Lincoln Michel
"A dystopian thriller with a series of intimate character sketches that form a portrait of a community. (Imagine “Winesburg, Ohio” set in “1984.”)... Cho draws touching portraits of her discarded denizens… illuminat[ing] the systemic enforcement of class in the same way that “Kim Jiyoung” revealed gender inequality…. An affecting portrait of people doing their best to survive in a world that would rather pretend they didn’t exist."
Oprah Daily
Cho Nam-Joo’s Saha is its own Orwellian vision: bleak and berserk, brilliant, and beautiful.”
Kirkus Reviews
★ 2022-09-14
What is it called again when dystopian fiction seems too uncomfortably plausible: Horror? Speculative fiction? A wake-up call?
Treading in territories visited over time by Dickens, Orwell, Atwood, Ishiguro, Squid Game, and Parasite, Cho recounts—in specific and painstaking detail—the miserable lives endured by the many residents of the Saha housing complex. Saha Estates is located in Town, a mysterious island city-state entirely under the auspices of a corporation that has grown into a Hydra-headed monster (but not the benevolent kind!). There are none of the pesky ethical and constituent-interest constraints faced by a representative government. Cut off from electricity and access to conventional gas and water sources, the residents of the ill-begotten apartment complex deal with those privations as well as an even more stigmatizing condition: the lack of coveted Citizen status, marking those who rightfully “belong” in Town and may reap benefits such as employment, health care, and education. Generation after generation of Saha residents have tolerated the awful conditions visited upon them by circumstance or accident of birth. A long-forgotten revolt—referred to as the Butterfly Riot—provides no impetus for most of the development’s residents to rebel against the hideous conditions of their diminished lives. When Jin-kyung, a resident, is faced with the disappearances of her brother and another beloved resident of the complex, she is prompted to seek out answers not only about their whereabouts, but about who runs Town and how. (“Why” may be too gruesome to contemplate.) Sadly, Jin-kyung is not the only victim in Cho’s litany of suffering. This successor to Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 (2020), Cho’s chronicle of the misogynistic forces behind South Korea’s #MeToo movement—a finalist for the National Book Award—addresses another equally corrosive social horror.
Read. Weep. Learn.
