At the height of the military dictatorship in South Korea, Insuk and Sungho are arranged to be married. The couple soon moves to San Jose, California, with an infant and Sungho’s overbearing mother-in-law. Adrift in a new country, Insuk grieves the loss of her past and her divided homeland, finding herself drawn into an illicit relationship that sets into motion a dramatic saga and echoes for generations to come.
From the Gwangju Massacre to the 1988 Olympics, flashbacks to Korean repatriation after Japanese surrender, and the Sewol ferry accident, E. J. Koh’s exquisitely drawn portraits and symphonic testimony from guards, prisoners, perpetrators, and liberators spans continents and four generations of two Korean families forever changed by fateful past decisions made in love and war. Extraordinarily beautiful and deeply moving, The Liberators is an elegantly wrought family saga of memory, trauma, and empathy, and a stunning testament to the consequences and fortunes of inheritance.
Author of poetry collection A LESSER LOVE, winner of the Pleiades Editors Prize (Louisiana State University Press, 2017), and memoir THE MAGICAL LANGUAGE OF OTHERS (Tin House, 2020). Koh's poems, translations, and stories have appeared in Academy of American Poets, Prairie Schooner, Boston Review, Los Angeles Review of Books, Slate, and World Literature Today.
Koh accepted fellowships from the American Literary Translators Association, MacDowell Colony, Kundiman, Vermont Studio Center, and others.
A slight novel with spare prose that describes the impact of the Korean war through the generations. I appreciated this book’s emphasis on how war, colonialism, and intergenerational trauma affect relationships. Unfortunately, I found the prose a bit dry and the voices of the characters hard to differentiate from one another, which made it hard to feel invested n these characters and their stories.
Sad to say that this just isn't my style. It's pretty, but the dialogue reads very unnaturally and I'm not interested in continuing. I'm bummed since I loved The Magical Language of Others.
I'm calling it now: The Liberators is my favorite novel of 2023. Gorgeously written, this novel follows four generations of a Korean family across the country's history and their own family drama. Koh's language is poetic, spare, and endlessly beautiful; with each sentence feeling so precise and so poignant. Each chapter is told through a different voice, some we hear from many times and some only once (like the family dog Toto) but each adds a new perspective to this kaleidoscopic story. Deeply affecting, somber, and empathetic; E.J. Koh has written a masterpiece of a debut novel. What a book!
A tremendously lyrical and moving family saga of separation, love, and trauma. Following three generations of a Korean family as they change and move alongside the tide of the nation, The Liberators takes perspectives from the oppressed, the oppressors, and the witnesses, forming a nuanced portrait of empathy, resilience, and reckoning. With echoes of loss and the years-long effects of decisions made, passions burning over, hearts evolving, this novel is as emotionally powerful as it is stylistically elegant. Threading moments of hurt and memories of horror with glimpses of quiet joy and self examination, each point of view offers a fuller message of building; of piecing together fragments of times lost, relationships frayed, language drifted, into something new, something to nurture. A beautifully direct debut that soars with heart.
After their arranged marriage at the height of the military dictatorship in South Korea, newlyweds Insuk and Sungho move to San Jose, California, with Sungho's overbearing mother-in-law. As the trio grieves the fracturing of their homeland separately, their lives drift further apart. Can they find their way back to one another?
I've said multiple times that I love poets' prose, and Koh beautifully demonstrates how absorbing and compelling her storytelling is in THE LIBERATORS. I absolutely adore the use of mixed media—from the poetry-like ruminations to drawings—THE LIBERATORS is a slim book that packs a punch and will leave the readers grasping for air yet craving more.
I was unsure halfway through the book due to the number of POVs for such a short story. It is true that with so many characters, each person feels a bit diluted, and some characters have more of a slice-of-life presence. Regardless, I'm blown away by how Koh doesn't rely on the overwritten immigrant tropes to spin a spellbinding story of displacement and diaspora, of trauma and grief, of love lost and found.
Toward the end, I sobbed so much reading about one particular character's hopes for a unified country. In his speech, I can feel the unyielding pursuit of overcoming the evil that divides humanity and grasping for the light that unites us. This aspect alone made me love THE LIBERATORS. In addition, Koh's acknowledgment is one of the best I've read, which helped me appreciate the novel so much more—I hope we never lose our humanity and always hold onto love to fight for a better future.
"We can fail but we can always rebuild." THE LIBERATORS is a perfect read for those interested in poetic prose, the Korean diaspora, and imperfect characters.
This was the December, 2023, selection of the Otherppl Book Club (formerly known as the Nervous Breakdown Book Club.) It is an amazing debut novel that burrowed into my heart. The author is of Korean descent, also a poet and translator, who lives in Seattle, WA.
