Beyond the Dark of Humanity:

The Vegetarian by Han Kang

by Jordan Doering

           In The Vegetarian (2007) by Han Kang, a woman named Yeong-Hye has a recurrent dream which results in her sudden refusal to eat meat, despite both she and her husband being avid meat eaters prior to this decision. The dream displays an exaggeratedly gory, violent, and disturbing depiction of bloody meat. Yeong-Hye’s switch to vegetarianism brings to light deep-seated issues between Yeong-Hye and her husband as her actions becomes increasingly strange. After her husband leaves her, and she is ostracized by much of her family, Yeong-Hye begins to take the title of vegetarian to its extreme, not only rejecting the consumption of meat, but attempting to alter her existence from a human to one like a plant. The Vegetarian was translated from Korean into English in 2015 and won the International Man Booker Prize in 2016. 

Through Yeong-Hye’s story, we see first-hand the journey of a woman as she attempts to escape from the expectations of society through the pursuit of a post-human existence, into a state of being more in tune with nature. Because the protagonist ultimately fails to achieve this state of being, Kang uses the character of Yeong-Hye to provide a grim image of a woman’s existence in society, escapable only through destruction of the self. Throughout the novel’s three chapters, the reader sees Yeong-Hye experience very real and practical social pressures, the breakdown of her attempt to achieve a post-human existence through artistic expression, and the final tragedy where she, despite her best efforts, cannot escape the structure of society except through her own physical destruction. 

Due to the violent oppression she experiences from multiple people and structures in her life, Yeong-Hye seeks to distance herself from the image which society has constructed of her. The three different chapters, told by three different narrators, provide various perspectives on her changing relationship with society. In the first chapter, she experiences damaging social confinements, and so she begins to withdraw. In the second chapter, this withdrawal is found not to be enough to protect herself from those who would seek to harm and take advantage of her, and so she furthers her withdrawal from society through her decisions to starve herself and to become increasingly likened to nature. To Yeong-Hye, this sort of retreat is necessary as she realizes she is indeed a victim of an abusive, selfish society. After Yeong-Hye’s remaining innocence is corrupted by her brother-in-law during the creation of an art video, she realizes that society and human existence hold nothing for her, solidifying her decision to pursue an existence outside the confines of humanity. As the story progresses, Yeong-Hye’s pursuit of the non-human becomes more and more extreme as she becomes increasingly desperate to separate herself from her own humanity. Her ultimate desire is to exist in life as a plant would, rather than continuing her life as a human being. She rejects certain aspects of human nature such as emotion and adherence to societal norms and traditions. Yeong-Hye rejects these norms after gradually recognizing the inherent flaws within humanity, particularly its tendency towards violence. In a sense, Yeong-Hye does not devolve but rather, in her mind, evolves into a purer and freer state of a plant-like existence. It is in this new existence that she seeks to escape from the violence of humanity, presented largely through the several rapes she endures, towards a more innocent existence in touch with nature.

Even before her decision to become a vegetarian, Yeong-Hye’s refusal to wear a bra demonstrates a deep-rooted defiance towards established societal practices and norms as she attempts to practice some degree of personal autonomy. Much to her husband’s frustration, Yeong-Hye justifies her actions by saying “she couldn’t stand wearing a bra because of the way it squeezed her breasts” (14). The bra here symbolizes the oppressive, constricting nature of society on the very physical and free aspects of humanity, represented by the open nakedness and physicality of the human body. This concept of Yeong-Hye seeking some type of freedom in the expression of herself, and that expression being limited, is perhaps seen best in the dramatic effect of her revealed breasts on a company dinner and its guests. During this scene, Yeong-Hye is still wearing clothes; however, her bra-less breasts can still be seen through the sheer fabric of her shirt.  While all the guests are somewhat put off by this show of indecency from Yeong-Hye, no one seems more put out than the boss’s wife, who, from the account of Mr. Cheong, “had been sneaking sideways glances at my wife’s breasts for some time now” (31). These glances indicate a certain distaste and unease with Yeong-Hye’s physical show of autonomy and creates an interesting dichotomy between the two women’s perspectives on the norms of society regarding dress expectations, highlighting the shift in Yeong-Hye’s behavior as she experiences judgment even from other women as a result of her act of independence. 

