South Korean comic artist Keum Suk Gendry-Kim has broken my heart before with her graphic novels Grass and The Waiting. She once again delivers a deeply felt, expertly rendered story in her new autofiction, Dog Days.
Her compassionate illustration of the complexity of human-canine relationships examines the often intergenerational tensions dividing urban and rural people in South Korean society. Hun and Yuna, a couple living in Seoul, adopt a corgi named Carrot after a loss in the family. Suspecting Carrot’s chronic anxiety stems from being raised in one of South Korea’s notorious “puppy mills” — overcrowded and abusive breeding facilities — they decide to move to the countryside.
Adjusting to rural life proves challenging as they navigate interactions with traditionally minded neighbors and the judgments of a close-knit community. Dogs seem to be everywhere: strays they befriend on walks, puppies belonging to their friendly neighbor, Mr. Han, who confines them to a backyard kennel before they mysteriously disappear, and a puppy abandoned on their doorstep, whom they adopt and name “Potato.” Dogs tend to be neglected in the village, and when more of them vanish, they begin to suspect the worst.
One rainy day, Yuna is shocked to stumble upon Mr. Han preparing dog meat. That night, she has a disturbing nightmare drawn in blurry wet-on-wet gray washes — a striking stylistic shift — in which her subconscious combines the revelation about her neighbor with a haunting childhood memory. When a dog vendor’s van arrives in the village, it becomes clear that dog meat consumption is an open secret in the neighborhood. Yuna and Hun come to see their community with new eyes as they are faced with a dilemma that tests the limits of their capacity for additional responsibility.
Gendry-Kim notes in the afterword that earlier generations experienced food scarcity and worries her story might inadvertently reinforce stereotypes. But she doesn’t shy away from facing uncomfortable truths about animal cruelty, boldly centering her subjectivity and the convictions that led her to tell her personal story.
With a drawing style both raw and tender, Gendry-Kim employs energetic dry-brush, detailed line work, and bold blacks to portray everyday moments with intense emotion — doing chores, walking dogs, and sharing silent companionship. She excels at depicting dogs in motion and the fleeting beauty of nature, whether it be rain, sunlight through leaves, or wind-tossed vegetation. The couple’s dogs, integral to their relationship, are sometimes drawn oversized, towering over people and scenery to symbolize their importance. Dog Days is a poignant exploration of love and ethical responsibility, reminding us of the deep-seated connections we share with animals and the moral complications these relationships can entail.
Dog Days (2024) by Keum Suk Gendry-Kim, translated by Janet Hong, is published by Drawn & Quarterly and is available online and through independent booksellers.
