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Umma's Table
The joy of food and tradition unites a family faltering in the face of illness and loss
Madang is an artist and new father who moves to a quiet home in the countryside with his wife and young baby, excited to build a new life full of hope and joy, complete with a garden and even snow. But soon reality sets in and his attention is divided between his growing happy family and his impoverished parents back in Seoul in a dingy basement apartment. With an ailing mother in and out of the hospital and an alcoholic father, Madang struggles to overcome the exhaustion and frustration of trying to be everything all at a good son, devoted father, and loving husband.
To cope, he finds himself reminiscing about their family meals together, particularly his mother's kimchi, a traditional dish that is prepared by the family and requires months of fermentation. Memories of his mother's glorious cooking―so good it would prompt a young Madang and his brother into song―soothe the family. With her impending death, Madang races to learn her recipes and bring together the three generations at the family table while it's still possible. This is a beautiful and thoughtful meditation on how the kitchen and communal cooking―in the past, present, and future―bind a family together amidst the inevitable.
Madang is an artist and new father who moves to a quiet home in the countryside with his wife and young baby, excited to build a new life full of hope and joy, complete with a garden and even snow. But soon reality sets in and his attention is divided between his growing happy family and his impoverished parents back in Seoul in a dingy basement apartment. With an ailing mother in and out of the hospital and an alcoholic father, Madang struggles to overcome the exhaustion and frustration of trying to be everything all at a good son, devoted father, and loving husband.
To cope, he finds himself reminiscing about their family meals together, particularly his mother's kimchi, a traditional dish that is prepared by the family and requires months of fermentation. Memories of his mother's glorious cooking―so good it would prompt a young Madang and his brother into song―soothe the family. With her impending death, Madang races to learn her recipes and bring together the three generations at the family table while it's still possible. This is a beautiful and thoughtful meditation on how the kitchen and communal cooking―in the past, present, and future―bind a family together amidst the inevitable.
360 pages, Paperback
First published May 30, 2015
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1095 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 141 reviews
October 31, 2020
There is a point in your life, perhaps it's when you have your first child, when you can better reflect on how you were raised. How love was shown in your home and what you carry with you as you build your own future.
Here our protagonist Madang has found himself a new home in a quiet rural outpost, but finds himself shuttling back home to Seoul to take care of his ailing mother. Navigating doctors, an alcoholic layabout of a father, and a somewhat resigned mother, Madang finds comfort in his rural garden and food. He reflects warmly about his mother's cooking and carries that love to his own family.
It's a simple story with pared down line art that turns our characters into anthropomorphized cats that nonetheless delivers a familiar gut punch of reconciling your past, actively turning from your parents to carve out your own space in life to the feelings of duty that come as they age. Wrestling with the economies of care, feelings of desperation and trying to find a way forward amidst the mess.
Here our protagonist Madang has found himself a new home in a quiet rural outpost, but finds himself shuttling back home to Seoul to take care of his ailing mother. Navigating doctors, an alcoholic layabout of a father, and a somewhat resigned mother, Madang finds comfort in his rural garden and food. He reflects warmly about his mother's cooking and carries that love to his own family.
It's a simple story with pared down line art that turns our characters into anthropomorphized cats that nonetheless delivers a familiar gut punch of reconciling your past, actively turning from your parents to carve out your own space in life to the feelings of duty that come as they age. Wrestling with the economies of care, feelings of desperation and trying to find a way forward amidst the mess.
January 4, 2021
The second (manhwa, or Korean manga) I have read from Korean Yeon-Sik Hong, the first being Uncomfortably Happily, which also could be the title of this also pretty long (360 page) volume. I'll explain. This book features a guy, this time named Madeng, who has moved with his wife and child to the countryside (which is something the young couple also did in Uncomfortably Happily). The move from city to country is a hopeful one: Cleaner air, more space, more sky, new family, new beginnings. And Madeng can plant a garden!
So everything looks like it's coming of roses. . . until it's not: Madeng's mother is in and out of the hospital, and his father is also in decline, exacerbated by alcoholism. So this happy story suddenly becomes something many of us face, one of how adult children have to turn to support their aging, declining parents.