The issue of wearing a bra or not raises a larger question regarding one’s body and the level of personal autonomy they have over it. When Mr. Cheong first realized his wife preferred to go without a bra, he thought the following of the situation: “I couldn’t get my head around it. It wasn’t as if she had shapely breasts which might suit the ‘no-bra look.’ I would have preferred her to go around wearing one that was thickly padded, so that I could save face in front of my acquaintances” (13). This demonstrates the inherent selfishness Mr. Cheong possesses in their relationship. He immediately reverts to objectifying her, equating the decision to be a matter simply of physical appearance rather than finding the true reason behind it, failing to understand his repeated pattern of limiting her personal autonomy over her body. The symbolic nature of his desire for her to wear a bra is taken a step further when he begins making a routine of raping Yeong-Hye in order to fulfill his desires after she decides she no longer wishes to sleep with him. This act of violent and repeated rape is perhaps the ultimate example of Mr. Cheong actively stripping Yeong-Hye of her autonomy and free will. It is in these attacks on Yeong-Hye’s physical self that she is driven further and further to reject humanity.

The physical act of independence shown through her refusal to wear a bra is connected with her decision to take on the vegetarian lifestyle. In the scene of the company dinner, Kang uses a distinct metaphor to create a comparison between Yeong-Hye’s human body and nature, representative of her decision to adapt to veganism. Her nipples are likened in appearance to that of acorns (32), thus tying together her outward act of independence with her mental decision to become vegetarian. This, in and of itself, is barely accepted by society, as represented through the further criticism Yeong-Hye receives from the boss’s wife, who says, “Meat eating is a fundamental human instinct, which means vegetarianism goes against human nature, right? It just isn’t natural” (31). This off-hand comment from the wife is key to understanding the motive behind Yeong-Hye’s decision to pursue this new-found vegetarian lifestyle. The irony of her comment demonstrates her failing to understand Yeong-Hye’s attempt at breaking beyond the restrictions of human society, and later on, even beyond the confinements of traditional human nature. This is the first step in her journey toward a truer and more unashamed version of herself as she resists societal expectations and progresses to a post-human existence more in tune with nature. 

In Chapter Two, in the scenes building up to Yeong-Hye and her brother-in-law attempting to bring to life the artistic vision with which he is plagued, we are shown Yeong-Hye as she further removes herself from society and her human existence. After her husband divorces her due to his perception of her behavior as a descent into insanity, Yeong-Hye is eventually left to live alone. She is then able to explore the lengths to which she may retract from society and further her dream of living outside or beyond the human experience. Upon the artist’s arrival to Yeong-Hye’s home, he finds it barely furnished (80), reflecting her withdrawal from the creature comforts of society. In this way, Kang shows that Yeong-Hye is becoming increasingly less reliant on the physical commodities of life and is more comfortable existing simply in herself. Once again, the physicality of Yeong-Hye is of major importance, but it is now taken a step further. In her new life, Yeong-Hye appears to have shaken off the confines of society entirely, represented by her rejection of clothing altogether. She now chooses to spend all of her time alone, completely naked, experiencing within this act a certain freedom of the self. When realizing the presence of the artist who stumbled upon her exposed body, she dressed “quite calmly, not in the least flustered or embarrassed, as though getting dressed were merely something demanded by the situation, rather than something she herself felt to be necessary” (81). The preference towards nakedness and the lack of human comforts symbolizes her growing rejection of materialistic practices and societal confinements on herself. As she innocently explores and delves into a more naturalistic existence, she is less focused on the limits of humanity. Her innocent motives are reflected in her emotionless response to the borderline pornographic art project proposed by her brother-in-law. Showing interest only by asking about the artistic flowers, she says, “You’ll paint on me? …. Paint…on my body?” (86). Her fascination with the flowers on her body is heavily symbolic, representing her desired unity with nature as she nears a transcending of humanity through the naturalistic aspects of the art. For Yeong-Hye, the painted flowers are a visible and tangible way to experience even if ever so slightly, a life in her desired state.

The inherent issue with this art project, however, comes from the fact that the two participants, Yeong-Hye and her brother-in-law, each possess fundamentally different motives behind their participation in the art video. In the process of shedding human constraints in her journey towards post-humanism, sex loses its meaning and its intimacy. For Yeong-Hye, sex is simply something that happens. This is a difficult concept for many modern readers to grasp but is evidenced by the way in which it does not matter to her with whom the act of sex is fulfilled, whether it is the youthful and attractive J or the old and unattractive brother-in-law. The only aspect of the union which holds any significance to her are the flowers adorning their bodies, solidified in her remark that she does not wish for them to come off, even actively trying to keep them on by not washing (104). It is these flowers that bring about any semblance of sexual desire within Yeong-Hye during the art. Her response when J leaves in frustration exemplifies and reveals her motives for participating in the art project. The following section, a key to understanding this, says, “It wasn’t him; it was the flowers…I really wanted to do it,” she said carefully. “I’ve never wanted it so much before. It was the flowers on his body… I couldn’t help myself. That’s all” (114). This is the defining moment as Yeong-Hye gives clear insight into her perception of the art. To her, the beauty exists in the metaphor of unification with nature through the act of sex, she focuses solely on the flowers painted upon their bodies rather than the men’s human physicality. From this we understand that from her perspective, the sexual act is not a unification of herself and the man but rather the desired unification of herself and nature, a symbolic achievement of the post-human existence she desires.

