Susan Choi’s Flashlight emerges as a masterful meditation on disappearance—not just of a father lost to the sea, but of entire histories, cultures, and connections that families sever and struggle to reclaim. Winner of the 2019 National Book Award for her previous novel Trust Exercise, Choi demonstrates her continued evolution as a literary artist, crafting a narrative that moves like water itself: fluid, unpredictable, and capable of both sustaining life and stealing it away.
The novel opens with ten-year-old Louisa’s survival of a mysterious night on a Japanese beach where her father, Serk, vanishes into the dark waters. What begins as an apparent tragic accident gradually reveals itself as something far more complex—a story that spans decades, continents, and the invisible currents of Cold War politics that shaped so many Asian families in the twentieth century.
Narrative Architecture: A Structure as Complex as Memory
Susan Choi constructs Flashlight as a kaleidoscope of perspectives, with chapters rotating between family members across different time periods. This fragmented approach mirrors the way traumatic memory works—how the mind circles back to crucial moments, examining them from new angles, discovering details previously obscured by shock or time. Each character becomes both witness and participant in a family drama that extends far beyond that fatal night on the beach.
The narrative voice shifts between Louisa, her mother Anne, her half-brother Tobias, and even Serk himself, creating a chorus of perspectives that gradually illuminates the hidden connections binding this fractured family. Choi’s decision to move backward and forward in time creates a sense of inevitability while simultaneously building suspense—we know what happened, but understanding why requires patience and careful attention to the subtle ways personal and political histories intersect.
The Weight of Cultural Displacement
Perhaps the novel’s greatest strength lies in its nuanced portrayal of cultural displacement and the particular vulnerabilities of mixed-race families caught between worlds. Serk, born in Japan to Korean parents who later relocate to North Korea, embodies the complex reality of ethnic Koreans in Japan—a population often rendered invisible in discussions of Asian diaspora. His own family’s decision to “return” to a homeland they barely knew reflects the broader tragedy of Cold War divisions that separated families and destroyed communities.
Anne, meanwhile, represents a different kind of displacement—a white American woman who has severed ties with her own large family following a sexual scandal. Her relationship with Serk occurs against the backdrop of their mutual isolation, two people who have chosen exile over the complications of belonging. Their daughter Louisa inherits this legacy of disconnection, growing up caught between her father’s guarded Korean identity and her mother’s American roots.
The Specter of Historical Trauma
Choi weaves the personal story against the larger historical context of North Korea’s abduction program—the systematic kidnapping of Japanese citizens during the 1970s and 1980s. This historical backdrop transforms what initially appears to be a domestic tragedy into something more sinister and politically charged. The novel’s treatment of this subject matter demonstrates Choi’s impressive research and sensitivity to the real families affected by these disappearances.
The author’s handling of this historical material never feels exploitative or sensationalized. Instead, she uses it to explore how ordinary families become caught in the machinery of geopolitical conflict, how individual lives are shaped by forces far beyond their control or understanding. The uncertainty surrounding Serk’s disappearance—accident or abduction—reflects the broader ambiguity that has surrounded these historical events.
Character Development: Portraits of Survival
Louisa emerges as one of the most compelling protagonists in recent literary fiction. Choi traces her development from the traumatized ten-year-old found half-drowned on a Japanese beach to an adult woman still grappling with questions about her father’s disappearance. The author skillfully shows how childhood trauma reverberates through an entire life, affecting relationships, choices, and one’s fundamental sense of safety in the world.
Anne’s portrayal proves equally nuanced. Initially appearing as a somewhat passive figure overwhelmed by circumstances beyond her control, she gradually reveals herself as a woman whose apparent helplessness masks a fierce determination to protect what remains of her family. Her relationship with her son Tobias—given up for adoption before she met Serk—adds another layer of complexity to the family dynamics.
Tobias himself represents one of the novel’s most intriguing characters. His dedication to uncovering the truth about Serk’s disappearance, despite having known him only briefly, speaks to the power of family connections that transcend conventional understanding. His work with organizations seeking to locate North Korean abductees provides a bridge between the personal and political dimensions of the story.
