Winter Night Rabbit Worries begins with a rabbit that may not be a rabbit. Yoo Heekyung has written a book that asks you to read the same way. Stay with the uncertainty. Because what matters most, is that you stay.

Taiwan Travelogue is now in my favorites. Full stop. It is vivid, sensory, deeply observed, and underneath all of that beauty is something far more complicated.

The Tenderness convenience store is back. Located in Mojiko, Kitakyushu, Japan, the store is open 24 hours and the door is always open to whoever needs it.

I didn't know the Chunhyang folktale before I opened this book. By the time I finished it, I understood why it has lasted centuries.

Project V is Park Seolyeon's feminist science fiction follow-up to A Magical Girl Retires and it is just as sharp. A robotics prodigy disguises herself as her twin brother to compete in a male-only mecha pilot competition, with an arrogant AI and a lot of unchecked egos standing in her way.

A darkly comic Korean thriller about an ajumma who discovers her years at the butcher shop have prepared her for a very different kind of work. Strange, funny, and a little more pointed than it looks.

When Han Kang accepted the Nobel Prize in Literature in December 2024, becoming the first Korean writer and the first Asian woman to receive it, she named her lecture Light and Thread. Such a humble title for the biggest moment of a writer's career. Something small and quiet, true to who she is.

In the heart of Seoul, in an aging electronics market the city has decided it no longer needs, two young people are learning to pay attention to each other. And the shadows have started to rise.

She left home at sixteen with nothing but ambition. A factory floor by day, night school by evening, and a literary debut at twenty-two. Kyung-sook Shin writes about families the way families actually are, with all the love and all the cost of that love sitting right next to each other on the page.

What a way to begin a story collection. You have just been eaten by a crocodile on your honeymoon in Australia. Now you are in heaven, and you get to choose your face. That is the energy of My Dear You, Rachel Khong's debut short story collection, and I could not put it down.

Jiyoung Han's debut novel follows several generations of one Korean family across the twentieth century, from the mountain villages of 1902 all the way to modern Seoul and Tokyo. The women of this family carry gifts that are magical. A sister transforms into a tiger to protect her family. A mother's voice compels anyone around her to speak the truth. A granddaughter sees into the dreams of those she loves. And at the center of it all, Young-Ja, who cooks her emotions into everything she makes. This is historical fiction that refuses to let history stay abstract, and it is one of the most powerful debut novels I have read in a long time

Kim Hyesoon named her version of Korea "Aerok" Korea spelled backwards and in doing so built an entire collection around the idea that everything runs in reverse. Lady No is one of the most important poetry collections you will read this year.

Yoko Tawada was born in Tokyo and has lived in Germany for more than forty years. She has published original work in both Japanese and German. She has a word for what she does: exophonic.

The March Fable book club pick is a shin-honkaku mystery with a Groundhog Day premise, a New Year murder, and a teenage narrator who is the only one who remembers.

In October 2024, Han Kang became the first Korean and the first Asian woman to win the Nobel Prize in Literature. If you have not read her yet, this is where to start.

The sixth book in Toshikazu Kawaguchi's café series arrives with four new visitors and the same impossible question: if you could go back, knowing nothing would change, would you?

Hornclaw is sixty-five years old and a professional killer. She is also the most compelling character I have read in Korean crime fiction.

Kim Ae-ran has been winning awards in Korea since 2002. There is a decent chance you have never heard of her. That gap is the reason for this post.

A pop-up matcha event. A lucky towel. A circle that closes. Michiko Aoyama's follow-up to Hot Chocolate on Thursday is warm, layered, and just as hard to put down as the first.

A woman and a man share a house and never see each other. They ring bells. They talk through a paper wall. Kumi Kimura's COVID-era novella is bleak, precise, and completely honest about what loneliness actually asks of us.