I went into Mothersucker expecting dark vampire horror. What surprised me was how much of the real horror came from the violence women live with, and how satisfying it was to watch someone finally make sure there were consequences.

I first noticed Shanna Tan because of how enthusiastically she champions the books she translates. Then I looked at my shelves and realized just how many of her translations I had already read. For Women in Translation Month, I asked Shanna about working with authors, creative freedom, translator credit and the work behind the books.

I don't read a lot of manhwa or manga, but Grass by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim is the story of comfort woman survivor Lee Ok-seon, told in stark black-and-white art that carries the full weight of her history. A review, a look at who Lee Ok-seon was, and a list of more books to read on this history, in time for August 14th's International Memorial Day for Comfort Women.

Not sure where to begin with Asian women in translation? These 12 books, all written and translated by women, are organized by reading mood, from quiet and healing fiction to history, psychological suspense and speculative horror.

This is going to be a wild ride." That's what I told myself before I was even a full chapter into The New Seoul Park Jelly Massacre by Cho Yeeun, translated by Yewon Jung. At New Seoul Park, a stranger hands out jelly candy that promises an unbreakable bond with the people you love, and that premise alone should tell you this isn't going where it looks like it's going.

Kim Bo-Young reimagines "The Shadow Over Innsmouth" in a quarantined Korean seaside village. Horror, yes, but also very sad on so many levels.

The cover and the comps promise cozy. A woman seven years into depression, deciding whether she wants to be alive, is something else. My honest take on Song Yu-jeong's The Memory Bookshop, translated by Shanna Tan.

I first found this book in an Italian bookstore years before it existed in English. I tried the Italian. The fantasy vocabulary defeated me. I waited. This is that translation.

It started in Birmingham, with three books I couldn't find and an author shelved under the wrong name. Cho Yeeun's Shift earned the chase.

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.

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.

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.

There is a research facility called the Institute. It houses cursed objects, a ghost cat, sheep that were experimented on and can now see the future, and a never-ending tunnel that some employees find and never quite escape. Of course there is an Institute. Of course someone has to work the night shift.

The premise is genuinely inventive and Djuna builds a world that feels layered and alive. Neuro-implants called Worms, fake identities stacked inside fake identities, a corporation behaving exactly the way you would expect one to behave if no one was watching. The pacing is relentless. This book moves.

A government-run apartment complex outside Seoul promises support, community, and a “village.” But in Apartment Women, that village starts to feel like pressure. My review of Gu Byeong-mo’s sharp social novel about motherhood, housing, and control.

A bleak, heartbreaking collection of Korean historical fiction about poverty, survival, and the brutal divide between those with money and those without. These stories don’t soften anything, especially the final one, “The Underground Village,” which is hard to forget.

I went into Hunger expecting horror. I didn’t expect to finish it in tears. This is an intense, intimate love story told through grief, desperation, and a choice that refuses to let death be final.