read like Yoko Ono's wonderful Grapefruit. Images far reaching and penetrating were woven in terms of crystal clear words and poignant and sometimes even murky expressions.
This was my second reading of Han Kang, after The Vegetarian, and surely would not be my last. I admire the writer very much. In a sense, reading The White Book helped me understand the merits of Han Kang's writings. I think the famed Korean author is capable of exercising gymnastics in the universe of concepts, weaving contemporary arts using linguistic materials. This aesthetics, combined with a keen intellect embracing the universal and generic human values, makes Han Kang the one and only in the world literature today.
