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A review by nicoleava
The Disaster Tourist by Yun Ko-eun
challenging
dark
mysterious
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.75
Our protagonist designs vacation package itineraries for a unique subset of destination - places struck by disaster. This book struck an immense chord with me. I am reminded of my unfortunate brushes with people who engage in voluntourism, and it's uglier cousin "mission trips". Being southern comes with many cultural quirks, good and bad, and the proliferation of "missionaries" is one of the bad. Cultural imperialism and conditional aid serve none but the proselytizer.
This novel, however, stretches beyond that which I find immediately personal and recognizable. It is unflinching look at gawkers.
"On a disaster trip, travellers’ reactions to their surroundings usually went through the following stages: shock → sympathy and compassion, and maybe discomfort → gratefulness for their own lives → a sense of responsibility and the feeling that they’d learned a lesson, and maybe an inkling of superiority for having survived. [...] Even though I came close to disaster, I escaped unscathed: those were the selfish words of solace you told yourself after returning home."
Jungle, the travel company our protagonist works for, has categories of trip for basically every type of natural disaster - but also things like murder, violence, and other human-initiated disaster. It is a disturbing concept, idly referenced at times, including Nagasaki.
My father has actually been to Hiroshima, in the midst of a month long trip he was sent on by work. He visited many places, due to the convenience of bullet train. Going to see a site where disaster struck isn't inherently distasteful. A trip like that is juxtaposed with the description of a trip to Japan in this novel - with the sole intention of touring the post-nuclear horrors of Nagasaki.
Essentially, I mean that travel is complicated. There's nothing wrong with, say, taking a murder or ghost tour in a large city you may be visiting. But perhaps there is something distasteful about travel designed for rubbernecking.
This novel also has a lot to say about the stifling grasp of capitalism:
"Man 20 had volunteered because, like so many others, he needed money more than he needed life."
This is an undeniable reality. A disgusting reality that is as hard to look at as some of Jungle's destinations. And yet, the disaster tourists don't appear to be interested in that facet of cataclysm, that shadow that follows forever after.
"Small actions like looking for your coat or grabbing your bag, like saving the data on your laptop or pressing buttons on your phone: they divided the living and the dead."
As of writing this review, footage of a police officer looking at his phone while lives were lost is in the news. I lost my breath when I read this sentence. I will think about it for a very long time.
I feel inclined, after a comment by my husband, to check out Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. This book fits hand in hand with the concept.
This novel, however, stretches beyond that which I find immediately personal and recognizable. It is unflinching look at gawkers.
"On a disaster trip, travellers’ reactions to their surroundings usually went through the following stages: shock → sympathy and compassion, and maybe discomfort → gratefulness for their own lives → a sense of responsibility and the feeling that they’d learned a lesson, and maybe an inkling of superiority for having survived. [...] Even though I came close to disaster, I escaped unscathed: those were the selfish words of solace you told yourself after returning home."
Jungle, the travel company our protagonist works for, has categories of trip for basically every type of natural disaster - but also things like murder, violence, and other human-initiated disaster. It is a disturbing concept, idly referenced at times, including Nagasaki.
My father has actually been to Hiroshima, in the midst of a month long trip he was sent on by work. He visited many places, due to the convenience of bullet train. Going to see a site where disaster struck isn't inherently distasteful. A trip like that is juxtaposed with the description of a trip to Japan in this novel - with the sole intention of touring the post-nuclear horrors of Nagasaki.
Essentially, I mean that travel is complicated. There's nothing wrong with, say, taking a murder or ghost tour in a large city you may be visiting. But perhaps there is something distasteful about travel designed for rubbernecking.
This novel also has a lot to say about the stifling grasp of capitalism:
"Man 20 had volunteered because, like so many others, he needed money more than he needed life."
This is an undeniable reality. A disgusting reality that is as hard to look at as some of Jungle's destinations. And yet, the disaster tourists don't appear to be interested in that facet of cataclysm, that shadow that follows forever after.
"Small actions like looking for your coat or grabbing your bag, like saving the data on your laptop or pressing buttons on your phone: they divided the living and the dead."
As of writing this review, footage of a police officer looking at his phone while lives were lost is in the news. I lost my breath when I read this sentence. I will think about it for a very long time.
I feel inclined, after a comment by my husband, to check out Naomi Klein's The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism. This book fits hand in hand with the concept.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual assault, Car accident, and Sexual harassment