I have always had a special interest in books, plays, and media centered around monsters. What makes a monster? Can humans be monsters? Are monsters simply products of their environments, or are they innately horrible? Judging from the popularity of classics like Frankenstein, Dracula, or Harry Potter, I’d say I’m not alone in this curiosity. When I first stumbled upon Almond by Sohn Won-pyung, I thought I’d be reading a coming-of-age story primarily about a young boy who experiences tragic loss at a pivotal age. While this is the basis of Almond, Won-pyung manages to encompass greater questions about monsters in the process, such as: Are humans sometimes mistaken for monsters? And, crucially, do these so-called “monsters” want to be monsters?
Almond revolves around Yunjae, a boy diagnosed with Alexithymia at a young age due to his small amygdalae and near inability to feel certain emotions or empathy. Due to this brain condition, it is difficult for him to experience fear, anger, or sadness, and he is bullied by others as a result. Despite her initial anguish about his condition, his mother teaches him the expected social responses and interactions which other kids already know. She even reconnects with Yunjae’s grandmother, her own estranged mother, in order to build a better life for her son. But the life they build together is changed forever on Christmas Eve, the same day Yunjae turns sixteen. A violent attack leaves Yunjae alone and having to fend for himself with the lessons his mother and grandmother instilled in him. Yet as time passes, the emotionless “monster” meets another emotional “monster” named Gon, and the two boys form an odd friendship. As they learn how to manage their emotions—or lack thereof—together, Yunjae defies expectations in ways no one thought possible—least of all Yunjae.
Won-pyung writes through the perspective of Yunjae’s inner monologue. The straightforward tone certainly suggests the narrator is someone who doesn’t feel emotions too deeply, as we know Yunjae doesn’t. Yet as the story progresses, more complicated thoughts are expressed through more complex sentence structure. Won-pyung is deliberate in this respect. And we experience these thoughts in almost diary-like entries; short chapters describe Yunjae’s thoughts during notable occurrences. Won-pyung’s novels are usually characterized by such rapid plot development, and this novel consequently feels like a quick read. However, it is evident that this author has an important message to convey.
Since Yunjae’s Alexithymia prevents him from identifying or expressing feelings, he relies on objective analysis of language and emotion to manufacture his own. His mother and grandmother emphasize how vital the ability to emote is, suggesting its significance toward human connection. Emotional incidents regarding loss, friendship, love, family, suffering, danger, and death that elicit a response from other people are neutral experiences to Yunjae. On the other hand, Gon, who serves as Yunjae’s foil, seems to hold so much unregulated emotion that he may burst, yet he suppresses it. This opposition causes a rift between the two boys. As they try to understand one another, the distance starts to close, and pivotal changes take place in these adolescent men. Yunjae expresses the following sentiment.
Suddenly, a small ember was rekindled in my heart. I wanted to read between the lines. I wanted to be someone who truly understood the meaning of an author’s words. I wanted to know more people, to be able to engage in deep conversations, and to learn what it was to be human.
Won-pyung masterfully pits Yunjae’s supposed alexithymia against Gon’s emotional turmoil, tearing open the immense whirlwind of feeling and depth within all of us. She asks us to consider whether these “monsters” are really monsters, whether they ever asked to be labeled in such a way. And she emphasizes that the changes each boy undergoes are not requisites for being good humans but instead serve as catalysts toward becoming more well-rounded, emotionally stable individuals. Almond is yet another brilliant book about what it means to be human, especially a teenage one. It beautifully embodies a quote I often ponder about:
It is both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so very deeply. -David Jones, 20th century poet
From what I understood, love was an extreme idea. A word that seemed to force something undefinable into the prison of letters. But the word was used so easily, so often. People spoke of love so casually, just to mean the slightest pleasure or thanks.
This story is, in short, about a monster meeting another monster.
One of the monsters is me.
Yunjae was born with a brain condition called Alexithymia that makes it hard for him to feel emotions like fear or anger. He does not have friends—the two almond-shaped neurons located deep in his brain have seen to that—but his devoted mother and grandmother provide him with a safe and content life. Their little home above his mother’s used bookstore is decorated with colorful Post-it notes that remind him when to smile, when to say "thank you," and when to laugh.
Then on Christmas Eve—Yunjae’s sixteenth birthday—everything changes. A shocking act of random violence shatters his world, leaving him alone and on his own. Struggling to cope with his loss, Yunjae retreats into silent isolation, until troubled teenager Gon arrives at his school, and they develop a surprising bond.
As Yunjae begins to open his life to new people—including a girl at school—something slowly changes inside him. And when Gon suddenly finds his life at risk, Yunjae will have the chance to step outside of every comfort zone he has created to perhaps become the hero he never thought he would be.
Sohn Won-pyung is a South Korean novelist, film director, and screenwriter who has written several books. She won the 2020 Japanese Booksellers’ Awards in the translated fiction category for Almond, making history as the first non-Japanese Asian writer to win the award. Her work explores the human condition and our potential for growth. Almond was only her first novel, and she has won many awards for her work in film. She resides in South Korea.
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