The White Book

by

Victoria Chew

An incredibly delicate book that made me feel as if I were holding a flickering candle in my hands.

Han Kang does an exceptional job exploring fragility and vulnerability, reminding us of all that is ephemeral in the world. She skilfully uses the colour white not only as an evocative symbol for her own grief and loss, but uses this meditation of colour to suggest that certain memories remain inviolate to the ravages of time and suffering.

Upon reflection, in a book that is seemingly about death and its contrast with the tenacity of life, Han Kang more so denotes the minute amount of stark whiteness that separates the two concepts.

It isn’t so much a novel, but a series of clever and lyrical reflections on what is meant by loss and grief.

Some of my favourite bits …

“Standing at this border where land and water meet, watching the seemingly endless recurrence of the waves (though this eternity is in fact illusion: the earth will one day vanish, everything will one day vanish), the fact that our lives are no more than brief instants is felt with unequivocal clarity.”

 

“There is none of us whom life regards with any partiality. Sleet falls as she walks these streets, holding this knowledge inside her. Sleet that leaves cheeks and eyebrows heavy with moisture. Everything passes.”

 

“When only one thing would remain to be done once that meeting was over: to separate. To part from their own bodies, and thus to part forever.”

“Each moment is a leap forwards from the brink of an invisible cliff, where time’s keen edges are constantly renewed. We lift our foot from the solid ground of all our life lived thus far, and take that perilous step out into the empty air. Not because we can claim any particular courage, but because there is no other way.”