"I am fighting, alone, every day. I fight with the hell that I survived. I fight with the fact of my own humanity. I fight with the idea that death is the only way of escaping this fact. So tell me, professor, what answers do you have for me? You, a human being just like me."

Human Acts was not a tale of valor, of triumph, or of justice. It was a tale of brutality, of mourning. It was dark and violent. 

Human Acts is a "riveting, poetic and fearless portrait of political unrest and the universal struggle for justice". Taking place during and in the years following a violent student uprising in South Korea, Human Acts tells the story of a boy who is shockingly killed and the impact it, and many events like it, had on those whom he knew. 

What is so interesting about this book is the flow with which the story is presented. Each chapter takes place a certain number of years later, as we follow the repercussions of the Gwangju Uprising through the years. But despite the events having occurred years previously, characters' memories will be told as if they are happening in real time, in the present. As Deborah Smith says so beautifully in the Introduction, "here, chronology is a complex weave, with constant slippages between past and present, giving the sense of the former constantly intruding on or shadowing the latter", alluding to another kind of uprising - one where memories and experiences that have been suppressed find themselves bubbling back up to the surface. 

The hardest thing I had to deal with in this book was the fact that I didn't understand why Dong-ho meant so much to each of these characters. I don't mean that to sound heartless, absolutely not. It just wasn't established in the beginning that this boy had deep connections to anyone. In fact, he seemed like kind of a loner, a quiet kid that kept to himself. So following his death, when we see how heartbroken each character is by this event, I found myself confused that he touched them any more than the thousands of deaths that were occurring around them, let alone the 5 other kids that were killed at the same time as him. I wish that those character relationships had been developed a little more so I could tie their feelings to something a little more concrete. Or maybe that is the point?

The whole feel of the book feels very detached, never overstated or sensationalized. Everything is stated very matter-of-factly, often poetically, but never starkly, vividly or strikingly. To some that may make the story hard to get into or relate to. I, however, appreciated it and thought it added dramatically to the morose and melancholy reverence with which these events should be discussed. 

All in all, I thought it was a beautiful way to learn about and to communicate this tragic historical event. But if you are looking for something with a happy ending or a engrossing story line, this book isn't for you. 

p.s. There were 3 f-bombs, all of which occur on pages 138-139. There are a decent handful of times that b**** is used, also by that same man who uses the f-bomb... Other than that, the language is mild and I didn't find it offensive at all. In fact, I would have been more surprised if there hadn't been any, considering the circumstances that were being described. There is also mentions of male and female genitalia in the context of torture, which may not be for the faint of heart or the younger readers.