Note: versions of this review are also shared on Goodreads and Instagram.
Crying in H Mart is a heartfelt memoir by Michelle Zauner, a Korean-American musician best known for her indie pop project Japanese Breakfast. Most of the book centers on Zauner’s grappling with the loss of her mother to cancer when Zauner is twenty-five, and the impact this has on her identity. She invites readers into a very vulnerable place as she learns to embrace her heritage and process her grief through family and food.
The story begins with Zauner’s childhood in Eugene, Oregon, where she often felt like an outsider as a mixed-race kid. As she reached adolescence, she fought often with her mother and chafed under her expectations. They did not exactly part on good terms when Zauner moved across the country for college.
Zauner is devastated by her mother’s terminal cancer diagnosis, which comes just as she feels they’ve begun to rebuild their relationship. She’s terrified not just of losing her mother, but of losing her connection to the Korean identity she failed to appreciate as a tween and teen. Now she fights to hold onto the language, experiences, and foods her mother has given her before it’s too late.
I originally picked this up as a book club read. However, Zauner’s writing felt surprisingly relevant to my current fiction project, about a woman grieving a mother she wishes she’d known better. Zauner writes clearly and openly about not only the emotions but all the practical moving pieces one must navigate when a parent dies.
My favorite parts of Crying in H Mart were Zauner’s writing about food. Zauner and her mother always bonded over food, whether prepared at home or enjoyed during their summer visits with family in Korea. It provides a rich emotional throughline. As I read, I recalled my own attempts to connect with my family and heritage through cooking. During the most isolated covid holidays, I turned to my great-grandmother’s recipe box and prepared a traditional German Christmas feast for our household. The familiar flavors were deeply comforting when I felt isolated and unmoored. Zauner’s simple but powerful prose captures this experience perfectly.
As a novelist, I occasionally found myself wanting a little more story or character development. For example, at one point Zauner fixates on her mother’s relationship with a friend who helps care for her during her illness. I think this fixation ends up being more about Zauner herself, and her insecurities about her Korean-ness, or her bond with her mother. However, Zauner’s inclusion of strange quirks in this friend’s behavior and backstory complicate her character. I wasn’t sure what to make of the lack of closure we get around her departure. I would’ve appreciated a little more clarity around this woman’s role in the story.
Likewise, I didn’t feel like I’d gotten to know Zauner’s boyfriend, who would later become her husband, well enough before he became a major part of the story. She makes some big moves in their relationship while under tremendous emotional stress. I hadn’t yet seen enough of him or their relationship on the page to know if this should feel okay.
Overall, I enjoyed this book. Zauner has a knack for telling an unextraordinary story in a way that feels human, relatable, and compelling. Crying in H Mart didn’t blow me away, but I think a lot of readers will find themselves reflected somewhere in her words. I know I did.
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