Atria Books gifted me an advanced reader copy of The Band, by Christine Ma-Kellams. Check out my review!

If you follow me on TikTok you know that I seize every opportunity to talk about Jungkook and the entirety of BTS. I have been following them casually since 2017, but with this year’s military enlistments and solo projects, they’ve held my undivided attention. See my lockscreen and the PC in my phone case if you require further confirmation. I don’t need to see my Spotify Wrapped for confirmation they are my top artist. That being said, sometimes it pays to obsess over your favorite Korean pop band, because my content landed me on Atria Books‘ fyp. Why does this matter? Because Atria is full of BTS army, and my new friend, Sierra, generously sent me an advanced reader copy of their upcoming release all about the K-pop industry. Whoever denounced publicly stanning your K-pop bias was seriously disturbed.

On April 16th, The Band by Christine Ma-Kellams debuts. Atria gifted me an advanced reader copy to preview the book and share my insights on it. Below is the publisher’s summary, and beyond that is my review of the novel. I want to thank Sierra and Atria Books for the gift and their partnership, and I want to congratulate Christine on her upcoming debut. I thoroughly enjoyed every scathing moment of satire and heartwarming display of humanity. It’s proof that no matter what world you come from, empathy transcends language, class, and race. If you’ve ever found yourself fascinated by the Korean entertainment industry, you’re going to want to check out The Band.

“But having scaled the kind of heights reserved only for dreams, he can’t help but look down from the apex, wondering what to do with himself next.”

Christine Ma-Kellams, The Band

Sang Duri is the eldest member and “visual” of a Korean boy band at the apex of global superstardom. His latest solo single accidentally leads to controversy.

To spare the band from fallout with obsessive fans and overbearing management, Duri disappears from the public eye by hiding out in the McMansion of a Chinese American woman he meets in a Los Angeles H-Mart. But his rescuer is both unhappily married with children and a psychologist with a savior complex, a combination that makes their potential union both seductive and incredibly problematic.

Meanwhile, Duri’s cancellation catapults not only a series of repressed memories from his music producer’s earlier years about the original girl group whose tragic disbanding preceded his current success, but also a spiral of violent interactions that culminates in an award show event with reverberations that forever change the fates of both the band members and the music industry.

In its indicting portrayal of mental health and public obsession, fandom, and cancel culture, The Band considers the many ways in which love and celebrity can devolve into something far more sinister when their demands are unmet.

If you do not want any spoilers of The Band, stop reading here!

The main theme Ma-Kellams explores is the concept of celebrity and how we rarely separate art from the artist. The Band is a stark and brusque look at fame and parasocial relationships that the public forms with idols. The extent to which this phenomenon occurred in the past has never been as extreme as it is today thanks to the Internet, social media, and just how quickly both of these mediums allow for news to travel. Artists give us a first-hand look into their lives, but only through a highly controlled and cultivated lens.

Fans mistakenly believe they have in-depth insight into the lives of their favorite performers, knowing them on an intimate, personal level. This all turns out to be a facade. Authenticity can be fabricated. Yet whenever celebrities are found out to be human, disappointment and letdown ensues. The veil is lifted, and all that remains is an exploited, taken advantage of man or woman desperately wanting to be seen on an individual level.

Ma-Kellams forces readers to examine the mental health implications on both sides of parasocial relationships. Fans uphold unrealistic expectations of their favorites, while idols drown under the pressure of their demands. Sure, the celebrity lifestyle is glamorous and revered due to the scarcity of its nature, but should it be celebrated or envied? When we see the dark side of celebrity, do we acknowledge it and rebuild our worldview? Do we ignore it and proceed to use it as a form of escapism? And if we engage in this escapism, are we removing humanity from the artist?

Sang Duri was the most dynamic character throughout the novel. Whether you stan BTS, Blackpink, Stray Kids, Ateez, Duri is a proxy for your favorite idol. He is enigmatic, generationally talented with off the charts charisma, and yet he is empty. The legions of fans and industry-wide success do not compensate for the island he finds himself on. Duri acknowledges the soul-sucking loneliness and isolation that comes with his career. He also runs from it.

We do not see this side of the Korean entertainment industry. Artists can only ever appear grateful and humble at these opportunities fame grants them. It brings to light the darkness that these entertainers wade through. From the moment they debut, any semblance of normalcy dissipates. Years of being in this industry, and Duri still struggles with its demands. The vulnerability his character displays truly highlights that fame is nowhere near what it’s cracked up to be. It comes at a price, and we’ll soon learn this is a price too high for some to bear. Yet as bleak as his future looks, Duri inspires hope that while the timeline toward contentment is out of our control, the outcome is up for grabs if we’re brave enough to seek help.

For once, we have an, albeit fictional, idol laying bare the realities of being a world-famous entertainer. In the few raw conversations he has with the psychologist, we see his desperation for human connection. The language barrier does not mask his loneliness. This level of anguish traverses cultural boundary lines.

