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A review by shelfreflectionofficial
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
slow-paced
3.0
“Within 5 years, I lost both my aunt and my mother to cancer. When I go to H Mart I’m searching for memories. I’m collecting the evidence that the Korean half of my identity didn’t die when they did. H Mart is the bridge that guides me away from the memories that haunt me… it reminds me of who they were before, beautiful and full of life.”
This isn’t a new release anymore, but I remember when it was. And I remember how popular and hyped it got. Here I am, years later finally reading it for myself. And I gotta say… I’m a little disappointed.
It’s not a bad book, but it’s not really one I could see myself talking about and saying- ‘You gotta read this!’
When I read memoirs it’s always a bit hard to nail down what’s ‘wrong’ with the book because what I’ve just read is someone sharing their own story and personal experiences. It’s not necessarily an author trying to craft a masterful plot or create unforgettable characters. It’s just a real person sharing their real life. And how am I to judge that?
I was reflecting on what makes a good memoir to me because it feels like so many memoirs I read are a bit ‘meh.’
Granted, most of them are celebrity memoirs which makes sense because everyone knows who they are and are interested in who they ‘actually’ are, [and I’m realizing at this moment that that doesn’t really BEAR well for me hoping my eventual memoir becomes a hit if I don’t even read memoirs from ‘nobodies’] but I think it’s often the ‘don’t meet your heroes’ kinda thing.
To give you a baseline: I liked Broken (in the best possible way), Funny in Farsi, The Office BFFs, Talking as Fast as I Can, but I didn’t like The Glass Castle, Start Without Me, Scrappy Little Nobody, or Yes, Please.
Crying in H Mart reminded me a little bit of Simu Liu’s book We Were Dreamers because he also had a complicated relationship with his parents and had the struggle of being an Asian American.
I think what I like most about memoirs is when they’re relatable, funny, exciting or interesting, or when the author shares how their struggles or hardships led them to the Lord or helped them experience God in a new way (which would be true of Ben Higgins’ memoir).
A lot of memoirs I read end up being ‘meh’ because it’s more about just learning about a different culture than my own or learning a famous person’s background. In those cases it’s more informative than engaging. Good to learn, but not something that’s really going to stick with me. Or it’s just a little too eye-opening to read about their bad choices and drug use and sometimes raw and honest can be an unpleasant reading experience. Like Michelle could have left out the parts about the gray curls of skin at the bath house…
In the case of Crying in H Mart, it was the ‘meh’ kind of memoir. Though I did have a Samantha American Girl doll and the Princess Diana Beanie Baby that I think will still be worth millions someday, there wasn’t a lot to relate to. I haven’t experienced the loss of a parent; I don’t experience the struggles of being biracial and not knowing where I belong; I haven’t had a troublesome relationship with my mom; and though my mom had breast cancer, she didn’t have to undergo chemotherapy; I’m also not trying to make in the music (or any other kind of) industry.
Of course, memoirs don’t always have to be relatable. It’s good to read about people, cultures, and experiences that are different from me. It was interesting to learn about the Korean culture and food. It’s interesting to read about her grief journey with her mom and heartbreaking to hear the raw harshness of what cancer can mean.
I don’t know. It just didn’t really feel like the book was written for me, but maybe more for herself.
She is very honest about her complicated relationship with her mom and the ways her mom let her down or damaged her self-esteem.
“Hers was a tougher than tough love. It was brutal, industrial-strength.”
“I spent my childhood divided between two impulses, engaging in the intrinsic tomboyish whims thtat led to her reprimands and clinging to my mother, desperate to please her.”
So then when she’s going to lose her mom it causes her to think about their relationship and see the things she loved about her mom or to understand why her mom was the way she was and did the things she did.
I’m guessing writing this book was a therapeutic exercise in processing her grief. It felt more exploratory and disjointed than a complete account. The ending especially didn’t give me a great sense for where she’s at in her grief process and how she views her mom. It was about her music and the last section about karaoke seemed like it was meant to be profound but didn’t do much for me. It was a weird, abrupt ending I’m not sure what to do with.
I don’t have a concrete takeaway from the book in the sense of grieving and growing. I’m not sure I could explain exactly how this loss changed Michelle other than being sad and missing her mom and appreciating that her mom did everything for her out of love for her.
Because Michelle is an atheist, there was also no tie-in to how to view life and the after life, no real hope after death or reflection on the purpose of life. She does hold on to some reincarnation pieces in honor of her mom, but I can’t imagine coming back to life as a bug that could so easily be squished is truly that comforting. It’s always a little sad for me to read a story about real loss when they don’t have the hope of Jesus and the promise of new life, the redemption of our broken bodies and yearning souls.
Others have mentioned it started as an essay in the paper and got turned into this and I’m thinking an essay may have made more sense because what was in the book didn’t feel like a lot to go on.
The writing style also made it hard to engage. It jumped around a lot chronologically and I had to figure out if this was before or after the cancer diagnosis which affects how you understand that stories she’s sharing.
The cover shows chopsticks and noodles and H Mart is the place she would shop for Korean food so I assumed there would be a lot of food talk. I was right. And of course you can’t please everybody. I, personally, thought there was maybe too much of the food descriptions. Another reviewer thought the food stuff was ‘few and far between’ (not sure how that could be…), and another reviewer was upset that the author thought she had to ‘explain’ all the Korean dishes to us white folk (I did appreciate the explanations or I would have skipped those parts entirely). So I understand- hard to please everyone.
That being said, if you ARE a foodie then I think you’ll enjoy the book and will probably want to go find your closest H Mart yourself. Some of the descriptions appealed to me and I thought I’d like to give it a try, but most of the time I was struggling to imagine it tasting good. I’m a bit of a picky eater and not super brave about trying new things. Like kimchi? Fermented cabbage? That sounds scary.
While I did think the food descriptions felt like too much of the book, I did reflect on the role of food in our lives and relationships. Korean food was Michelle’s connection to her mother.
“Food was the unspoken language between us, that it had come to symbolize our return to each other, our bonding, our common ground.”
I think about the family dinner table and the foundational role it has for familial relationships. The kitchen and cooking or baking together. I think about how God created us to need food. He designed a connection point for people to connect and fellowship together. It makes sense that this builds bridges between people.
It’s a good reminder to make our family meals something meaningful. If we have to eat, let’s make it worth our while. Let’s do something with that time.
Another thing I thought was interesting (since this book was informative for me) was the value placed on appearance by her mother. She was telling us all about her mother’s serums and creams and clothing and her obsession with beauty.
Zauner shared this statistic: “South Korea has the highest rate of cosmetic surgery. 1 in 3 women in their 20s have undergone some type of procedure.”
That seems like an astronomical statistic. I know America is also obsessed with beauty so I was curious how America compared. This isn’t an exact statistical comparison but Pew Research stated that 4% of Americans have said they’ve had some sort of cosmetic surgery. That number seems low and I wonder if people lied— not sure how they gathered this data.
But I think it’s important to think about as we read Michelle’s story. Her mother’s preoccupation with appearance definitely influenced their relationship and how Michelle viewed herself. Our daughters (and sons) are watching us and they pick up on what’s important. We’re sending them a message when we show them what’s most important to us. Looks are fleeting. Beauty the way the world defines it is fleeting and largely unattainable. I hope the legacy I leave for my kids is not about how much time I spent in the mirror or money I spent on the newest creams to stay looking young.
Lastly, I have to reflect on this quote from her book:
“My mother’s lack of purpose seemed more and more an oddity, suspect, even anti-feminist. That my care played such a principal role in her life was a vocation I naively condemned, rebuffing the intensive, invisible labor as the errand work of a housewife who’d neglected to develop a passion or a practical skill set. It wasn’t until years later that I began to understand what it meant to make a home and just how much I had taken mine for granted.”
I’m glad she realized the error in her thinking, but the sentiment she voiced is one that is common in at least America and as a stay-at-home mom, it’s one I’m always up against. To be a mom and spend your time caring for your children is seen as a giving up on your dreams and even a giving up on your ‘true identity.’ To be a mom is to ‘lose yourself.’
And I think that’s a straight up lie.
Being a mom is a sacrifice. We give up a lot of ourselves— our time, our energy, our money— to do what’s best for our children. That doesn’t make me less of a person or less of a woman. It doesn’t mean I lack skills or ambition. And to care for our children is far more meaningful than mere ‘errand work.’
Apparently in the world today, a woman is more of a woman when they look and act more like a man. It’s so backwards to think that a mom caring for her child is anti-feminist. Like what? That’s literally what our bodies were designed to do. That’s about as feminist as you can get. Well, if your definition of feminism is that you believe in the value of women instead of a definition that means women should be like men.
It seems like people today think that in order to view women as being ‘more than just someone who has babies’ we have to lower the role of a stay-at-home mom as something less than. It is true that women can do more than just have babies and care for babies, but let’s not say that as if having and caring for babies is level 1 on the spectrum of success, purpose, and meaning and it’s only up from there.
So I’m glad that Michelle realized that she was naive to think of what her mom did for her was neglecting the ‘real work’ to be found in the world. I hope my kids see what I’ve given them is an ultimate act of love and sacrifice and that I was still my awesome self while doing it. Caring for their eternal souls has been an honor and a privilege and I hope I get to continue doing it for many more years to come!
Recommendation
This is not a book I say definitely read and it’s not a book I say definitely don’t read.
I didn’t hate reading it, but I didn’t love it. It’s not one that will really stick with me or stand out among all the books I read in a year.
However, it’s clear this book has made an impact on a lot of people, so don’t let me keep it from you if it strikes a chord with you. I would venture that people who particularly enjoy ethnic food or could relate to the loss of a parent or being biracial would like this book more than I did.
I’ve also realized what makes a memoir a five star read for me is harder to find than I thought.
[Content Advisory: 16 s-words, 11 f-words; not really any sexual content; there’s a nonsexual bath house scene and mention of sex but nothing described]
This isn’t a new release anymore, but I remember when it was. And I remember how popular and hyped it got. Here I am, years later finally reading it for myself. And I gotta say… I’m a little disappointed.
It’s not a bad book, but it’s not really one I could see myself talking about and saying- ‘You gotta read this!’
When I read memoirs it’s always a bit hard to nail down what’s ‘wrong’ with the book because what I’ve just read is someone sharing their own story and personal experiences. It’s not necessarily an author trying to craft a masterful plot or create unforgettable characters. It’s just a real person sharing their real life. And how am I to judge that?
I was reflecting on what makes a good memoir to me because it feels like so many memoirs I read are a bit ‘meh.’
Granted, most of them are celebrity memoirs which makes sense because everyone knows who they are and are interested in who they ‘actually’ are, [and I’m realizing at this moment that that doesn’t really BEAR well for me hoping my eventual memoir becomes a hit if I don’t even read memoirs from ‘nobodies’] but I think it’s often the ‘don’t meet your heroes’ kinda thing.
To give you a baseline: I liked Broken (in the best possible way), Funny in Farsi, The Office BFFs, Talking as Fast as I Can, but I didn’t like The Glass Castle, Start Without Me, Scrappy Little Nobody, or Yes, Please.
Crying in H Mart reminded me a little bit of Simu Liu’s book We Were Dreamers because he also had a complicated relationship with his parents and had the struggle of being an Asian American.
I think what I like most about memoirs is when they’re relatable, funny, exciting or interesting, or when the author shares how their struggles or hardships led them to the Lord or helped them experience God in a new way (which would be true of Ben Higgins’ memoir).
