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A review by hollyrebecca
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
challenging
emotional
hopeful
inspiring
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.5
A beautiful and poignant reflection on how food can bring people together, help us relive memories and give us a sense of belonging. This memoir is so very human in its depiction of complex parent-child relationships through loss and grief.
Michelle grew up in America as the daughter a Korean mother and an American father, struggling with finding and grounding her identity when the features she carries from each parent sets her apart in the others home. This constant struggle to ‘fit’ follows Michelle throughout her tale, her choices to this effect haunting her in many ways, such as her decision in childhood to not learn her mother’s tongue.
As someone who has lost multiple family members to cancer, including one who needed to be air-vacked out of South Korea, this memoir resonated on many levels. From the diagnosis, through treatments, right up until the ending of suffering, I found my own memories reflected in the effects felt by those involved, both physically and mentally.
Despite the melancholy tone, and the knowledge of the inevitable outcome of Michelle’s mother’s sickness, I found myself enraptured by the descriptions of food in this book. I could almost taste the flavour profiles, feel the textures on my tongue, and envision myself making the dishes which Michelle lovingly prepared in memory of her mother. With taste buds tingling, I’ve started to plan a trip to visit my cousin in Seoul, in large part to experience the joys that Michelle and her mother felt from the dishes detailed.
A truly memorable and relatable read.
Michelle grew up in America as the daughter a Korean mother and an American father, struggling with finding and grounding her identity when the features she carries from each parent sets her apart in the others home. This constant struggle to ‘fit’ follows Michelle throughout her tale, her choices to this effect haunting her in many ways, such as her decision in childhood to not learn her mother’s tongue.
As someone who has lost multiple family members to cancer, including one who needed to be air-vacked out of South Korea, this memoir resonated on many levels. From the diagnosis, through treatments, right up until the ending of suffering, I found my own memories reflected in the effects felt by those involved, both physically and mentally.
Despite the melancholy tone, and the knowledge of the inevitable outcome of Michelle’s mother’s sickness, I found myself enraptured by the descriptions of food in this book. I could almost taste the flavour profiles, feel the textures on my tongue, and envision myself making the dishes which Michelle lovingly prepared in memory of her mother. With taste buds tingling, I’ve started to plan a trip to visit my cousin in Seoul, in large part to experience the joys that Michelle and her mother felt from the dishes detailed.
A truly memorable and relatable read.
Graphic: Cancer and Death