Han Kang’s Nobel Prize win: A landmark moment for South Korea, Asian literature
As the first South Korean and Asian woman to receive the Nobel Prize in Literature, Han Kang ’s work lends literary dimension to Hallyu or the K-wave that has been years in the making
The Nobel Prize in Literature to Han Kang (53), the first South Korean, and the first Asian woman, to receive it, has opened a new chapter not only in South Korean literary history but also in the South Asian canon. For Han, whose novels dwell on the weight of personal and national trauma, this moment is about much more than individual acclaim. Her win, welcomed with open arms by South Koreans, marks a cultural shift that has been years in the making; it has added a literary dimension to the nation’s already impressive cultural exports.
After years of being ‘Eurocentric’, the Nobel committee, as The Federal reported before the prize was announced, indeed went for an Asian voice this year. In its 123-year-old history, Han Kang is only the ninth Asian to get the world’s top literary honour. Rabindranath Tagore was the first Asian to win it in 1913, followed by Yasunari Kawabata (Japan, 1968), Kenzaburō Ōe (Japan, 1994), Gao Xingjian (Chinese, 2000), VS Naipaul (Trinidad, 2001), Orhan Pamuk (Turkey, 2006), Mo Yan (China, 2012) and Kazuo Ishiguro (Japan, 2017).
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Han’s win establishes the country’s reputation not only as a dynamo of entertainment but as a producer of serious literature with universal themes. In her work, she captures Korea's turbulent history, modern tensions, and individual struggles that resonate with readers everywhere. South Korea’s rise on the global stage, especially in music, film, and literature, has captured the imagination of the culturally inclined around the world.
‘Hallyu’ or the K-wave began with K-pop’s emergence but quickly branched out, leading to global phenomenon like the BTS, the Oscar-winning Parasite, and internationally acclaimed K-dramas. Through government policies designed to give a push to cultural industries, South Korea achieved what few countries have — an international fan base loyal to its pop stars, its filmmakers, and its writers.
The Korean experience
Han’s novels draw deeply from her experiences as a Korean, but they possess a sensitivity that has made readers across cultures connect with her writing that addresses emotions we all understand all too well — loneliness, hope, and resilience. Her writing transforms the ordinary into the extraordinary, taking familiar themes and stretching them in ways that feel fresh and profound.
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In The Vegetarian, one of her most popular novels that has sold millions of copies around the world, she tells the story of a woman’s decision to give up meat, which soon spirals into a deeper exploration of autonomy, agency, and rebellion against society’s ingrained norms. With spare prose, she peels back the layers of her characters’ emotions, revealing the delicate intersection between individual choice and collective expectation.
In Human Acts, she goes further, tracing the impact of South Korea’s painful Gwangju Uprising on both people and communities. A harrowing examination of memory and survival, it confronts the violence that has scarred Korea. Through her books, Han uses Korea’s historical wounds to reflect on universal human truths. Her narrative style — a marvellous amalgam of simplicity and lyricism — disarms readers, allowing the heft of her themes to sink in quietly but powerfully. This skill has earned her comparisons to Nobel laureates before her, like Toni Morrison and Alice Munro, who similarly explored complex social issues through the lens of individual experience.
The elite club
The Nobel Prize in Literature, since its inception in 1901, has had a long history of favouring writers from the Western world, often overlooking women and non-European voices. Early recipients like Rudyard Kipling (“in consideration of the power of observation, originality of imagination, virility of ideas”), whose win in 1907 celebrated colonial perspectives, set a precedent that only gradually began to include other regions and voices. Women were rarely recognised; in 1909, Selma Lagerlöf became the first woman and also the first Swedish writer to win the Nobel Prize “in appreciation of the lofty idealism, vivid imagination, and spiritual perception that characterize her writings.”
Her work, steeped in Swedish folk traditions, was groundbreaking for its time, but it would be many years before women won consistently. By the time Sigrid Undset won in 1928 and Pearl S. Buck in 1938, each represented writers who pushed boundaries, showing the world that women’s voices could be just as insightful, relevant, and powerful as men’s. Danish-born Norwegian novelist Undset (1882–1949) won it “principally for her powerful descriptions of Northern life during the Middle Ages.” Buck, on the other hand, was the first American woman to win the Nobel “for her rich and truly epic descriptions of peasant life in China” and for her “masterpieces” — two memoir-biographies of her missionary parents.
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Han’s win adds her to an exclusive club of only 18 women laureates in literature, a mere fraction of the total awarded since 1901. If we look back, we notice that writers like Nadine Gordimer, winner in 1991, “who through her magnificent epic writing has — in the words of Alfred Nobel — been of very great benefit to humanity,” and 2007 winner Doris Lessing (“that epicist of the female experience, who with scepticism, fire and visionary power has subjected a divided civilisation to scrutiny”, paved the way for Han and others in recent years. For Asia, the Nobel in Literature has often been elusive. Only a handful of Asian writers have received this honour. Kawabata was the first Japanese laureate, followed decades later by Ōe.
A glimpse into the Korean soul
The late 20th and early 21st centuries saw recognition of authors like Pamuk, “who in the quest for the melancholic soul of his native city (Istanbul) has discovered new symbols for the clash and interlacing of cultures,” and Ishiguro, whose novels delve into memory and belonging and are “lyrical tales of regret fused with subtle optimism” that uncover “the abyss beneath our illusory sense of connection with the world.” Han’s win places her alongside these luminaries, expanding the Nobel’s notion of what “universal” themes entail and encouraging a more inclusive definition of literary merit.
What makes Han’s achievement so special is that it occurs during a period when South Korea has already demonstrated its cultural prowess on multiple fronts. The global reach of K-pop, especially groups like BTS and Blackpink, has expanded beyond music to influence fashion, language, and even diplomacy. South Korean cinema, once considered niche outside of Asia, has gained international acclaim, with directors like Bong Joon-ho, whose film Parasite became the first non-English movie to win Best Picture at the Oscars. Now, Korean literature stands alongside these successes, reflecting the creativity and strength of a society that has emerged as one of the leaders in contemporary culture.
Han’s work captures a different, quieter aspect of Korean culture. Unlike the high-energy world of K-pop or the fast-paced suspense of Korean dramas, her novels invite readers to slow down, to feel deeply, to examine parts of the human experience that often go unnoticed. Her stories carry a subtle power embued with her culture and its tremendous capacity for empathy. By shining a light on the personal and social issues that resonate in Korea, Han offers international readers a glimpse into the country’s soul.