I’ve read many books over the years that have made me cry, novels and memoirs both. Few books made me cry while also making me hungry from the incredible depictions of food that tied so closely to the emotional heart of the story. And yet Crying in H Mart had my nose running and stomach rumbling throughout. Written by Michelle Zauner of Japanese Breakfast, Crying in H Mart is a memoir about the cancer diagnosis, failed treatment, and subsequent death of her mother. It is also an introspective deep dive into her relationship with her mom, and her own Korean identity which is tied so closely to that relationship.
The book starts with the diagnosis of her mother, and Zauner’s decision to quit her band and move back home to Eugene, Oregon to be there for chemotherapy. Zauner gives an unflinching look at the reality of aggressive cancer and equally aggressive treatment, and her mom’s terrible reaction to the treatment is heart-wrenching. Zauner is also open about the realities of caregiver fatigue and burnout, the complicated relationships between mothers and daughters, and a thoughtful examination of her life as a Korean-American.
It’s that last aspect that weaves through the entire book, often via descriptions of Korean food. The seemingly endless descriptions of traditional recipes could become overdone in the hands of a lesser writer, but Zauner imbues each scene with emotional resonance. It isn’t *just* that she’s cooking a traditional dish for her aunt, it’s that she’s striving desperately to feel connected to her roots after the death of her mother and to build a stronger relationship with her last living relative. The wedding food isn’t only about the party, but the final celebration of her mother’s life while she is still alive to be appreciated.
Zauner writes about grief honestly and emotionally, and I was crying for large segments of the second half of the book. While I wouldn’t recommend reading this on public transport, I would say that it is a book well worth reading. And, if you’re able to, go hug your mom.