Monika Kim opens her novel Molka with a note about the origins of its title. It turns out that South Korea has had a serious problem with hidden spy cameras being placed in sensitive areas like public bathrooms and dressing rooms for decades now. It’s become so pervasive there that even guests in motel rooms were found to have been secretly recorded engaging in intimate acts. Worse still, law enforcement has long taken a relatively lax view of the crime, with perpetrators often receiving only minimal punishment, though that has thankfully begun to change. It’s not something that I was aware of, as I suspect is the case for most people outside of the country, but Kim has used it to great effect as the jumping off point for her latest book, so named because the little cameras are themselves referred to as “molka”, Korean for “hidden or sneaky camera”.

After a chance encounter outside of a Seoul bar, Dahye is shocked to find herself in a relationship with the handsome and wealthy Hyukjoon, the son of a very powerful media magnate. There are little red flags present in their encounters, but Dahye’s rose-colored glasses keep her from spotting them, until the couple discover that illicitly recorded video of them making love has been leaked to the web, setting off a scandal that leads Hyukjoon to effectively abandon her.

All the while Junyoung, one of her coworkers, has taken an interest in her. He has own network of molka scattered throughout the office, letting him spy on the women who work there when they use the restrooms, and in his deluded, deeply misogynistic mind, he has begun to see a future for himself and Dahye. While her own life seems to be unravelling and ghosts from her past resurface to haunt her, the young woman is unwittingly fueling Junyoung’s obsession, putting the pair on a collision course.

Men who believe that women are little more than objects that are owed to them are hardly exclusive to Korea. There has been much discussion in America and Europe as of late about a recent surge in popularity of online influencers peddling a disturbingly retrograde brand of toxic masculinity and the effects they’re having on their largely young, impressionable audience. Consider this book a grizzly warning shot across the bow of said figures.

Kim writes with an almost palpable rage towards those who would seek to belittle and demean women, or who feel as though they have the right to strip them of their agency. The men here behave monstrously but also in ways that feel all too realistic. Junyoung in particular is a reprehensible person; an entirely unlikable amalgamation of all of the worst traits of inceldom. It’s impossible not to actively root for his demise while reading Molka.

Classic ghost story elements are nicely woven into the tale, adding a few eerie touches, but most of the suspense here is derived from the question of how everything will come together and whether Dahye will see any justice for the various crimes committed against her. Kim’s sleek but descriptive writing style helps to hurtle the reader toward the answer. When it arrives it feels a touch abrupt but remains satisfying regardless.

This vicious little novel packs a punch. With a pitch-black sense of humor, a keen eye for contemporary injustice, smartly deployed gore, and taut pacing, Molka makes for an addictive and memorable read. You’ll feel like you’ve been granted access to your own “sneaky camera” and given a peek into a darkly compelling world. ★★★★

★★★★★ = Excellent | ★★★★ = Very Good | ★★★ = Good | ★★ = Fair | ★ = Poor