On the other hand, the brother-in-law repeatedly goes back and forth in his mind as he struggles between his lust for her physical body and the true artistic value and meaning he attempts to portray through the art. After completing the initial painting on Yeong-Hye, he realizes, “This was the body of a beautiful young woman, conventionally an object of desire, and yet it was a body from which all desire had been eliminated” (92). He fails to fully grasp the depth of what Yeong-Hye experiences in the art, and despite scolding himself, falls into the same societal norm of shallow, objectifying lust. Upon entering her apartment for the shooting of the final scene of the art project, he is overcome with lust, “forgetting about the lighting, the camcorder, everything. None of that existed now” (118). To him, it is no longer about the effects, the materials or even the art; it is about his lust for the woman before him. In this moment, he forces himself upon her in what appears to be yet another rape scene, where she is abused, taken advantage of, and made a victim. The venture of the art ends with her in tears, and her words, “But I’m not scared anymore. There’s nothing to be scared of now” (122). She now realizes herself to be a victim of a society in which violence is so integral to its DNA. The faces that she sees rising up from within herself (122) are representative of the ingrained practices, expectations, norms and values of the oppressive society she inhabits. The art, which to her was originally a beautiful escape from humanity, a conjoining of herself as nature with another force of nature, was corrupted by the very same oppressive societal functions she thought to escape. 

In the final chapter of the book, we as the readers watch from the perspective of In-Hye, Yeong-Hye’s sister, as Yeong-Hye now resists the societal oppression in the only way now available to her, the ultimate destruction of herself. After In-Hye calls emergency services on Yeong-Hye and her husband, the tragic irony of the situation is realized, as despite her attempted escape from the restrictions of society, she is placed into a mental hospital; perhaps the most restrictive environment of all. After all the violence Yeong-Hye has suffered, she still persists in her dream of a post-human existence into nature, through the simple act of pressing her exposed breasts to the sun (144) practicing some innocently twisted form of photosynthesis or holding a handstand for extended periods of time likening herself to that of a tree (133). As she persists in her connection and efforts to escape the social confines by likening herself to nature, we see the physical toll it takes upon her body as she slowly wastes away. This spiral of self-destruction persists on and on as she begins removing food of any form from her diet, wistfully telling her sister, “I need to water my body. I don’t need this kind of food, sister. I need water” (154). As she rejects the physical nourishment and her body begins to shut down, disconnecting her from the physical world, she nears the post-human transformation into nature she so desires. Already seen through her actions likening herself to that of a plant, her mindset seems to have undergone a shift as well. When impersonating the trees as they stand on their arms, Yeong-Hye is so lost in her mind that it requires In-Hye pushing her over just to wake her up from her trance-like state. To this intrusion, Yeong-Hye simply replies as follows,  “‘Sister,’ Yeonge-Hye’s face was wreathed in smiles, her eyes shining as though she’d just woken up from a happy dream” (153). Here demonstrated is the almost complete disconnect from her human reality and, interestingly enough, the only time we see her described in bright and lively ways, such as when she is “wreathed in smiles” and her “eyes shining as though she’d just woken up from a happy dream.” These descriptions stand in such stark contrast to the perfectly ordinary woman in the opening section. Yet again, Yeong-Hye draws so close to the existence to which she desires to escape, and yet again the opportunity is ripped from her as she is taken against her will to the main hospital, away from the great big trees and natural landscape in which she found so much meaning and life. 

The repeated pattern of Yeong-Hye’s failure to achieve her post-human transformation sheds light on the overpowering and all-encompassing reality of societal confinements. Through the character of Yeong-Hye, Kang provides a grim commentary on the suffocation of a woman’s place in society as she struggles to break free from suppression while striving to attain harmony and peace with nature. Through the exaggerated experience of Yeong-Hye, Kang provides a bleak picture of the impossibility to escape the confinements of society, except through the destruction of the self. 

Works Cited

Kang, Han. The Vegetarian. Translated by Deborah Smith. Portobello Books, 2016.