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A review by discarded_dust_jacket
I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki by Baek Se-hee
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
1.0
First of all, I want to point out that I’m aware I’m reading this as an outsider to South Korean culture. I’m reading a translation that has likely lost important nuance. I’m reading this book out of its context; I’m not its intended audience.
So I don’t hold it against Baek Sehee that this book missed the mark for me. It was wildly popular in Korea, so it has accomplished its goal, it has nothing to prove to me whatsoever.
However, since I did read it, here are my thoughts: it did a remarkable job of really highlighting the differences in how mental health is treated in Korea versus America. I audibly gasped at some of the things being said by the psychiatrist, like “Don’t think about the future too much. Your anxiety can become a burden to others” (page 57). That sort of professional advice would not be tolerated here.
I really didn’t find the format of this book very useful. It had potential, but more than anything I felt as though the therapy transcripts sort of became repetitive and didn’t quite go anywhere. Perhaps that’s the point—to show that progress is slow and doesn’t always announce itself in flashing neon letters, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.
I understand that Sehee’s aim was to, in her words, “hold my hand up high and shout, I’m right here, hoping that someone would see me waving, recognize themselves in me and approach me, so we could find comfort in each other’s existence,” and to that end, I think the book is successful. Perhaps in a culture where mental health is just not talked about, transcribing and publishing one’s therapy sessions is itself a bold act, and reading them is validating for those who feel alone in their struggles.
Like I said, it just wasn’t for me. And that’s okay.
So I don’t hold it against Baek Sehee that this book missed the mark for me. It was wildly popular in Korea, so it has accomplished its goal, it has nothing to prove to me whatsoever.
However, since I did read it, here are my thoughts: it did a remarkable job of really highlighting the differences in how mental health is treated in Korea versus America. I audibly gasped at some of the things being said by the psychiatrist, like “Don’t think about the future too much. Your anxiety can become a burden to others” (page 57). That sort of professional advice would not be tolerated here.
I really didn’t find the format of this book very useful. It had potential, but more than anything I felt as though the therapy transcripts sort of became repetitive and didn’t quite go anywhere. Perhaps that’s the point—to show that progress is slow and doesn’t always announce itself in flashing neon letters, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.
I understand that Sehee’s aim was to, in her words, “hold my hand up high and shout, I’m right here, hoping that someone would see me waving, recognize themselves in me and approach me, so we could find comfort in each other’s existence,” and to that end, I think the book is successful. Perhaps in a culture where mental health is just not talked about, transcribing and publishing one’s therapy sessions is itself a bold act, and reading them is validating for those who feel alone in their struggles.
Like I said, it just wasn’t for me. And that’s okay.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body shaming, Alcohol, Fatphobia, Bullying, and Domestic abuse