"Tastes Like War," by Grace Cho, and "Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning," by Cathy Park Hong

Without setting out to do so, I happened to have recently read three terrific and illuminating books by Korean American women writers, two of them memoirs and one a memoiristic collection of essays. On 7/10/21, I wrote here with praise about one of them, a memoir: “Crying in H Mart,” by Michelle Zauner. Today I will write about the second and third of these books by Korean American women writers. The second, Grace M. Cho’s memoir, “Tastes Like War” (The Feminist Press, 2021) is also about being the child of a Korean-American mother and a white father. Cho’s mother, like Zauner’s mother, had a difficult life in Korea, both being hostesses to American military men in Korea and meeting their white American husbands there. These two mothers also both later had severe mental illnesses, surely at least partly caused by their difficult backgrounds. In both cases, their daughters (the authors) tried to learn more about their lives and their illnesses, and to help their mothers as much as they could. They both found that one way to connect with their mothers was through Korean food: cooking, eating, talking about what the food symbolized, telling stories. There are many touching moments of bonding over food in each book. The two books have much in common. Cho’s book is framed a bit more in academic language and theory than Zauner’s book is, but not in any heavy or ponderous way; the stories and the human connections are predominant in both. The third book by a Korean American woman writer that I read recently is “Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning” (One World, 2020), by Cathy Park Hong. This is a powerful and thought-provoking blend of memoir and ideas about racial identity among Asian Americans, and about the pervasive reminders of one’s difference, as well as of stereotypes and misunderstandings constantly encountered by Asian Americans. The book is erudite, painful, personal – a compelling combination. This author, like the other two, writes often of her parents. One representative and heartbreaking passage speaks of the many times “I have seen my parents condescended to and mocked by white adults” (p. 77) and of the shame she as their daughter always felt when this happened. I turned down more corners of pages in this book than I usually do, by far, and have to restrain myself not to quote excessively here. These three books by Korean-American women are, separately and collectively, absolutely necessary and important to the American conversation about race and identity. They are also, each one, gripping and beautifully written. Highly recommended.

"My Broken Language: A Memoir," by Quiara Alegria Hudes

“My Broken Language: A Memoir” (One World, 2021), by Quiara Alegria Hudes, is a striking book, a beautiful book, an insightful and revealing book. The author writes of her Puerto Rican mother and family, and of growing up in Philadelphia, in a dizzyingly vivid, exuberant style. She writes about family (she has a huge, close family that spills in and out of each other’s homes), culture, language, food, dance, spirituality, ritual, and being a second generation American. The memoir bursts with life and a rich variety of stories, told in a candid tone. It is comic, tragic, and knowing. As Hudes gets older, she begins to write, and is now the author of several plays and musicals, including “In the Heights.” I highly recommend this wonderfully written book.