... powerfully maps a complicated mother-daughter relationship cut much too short.

From the moment we read the opening sentence of Michelle Zauner’s poignant memoir, we’re hooked. It’s a rare gift; Zauner perfectly distills the palpable ache for her mother and wraps her grief in an aromatic conjuring of her mother’s presence.

... a heartfelt, searching memoir.

It is not unusual for a memoir to describe the decline and aftermath of a loved one, and what it means to move on.

Crying in H Mart, much like a song, much like life, offers a kind of circularity.

Likely best known to the public as the singer and guitarist Japanese Breakfast, Zauner spends Crying in H Mart detailing the disorientation that her grief gave rise to, weaving food into her process of mourning. (The book feels particularly, if unintentionally, suited to this period in history, after the past year of accumulated grief.).

[A] refreshingly candid memoir about the trauma of loss, the limits of language and the meals made along the way.

Michelle Zauner’s new book shows that the lauded lyricist of indie-pop band Japanese Breakfast is capable of impressing in longer-form writing.

... what’s apparent to me about Zauner’s musical style is that she has stunning command of opposing emotional dynamics.

... takes the measure of the complex bond and the impassable, yet tender, interval between mother and daughter.

Zauner has brought her masterful songwriting skills to bear in the delicate prose of her memoir, the story of her artistic coming of age and a portrait of her mother’s extraordinary life and early death due to cancer. She deftly braids the story of her mother Chongmi’s life with her own.

... on food, Zauner is deliciously specific.

... this is not a rock-star-gets-book-deal situation, but a thoughtful, well-crafted piece of artwork that we should expect from a renaissance person.

... an exceptionally vivid memoir that deftly explores the complex relationships between culture and family, mothers and daughters. The details of Zauner’s mother’s illness and death, as well as their devastating impact on the author, make for gut-wrenching reading, but it’s hard to put this book down. The author holds nothing back as she navigates her adolescent search to understand her identity, made more complex by her biracial background. She’s particularly open about her evolving relationship with her mother.

Sometimes bibimbap is just bibimbap, a jjigae just a jjigae, but when Zauner reaches for greater meaning in Korean food, her prose dazzles. Her realizations about the variety of processes for making kimchi start off like a literary science lesson.

... terrific.

She casts an unflinching eye to the relationship between herself and her mother, who was highly critical and said shockingly hurtful things to her daughter. She shines a spotlight on her own less-than-perfect behavior as well, revealing, no surprise: a typical mother-daughter relationship, full of hurt and heart-stopping love.

Michelle Zauner's Crying in H Mart is as good as everyone says it is and, yes, it will have you in tears.

... a vibrant, soulful memoir that binds her own belated coming-of-age with her mother’s untimely death, and serves up food, music and, yes, tears alongside insights into identity, grief and the primal intensity of the mother-daughter bond.

Crying in H Mart is not a book strictly about loss and grief nor is it written from a perspective difficult to understand. It is written from one daughter’s perspective—a perspective that is truly honest, heartbreaking, and hilarious at times—that will allow you to relate and realize the preciousness and precariousness of mother-daughter relationships. Zauner’s descriptions of Korean food will leave you hungry for jatjuk (a creamy, comforting Korean pine nut porridge) whereas her relatable recollection of memories with her mother will leave you tearful and appreciative of your own relationship with your mother..

A different kind of triangulation between a mother, a daughter, and food emerges: one in which food is not a mute, docile ornament (often much like the mother herself), but instead a rather lively contributor who loves, challenges, frustrates, and shows off in its own right. Zauner’s descriptions of food are delectable.

The memoir is a moving portrait of her family; the culture and cuisine that she returned to in an effort to reconstruct her life while grieving; and the capacity for grace that we depend on for survival when survival seems impossible.

Readers will sense years of reflection built into every sentence of musician Zauner’s debut memoir.

Zauner captures the total singularity of motherhood in East Asian culture.

The memoir imparts a sense of love which compels me beyond the point of recognizing my own mother in Zauner’s. Rather, it leaves me in awe of how Zauner has also drawn me into mourning the death of her mother.

... an affecting, vivid chronicle of grief.

... stands as [Zauner's] abandoned, all-consuming, grieving cry in response to her mother’s untimely death.

Death is the central subject of Zauner's memoir Crying In H Mart, but the book brims with life.

A poignant memoir about a mother’s love as told through Korean food.

Musician Zauner debuts with an earnest account of her Korean-American upbringing, musical career, and the aftermath of her mother’s death.