I actually think this book, compared to some of the diaspora books I had to suffer through in dreadful book clubs, is pretty decent. Yes, there's too much food involved and seems forced as a theme after a while. Yes, only a wasian could name their book "Crying in H Mart". Yes, it gets exhausting to see someone do CBT in form of a memoir. But it's authentic, true to herself, and not ghostwritten. She is also not just somebody, she is Little Big League, she is Japanese Breakfast. She is a true artist, unlike most authors who write this archetype of memoirs.

I actually avoided reading this book for the longest time. I had too many corny coworkers and annoying people recommend me this book. The title alone had me avoid it for the longest time. Yes, I'm Korean. Then I finally read it.

I did relate to her, I did like parts of the book. But I simply cannot help but think that the entire memoir could have been executed better. I did not really think the food theme should have been the central theme of her book. I think she is simply too interesting as an individual to use ... fucking H Mart as the title of her book. But that's what a memoir is. It's so personal, it's catharsis in the truest sense. It's creating a narrative in your own life. I commend her for writing this book. It's an incredible feat no matter what. To have it resonate with so many people, is another feat. As someone said, being a sell-out is often harder than being the indie princess.

Ok now let me make it about myself as per usual. I notice that Korean-Americans and Korean wasians simply get too fixated on aspects of our culture that are... exportable. It's commentary on culture from an outsider perspective. No, I don't give a fuck if you lived in Seoul for 6 years as a child. You experience it as an outsider, through a looking glass that I call LARP. You view my culture through your American lens, and you inevitably end up talking about your parents or food for 40 paragraphs because that's your entire reference.

And jesus christ, there's literally nothing more boring than someone talking about their parents or their kids. No one cares your ass got beat. So did everyone. Except at least you got beat and have a CS degree from Penn. No one cares your mom put incredible academic pressure on you. So did my cousin and he's working 996 and you're working in an American tech company putting in 20hrs/wk making dollars. No one cares you and your parents couldn't talk about feelings. If it was easy then your psych couldn't get kickbacks off your wellbutrin script to save up for his mortgage down payment.