The Vegetarian

the vague memory of an old emotion.

Only the violence is vivid enough to stick.

“My heart will pack in if this goes on any longer!” my father-in-law shouted at Yeong-hye. “Don’t you understand what your father’s telling you? If he tells you to eat, you eat!”

nothing is safe. But not my breasts. With my round breasts, I’m okay. Still okay. So why do they keep on shrinking? Not even round anymore. Why? Why am I changing like this? Why are my edges all sharpening—what I am going to gouge

Sleeping in five-minute snatches. Slipping out of fuzzy consciousness, it’s back—the dream. Can’t even call it that now. Animal eyes gleaming wild, presence of blood, unearthed skull, again those eyes. Rising up from the pit of my stomach. Shuddering awake, my hands, need to see my hands. Breathe. My fingernails still soft, my teeth still gentle.
Can only trust my breasts now. I like my breasts, nothing can be killed by them. Hand, foot, tongue, gaze, all weapons from which

What shadowy recesses lurked in her mind, what secrets I’d never suspected? In that moment, she was utterly unknowable.

But the demure, apologetic smile that was the only reasonable response never came, and without even having the grace to look embarrassed, my wife simply stared baldly at my boss’s wife

I resisted the temptation to indulge in introspection. This strange situation had nothing to do with me.

Only then did I realize: I really didn’t have a clue when it came to this woman.

The very idea that there should be this other side to her, one where she selfishly did as she pleased, was astonishing.