Turn down the K-pop and pay attention to K-healing

THE country that gave the world popular bands such as BTS and hits such as Parasite and Squid Game is now exporting something slower-paced. The publication of Marigold Mind Laundry in America and Britain this month brings attention to the latest South Korean trend: the healing novel.

These books about burnout can be judged by their covers, which ooze wholesome peacefulness. Most depict an attractive building in a soothing colour, with nature artfully arranged outside. In the stories characters leave behind stress in search of something more meaningful. A high-flier sets up a bookshop; a TV writer quits her job and starts pottery classes. A connection to a new place brings connections to new people on their own quests for well-being. From cats to kimchi, ice-cream to coffee, “cosy healing elements” abound, says Clare Richards, translator of The Healing Season of Pottery, a popular novel in Korea that is set for international release this autumn.

South Korea has long had a market for comforting tales with themes of healing, as has Japan. But the current trend emerged during the pandemic, when the genre started to dominate South Korean bestseller charts. The depiction of communal spaces held strong appeal during a time of social constraints, says Joy Lee, a foreign-rights agent. Like many pastimes, healing fiction thrived online, attracting young female readers seeking recommendations from social media. (Several novels were published online first or through crowd-funding, rather than through conventional publishing routes.) Enthusiastic reviews from K-pop stars helped fuel the craze.