Crying in H Mart
Ratings502
Average rating4.2
I cried. I cried so damn much. I just found out that H-Mart is opening up in my city and I will go there and cry too
As the plane descends in the dark into Hong Kong, I greedily finished the final few pages of Michelle Zauner's Crying in H Mart. (It may also interest you to know that the seat belt sign switched off during the second post-credit scene of Eternals on my out-bound flight... serendipity?) “Heartbreaking” “Fascinating” were adjectives printed on the cover but I found myself not entirely clearing the bars despite trying hard to.
Of course, the visceral moments of grief were indeed gut-wrenching. But when blended with the difficulties of navigating a third-cultured identity, almost seemed too stereotypical — perhaps even spoiled.
On one hand it was a beautiful, raw encounter that would resonate with a lot of halpus or overseas-educated Asians. On the other hand, perhaps it was heartbreaking for some other reason — to witness the facets of filial piety and generational trauma manifesting as “too little too late” in Asian kids.
My favourite thing about the read: it totally made me fall in love with Korean food again, the same way watching David Chang cook with his umma did.
PS one thing that really bugged me was that Myeongdong Kyoja was described two times — but only one mentioned the name. Why?
Edit: read other 1-star reviews to sooth my chicken-self and would also agree that it was kinda boring and her husband seemed like a bit of a convenient tool for her (unless a lot of other things have gone unmentioned). Yes memoirs are not really for other's judgement but I can't really see why it's so highly rated.
Both terribly sad and joyful. So glad that I read it. About 100 pages into the book, my family suffered a loss. This book helped me make space for my own complex feeling of grief.
I often pick up books just because they're popular without knowing what they're about, this book was one such case, had I known what I was getting into I would not have picked it up, at least not right now. That being said, it's well written, it's powerful, it stares at grief, family, identity and culture in an honest, raw and vulnerable way and I'm glad I read it even though I wasn't ready for it.
One of the best books I've read in awhile. Warm familiarity of dishes discovered in Korea. Learning of others. Familial bittersweetness. Try not to cry.
I don't like to rate memoirs but this one was so exquisitely and tenderly written that it would feel wrong not to give it 5 stars.
Michelle writes of her experience as a Korean American growing up in a small rural area in Oregon, and of losing her mother to an aggressive pancreatic cancer. She intimately describes how her sometimes turbulent relationship with her mother was deeply intertwined with her culture and it's cuisine, and how after her mother's passing she reconstructs and rediscovers memories of her through Korean food.
I read most of this while listening to the album Michelle wrote (as Japanese Breakfast) while caring for her mother and shortly after her passing, Psychopomp. It was an enchanting experience and I wish that all books could be accompanied by such a beautiful soundtrack.
Her writing navigates the mother daughter relationship with intimate and heart wrenching nuance. The love between Michelle and her mother is palpable, and all that is unsaid between them excruciatingly honest.
Michelle also grapples with her identity and explores the feelings of alienation and inadequacy she experiences within both of her cultures with agonising vulnerability. For most of her life Michelle's mother is what tethered her to her Korean heritage, and this loss therefore left her feeling unentitled to this part of herself.
This powerfully evocative memoir radiates with love, grief, vulnerability, and connection. It left me feeling tender and intensely moved. Call your mum and tell her you love her, and read this book.
Prachtig boek. Een boek over verdriet, rouw, en verlies, en een zoektocht naar identiteit. Heel lyrisch geschreven maar tegelijkertijd vol met humor. Het begin was een beetje herhaling maar dat gaat al snel weg.
Do get ready to cry !!!!
Can a story be heartbreaking and mouth-watering at the same time? Michelle Zauner's memoir about the connections she made with her mother through traditional Korean food definitely qualifies as both. As a child and rebellious adolescent, Michelle resented the fact that her Umma wasn't like the other moms; she yelled at Michelle when she got hurt, and she rarely praised her. Yet when Umma was diagnosed with terminal cancer, 25 year old Michelle cared for her, cooked for her, and then mourned her. After her passing, Michelle continued to use food to feel attached to her mother and her Korean heritage. The book's pages are full of descriptions of Korean meals that balance out the grim chapters detailing Umma's final days.
I'm not sure what possessed me to read this memoir about the death of the author's mother at the same time that I am watching my own mother approaching the last stages of dementia. I guess I wanted validation that grief takes many forms, and that there are multiple ways to honor those who imperfectly raised us with love.
