VOL.97/2026.08

 

How Korean Essays Captured the Hearts of
Japanese Female Readers

 

2025.08.04

 

Korean books in the Japanese publishing industry are more dynamic than translations from any other language. There are a wide variety of genres, including fiction, poetry, non-fiction, humanities, self-help, and learning materials, all available in a large number of titles. This is something that translators and publishers in other languages envy. This article focuses on the non-fiction (essay) genre and examines the recent trends of readers in Japan and the reasons for the popularity of Korean essays.

 

The “K-Healing essay” reaches Japanese readers

 

I Decided to Live as Me (Clay House) became a bestseller as soon as it was translated and published in Japan in late 2018. To date, it has sold over 600,000 copies, making it the best-selling essay collection of all time. This was followed by I Want to Die But I Also Want to Eat Tteokppokki (HEUN) and I Almost Lived Diligently (Originals), which went viral by word of mouth and were widely read, especially by female readers in their 20s to 40s. These books have sold over 200,000 copies and have played a major role in driving the popularity of other Korean essay collections. It is no exaggeration to say that it gave many publishers the illusion that publishing Korean books would be a success. I have been running a publishing house and brokering publishing rights since 2020, and the number of Japanese publishers seeking Korean essay collections has increased dramatically.

 

 

These books are characterized by their comforting, pastel-colored illustrations on the covers and short, to-the-point sentences that resonate with the emotions of those in society who are tired of competition. The keyword “healing” is one of the familiar publishing trends in Japan. However, the emotions that Japanese readers feel through reading K-Essays are not just comfort or stress relief. The emotions conveyed by K-Essays are more complex. At the center of it all is a movement to be more honest with one’s sense of self, and a positive sentiment to accept oneself as one is.

 

 

I Decided to Live as Me ? The beginning of a small but deep reverberation

 

I Decided to Live as Me, published in Japan in late 2018, was neither from a major publisher nor by a famous author. It didn’t even feature any particularly exaggerated sentences or provocative messages. However, readers who found messages such as “It’s okay to be who you are” and “It’s okay to take a break” in the book started introducing it by word of mouth, and the response gradually spread on social media. Especially for female office workers, the book struck a chord as a “soothing voice that consoles oneself.” It was already a bestseller in Korea, but it was accepted in a way that was yet to be realized in Japan.
In Japanese society, being “tolerant” has long been considered a virtue. Lacking a culture or language that teaches people how to rest well, people often feel depressed and anxious, unsure of how to take care of themselves. Against this backdrop, the value of “I’m not lazy, I’m just trying to live well” has become more than just a simple encouragement, but a psychological liberation. Authors who shared this sense of “self-affirmation” as the starting point for healing emerged relatively early in Korea, and their voices were translated into a new language that taught Japanese readers how to look at themselves with compassion.

 

The connected flow: After I Want to Die But I Also Want to Eat Tteokppokki

 

I Want to Die But I Also Want to Eat Tteokppokki is a book that candidly portrays emotions relating to depression and survival. While dealing with the heavy subject of life and death, the almost monologue-like sentences make the content more relatable. It made readers realize, “This person is just like me.” A series of similar essays, including I Almost Lived Diligently and Being Comfortable Without Effort (Noll), were subsequently published in Japan, with the common message being the “sensibility to understand oneself, alone.” This is also a characteristic that runs throughout Korean essays. From the move to face and record one’s inner self rather than the eyes of the outside world, to a narrative style that embraces the awkwardness and hesitation of the process, this may have been the language that the younger generation of Japanese aspired to but had yet to express.

 

 

The effects of localization

 

The hidden contributors to the Korean essay craze are probably the translators and editors, who boldly cut the text and, in some cases, asked the authors to rewrite it to make it easier for Japanese readers. The localization of the package is another important aspect. The titles were changed to more impactful titles, and the covers were redesigned. The trend of using the same cover of the Korean edition three or four years ago has recently changed. It seems that these essays have already gone beyond the boundaries of Korean content. The best editors of each publishing house are rushing to produce bestsellers. Some examples include Kudo Keiko, Hatashita Yuki, and Hayashi Eri from DIAMOND, Inc., Oofuchi Kaoruko from CCC Media House Co., Ltd, and Kimura Yae from Nikkei BP. As for translators, Okazaki Nobuko, Shimizu Chisako, and Fujita Reiko seem to be hit-makers. They are characterized by their backgrounds as editors or journalists.
What I have noticed, as someone who makes books and meets readers in the field, is that readers are now more empathetic to unfinished emotions than polished sentences. Korean essays focus on the “process” rather than the “conclusion.” Sometimes, there is more comfort in the bumpy, incomplete, and faltering language. This flow doesn’t just end with the essay. This way of telling “one’s story” seems to extend to fiction, non-fiction, and even poetry and comics.

 

 

Korean essays are still evolving. From the theme of examining one’s own feelings to self-improvement, essays that lead to self-improvement are now on the bestseller lists. Some of the best-selling books include Manage Your Emotions to Manage Your Life (Cloudia) and One Bad Move Can Destroy Ten Good Ones - And That’s What a Relationship Is (Cloudia) by Kim Da-Sul, How To Respect Myself (Simple Life) by psychiatrist Yun Hong-Gyun, and If I Were To Relive My Life (Maven) by Kim Hye-Nam, another psychiatrist. The idea is that it’s okay to not be strong or perfect, and the practice of looking at oneself with compassion rather than tolerance. These sentiments are now becoming the language of reclaiming one’s voice for Japanese readers as well. The word “healing” has perhaps become too commonplace, but the language of Korean writers goes one step deeper than that: there is a kindness in their language that encourages us to think about how to live our lives together. Perhaps what Korean essays have been saying all along is a humble and warm view toward “being alive.” We are now witnessing that this view can reach anyone, regardless of cultural and language differences, within the Japanese publishing industry.

 

 

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Written by Kim Seung-Bok (CEO of CUON Publishing)