05 May / Human Acts by Han Kang
Growing up, I struggled to pay attention in school, and honestly, most of what I was taught in history class never stuck with me. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize just how important it is to understand the events that have shaped the world we live in. Gaining that perspective can really help you grow into a more well-rounded person.
That’s part of why I enjoy historical fiction so much. I’ll be the first to admit—I’m probably not the smartest person in the room, and more often than not, I feel like I’m the least educated. But when I engage with novels that explore heavier, more complex topics, I let myself feel a quiet sense of pride. I know that for many people, especially those just getting into reading, historical fiction might not be the obvious first choice. But I really urge you to give it a shot.
If any of this resonates with you, I genuinely recommend diving into books—or even movies or documentaries—that explore history in more accessible ways. I’ve found that learning through storytelling is so much more engaging than what I experienced in the traditional classroom setting. 9/10 times, it leaves me wanting to research further and learn more.
Human Acts by Han Kang is a work of fiction, but it’s set against the very real backdrop of the Gwangju Uprising—a brutally suppressed pro-democracy movement in South Korea that took place from May 18 to May 27, 1980. The novel isn’t just a retelling of historical trauma; it’s a deeply intimate confrontation with grief, silence, and resistance.
While reading, I found myself doing extra research to better understand the political context behind the uprising. (I'll include links to some of the videos I found helpful.) The Gwangju Uprising began as a student-led protest against the military dictatorship of General Chun Doo-hwan, who seized power after the assassination of President Park Chung-hee in 1979. The government’s violent response sparked widespread outrage. Citizens joined the students, and the protests evolved into an armed rebellion. On May 27, the military launched a final assault to retake the city—resulting in hundreds of deaths. Official reports cite around 200, but some estimates place the number closer to 2,000.
The novel is made up of seven chapters, each told from the voice of a different character who was present during or affected by the uprising. I found it interesting the choice of narration, the novel begins with, as it is written in second person, directly addressing a dead boy, creating a powerful sense of intimacy and unease. The use of “you” blurs the line between the reader and the dead, pulling you into the story in a uniquely personal way.
The shifting perspectives throughout the book didn’t necessarily allow me to get fully attached to each individual character—but I don’t think that was the point. The focus wasn’t on detailed character development, but on the collective trauma, and how the pieces of Dong-ho’s death come together across voices and time.
There are definitely some unexplored or absent perspectives in the novel. While I think this was a deliberate choice by Han Kang—to stay true to her artistic vision and to honor those most affected—I still found myself curious about the voices left out. For example, I would have been fascinated to read from the perspective of one of the soldiers. Were they simply following orders? Were they afraid of the consequences if they didn’t pull the trigger? Did they feel remorse afterward? While those voices would have added another layer, I also understand and respect why Han Kang may have chosen not to include them. She seemed to consciously reject giving space to the logic of violence, and I deeply admire that.
The prose in this novel is unlike anything I’ve ever read—elegant, lyrical, and emotionally searing. It reads like a mix of prose and poetry, creating a bone-chilling experience. I felt as though I was right there in South Korea, even though it’s so far removed from anything I’ve ever lived through. You can tell that Han Kang chose every word with care. Despite the emotional weight of the subject matter, the language is often restrained—even minimalist—with short, simple sentences that carry deep emotional power. This allowed me to sit with the trauma rather than be overwhelmed by it. Honestly, I don’t think I would have connected with the story as deeply if it hadn’t been written with such grace and balance. She struck the perfect contrast between the lightness of her language and the brutality of the events she was portraying.
Human Acts is easily one of my favorite books I’ve read this year. If you’re looking for something raw, real, and emotionally powerful, don’t hesitate to pick this one up. It captures the inexpressibility of trauma, while still giving voice to the silenced. The contrast between beauty and brutality is what makes it so haunting and unforgettable. I walked away from this book not only with a deeper understanding of the Gwangju Uprising, but also with a new perspective on what it means to be human.
I’ll definitely be exploring more of Han Kang’s work—her writing style was what I loved most. My heart stays heavy for anyone who was affected by the Gwangju Uprising, and I’m truly glad we had the chance to read and reflect on Human Acts as our May book of the month.
Rating: 4.5/5
Quotes:
"Is it over? Or is it just that no one is speaking?" — Chapter 1: Dong-ho’s perspective
A devastating line that speaks to the aftermath of mass violence
"You’re the one who’s going to have to decide. Decide whether or not you can ever forgive them." — Chapter 2: The mother’s perspective
This speaks to the unbearable burden survivors carry — not just grief, but the ethical decision of whether forgiveness is possible or even deserved.
"What is a human being? Do we still deserve to be called that, after what we’ve done to each other?"
— A direct philosophical confrontation with the dehumanization inherent in state violence and war.
Book Club Discussion Questions:
1 . What does the title ‘‘Human Acts’ mean to you after reading the novel? How do the characters’ choices reflect—or challenge—what it means to be human?
2. Silence and speech are recurring motifs. Why do you think Han Kang places so much emphasis on who gets to speak—and who doesn’t?
3. The novel uses a nonlinear structure and multiple perspectives. Did you find this effective? How did the shifting narrators influence your connection to the story?
4. How did you feel about not spending much time with any single character? Did it enhance or lessen the emotional impact of the story?
5. Had you heard of the Gwangju Uprising before reading this book? How did the novel change or expand your understanding of Korean history—or authoritarianism more broadly?
6. Do you think fiction can be a powerful tool for historical education? Why or why not?
7. Han Kang doesn’t give voice to the perpetrators of violence. Do you think this was the right choice? Would hearing from them have added anything to the story—or taken something away?
8. Were there any moments in the novel that reminded you of current events or recent global conflicts?
9. What will you take away from this book? Is there a particular image, passage, or emotion that stayed with you?
Han Kang Interview: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQTI6bV0waE&ab_channel=LouisianaChannel
What Caused the Gwangju Uprising: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iEYeeLbS2nY&ab_channel=SeouliteTV
Recommended further reading: