Snowglobe / Soyoung Park ; translated by Joungmin Lee Comfort.

Enhanced descriptions from Syndetics:

NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER * The gorgeous first edition hardcover of Snowglobe will feature two covers in one (a beautifully illustrated hardcover underneath the stunning jacket) and foil-stamped interior papers at the beginning and end of the book!

In a world of constant winter, only the citizens of the climate-controlled city of Snowglobe can escape the bitter cold--but this perfect society is hiding dark and dangerous secrets within its frozen heart. A groundbreaking Korean novel translated into English for the first time!

" The Hunger Games meets Squid Game in Soyoung Park's dystopian thriller Snowglobe " - Entertainment Weekly

Enclosed under a vast dome, Snowglobe is the last place on Earth that's warm. Outside Snowglobe is a frozen wasteland, and every day, citizens face the icy world to get to their jobs at the power plant, where they produce the energy Snowglobe needs. Their only solace comes in the form of twenty-four-hour television programming streamed directly from the domed city.

The residents of Snowglobe have everything: fame, fortune, and above all, safety from the desolation outside their walls. In exchange, their lives are broadcast to the less fortunate outside, who watch eagerly, hoping for the chance to one day become actors themselves.

Chobahm lives for the time she spends watching the shows produced inside Snowglobe. Her favorite? Goh Around, starring Goh Haeri, Snowglobe's biggest star--and, it turns out, the key to getting Chobahm her dream life.

Because Haeri is dead, and Chobahm has been chosen to take her place. Only, life inside Snowglobe is nothing like what you see on television. Reality is a lie, and truth seems to be forever out of reach.

Translated for the first time into English from the original Korean, Snowglobe is a groundbreaking exploration of personal identity, and the future of the world as we know it. It is the winner of the Changbi X Kakaopage Young Adult Novel Award.

