Crying in H Mart
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This memoir is a very personal reflection on the death of Michelle Zauner’s mother at age 56. Zauner is the lead singer and songwriter of Japanese Breakfast, and while the writing is strong in its own right, I do think that her fame propelled the book into a level of success that it wouldn’t have hit otherwise.
The tone of the book is obviously sad, but it didn’t usher in a nonstep cryfest that I expected. If you’re closer to the subject (death of a parent, cancer diagnosis, etc.), you might feel differently. Instead, I read it more as an ode. Zauner writes about grief very relatably, describing the shock of the diagnosis, the surrealness of the rapid decline, and the messy aftermath of her death. She doesn’t rewrite the past, trying to make her mom sound like an angel. Instead, she spoke intimately of their relationship, the good and the bad, speculating on the reasons behind some of her mom’s choices based on hindsight vision. I imagine it was probably difficult for her to speak about both parents so vulnerably and candidly. You don’t want to talk ill of the dead but you also don’t want to pretend like they were something they weren’t.
One thing that I appreciate about this memoir is that there’s not a ton of pizzazz. There’s not a bunch of crazy things that happen, like in Educated, The Glass Castle, Running with Scissors, or I'm Glad My Mom Died. I like all of those memoirs, but there’s something refreshing about just reading a slow-paced version of grief that’s more focused on the day-to-day grind.
As a whole, I enjoyed reading this book. Zauner’s writing is very accessible and I see why she’s a successful songwriter. Certain parts irked me but only slightly. For example, she wove a pretty heavy Korean food metaphor throughout, specifically because her mom was so food-focused. At times, this was informative and touching, but sometimes it was heavy-handed and repetitive. I was also occasionally bored of her only child energy. It’s not her fault that she’s an only child, and obviously there’s nothing wrong with it, but there was a degree of woe-is-me self-centeredness. It’s her story to tell, so of course it’s going to revolve around her, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to periodically roll my eyes.
I give Crying in H Mart 4 out of 5 flames. It’s a solid memoir to read, but not the absolute best as far as celebrity memoirs go. If you are looking for top-tier memoir content, I recommend Wild (dead mom gang) or A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius (dead mom and dead dad, double whammy).
