In I’ll Love You Forever, through bite-sized chapters of her life, Giaae Kwon takes the stage like her favorite K-pop idols. Kwon’s in-depth knowledge of the industry and her own personal connection to K-pop lends an intimate and approachable perspective. Her casual tone and blog-post style easily draw in the reader and set them at rest. Each section starts reflective, the author weaving her life and Moments in K-pop history together in a succinct tapestry.
Kwon starts with the beginnings, from the first time she hears H.O.T. on the car radio. She recalls how the music reached at something inside her and grabbed her like a vice. This hold has lasted well into her adulthood. She’s not embarrassed by this fact, though she does admit how odd it must seem for a 30-something-year-old to be fawning over a boy band nearly a decade her junior.
Kwon focuses on her experiences with depression and body-shaming, especially in relation to Korean culture. She expresses her worries for the idols, especially the women, coming up in a career that puts so much pressure on them to conform. She tells us about how music saved her life, giving her something to live for in her darkest moments. For those who would like to understand K-pop through a personal lens, this book does an excellent job at delving into the beauty, the community, and the downsides of fandom.
I liked that Kwon explored K-pop within the lens of her own experiences. I liked that she zeroed in on aspects of Korean culture that, taken to the extreme, have repercussions that can literally cost a person’s life. I enjoyed how Kwon gave her opinion and experience. I appreciated that Kwon didn’t shy away from addressing biases that come from the West when talking about K-pop. I thought that hearing from a second-generation Korean American, one who can fluently speak Korean (enough to immerse herself in Korean culture), was enlightening. I appreciated that the book expanded my understanding of how a person lives their life in relation to the world around them.
Art has a profound impact on the people it reaches, and music is no different. Kwon wants to expand on how K-pop interacts with the world and its fans. She wants K-pop to be taken seriously, rather than dismissed as just another frivolous trend. She wants to explore how cultural appropriation and anti-Blackness jumped the pond and found root in the Korean music scene.
While I personally wasn’t a fan of the author’s voice, I did enjoy the book (and the source list!). At times, I found it a bit melodramatic for my taste, although I don’t necessarily think that’s a bad thing. I appreciated her demand for a more critical lens of K-pop. I would like to see studies and academic conversations around the genre and its fan bases. Overall, I felt that Kwon opens this avenue of conversation for the reader, imploring them to ask critical questions of something they may adore.
