All Things Under the Moon

• The story of a Korean woman in the 1920s, written by a Korean-Canadian author, is making waves in North American bookstores.
• A coming-of-age narrative for the Korean diaspora, tracing the journey of an “illiterate girl” growing into a pioneer of the literacy movement.
• More than a simple historical novel, it is a tribute embodying the message that “women draw strength from other women.”

Ann Y. K. Choi’s All Things Under the Moon is a full-length novel set against the backdrop of 1920s Korea under Japanese colonial rule. Yet, readers feel a sense of intimacy, as if listening to “the story of my own mother or grandmother.” For 1.5-generation and first-generation Korean-Canadian readers, this book goes beyond fiction; it serves as literary proof that awakens pride, showing that “our ancestors lived this strongly even amidst history.” Media outlets and book reviews have praised it as part of a “new lineage of Korean historical fiction following Pachinko and Beasts of a Little Land,” noting its delicate illumination of a dark era in modern Korean history.

Canadian media and reviews particularly emphasize the theme of “solidarity and resistance among Korean women.” One critic described the novel as a “beautiful tribute to the sacrifices women make for one another,” while another cited “relationships between women” as the work’s most luminous element. The protagonist, Kim Nayoung, and her friend, Yeonsu, refuse village tragedies and unilateral arranged marriages, running away to carve out their own destinies. While that decision begets violence and loss, Nayoung overcomes the pain to grow into an increasingly independent subject through the back alleys of Seoul, a women’s literacy school, and secret gatherings in the back rooms of teahouses. This process conveys a message to 1.5-generation Koreans living in Canada: “Neither the Korean women in history nor we today are ever the weak ones.”

Author Ann Y. K. Choi is a Korean-Canadian who spent her childhood in Korea before immigrating. In preparing for this novel, she revealed that she personally visited mountains, old prisons, and traces of the colonial era in Korea, stating she wanted to “learn the history my ancestors experienced with my own body.” Such efforts ensure that the scenery and atmosphere of 1920s Korea in the novel are felt not as mere reproduction, but as a living, breathing space. Through this book, North American readers encounter “Korean history” not from an outsider’s view but re-read through a Korean-Canadian lens, building a bridge of empathy between the parent generation who experienced the history and culture, and their children.

All Things Under the Moon repeatedly emphasizes the message that “women need other women to survive.” Nayoung learns literacy, masters the language of resistance, and ultimately finds her own voice through relationships with various women—her friend Yeonsu, a female teacher met in Seoul, a teahouse owner, and women in secret gatherings. Many reviews laud this aspect, calling it a “work that beautifully portrays the power of female solidarity” and valuing how “friendship and solidarity among women create new possibilities in the cracks of history.” This is sufficient to spark conversations between mothers and daughters, or grandmothers and granddaughters in Korean-Canadian households. It is a book that brings home the realization: “Our family, too, are the descendants of women who survived such history.”

Since its publication in Canada, the novel has gained such popularity that hold lists quickly piled up at the Toronto Public Library and others. Within the Korean-Canadian community, reactions followed that it is “a novel that told our story on our behalf.” Introduced as a representative work of Korean-Canadian literature at events like the Toronto International Festival of Authors (TIFA), it reaffirms the position Korean-Canadian writers occupy in the North American literary scene.

All Things Under the Moon is a novel that reminds 1.5-generation and first-generation Korean-Canadian readers of “where we came from, and by what strength we have survived until now.” After reading, a profound emotion remains in the heart, beyond simply having read a “Korean historical novel.” It is the swelling pride that “our ancestors’ stories are receiving attention on the world stage,” and the confidence that “we, too, are the protagonists writing the next chapter of this story.”