The opening scene in H-Mart dramatically spotlights Duri’s level of desperation for human connection. Duri wants to cook for the psychologist, where eating is one of our primal urges. Providing in this manner is the most carnal form of connection, except for maybe the looming affair. There’s something so heartbreaking about a globally adored man wanting to cook simple street food as a means to connect. This deep level of sadness and desperation requires no words. Sometimes, it’s sharing tteokbokki with a stranger. And lest we forget that this man goes home with a stranger in the first place! Sacrificing his personal safety for the mere possibility of feeling seen should have alerted us to the level of desperation Duri experienced before his hiatus.

Our psychologist shows that loneliness comes in many forms. We have Duri, a globally known superstar loved on a superficial level. Then there’s our psychologist with a doting husband and children who is just as lost and suffocated. Their lives are polar opposites, and yet their loneliness is indistinguishable. I find this psychologist’s coping mechanisms most intriguing. Duri is avoidant and physically runs away from his problems, a typical response to a stressful environment. The psychologist faces her stressors head on to the point that it feels almost disingenuous. She picks up a stranger from H-Mart, brings him home, carries out an affair, and doesn’t hide it. Tell me the spark in your marriage went out without telling me.

What’s even more jarring is that this isn’t the first time she’s pulled a stunt like this. It’s a typical coping mechanism of hers, as her husband is fully aware of the past affairs. This level of grace rarely extends to mothers. The moral high ground for wife and mother drastically differs compared to their husband and father counterparts. Historically, we reserve an older spouse having an affair with someone younger for men. Our psychologist is a woman. She is a mother, and she is defying these gendered norms in a really unique way. While I don’t condone her adultery and her manner of coping with stress, I do respect Ma-Kellams’s decision to grant a strong female character the freedom to live intentionally and by her own definitions. It was refreshing to see a woman live amongst a moral grayscale.

“Once you see heaven, everything else looks like hell.”

Christine Ma-Kellams, The Band

We don’t know much about the manner of work that the psychologist performs. However, the way she draws Duri out of his self-inflicted prison is one of the few moments of humanity gifted to Duri. He finals engages in open and honest dialogue about his feelings and mental health struggles. Duri confidently admits what he truly wants from life. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, and the psychologist sees this in Duri. She openly admits wanting to hug him, hold him, many other hyper-sexualized expletives, and keep him in the safety of her home. Yet she shows zero judgement when he returns to the toxic, high pressure environment he ran from.

This extension of grace and understanding sans judgment is a theme we should all apply to our everyday lives, and friendship with a Korean popstar shouldn’t be a prerequisite. I guarantee there are many friends and family members who would benefit greatly from sincere communication and unburdening.

At the end of the novel, we have the big reveal surrounding our girl group sub plot. The threesome broke up because of a sex tape and extortion plot gone wrong. I specifically want to highlight the level of desperation these women felt to pull such an extreme stunt, as it directly ties to the paradox of celebrity. Stans casually brush off the physical, mental, and emotional toll idols suffer through as long as they show up with personalized fan service. It’s a recent occurrence that fans consider and prioritize idols’ well-beings, although some refuse to recognize this sacrifice if it results in limited access to their favorites. I don’t consider them fans at all, but that’s an entirely different conversation.

These women surrendered their youth, opting for rigorous, isolating training. Labels continuously exploited their names and privacy for the financial gain, and their best escape route was to sacrifice the reputation of one of their own members to break their legal obligations in a desperate grasp at freedom. But at what cost? Ma-Kellams asks an even more pointed question. What world is worth living in when one minute, you’re a globally beloved star, and the next, you’re branded a whore and a blackmailer? Of course, there was no retribution for the other side of the affair – a married, affluent man – which demonstrates that like despair, the patriarchy traverses cultural boundary lines (at least until the 4B movement crumbles everything – here’s hoping).

The untimely demise of our girl group is harrowing, yet it’s even more tragic that no one learned from their fall from grace. Producers, labels, and music executives continually perpetuate this cycle by not protecting the physical, mental, and emotional well-being of their artists, as evidenced by Duri’s extreme withdrawal from The Band. Members are nothing more than placeholders within a brand. That brand can be replaced or replicated thanks to the cookie cutter K-pop machine. After such a tragic ending to a promising girl group’s career, you would think that those with power would diligently work to better protect artists, but ultimately money and image win out. Fan fuel the dehumanization of artists for capital gains by upholding this cycle of abuse. Treating idols as deities does not protect their humanity. It exploits it.

There is much to learn from the emphasis we place on celebrity. This is not a singularly American or Korean problem, it plagues the entire industry. The Band weighs the Libra scale of fame and anonymity, as there are perks and drawbacks to both sides. After the balancing act fulfills itself, one point remains. Your favorite popstars, musicians, actors, and athletes are human. Support them, uplift them, still hold them accountable when necessary, but never compromise their humanity. What makes them so inspiring is that each of them started off like the rest of us. We wouldn’t find their world so fascinating if most of us couldn’t relate to their humble beginnings. And even if you don’t find yourself drawn to the extravagance fame offers, that doesn’t make your life any less worth living. There are so many ways we can each be larger than life.

The Band by Christine Ma-Kellams comes out April 16th, 2024. Click here to purchase your copy.