A lot of memoirs I read end up being ‘meh’ because it’s more about just learning about a different culture than my own or learning a famous person’s background. In those cases it’s more informative than engaging. Good to learn, but not something that’s really going to stick with me. Or it’s just a little too eye-opening to read about their bad choices and drug use and sometimes raw and honest can be an unpleasant reading experience. Like Michelle could have left out the parts about the gray curls of skin at the bath house…
In the case of Crying in H Mart, it was the ‘meh’ kind of memoir. Though I did have a Samantha American Girl doll and the Princess Diana Beanie Baby that I think will still be worth millions someday, there wasn’t a lot to relate to. I haven’t experienced the loss of a parent; I don’t experience the struggles of being biracial and not knowing where I belong; I haven’t had a troublesome relationship with my mom; and though my mom had breast cancer, she didn’t have to undergo chemotherapy; I’m also not trying to make in the music (or any other kind of) industry.
Of course, memoirs don’t always have to be relatable. It’s good to read about people, cultures, and experiences that are different from me. It was interesting to learn about the Korean culture and food. It’s interesting to read about her grief journey with her mom and heartbreaking to hear the raw harshness of what cancer can mean.
I don’t know. It just didn’t really feel like the book was written for me, but maybe more for herself.
She is very honest about her complicated relationship with her mom and the ways her mom let her down or damaged her self-esteem.
“Hers was a tougher than tough love. It was brutal, industrial-strength.”
“I spent my childhood divided between two impulses, engaging in the intrinsic tomboyish whims thtat led to her reprimands and clinging to my mother, desperate to please her.”
So then when she’s going to lose her mom it causes her to think about their relationship and see the things she loved about her mom or to understand why her mom was the way she was and did the things she did.
I’m guessing writing this book was a therapeutic exercise in processing her grief. It felt more exploratory and disjointed than a complete account. The ending especially didn’t give me a great sense for where she’s at in her grief process and how she views her mom. It was about her music and the last section about karaoke seemed like it was meant to be profound but didn’t do much for me. It was a weird, abrupt ending I’m not sure what to do with.
I don’t have a concrete takeaway from the book in the sense of grieving and growing. I’m not sure I could explain exactly how this loss changed Michelle other than being sad and missing her mom and appreciating that her mom did everything for her out of love for her.
Because Michelle is an atheist, there was also no tie-in to how to view life and the after life, no real hope after death or reflection on the purpose of life. She does hold on to some reincarnation pieces in honor of her mom, but I can’t imagine coming back to life as a bug that could so easily be squished is truly that comforting. It’s always a little sad for me to read a story about real loss when they don’t have the hope of Jesus and the promise of new life, the redemption of our broken bodies and yearning souls.
Others have mentioned it started as an essay in the paper and got turned into this and I’m thinking an essay may have made more sense because what was in the book didn’t feel like a lot to go on.
The writing style also made it hard to engage. It jumped around a lot chronologically and I had to figure out if this was before or after the cancer diagnosis which affects how you understand that stories she’s sharing.
The cover shows chopsticks and noodles and H Mart is the place she would shop for Korean food so I assumed there would be a lot of food talk. I was right. And of course you can’t please everybody. I, personally, thought there was maybe too much of the food descriptions. Another reviewer thought the food stuff was ‘few and far between’ (not sure how that could be…), and another reviewer was upset that the author thought she had to ‘explain’ all the Korean dishes to us white folk (I did appreciate the explanations or I would have skipped those parts entirely). So I understand- hard to please everyone.
That being said, if you ARE a foodie then I think you’ll enjoy the book and will probably want to go find your closest H Mart yourself. Some of the descriptions appealed to me and I thought I’d like to give it a try, but most of the time I was struggling to imagine it tasting good. I’m a bit of a picky eater and not super brave about trying new things. Like kimchi? Fermented cabbage? That sounds scary.
While I did think the food descriptions felt like too much of the book, I did reflect on the role of food in our lives and relationships. Korean food was Michelle’s connection to her mother.
“Food was the unspoken language between us, that it had come to symbolize our return to each other, our bonding, our common ground.”
