Book Reflections: Pachinko by Min Jin Lee

At first, I kept wondering why the book was titled Pachinko, since pachinko is a gambling game and the term hardly appeared in the first two parts of the novel. It was not until I reached the story of the fourth generation, Solomon, that I finally understood its meaning. For Koreans living in Japan, pachinko represented the only path to survival outside the yakuza within a society deeply rooted in prejudice. Whether it was the shrewd and smooth Goro, the passionate and hardworking Mozasu, the intelligent and upright Noa, or the well-educated Solomon who studied in the United States, their personalities and abilities were very different, yet under Japan’s rigid social bias, they all ended up running pachinko parlors. No matter how honest or wealthy they became, they could never be accepted as truly Japanese. Even though they were born and raised in Japan and spoke Japanese as their first language, they could never escape the discrimination tied to their Korean heritage. As a first-generation immigrant myself, I deeply resonated with their sense of alienation.

I read both the Chinese and English versions of the novel. Although the content is the same, the English version impressed me with its concise and precise use of language, which I found very helpful for improving my English writing.

One thing I found slightly disappointing is that while the novel uses the life of Sunja to connect the family’s story across generations in Japan, her characterization felt somewhat shallow. She witnessed everything: the political shifts between Korea and Japan, her husband’s arrest and death, her son’s suicide, her mother’s passing, and her family friend’s disappearance after returning to North Korea. Yet her inner world seems focused almost entirely on her two sons, Noa and Mozasu. Beyond that, she appears almost mechanical, with little emotional depth revealed.

In addition, the novel ends rather abruptly. Sunja visits Isak’s grave and learns that during the years when Noa had cut ties with the family, he still came quietly to pay his respects. Sunja then buries the photographs of her two sons beside Isak’s grave, and the story ends there. The conclusion felt too sudden to me, leaving little time for reflection or closure.

I initially picked up Pachinko to learn more about Korean culture, but to my surprise, the novel focuses more on the prejudice and rigidity of Japanese society. In one sentence, this book is the story of Koreans in Japan, a history of their suffering, struggle, and perseverance across generations.