I grew up in the suburbs of Dallas and spent my most formative years at a school with a predominantly white student population. That experience spawned an ugly, unfortunate transformation within me where I felt that I had to mask my “otherness” by copying everyone around me. I learned how to do perfect winged liner to enlarge my eyes, griped about how big my calves were, and was embarrassed to call my mom umma, the Korean word for mom, in front of friends I brought home. I was experiencing a turbulent whirlwind of self-hatred that I wouldn’t be able to understand until much later when I moved to Boston for college. If you’re reading this now and are thinking to yourself, “That’s me! That’s what I went through!” keep reading.
- Emergency Contact by Mary H. K. Choi
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Content warning: This book mentions rape.
I found Choi’s writing to be refreshingly casual — she does an excellent and accurate job of detailing the thought process of a previously sheltered college freshman as she breaks out of her shell. The main character, Penny, is heartbreakingly terrified of being close to others and somehow manages to create a strange online friendship with Sam, her roommate’s former uncle (long story). Choi writes about the dynamic between overbearing Asian mothers and angry daughters, navigating the fine line between wanting to run as fast as you can away from your mother while needing her like a child.
- Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
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Zauner, who makes music under the name Japanese Breakfast, tells her own heartbreaking, horrifying, amazing story about her relationship with her late mother. I actually could not put this book down and stayed up until 6 a.m. to finish it. Her novel is a beautiful testament to her mother’s life while simultaneously detailing their complicated relationship (but isn’t every Asian mother-daughter relationship complicated?). After her mother is diagnosed with cancer, Zauner moves back home to take care of her. She explores feelings of otherness and liminal spaces, trying to learn more about her heritage while mourning the loss of her only connection to it. I loved Zauner’s candidness and felt as if some of my own thoughts were reflected on the page in front of me.
However, I would not recommend this novel to anyone who is currently having strong feelings about their relationship with their mother — I probably cried 20 times while reading it and induced a blinding headache.
- When We Fell Apart by Soon Wiley
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Content warning: This book mentions suicide.
When Min’s girlfriend Yu-jin commits suicide, he takes it upon himself to find out the real reason why since there were no warning signs — she was smart, dedicated, and weeks away from graduating from one of Seoul’s top universities. Wiley’s writing is slow-paced, bouncing between a murder mystery and a fascinating description of the culture in Seoul. Min’s perspective allows a sharp look into life in between two cultures, always being too much of something and not enough of the other. Yu-jin’s perspective shows what happens when a parent oversteps and doesn’t allow their child to dream. This book is a heavy read at times and too frivolous at others, but it is important because it explores topics that can be the unfortunate truth for some living in Korea.
I’ve been trying to be more intentional with my reading choices lately and have been seeking out authors that I know I’ll resonate with. These books helped me feel comforted during times when I needed reassurance that I was not alone. Nothing compares to the relief you feel when you see your most secret, innermost thoughts and feelings reflected on the page in front of you, knowing you’re not some sort of freakish outcast with unrelatable experiences. It almost makes me want to be an author — until I remember how torturous writing every English essay is for me.
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