Oxford Soju Club follows the intertwining lives of three members of the Korean diaspora living in Oxford, England. Namely, Yohan Kim, a precocious North Korean spy; Yunah Choi, a young, driven Korean-American CIA agent; and Jihoon Lim, the kindly South Korean owner of the Soju Club, the only Korean restaurant in the city.

Yunah is one of the American agents assigned to tracking Yohan, who is posing as a student at Oxford while gathering intelligence for the North Korean government. When Yohan’s mentor and spymaster is mysteriously murdered, he uses his last breath to deliver a message to Yohan: “Soju Club, Dr. Ryu.” Meanwhile, on the same night, Yunah is ambushed by a man who, after a violent scuffle, leaves her a note that reads, “Soju Club, 7PM.” It is at the Soju Club – run by Jihoon, who is unaware that his restaurant has become the site of high-stakes international espionage – that Yunah and Yohan’s paths fatefully cross. 

Oxford Soju Club
Jinwoo Park

Dundurn Press
$25.99
224pp
9781459755109

The writing in Oxford Soju Club is rhythmic and economical, especially during action scenes. The novel has shootouts, assassinations, and tense getaways. Moments of action build and climax satisfyingly quickly. There is plenty of drama, with North Korean, South Korean, and American agents all pitted against one another. That Park chooses to set South Korean and American spies, normally allies, at odds is part of the book’s probing into themes of identity and loyalty – issues that come up often, especially around Yunah’s character. Born in the United States to Korean parents, Yunah finds herself having to justify both her Korean-ness and her American-ness to colleagues and friends, who are rarely satisfied to let her be both at the same time. 

Yunah, Yohan, Jihoon, and the other characters in the novel (such as Doha Kim, the shrewd North Korean spymaster) are strongly characterized and feel authentic. There are evocative moments in the fast-paced narrative, like when Jihoon reminisces about the restaurant his mom ran in Seoul before she died, the memory of which led him to open the Soju Club. Each of the protagonists spends time – occasionally too much time, detracting from the immediacy and intensity of the story – reflecting on their past. A common thread is that each protagonist has parents or mentors at home who made sacrifices to give their children a better life, enabling them to leave home for England. The characters long for a sense of home, for “feelings that cannot be replicated,” without a clear sense of where home is  –  is it Korea, America, Oxford, or a combination of them all?

Oxford Soju Club is full of twists and turns, including a surprising and touching ending, which I won’t spoil here. As a unique confluence of genres, Park’s novel will appeal to those interested in both spy stories and narratives about immigration and identity. mRb