Crying in H Mart

This was a powerful and moving book. I didn't think that I would find Michelle's story so relatable given my non-Korean heritage and my still-kicking parents; I was caught by surprise with every nostalgic jolt I got each time she'd recall wandering through aisles of foreign food, having people search her face for traces of her heritage, or being resentful of the language barrier (and for not paying more attention in language school). I had no trouble placing myself in her shoes and my reward was a depth of experience and a richness of emotion that I don't often get in the types of books I typically read. As I move forward this will be my gold standard for memoirs, the bar that all others will be measured against.

There is so much stuff in just 256 pages to unpack: there's growing up in the US as an immigrant, finding an identity, and questioning your parents, there's the death of her mother and her mournful journey, and there's her love of music and art and its place her life. What resonated the most for me were the questions of identity. As a son of immigrants, I could really relate to a childhood full of foreign sounds and smells, and tastes; I also remember the looks of relatives and new acquaintances as they searched me for clues of heritage and race. The tales of a rebellious youth that by American standards wasn't very rebellious at all reminded me of my own search for agency and meaning, and how difficult it was for my parents to relate. Michelle Zauner does an incredible job explaining the pressure to be Korean that invaded all facets of her life and identity, the struggle of growing up separated from the society and social mores that her parents adhered to (and in turn now expect her to adhere to) for so much of their lives.

More than anything else this book made me want to hug my mom and spend a weekend eating meals that I desperately need to learn to make. Her connection to her mother through food absolutely rang true for me, and I imagine it rings true for everyone. Her connection to her culture through food was another element that I found myself nodding along in agreement to, what's a Korean without Kimchi and Banchan or an Arab without Hummus and a million little salads. I couldn't help thinking that I am just the same, most of my cultural memory is food related and all my highlights from trips to the motherland are wrapped up in memories of delicious things. This book will if nothing else get you to try a few Korean recipes, some of the meals she describes made my mouth water as I imagined along with her.

TL;DR: It will make you sad and it will make you hungry. Hug your mom and eat her cooking as much as you can while you still can. When the day comes that you can't do those things anymore, the best thing for it, is to make that food for yourself.