A quirky little book that captures the unique blend of hope and hopelessness that accompanies us as we age when our lives haven’t turned out the way we expected them to, and particularly when we try to sort out how much of the disappointment we feel is of our own making and how much is a system designed to keep us feeling like failures.

The protagonist and three men she meets in a class she takes through her job at an academy are each fed up with society and are too scared of change to do much of anything about it except grab onto their despair like a security blanket. They decide to do what little they can: quiet acts of protest against the system, or counterattacks, that are silly and largely ineffective in the grand scheme of things but are capable of effecting change on the individual level, giving them enough confidence to change their own mindsets.

The solution to this type of capitalism would be to divorce themselves from the belief that their work is integral to who they are. Easier said than done, but each of the four attempts this with varying degrees of success. Some blossom, some wither. As frustrating as that is from a fictional story, it’s so realistic: for the majority of us, the most we will ever do is wake up. Fewer of us will get out of bed, and even fewer of us are brave enough to actually push back. Perhaps this fact makes even the tiny counterattacks in this novel more bold than we’d give them credit for at first glance. 

There are a few subplots — a shaky romance and the confrontation of a former school bully, the latter of which feels like a common theme in Korean media and felt a little stale. It serves more as a conduit for proving the protagonist’s character growth than anything else. It’s easy to grow frustrated with the protagonist, Jihye, as she misses opportunities for growth and understanding, but again, this is simply realistic. Even still, I was rooting for both her and her comrades. 

There’s some endearing character growth that I found so relatable as an early 30-something, but I am now wondering how much character growth is possible within a system that punishes individuality and rewards assimilation. Is it growth, or is it acceptance? And does it matter? The themes and messages overall are obvious throughout, though they start stronger than they finish, and I can’t stop thinking about how maybe that’s one big (bleak) metaphor for aging itself. 

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the e-arc!