I think about the family dinner table and the foundational role it has for familial relationships. The kitchen and cooking or baking together. I think about how God created us to need food. He designed a connection point for people to connect and fellowship together. It makes sense that this builds bridges between people.
It’s a good reminder to make our family meals something meaningful. If we have to eat, let’s make it worth our while. Let’s do something with that time.
Another thing I thought was interesting (since this book was informative for me) was the value placed on appearance by her mother. She was telling us all about her mother’s serums and creams and clothing and her obsession with beauty.
Zauner shared this statistic: “South Korea has the highest rate of cosmetic surgery. 1 in 3 women in their 20s have undergone some type of procedure.”
That seems like an astronomical statistic. I know America is also obsessed with beauty so I was curious how America compared. This isn’t an exact statistical comparison but Pew Research stated that 4% of Americans have said they’ve had some sort of cosmetic surgery. That number seems low and I wonder if people lied— not sure how they gathered this data.
But I think it’s important to think about as we read Michelle’s story. Her mother’s preoccupation with appearance definitely influenced their relationship and how Michelle viewed herself. Our daughters (and sons) are watching us and they pick up on what’s important. We’re sending them a message when we show them what’s most important to us. Looks are fleeting. Beauty the way the world defines it is fleeting and largely unattainable. I hope the legacy I leave for my kids is not about how much time I spent in the mirror or money I spent on the newest creams to stay looking young.
Lastly, I have to reflect on this quote from her book:
“My mother’s lack of purpose seemed more and more an oddity, suspect, even anti-feminist. That my care played such a principal role in her life was a vocation I naively condemned, rebuffing the intensive, invisible labor as the errand work of a housewife who’d neglected to develop a passion or a practical skill set. It wasn’t until years later that I began to understand what it meant to make a home and just how much I had taken mine for granted.”
I’m glad she realized the error in her thinking, but the sentiment she voiced is one that is common in at least America and as a stay-at-home mom, it’s one I’m always up against. To be a mom and spend your time caring for your children is seen as a giving up on your dreams and even a giving up on your ‘true identity.’ To be a mom is to ‘lose yourself.’
And I think that’s a straight up lie.
Being a mom is a sacrifice. We give up a lot of ourselves— our time, our energy, our money— to do what’s best for our children. That doesn’t make me less of a person or less of a woman. It doesn’t mean I lack skills or ambition. And to care for our children is far more meaningful than mere ‘errand work.’
Apparently in the world today, a woman is more of a woman when they look and act more like a man. It’s so backwards to think that a mom caring for her child is anti-feminist. Like what? That’s literally what our bodies were designed to do. That’s about as feminist as you can get. Well, if your definition of feminism is that you believe in the value of women instead of a definition that means women should be like men.
It seems like people today think that in order to view women as being ‘more than just someone who has babies’ we have to lower the role of a stay-at-home mom as something less than. It is true that women can do more than just have babies and care for babies, but let’s not say that as if having and caring for babies is level 1 on the spectrum of success, purpose, and meaning and it’s only up from there.
So I’m glad that Michelle realized that she was naive to think of what her mom did for her was neglecting the ‘real work’ to be found in the world. I hope my kids see what I’ve given them is an ultimate act of love and sacrifice and that I was still my awesome self while doing it. Caring for their eternal souls has been an honor and a privilege and I hope I get to continue doing it for many more years to come!
Recommendation
This is not a book I say definitely read and it’s not a book I say definitely don’t read.
I didn’t hate reading it, but I didn’t love it. It’s not one that will really stick with me or stand out among all the books I read in a year.
However, it’s clear this book has made an impact on a lot of people, so don’t let me keep it from you if it strikes a chord with you. I would venture that people who particularly enjoy ethnic food or could relate to the loss of a parent or being biracial would like this book more than I did.
I’ve also realized what makes a memoir a five star read for me is harder to find than I thought.
[Content Advisory: 16 s-words, 11 f-words; not really any sexual content; there’s a nonsexual bath house scene and mention of sex but nothing described]