Seoulmates by Susan Lee: A Candy-Coated Meltdown of Teenage Tumult
Ah, “Seoulmates.” If there’s a title that piqued my curiosity for this year’s Pop Sugar Reading Challenge, it was surely Susan Lee’s tantalizing offering. I’ll be upfront—contemporary romance isn’t usually my thing. I don’t typically dive into this genre unless I’m trying to tick boxes, and yet, I found myself both intrigued and utterly baffled by this whirlwind of teenage shenanigans. Having grown up watching Mexican telenovelas, I can appreciate a certain dramatic flair, though I must admit, the K-drama addiction seems like a different beast altogether. Still, I was drawn in by the allure of a teen romance that promised to be equal parts chaotic and charming.
At its heart, Seoulmates tells the story of Hannah and Jacob, who share a rocky childhood friendship that becomes strained when Jacob moves to Korea to support his family after his father’s death. The narrative quickly devolves into a bizarre cocktail of teenage angst, romantic misadventures, and yes—surprisingly relatable episodes of cultural disconnection. My first grievance? The title itself. “Seoulmates” conjures up visions of an epic love story set in the bustling streets of Seoul. Instead, we find ourselves in sunny San Diego for most of the book, with only a fleeting visit to the supposed heart of the narrative.
Now, I’ll fully own that the characters are teenagers, who are historically prone to making cringe-worthy decisions (and these characters epitomize that tendency). Hannah is wrapped up in her own self-absorbed drama. After her childhood best friend Jacob becomes a rising K-drama star, she sulks over his absence and ultimately sabotages his return by acting like the world’s most immature ex-friend. Her coping mechanism? Deleting her email and wallowing in her romantic attachment to Nate, who treats her like an afterthought. I found myself rolling my eyes at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Hannah’s refusal to embrace her cultural background while pining for a guy who clearly doesn’t match her interests encapsulates teenage lunacy in its purest form.
Jacob, on the other hand, while showcasing commendable work ethic, comes off somewhat clueless. His blind violence when confronted with Hannah’s attention from another guy had my jaw on the floor! Watching the characters engage in blackmail and witness the outright lunacy of fan interactions certainly felt reminiscent of the wildest telenovela scenes, yet it didn’t invoke the same joy. Instead, I was left pondering: Is this what my teen self would have loved?
Lee’s writing style, while engaging, is undeniably buoyed by melodrama. The pacing at times feels erratic, but perhaps that mirrors the chaotic lives of its teenage protagonists. The quotes that vibrate through the pages might charm their audience, though I’d caution that they tread dangerously when faced with deeper themes of cultural identity and personal growth—I questioned if they would leave an impact beyond the instant sugar rush.
So, who would enjoy Seoulmates? If you’re a fan of K-dramas or committed to traversing the emotional highs of teenage romance without much stress, this book might just delight you. Yet, if you, like me, find yourself frustrated by juvenile antics and implausible plotlines, you might end up feeling more like a spectator than a participant in this colorful escapade.
In truth, while Seoulmates sends its share of messy and muddled messages, there’s an undeniable charm in its chaos—a reminder of how we all once navigated the tumultuous waters of adolescence, filled with sweet, nonsensical moments that, ultimately, made us who we are. Despite my qualms, it’s hard to deny the adrenaline rush of a story you know is candy-coated chaos. Just don’t expect any brain food here!