Vaseline Buddha, translated from Korean, promised to be different and it delivered. This thin book boasted that it never set out to engage the reader in a plot. No, it wanted to break the idea of plot, and so it rebelled.

If I summed Moon’s novel into one line, it would be this: a series of daydreams stitched into an ongoing meditative contemplation. This is the book for people who don’t have time for books. The one you can enjoy a few pages of, stick in a drawer for a week, or a month, and pick up without missing a beat.

The narrator is at times acutely aware that a book is being composed and reflects:

“Perhaps I seek to write something that’s fit to be read on a rock in a forest you come to on a daily walk, or in a café on a street where you’re traveling...they will be stories that are not quite narratives, stories that cannot be narratives.”

If you’re looking for a page-turner, don’t stop here. If you’re looking for a book that demands little effort and ponders everything from sheep, to cartoonists, to old ladies in the park—you have found your novel. I was not spellbound by Vaseline Buddha, but it’s a unique collection of wandering moments that I could appreciate in the midst of a hectic semester.