I've been wanting to read Michelle Zauner's debut memoir for a while and I'm very, very happy to have finally read it. As a casual Japanese Breakfast listener, I didn't know what to expect going into it. I actually found it to be more interesting that it focuses more on her life rather than her music career. I found her story about her coming up and her relationship to her mother to be very heartbreaking and captivating. Her cathartic experience of cooking and food as a connection point between her and her mother was very descriptive and beautifully written (emphasis on beautiful) in a very graceful way. Its subject matter covers on loss and death so although its page length is light, the subject matter itself can be quite heavy (but not all heavy). “Crying in H Mart” is absolutely a must read for me and it's right up there with Tegan and Sara Quin's “High School” as one of my favorite memoirs. After reading, it definitely makes me appreciate Zauner more as a writer and makes me want to listen to her music a lot more now.
Un livre touchant, mais souvent très confus, qui passe beaucoup trop de temps dans des détails pour moi.
Je comprends la logique qui dit qu'une personne est une somme de détails, d'habitudes, mais le bouquin tourne en rond après la première moitié.
Sure there were some good bits, but Idk why, I just never managed to really get into this book.
This being a memoir and quite a personal book I'm not sure what to comment on. I enjoyed reading this and getting to know about her relationship with her mother. It made me think about my relationship with my mother and explore and think about some aspects I haven't thought about or considered before.
This books was well outside of my comfort zone and I am so glad I gave this a try.
A beautifully written memoir. Although it tackles quite heavy topics like grief, loss of a loved one, identity etc., the writing flows smoothly, enabling an easy enough read. I find it brave of the writer to share incredibly raw and intimate details close to her heart, open to all sorts of criticism, yet she does it, pouring her soul out into this memoir. A word of advice - read this when you're not hungry.
I wouldn't normally read a grief memoir. There has just been too much sadness in the world of late. What I appreciated about Michelle's hand in dealing with the loss of her mother was the relation to food. Her description of meals with her family were mouth-watering. There were some notable exceptions, but I'll let you find out for yourself.
I don't know how to review a book like this. I've been torn apart by images of naked, bleeding grief bookended by descriptions of kimchi and the best noodle broths. Impossible how Zauner sways so easily between joyous memories and the still fresh pain of losing her mother. Hoping someday I have half the strength to love like she does.
4.5 stars. I entered this memoir knowing nothing about it, so I sometimes found it triggering as it's about the loss of Zauner's mother to cancer and all of the emotions that come with that, and it's talks a lot about food too. I do recommend.
Such a lovely and heartfelt story about growing up Korean in America and familial relationships. I saw so much of Michelle's relationship with her mother in my own experiences, and was deeply moved by this story.
The words, the prose - the way that Michelle Zauner is able to dive into her own feelings and echo the collective meaning of our relationships to our own mothers. This is a book I am glad I read prior to being a parent - I found here lessons, that felt so relatable on what the relationship to your kids is going to be - and what they'll take away from being a part of you and you a part of them.
Though it felt like reading a personal diary at most, but it was beautifully written. I cried, smiled and chuckled, felt related to a couple of moments shared between mother and daughter.
4.5/5
Really wonderful memoir about growing up as a Korean-American woman, about connecting to her Korean heritage, and most of all about her (often complicated) relationship with her mother.
Crying in H Mart won the 2021 Goodread Choice Awards for Memoir & Autobiography.
This is a hard book to rate and review as it is such a personal account from Michelle Zauner to the point I was sometimes thinking “Am I supposed to be reading this?”
This is a story about family and grief, the search for connections, validation, and identity.
Michelle beautifully tells us about her relationship with her mother while growing up, their fights and friction points and her last days alive.
I felt privileged to be able to read these episodes of Michelle's life, as well as her love story. I wish there was a little less food involved, hence the 4 stars. Yet again, be advised that I was suffering with stomach flu while reading which may have negatively affected the experience.
I definitely recommend the reading.
“What we're looking for isn't available at Trader Joe's. H Mart is where your people gather under one odorous roof, full of faith that they'll find something they can't find anywhere else.”
The author relates her story about growing up Korean American in a way that anyone, of any background, can find something in. She grew up in Oregon to a demanding mother, struck out on her own after troubled teenage years, and then returns to care for the same mom as she's fighting cancer. It's an honest look at self-image, grief, and identity that I absolutely loved to read.
Her way of writing was stellar even as she described the many different faces of grief and loss, and while I don't really cry from books, this one brought me close. And, I know this is a weird thing to bring up in a sober review like this, but the food descriptions? Like, 5 stars, easy. 6 stars. All the stars.
Highly recommend giving this a read. Incredibly moving, incredibly powerful.