Excerpt provided by Syndetics

The Age of Snowglobe In the living room, Grandma is sunk in her chair in front of her favorite TV show, a heavy quilt draped over her lap. I look down at the weather ticker scrolling away along the bottom of the screen. -­50°F That's a three-­degree drop from yesterday. A snow-­cloud icon trails the temperature, suggesting flurries throughout the day, and Grandma pushes herself out of the chair, shuffling to the electric space heater with the kettle in hand. My brother, Ongi, appears in the living room, wearing his standard morning look: a toothbrush in his mouth and a scowl on his face. "I wish I were still in school!" he whines, because schools close in temperatures below -50°F. "Just brush your teeth, please," I respond flatly, which comes out garbled as I'm still brushing mine, and turn back to the TV. As usual, Grandma has it on Channel 60, the station that airs Goh Around round the clock. "No! Hear me out," Ongi persists, stepping in front of me and ratcheting up the grievance in his voice. "I was sixteen ten months ago when I was in school. I'm still sixteen today, but just because I graduated, I'm now expected to endure this brutal temperature?" His face is blocking my view of the TV. What does he want me to do about the weather? "Stop spraying toothpaste all over the floor, would you?" I snap, suddenly irritated. Ongi is my twin brother born exactly ten minutes before me. He likes to pretend to be older and wiser, which is no end of laughable. He should know well by now that I only came second to make sure he got out safely--­kind of like a captain being the last one off the ship. I've been taking care of him since we shared a womb. Grandma, back in her sagging chair, swivels her head in our direction. "Ongi, my sweet," she calls. "Don't act like a baby in front of your girlfriend." Ongi's eyes bug out, and he races to the kitchen sink, where he spits out the mouthful of foaming toothpaste with extra force. "Grandma!" he cries. "Jeon Chobahm is not my girlfriend!" Grandma has dementia, and she's been confusing me with my brother's nonexistent girlfriend for some time now. I leave Ongi to stew and head back into the bathroom, where I turn on the wall-­mounted faucet and fill the tin basin under it. When I scoop up the frigid water and rinse my mouth, the cold sends a shocking jolt through my teeth down to my jawbone, which immediately begins to ache. My hair is next. I'm staring into the basin, steeling myself against the brain-­chilling assault to come, when Grandma appears at the door with the kettle in her hand, a plume of steam escaping its spout. "Watch out, dear," she says, and stoops to carefully tip the kettle over the basin. "I made this hot water for Ongi, but he wants you to have it instead." I watch as she sticks her hand in the basin and swishes the water around to even out the temperature. Over the rising steam, her face is aglow with pride and joy that her grandson grew up to be such a considerate young person--­a true gentle­man who knows how to care for his girlfriend. Meanwhile, said young man is washing his hair at the kitchen sink, howling as he dips his head under the frigid stream. I can't help but laugh at his antics as Grandma shuffles back toward the door with the empty kettle. "Thank you, Grandma," I say. She stops in her tracks. Turning around slowly, she searches my face for a long moment with her watery eyes. "You sound just like my granddaughter," she says in a voice full of longing. Then she turns back around and heads out the door for her worn chair. In the mudroom, Ongi and I struggle to pull on our heavy snow boots. It's made all the more difficult by the layers of insulated clothes--­tops, pants, and tights--­we have on under our thick snow bibs. Next come out parkas, expedition-­weight mittens, and ski masks. Then, finally, the hoods go up, and we're ready. "We're off, Granny! See you later!" Ongi calls toward the living room in his usual upbeat tone. But as he turns the doorknob, Grandma's urgent voice stops us short. "Wait! My goodness, Ongi! Chobahm is on TV!" she cries. Ongi and I exchange a look as she coos at the TV. "Aww . . . Chobahm! My sweet baby girl." I don't have to look to know that it's Goh Haeri on the screen. Ongi refuses to acknowledge it, but the beloved actress and I look very much alike. We even share the same birthday, and for what it's worth, it so happens that we're both lefties. But no one, except for Grandma, would ever mistake me for her, what with my rough cheeks perpetually inflamed from daily exposure to bone-­dry, subzero air, and my coarse hair cropped short for quick washing in frigid water. In contrast, Haeri's porcelain skin, rosy cheeks, and trademark long, shiny hair radiate her Snowglobe pedigree. About Snowglobe. With the world now at an average annual temperature of -­50°F, Snowglobe is the only place with a temperate climate--­the only location with warmth and color--­in the whole world. It's a special settlement that was built atop a geothermal vent and is enclosed in a gigantic weatherproof glass dome. But not just anyone can live there. Its lucky residents are actors, whose unscripted lives are recorded in real time and edited into shows, which are then broadcast to the open world for entertainment. Goh Haeri isn't just an actress, she's a megastar, and she's just been named the new weathercaster--­one of the most coveted jobs in Snowglobe. She'll set the record as the youngest weathercaster in the history of the settlement. I turn a flat gaze to the TV screen. Dressed in a stylish suit, Haeri looks like she was born to fill the position. "Hi, it's Goh Haeri," she greets the viewers in a buoyant tone. "I'm so excited and honored to be serving our community as the new weathercaster. Make sure to tune in to News at Nine on New Year's Day!" She treats us to her perfect smile, and then the camera cuts away. I wonder, not for the first time, if I'll ever be able to meet her in real life. If my hair grew in proportion to my desire for a life in Snowglobe, I could shave my head bare every night and I'd wake up the next day with it sweeping the floor. Sometimes I wonder if my intense longing for the place might be responsible for Grandma confusing me with Haeri--­as though she can see my soul yearning to flee this godforsaken icebox in favor of Haeri's life in Snowglobe. Ongi turns back to the door, clucking his tongue in ­distaste. "What?" I hiss, glowering back at him. "If only you hadn't talked so much nonsense about how you might be Goh Haeri's lost twin and--­" "Stop." I cut him off with a cuff to the ribs. I can feel the color rising to my face at the memory. "Unless you want to dig your way out of a snowbank!" But he's wearing too many layers to be warned off, and he boldly resumes running his mouth. I shove him and he shoves me back, and then we're snatching at each other and ducking and banging into walls--­until we finally end up laughing too hard to keep fighting and we pull ourselves together, then open the door and step outside. Fifty degrees below zero. The frozen world welcomes us by snatching the breath from our lungs. My nose instantly freezes and stings, and within a few blinks, ice crystals form on my eyelashes and cloud my view. "It's so damn cold," Ongi says with a full-­body shudder. From age six, my twin brother and I accompanied each other to school every day for ten years. Since graduation in February, though, our daily commute has been to the power plant. I look up at the marbled sky, its gunmetal gray promising a second squall in three days. In the bleak world below, squat log cabins dot the white expanses between tall pines, their branches heavy with snow. Ongi and I start for the bus stop. Our commute to the power plant could be made on foot, but with a brooding sky like this, the bus is safer. We trudge through the knee-deep snow, and before long, my breath turns my ski mask into an icy mess over my mouth and nose--­though better the mask than my face. A few feet ahead, Ongi pauses under a tree and waits for me to catch up. He can be so sweet, I think. But no sooner do I arrive than he jumps up to a branch to send an avalanche of snow down on my head and shoulders, laughing hysterically. Seething, I scoop up a handful of snow and pack it into a tight ball. He bolts, shouting, "Race you to the bus stop!" "Wait!" I shout, already on the move. "Jeon Ongi, you cheater!" Snow grabs at our boots with each sinking step, rendering our best effort at a dash into more of a lurching shuffle. "Loser does laundry for a month!" Ongi yells. "Oh . . . You're so done, Jeon Ongi!" I struggle through the clinging trap of snow with everything I have. And when we dive for the bus stop, it's my hand that touches its bent pole first. "Ha! Who's laughing now--­" I say victoriously, gasping for breath. Sure, I won by a hair, but a win is a win. I'm bent over with my hands on my knees, catching my breath, when Ongi snatches my arm and jerks me behind him. Annoyed, I straighten to see him narrowing a hard gaze at a figure ahead. Just another commuter waiting for the bus, so what about it? is my first thought, but then the person turns in our direction, and when she acknowledges us with an awkward dip of her head, neither Ongi nor I return it. Excerpted from Snowglobe by Soyoung Park All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

