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A review by brice_mo
Starry Field: A Memoir of Lost History by Margaret Juhae Lee
3.0
Thanks to NetGalley and Melville House Publishing for the ARC!
Margaret Juhae Lee’s Starry Field is a remarkably engaging family history that is only occasionally hampered by an unforthcoming memoir.
Lee works professionally as a journalist, and it shows in the best way. The journalistic approach is even more rewarding than one might expect, with Lee writing rich and affectionate profiles through interviews with her family members, thoughtfully curating which elements will be most interesting and relevant. I’m sure I speak for many readers when I say that I’ve been given an exceptionally short-sighted and biased view of Korean history, and Lee intuitively and preemptively accounts for such ignorance. The interviews themselves are also framed beautifully, allowing for all the wonderful idiosyncrasies of family—the extraneous details that are important because they are important to the person sharing them. Lee’s craft is admirable here, as these kinds of inclusions are exactly what allow her to plumb the deep complexities of both familial and cultural history.
Unfortunately, the memoir-tinged sections do not fare as well. I think memoir is about closing the distance between the real and imagined self, and doing so requires some level of interiority and ugly self-disclosure. Throughout Starry Field, the author often feels like an intruder in her own story, a little too preoccupied with unnecessary image control. For example, she repeatedly notes her political and religious stances almost defensively, and it struck me as odd each time because they don’t amount to much. In a memoir, I’m already on the narrator’s side, and I want to see what the writer explores when they have nothing to prove. In this book, it reads almost as if Margaret Juhae Lee is moving to establish her place in a lineage of political courage, and I just don’t know that it fully clicks. I think her journalistic prowess in reclaiming and reviving her family history does more than enough work in that regard.
Lest those criticisms sound harsh, I still think the book is exceptional in many ways, and it also makes me want to read a follow-up memoir if Lee explores her themes with more vulnerability. The final chapter and epilogue suggest it’s an exciting possibility, should the author choose. In the meantime, Starry Field is a fascinating look at how much is lost if families do not archive and memorialize their past, and I’m really excited to share this book with other people.
Margaret Juhae Lee’s Starry Field is a remarkably engaging family history that is only occasionally hampered by an unforthcoming memoir.
Lee works professionally as a journalist, and it shows in the best way. The journalistic approach is even more rewarding than one might expect, with Lee writing rich and affectionate profiles through interviews with her family members, thoughtfully curating which elements will be most interesting and relevant. I’m sure I speak for many readers when I say that I’ve been given an exceptionally short-sighted and biased view of Korean history, and Lee intuitively and preemptively accounts for such ignorance. The interviews themselves are also framed beautifully, allowing for all the wonderful idiosyncrasies of family—the extraneous details that are important because they are important to the person sharing them. Lee’s craft is admirable here, as these kinds of inclusions are exactly what allow her to plumb the deep complexities of both familial and cultural history.
Unfortunately, the memoir-tinged sections do not fare as well. I think memoir is about closing the distance between the real and imagined self, and doing so requires some level of interiority and ugly self-disclosure. Throughout Starry Field, the author often feels like an intruder in her own story, a little too preoccupied with unnecessary image control. For example, she repeatedly notes her political and religious stances almost defensively, and it struck me as odd each time because they don’t amount to much. In a memoir, I’m already on the narrator’s side, and I want to see what the writer explores when they have nothing to prove. In this book, it reads almost as if Margaret Juhae Lee is moving to establish her place in a lineage of political courage, and I just don’t know that it fully clicks. I think her journalistic prowess in reclaiming and reviving her family history does more than enough work in that regard.
Lest those criticisms sound harsh, I still think the book is exceptional in many ways, and it also makes me want to read a follow-up memoir if Lee explores her themes with more vulnerability. The final chapter and epilogue suggest it’s an exciting possibility, should the author choose. In the meantime, Starry Field is a fascinating look at how much is lost if families do not archive and memorialize their past, and I’m really excited to share this book with other people.