Scan barcode
mitskacir's review against another edition
5.0
I wanted to read this book because I'm interested in adopting children (at some point in the future), and have heard stories from adopted friends and classmates that complicated the narratives of transracial adoption that I had usually heard. I was surprised by how relatable Chung's experience as a transracial adoptee was to my own experience as multi-racial. Of course, our experienced diverged when it came to searching for her biological family, but her feelings or racial inadequacy, uncertainty about her own identity, and exclusion by her peers strongly resonated with me (as a mixed-race person, I sometimes was asked if I was adopted when with my white biological father).
The end of the book, with Chung's descriptions of her multi-racial daughter questioning her identity as Korean and what it means to *be Asian*, really pulled at my heart. Chung attempts to learn Korean, and says "I tried to ignore the voice of doubt suggesting that perhaps I had no right to any of this; that all of it, country visit and potential language study included, represented little more than a glorified, grasping form of cultural appropriation," articulating exactly how I feel about learning Japanese, celebrating Lunar New Year, learning to cook Japanese and Chinese food... Feeling both inauthentic and performative at the same time that I feel like I'm trying to repair a loss in my life born from generations of assimilation and persecution.
Chung says that by confronting her adopted families racism and prejudice, "I am breaching the sacred pact of our family, our once-shared belief that my race is irrelevant in the presence of their love." From my own experiences and what I have learned about others, I think this is the most powerful takeaway from this book. Being colorblind not only does a disservice to the people you love, but perpetuates the very racism you may feel like you are avoiding.
The end of the book, with Chung's descriptions of her multi-racial daughter questioning her identity as Korean and what it means to *be Asian*, really pulled at my heart. Chung attempts to learn Korean, and says "I tried to ignore the voice of doubt suggesting that perhaps I had no right to any of this; that all of it, country visit and potential language study included, represented little more than a glorified, grasping form of cultural appropriation," articulating exactly how I feel about learning Japanese, celebrating Lunar New Year, learning to cook Japanese and Chinese food... Feeling both inauthentic and performative at the same time that I feel like I'm trying to repair a loss in my life born from generations of assimilation and persecution.
Chung says that by confronting her adopted families racism and prejudice, "I am breaching the sacred pact of our family, our once-shared belief that my race is irrelevant in the presence of their love." From my own experiences and what I have learned about others, I think this is the most powerful takeaway from this book. Being colorblind not only does a disservice to the people you love, but perpetuates the very racism you may feel like you are avoiding.
allonsyechoes's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
3.5
daumari's review against another edition
5.0
This book was very buzzy on my Twitter timeline last year, so I jumped on it when I saw it at the library. All You Can Ever Know is a moving memoir, and I'm thinking about picking up my own copy.
I am not an adoptee. I did grow up in Idaho, however, where I was the only Asian in my grade through elementary school and in middle school, we numbered enough I could count on my hands (a hapa girl, me, a Thai guy, and two Korean adoptees). One of the adoptees was a close friend of mine through high school, and I've always wondered if she was ever curious about her birth family, or ever felt a sense of loss. Our school is a moderate size (~1,000 students), but I recall some microaggressions, mostly from people simply not knowing any Asians but a handful (though honestly I felt stronger discrimination for being non-Mormon). Like child!Nicole, whenever I visit somewhere with an AsAm community like Seattle, I marvel at what it might've been like to see other faces like mine, to potentially have access to language classes etc. though I do have the tether of family we could visit.
It feels personal to me as well because I had an unplanned pregnancy at 21, and my then-BF's parents strongly pressured me to think about adoption as an option- I pictured the nightmare scenario of there only being so many Asian kids in my community and my parents wondering if their grandchild out there, somewhere. In the end, I chose to abort but it really made me realize that I don't think I personally could adopt out, especially if transracial adoptive parents haven't fully figured out how to approach their child's experiences. I know every story is different, but the anguish Nicole felt keeping her feelings to herself in an Oregon town really punched me in the gut.
Weaving in the story of her sister and the joy of building that connection is beautiful. I haven't read many adoption narratives, but this is a good one.
I am not an adoptee. I did grow up in Idaho, however, where I was the only Asian in my grade through elementary school and in middle school, we numbered enough I could count on my hands (a hapa girl, me, a Thai guy, and two Korean adoptees). One of the adoptees was a close friend of mine through high school, and I've always wondered if she was ever curious about her birth family, or ever felt a sense of loss. Our school is a moderate size (~1,000 students), but I recall some microaggressions, mostly from people simply not knowing any Asians but a handful (though honestly I felt stronger discrimination for being non-Mormon). Like child!Nicole, whenever I visit somewhere with an AsAm community like Seattle, I marvel at what it might've been like to see other faces like mine, to potentially have access to language classes etc. though I do have the tether of family we could visit.
It feels personal to me as well because I had an unplanned pregnancy at 21, and my then-BF's parents strongly pressured me to think about adoption as an option- I pictured the nightmare scenario of there only being so many Asian kids in my community and my parents wondering if their grandchild out there, somewhere. In the end, I chose to abort but it really made me realize that I don't think I personally could adopt out, especially if transracial adoptive parents haven't fully figured out how to approach their child's experiences. I know every story is different, but the anguish Nicole felt keeping her feelings to herself in an Oregon town really punched me in the gut.
Weaving in the story of her sister and the joy of building that connection is beautiful. I haven't read many adoption narratives, but this is a good one.
laura_corsi's review against another edition
4.0
An amazing coming of age story. I loved it. I started out rooting for the adoptive parents since that is the side I identified with most closely. However, by the end I was in love with all of Ms. Chung’s journey: her adoptive family, her birth family, and her own created family. This is how life and love is—complicated and messy, hard and wonderful. Maybe none of us are ever completely whole, but we need to start enjoying the good pieces!!
agmaynard's review against another edition
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
fast-paced
4.0
Well constructed and smoothly written memoir that tugs the reader through Nicole's early life and her search for the origins of her transracial adoption and birth family, with occasional looks at sister Cindy's experiences.
Not too far from the end: "I finally understood what my birth parents did not: my adoption was hard, and complicated, but it was not a tragedy. It was not my fault, and it wasn't theirs, either. It was the easiest way to solve just one of too many problems."
Not too far from the end: "I finally understood what my birth parents did not: my adoption was hard, and complicated, but it was not a tragedy. It was not my fault, and it wasn't theirs, either. It was the easiest way to solve just one of too many problems."