Winter in Sokcho is one of the simplest books I’ve ever read. The writing style is easy on the eyes (and mind), and the dialogue pattern is different, like it’s retold, “not a she said he said exchange.”

The book could easily pass for diary entries or maybe a sort of memoir.

I loved the sexual tension that was generated, and that kept expectations alive of the manifestation of the narrator’s carnal desires.

So, did she do the do? Was it worth the wait? Well, if you ask me, na who I go ask?

You can’t read the book and not come away with the smell of fish food in your mind and the image of an Octopus in your head. I can swear that I “almost” can prepare an Octopus dish all by myself.

My favorite character has to be the narrator’s mum. And I also loved the mum-daughter relationship, the “love you more when apart, but plenty arguments when together.”

I like good old “Park” too.

I’ve some questions though, like, what was the purpose of cooking that particular dish? What was the plan? Who died? Or did anyone die at all? What part of it was unreal/ imagined by the narrator? What is “her” name?

The part of the unending war was quite touching. It even seems it’s still an ongoing thing between those two countries.

The “fragmented narrative” is an interesting one. It shows you can trust your readers to figure it out. Ok, maybe, to figure some part out, not all of it.

Nonetheless, the book is a good, simple, and enjoyable read.

Signed

Olumide Holloway (King Olulu)