Min Jin Lee

Having lived and taught English in South Korea, I know a bit about the Japanese occupation and the resulting animosity between Koreans and Japanese. This sweeping family saga tells an even lesser-known side of the story, that of Koreans who immigrated to Japan during the occupation, and then found themselves essentially stuck, without a homeland, living as second class citizens.

Beginning in 1910, Pachinko follows five generations of one family through to 1989. I don't want to give too much show more away, because the beauty of this book is watching the events unfold, even when too many of them break your heart. Ms. Lee's writing is an interesting combination of simple and poetic, with characters and plot equally sharing the spotlight. I tend to be a very fast reader, but I found myself taking more time with this one, savoring each chapter. show less

Min Jin Lee’s Pachinko is a sprawling, multigenerational saga tracing a Korean family’s journey through most of the 20th century, from Japanese-occupied Korea to postwar Japan. The novel begins in a small coastal village, where Sunja, the beloved daughter of a simple fisherman and modest innkeeper, becomes pregnant by a wealthy and married fish broker. Her decision to reject the life of a kept woman, instead marrying a gentle Christian minister and emigrating to Osaka, sets in motion a show more sweeping family story shaped by hardship, perseverance, and stoic dignity. Over four generations, we follow Sunja, her relatives, and her friends as they navigate poverty, racial discrimination, and questions of identity in a country that never fully accepts them. The struggles of the family mirror the shifting tides of time, from colonial rule and war to modernization and the evolving social hierarchies of Japan’s industrial boom.

Structurally, the novel offers a nice balance between intimate personal stories and the often cruel arc of history. The author’s prose is straightforward and realistic, yet the tale moves with the inevitability of fate, all the while echoing the book’s central metaphor: pachinko, the Japanese gambling game designed to offer the player “small gains and slow losses.” Through interwoven narratives and shifting character perspectives, Lee illuminates the Zainichi experience—ethnic Koreans living in Japan—whose lives are impacted by both imperial policies and the brutalities of everyday prejudice. The historical context—from annexation to the aftermath of World War II—anchors the story’s emotional pull. Lee’s deliberate and measured storytelling avoids sensationalism, opting instead for a patient buildup of detail that gives full weight to the pain and endurance of her protagonists.

Overall, I enjoyed reading Pachinko, perhaps more for the historical aspects it contains than for the family saga itself. I simply did not know much about the many atrocities and injustices that the Korean diaspora endured—and continues to deal with—during the era depicted in the story. As I was reading the novel, I found myself also looking up background information on many of the critical events portrayed in the fictional setting (e.g., Japan’s occupation of Korea, the firebombing of Osaka during the war, the unspeakable conscription of “comfort women” by the Japanese military), which provided great context for understanding what the characters in the story were experiencing. If I have a criticism of the book, however, it would be that the anti-Japanese sentiment it conveys is quite heavy-handed; there definitely is an accumulation in the rhetoric that detracts from the story by the end. That aside, this is an impressive and rewarding work that certainly merits the widespread acclaim it has received. show less

In 1910 the Japanese occupied Korea, beginning a decades-long colonization that only ended at the conclusion of World War II. Throughout this time, as life in Korea became increasingly difficult and food scarcities more widespread, many Koreans emigrated to Japan to seek a better life, but for most Koreans, life in Japan was equally harsh, and the discrimination they faced was daunting. Even second- and third-generation Korean Japanese were denied citizenship and struggled to find show more acceptance. Pachinko parlors were one of the few places where Koreans could find jobs. Although gambling is illegal in Japan, pachinko parlors were, and remain, big businesses, often associated with the yakuza.

Pachinko begins in the early 1900s and ends in 1989, three generations later. The novel opens in Jeongda, an island off Busan, where Hoonie the fisherman is more concerned about feeding his family than the politics of colonization. His daughter, Sunja, meets a sophisticated Japanese-speaking businessman, and her innocent life is set on a new trajectory. She marries a Christian minister, who takes her to Osaka, where she and her family will live throughout the rest of the occupation period, World War II, and the Korean War. Buffeted by historical events, economic hardships, and discrimination, her children and grandchildren struggle to find success and happiness in a culture that never fully accepts them.

There was much about Pachinko that I loved. The author did years of historical research and interviews with Koreans living in Japan, and her efforts show. The plot touches on many of the events of the time without seeming forced, and the themes of assimilation, what it means to be successful, generational conflict, and being a minority Christian are handled deftly. The characters are well-developed and vivid, and I had no trouble keeping track of who was who, unlike in some family sagas. The tone was of quiet strength, exemplified by the women who held the family together. Some readers felt the last third of the book, dealing with the third generation of characters, was less interesting or engaging. I felt like it was a natural development, as the old mores gave way to foreign education and modern sensibilities. It may not have been as romantic, but it felt real.

My only quibble is that I found myself putting it down for long periods of time before picking it up again, but I think the fault lies with me not the book. If I had read it at a different time, perhaps I would have remained better engaged. show less

To begin with, I learned so much from this book about Korean and Japanese history in the early 20th century. That alone made it a very worthwhile read. In addition, the characters are so realistically drawn that I felt they could have existed. At the same time, their social and economic situations were so miserable that I had a hard time believing that their experiences were typical of every Korean who moved to Japan in that time period.
The fact that the original focus was on women explained show more some of the isolated feelings I got. There was sexism, a language barrier, an economic barrier to overcome, and religious prejudice against Christians. However, even when the focus shifted to the sons of the next generation who learned the language and made more money, the feeling of isolation continued. Perhaps I need to read more about Korean-Japanese (Japanese Koreans?) to determine if the situation has changed. show less