Reviews provided by Syndetics

Publishers Weekly Review

In Park's dystopian duology opener, 16-year-old Jeon Chobahm lives with the rest of the lower-class population in a treacherous environment where the average temperature is --50 °F. Actors are among the lucky few who live in Snowglobe--a climate-controlled paradise encased in a glass dome--in exchange for having their "unscripted lives recorded and edited into shows," which are then broadcast to the masses as entertainment. Though she dreams of becoming a director and someday working on one of the reality shows, Chobahm works at the power plant to produce Snowglobe's electricity. Days before her 17th birthday, she's approached by Cha Seol, the director of The Goh Haeri Show, who claims that she resembles the actor who plays Goh Haeri. She persuades Chobahm to step in as the new Haeri after the actor dies by suicide, promising to assist her in her goal of becoming a director. Chobahm agrees, and as she adjusts to Haeri's highly publicized lifestyle, she uncovers a greater conspiracy within Snowglobe. This fast-paced examination of reality television and surveillance, smoothly translated by Comfort (Plastic), boasts a cast of resourceful and morally gray teens and teems with anticipatory tension reminiscent of The Hunger Games. Ages 12--up. Agent: Sue Park, Barbara J. Zitwer Agency. (Feb.)

School Library Journal Review

Gr 7--10--All but the last quarter-hour belongs to Tyo, who cinematically ciphers the 10-plus hours of Park's camera-ready, highly anticipated, internationally bestselling Korean import. The duology is spectacularly franchise-prepped: a dystopic frozen world, the privileged controlling few, the rebels with noble causes and secret identities. Snowglobe is the only (manufactured) temperate haven, where everyday life is manipulated for broadcast to the world's depleted residents. Sixteen-year-old Chobahm is plucked from the wasteland to become Snowglobe's favorite darling on everyone's beloved show; Snowglobe's biggest star Goh Haeri died by suicide and needs to be replaced without anyone ever knowing what happened. Once in paradise, Chobahm realizes what's on screen is exactly that--a show. Tyo's commanding performance pauses with enticing fodder for the next volume. Jung follows with a deliciously bewildering single chapter; Yi concludes with shocking backstory. VERDICT Truth and reality continue to diverge, leaving audiences craving more.

Booklist Review

The world has frozen over--or nearly enough, with daily temperatures reaching minus 50 degrees and worse--and the have-nots are forced to work in power plants to feed the Snowglobe, the only place left on Earth with a temperate climate. It's where the rich and glamorous live, each one a reality TV star, live streaming 24 hours a day. Chobahm, a 16-year-old worker who is fascinated by Snowglobe's broadcasts, dreams of making it inside the domed city as a director. When famous weathercaster Goh Haeri, who bears more than a passing resemblance to Chobahm, dies, Chobahm is selected to secretly replace the reality star. Life in Snowglobe is obviously very different from what she's used to, but it's not all glitz and glamour; there's something weird going on behind the scenes, and Chobahm becomes determined to find out what. The huge cast of characters can be difficult to track, though there's a list at the beginning. This debut, a dystopian thriller with a reality-TV twist, is perfect for fans of Squid Game or Snowpiercer.

Kirkus Book Review

An intrepid teen encounters the dark secrets of the elite in her climate-ravaged world in this translated work from South Korea. Sixteen-year-old Jeon Chobahm is shocked to learn that Goh Haeri, the beloved reality TV star who happens to be Chobahm's look-alike, just died by suicide--and also that she's being asked to become Haeri's secret replacement. In their frozen, post-apocalyptic world, Chobahm, like everyone around her, leads a bleak life. She bundles up daily against the dangerous cold and toils in a power plant. But now she'll live Haeri's cushy life in Snowglobe, an exclusive, glass-dome-enclosed community, where the climate is mild, and the resident actors' lives are broadcast as entertainment for those in the open world. As glamorous as life there may seem, however, Chobahm quickly learns that there's a sinister underbelly: People are killed off when they're no longer useful, and there's something strange about Haeri's family dynamics. As she meets a host of new companions, including Yi Bonwhe, the heir of Snowglobe's founding family, Chobahm discovers a devastating secret and embarks on a risky plan to expose the truth. Climate change, societal inequity, and the ethics of escaping from our own lives by watching others' are addressed in this intelligent, absorbing book. Chobahm is a complex character inhabiting a strongly developed world, and her compassion, ambition, outrage, and sorrow ring true. Transporting and unputdownable; an appealing combination of deep and page-turning. (Dystopian. 12-adult) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.