Literary Style: Precision and Restraint
Susan Choi’s prose in Flashlight demonstrates remarkable control and precision. She avoids the ornate language that sometimes characterizes literary fiction, instead choosing a more restrained approach that allows the emotional weight of the story to accumulate gradually. Her sentences possess a clarity that serves the narrative’s complex structure—readers can follow the shifting perspectives and timelines without losing the emotional thread connecting all the pieces.
The author’s background as an established literary novelist shows in her handling of difficult subject matter. She neither sensationalizes the historical elements nor sentimentalizes the family relationships. Instead, she presents both with the kind of measured attention that allows readers to form their own emotional responses to the material.
Areas for Critical Consideration
While Flashlight by Susan Choi succeeds on many levels, some readers may find the narrative structure challenging. The frequent shifts in perspective and chronology, while ultimately effective, require sustained attention and can occasionally feel disorienting. Additionally, the novel’s deliberate ambiguity regarding Serk’s fate—while thematically appropriate—may frustrate readers seeking more definitive resolution.
The pacing, too, reflects Choi’s literary sensibility rather than the expectations of genre fiction. This is contemplative rather than plot-driven fiction, requiring readers willing to engage with questions that may not have clear answers. Some may find the middle sections slower than the compelling opening and closing chapters.
Historical Context and Research
Choi’s extensive research into the North Korean abduction program and the experiences of ethnic Koreans in Japan enriches the novel without overwhelming it. Her acknowledgments reference numerous nonfiction works on these subjects, and this foundation shows in the authentic detail with which she handles these complex historical and political realities.
The novel also benefits from Choi’s nuanced understanding of American attitudes toward Asia and Asian Americans during the late twentieth century. The casual racism and cultural ignorance that characters encounter feel historically accurate without being heavy-handed.
Thematic Resonance
At its core, Flashlight by Susan Choi explores how families create and maintain connections across distance, time, and cultural difference. The metaphor of the flashlight itself—a source of illumination that can also be lost or fail when most needed—runs throughout the novel. Light and darkness become recurring motifs, from the night of Serk’s disappearance to Louisa’s adult struggles to illuminate the truth about her family’s past.
The novel also examines the ways in which trauma is transmitted between generations, how the wounds of parents become the inheritance of children. Yet Choi balances this darker theme with evidence of resilience and the possibility of healing, however incomplete or imperfect.
Literary Comparisons and Context
Flashlight by Susan Choi joins a growing body of literature examining the Asian American experience through the lens of family secrets and historical trauma. Readers familiar with works like Pachinko by Min Jin Lee or The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson will recognize similar concerns with the ways individual lives intersect with larger historical forces.
The novel also bears comparison to Choi’s earlier works, including The Foreign Student and American Woman, in its examination of characters caught between cultures and the particular vulnerabilities this creates. However, Flashlight feels more mature and controlled than her earlier fiction, demonstrating an author who has found her distinctive voice.
Final Assessment
Flashlight by Susan Choi succeeds as both literary achievement and historical testimony. Choi has created a novel that honors the complexity of its subject matter while remaining deeply human in its concerns. The book’s exploration of family, memory, and the long shadows cast by historical trauma feels both timely and timeless.
While the novel may not satisfy readers seeking conventional plot resolution, it offers something more valuable: a sustained meditation on loss, survival, and the ways in which love persists even in the face of overwhelming uncertainty. In an era of increasing awareness about historical injustices and their contemporary reverberations, Flashlight provides both illumination and the reminder that some questions may never be fully answered.
This is a novel that rewards careful reading and reflection, one that will likely grow in estimation with time. Choi has created a work worthy of her National Book Award recognition—a book that expands our understanding of what American fiction can be and do.
Recommended Similar Reads
For readers drawn to Flashlight‘s themes and approach, consider these complementary works:
- Pachinko by Min Jin Lee – An epic exploration of Korean families across generations
- The Orphan Master’s Son by Adam Johnson – A powerful examination of North Korean society
- Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng – Family secrets and cultural displacement
- Native Speaker by Chang-rae Lee – Korean American identity and belonging
- The Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen – War, displacement, and divided loyalties
Susan Choi’s Flashlight stands as a significant contribution to contemporary American literature, a novel that illuminates while acknowledging the persistence of darkness, offering not easy answers but the more valuable gift of understanding.