Though it is yet another story of immigration due to war, of cultural displacement, of family tensions, Ms Koh has added to the genre in wondrous ways. I learned truths about the division of Korea after WWII that I had not known. In fact, my truth that I learn more from fiction than I do from nonfiction or the news, was cemented in even more firmly.
I felt the sensibility of a poet on every page though the meanings of every sentence were clear and the reading smooth. The central character is Insuk, a woman who married in Korea at 24, whose father was disappeared, whose mother-in-law was over-the-top overbearing. Despite all, she figured it out and made a life for herself that could be lived in another country.
Trauma is real and destructive and each person has to find her own ways to overcome the damage. Reading The Liberators gave me a slice of hope.
I love a book that surprises me with beautiful writing, unexpected turns of phrases, and inventive storytelling. This short novel is one of those books. The story follows a South Korean family across thirty years, with backstories revealing the trauma of Korean history. It’s an emotional read.
Korea’s legacy of war, colonization, division, dictatorships, and missing persons has shattered the lives of the characters. Immigration to America does not fulfill their dreams. The Korean American community is still emotionally and culturally linked to the old country, and some dream of the reunification of their country which had been divided by America after the Korean war.
There are many memorable scenes, including the family watching the 2018 Olympics opening ceremony; during the traditional releasing of doves some landed on the Olympic cauldron; when it was lit, they were burned alive.
Parts of this book were beautifully written, and parts were so lost in its own prose the story became confusing. I found the dialogue sounded very unnatural. The author seemed to have points she wanted to make and put them into characters’ conversations in a way that didn’t match with how real people talk.
The temptation to give this two stars was real. I can forgive and read a lot of things, but it was hard to accept how quickly ‘resolved’ or brushed over the domestic abuse was. Not only was there physical abuse from the husband, but emotional abuse from the mother-in-law. It felt like we were supposed to accept that this is fine and really comes from a place of trauma.
Yeah, not okay in my book.
But really, I could push through this, but what got me was claiming that South Koreans don’t like sweet things so their cold noodles don’t have sugar in it. Yeah, no…maybe in the 80’s.
While the prose was beautiful, I really did love that part, this book was a bit inaccessible. I think it would be hard to fully get the most from it without a deep knowledge of Korean history and culture.
A moving novel about multiple generations of two Korean American families and the complicated history of their home country. This story is told in alternating timelines and POVs (one of which was a dog!) and was a little hard to follow/keep track of as an audiobook at times but the multicast narration was excellent!
That said the writing was very powerful and I learned a lot more/have a much better appreciation for the nuances of Korean history now. Definitely one I'd recommend but I can see it not being everyone's cup of tea. Many thanks to @prhaudio for a complimentary ALC in exchange for my honest review!
About a chapter into The Liberators, I felt a rush of gratitude for Koh’s spare but evocative writing. I love when poets write novels. Even when the plot moved across great spans of time very quickly, I was grounded by Koh’s carefully crafted diction, and fell back into the rhythm of her words.
However, I took a long break about 3/4 of the way through because I was spending my free time watching Hacks instead of reading (great show though), and when I picked it back up, I had really lost my momentum. Maybe the spareness of the novel made the plot a bit slippery, or my lack of historical context gave me less to hang onto in my memory, but I never engaged with it as fully as I had when I started. I still appreciated Koh’s writing, but I wasn’t as invested in the outcomes of the characters. That being said, I would definitely still recommend this book to a friend, and thought the writing was spectacular.
Maybe time to read her memoir and some poetry! Would definitely read another novel if she writes one- maybe a longer one so I can spend more time with the characters and don’t forget about them in a week.. oops!
Of all the accolades that emblazon the advance reader’s copy of E.J. Koh’s phenomenal debut, The Liberators (Tin House, November 7), I was struck by Ed Park’s (Same Bed Different Dreams) ringing endorsement: “You won’t know what hit you until the final perfect image.” Upon further inspection of the publisher’s site, Park also calls it “A piercing, patient debut by one of our finest chroniclers of American han.”
And therein lies yet another layer of depth to this fascinating novel that incorporates Korean history (beginning with Japanese occupation in the early 20th century to the Sewol Ferry disaster in 2014), and the liberating power of love.
What Brian Gresko refers to in his profile in the November/December 2023 edition of Poets & Writers Magazine, entitled “Love, Loss, & Liberation: A Profile of E.J. Koh,” as “Real love. Hard-won love.
The love of mothers and daughters.
The love of romantic partners raising children in a new country.
