Discovering Sokcho: My Thoughts on Elisa Shua Dusapin’s Winter in Sokcho
Today, I want to share my thoughts on Winter in Sokcho by Elisa Shua Dusapin. Its genre is literary fiction, and my interest in Korean culture and literature led me to this book. I'm very glad to have read it.
I really love reading Korean literature. One day, while looking for newly published books, I came across Winter in Sokcho by Elisa Shua Dusapin. I had heard about Sokcho from a friend before, but I didn’t know much about it, other than that it’s a popular tourist destination and that and that it’s located near the border with North Korea.
Before reading the book, I had always imagined Sokcho as a sunny city with a summer vibe. But through its pages, I discovered a different side—a wintery, atmospheric Sokcho—that made me even more curious about the place.
"That was Sokcho, always waiting, for tourists, boats, men, spring. "
The novel centers on a young woman half French and half Korean who lives in Sokcho, a coastal town in the northeast part of Gangwon Province, South Korea. She works at a guesthouse where a French artist comes to stay during the winter. The book delves into their interactions in the calm, quiet, wintery atmosphere of Sokcho.
The writing of Dusapin felt poetic—simple, yet deep. I could vividly imagine every scene. The relationship between the woman and the French artist felt as if they had known each other before, as if it wasn’t their first encounter—but at the same time, they seemed distant. Their interactions, especially toward the middle and end of the book, were intense and somewhat tense. They wanted to express themselves more but held back.
There’s a quiet intensity and unspoken emotion in Winter in Sokcho —moments that seem ordinary but carry emotional weight beneath the surface. There is a scene that always comes to my mind when I think about the book, as if I experienced it myself:
_“I stuffed the clothes hurriedly into the machine. I stood up. I wanted to get away, but Kerrand had his hand round the back of my knee. Slowly, without looking at me, his eyes fixed to the ground, he leaned towards me until his cheek pressed against my thigh. The clothes started to turn in the machine, heavy with water. A dull thud. Rising and falling. Heavy. Rising and falling again. Spinning, tumbling faster and faster. Swirling to form a whirlpool, a vortex smashing up against the glass door. The sound of the machine faded to silence. Not for long. A few seconds at the most. And then the sound picked up again. ‘I’d like you to taste my cooking,’ I said.”
What struck me in this passage was how everything; movement, touch, and sound works together to create a sense of intimacy laced with tension. Nothing is said directly, but you can feel everything happening beneath the surface. This is what I loved most about the book: its quiet, restrained intensity.
While it was a slow-paced story, I really enjoyed reading it. There were moments when I waited for them to reveal more about their feelings and thoughts, but on the other hand, holding back made the story even stronger. I think that’s what made the book truly unforgettable for me. The quiet tension and restraint in their relationship lingered in my mind long after I finished the book.
If you enjoy clear endings, this book might not be for you. But if you enjoy stories where emotions simmer beneath the surface and characters speak as much through silence as through words, this book will stay with you.
Have you read Winter in Sokcho? I’d love to hear your thoughts!
Also I would like to know if you have read other books with a similar tone, setting, or themes!
What an interesting review <3