The love of a people and a place divided by foreign occupiers.”
And how the love of language can “deliver us to recognize and respect one another’s pain and history.”
While knowing fully these words may not have the capacity to heal.
Koh’s poem American Han appeared in the October 2021 edition of Poetry. “The word names the feeling that arises as you are buried alive with your dead husband. It’s hard to weigh a word with a history that permanently exiles its victims. So on one side I write the word han while on the other a historian on a panel erases it.”
The Liberators also fills you with its lush imagery, “almost like the way flowers sighed in the fields, nodding, ushering the wind and the leaves.”
The novel opens with a death and a marriage.
Insuk is arranged to be married to Sungho by her father, Yohan, on advice he believes he’s received from the spirit of Insuk’s late mother, who died when Insuk was little. “Now that my mother was dead, she could hear everything.” By the time the couple moves to San Jose, California, their son Henry is born, and Sungho has cheated. Adrift after a miscarriage and this America, Insuk mourns her loss of independence, her homeland of South Korea, and finds comfort with Robert, a Korean activist advocating for the reunification of North and South Korea.
Told from multiple perspectives that foreshadow and make plain motives vividly reflected in Koh’s powerful and poetic prose, The Liberators becomes a separate collective memory of what is remembered as a community, where lies rattle loudly like an empty cart and even the dead in the grips of dying, are as close as possible to feeling alive.
I liked how it felt similar to pachinko in its story telling. I've just been swallowing up anything that talks about the korean-american experience so I liked it. I had to rush through it because I couldn't renew the book. oh also, I really don't know much about North Korea and movements/efforts to reunify all of Korea so that was really interesting. So I learned some cool stuff
Loved this multi generational family epic that encompasses immigration, family ties as well as the traumas of war and displacement. Loved how each chapter was from a different point of view, across generations and how perspective changes with time. Liberator and Oppressor all have a say and it's just beautifully displayed. I especially enjoyed the evolution of the Huran and Insuk's relationship. And, I really loved Toto and Henry's interactions.
I received an arc from the publisher but all opinions are my own.
Through four generations, we see the personal consequences following the end of Korea’s time under Japanese colonial rule and a country that is split, as the military dictatorship and martial law become the new reality. It’s a deep story about love for one’s country and the complicated love shared by the people within. Difficult choices are made and the struggles are real. The generational trauma is substantial and the empathy genuine. I thought the author did a great job showing the friction and the similarities of the people, but never giving up on their human capacity to learn, change and start to heal. The ending really tied it together for me.
If you are at all interested in Korean history, read this book. The story is told by a number of different narrators, each with a different perspective. The personalities of the multi-generational family members are beautifully written. Each is complex in its own way, each is different, and each sees the history they have experienced through a different lens. I enjoyed this very much. Beautifully written.
I rented this book from the library, but I might buy it just so I can mark up every line that gave me chills! I loved Koh's memoir, and this doesn't disappoint. The writing is so evocative and unpredictable, every line grips me and forces me to dissect it. Kohs characters are as real as the pages are and I always feel incredibly moved by them. This time period is also fascinating and I feel like i learned a lot about the Korean War and the scars it left beind. Just an amazing read! E. J. Koh might be one of my favorite authors!
I appreciate how unapologetically pro-reunification this is (even if some of the peripheral politics felt underdeveloped if not reactionary). Unfortunately, the writing style varied wildly, such that some passages I found virtually unreadable, and some of the narrative directions of the characters didn't hold me.
A novel that follows the impact of the Korean War on a Korean American family. Some readers did not like the writing style, but I did. It's lovely and unusual.
3.5. Sparse and a bit disjointed. Interesting historical contexts and brutal at parts. I’d start connecting with it more then it would be disjointed again…
Um, what were the “dramatic events” that were promised? (And by that I mean, after the affair. Everything before that was dramatic.) I felt like I just wasted 2.5 hours.
This novel tries to do SO MUCH in 216 pages. A generation and decade spanning epic in 216 pages? Too much. The best moments of this novel--those between Insuk, Sungho, and Huran--are exquisite, and I would happily read a novel twice this length about those three and the bitter tensions and unspoken yearnings that push and pull them apart and together. But because this novel is not about a family but about a nation divided and the scars of that division, we get too little of the best bits. Every time we turn to Robert's story, I want to skim--even when it's good--because I want to get back to the three I care so much about.
But a novel with highs this high is still a thing to celebrate, and I'm already in line for the next Koh novel.
This was an informative read exploring the complexities of Korean culture and history over 4 generations. The book was good, though I don't know that it was a favorite or will leave a lasting impression on me.