So the story goes from sweet to bittersweet, though it's not what I expected, actually. But one thing worth sharing that isn't spoilerish is that Madeng takes the opportunity of the health struggles to reflect back on the great meals his mother used to make, so his doubling down on the garden also becomes a kind of reflection on the relationship between food and family. What is a family, and how does it develop? What do you owe all the members of that family as struggles ensue? Ultimately this is a sweet and powerful graphic novel!
Oh, and in this book the characters are all anthropomorphic cats, which as with Art Spiegelman's Maus does not undermine the emotional impact of the story. It actually seems to add a layer of intimacy, in a way. For a positive story (that could also be titled Uncomfortably Happily but is maybe even a bit happier, ultimately, in some ways) of family in these tough, stuck-in-the-house-with-family times, I recommend this book.
So everything looks like it's coming of roses. . . until it's not: Madeng's mother is in and out of the hospital, and his father is also in decline, exacerbated by alcoholism. So this happy story suddenly becomes something many of us face, one of how adult children have to turn to support their aging, declining parents.
So the story goes from sweet to bittersweet, though it's not what I expected, actually. But one thing worth sharing that isn't spoilerish is that Madeng takes the opportunity of the health struggles to reflect back on the great meals his mother used to make, so his doubling down on the garden also becomes a kind of reflection on the relationship between food and family. What is a family, and how does it develop? What do you owe all the members of that family as struggles ensue? Ultimately this is a sweet and powerful graphic novel!
Oh, and in this book the characters are all anthropomorphic cats, which as with Art Spiegelman's Maus does not undermine the emotional impact of the story. It actually seems to add a layer of intimacy, in a way. For a positive story (that could also be titled Uncomfortably Happily but is maybe even a bit happier, ultimately, in some ways) of family in these tough, stuck-in-the-house-with-family times, I recommend this book.
April 22, 2021
Sequel, not sequel.
This seems like a direct follow-up to Uncomfortably Happily, but suddenly all the people are cats and have different names. That may have something to do with the fact that the author is no longer writing about just him and his wife, branching out to the miserable lives of his aging and quickly deteriorating parents.
So, "Madang" lives in the countryside with his wife and newborn son. He spends his day parenting, fixing up the rental property, gardening, doing housework, and cooking all the meals. He also makes frequent drives into Seoul to check on his mother, who has a heart condition, taking her to medical appointments and the pharmacy and making sure she is exercising and eating healthy. He worries that she lives in a tiny underground apartment with the alcoholic father he resents and avoids.
Much of the book is spent contrasting the growing and blossoming life in the countryside from the wilting and decaying life in the big city. Madang actively works to keep the two separated, rarely taking his wife and child along on his runs to the city and never bringing either of his parents out to his house. Heavy compartmentalization at work.
Throughout the book, though, his cooking at home entwines him with memories of his mother as he copies her recipes and remembers the happiness she visibly projected while cooking for him and his brother.
The book has a slow start, but I found myself drawn into small dramas of caregiving, health crises, and mixed emotions children can have about their aging parents and appreciated that Madang, who is a bit of an ass really, at least has some insights about himself and demonstrates some personal growth.
I am bothered though by the self-centered nature Madang's marriage, with his unnamed wife serving as little more than a sounding board for his thoughts. And he presents himself as doing almost everything around the house in addition to all he does for his parents while all she seems to do is lie around and breastfeed. Unless you have read and can connect this book to Uncomfortably Happily, you don't find out until deep in the story that she, like Madang, works from home as an artist. Even his mother, the heart of the story, is reduced to her role as "Mom" or "Mrs. Bae." Only Madang, his son, and his brother get first names in the story because that's a male privilege, I guess. (And yes, this is a pet peeve of mine because it seems moms and wives go unnamed in so many stories and books.)
This seems like a direct follow-up to Uncomfortably Happily, but suddenly all the people are cats and have different names. That may have something to do with the fact that the author is no longer writing about just him and his wife, branching out to the miserable lives of his aging and quickly deteriorating parents.
So, "Madang" lives in the countryside with his wife and newborn son. He spends his day parenting, fixing up the rental property, gardening, doing housework, and cooking all the meals. He also makes frequent drives into Seoul to check on his mother, who has a heart condition, taking her to medical appointments and the pharmacy and making sure she is exercising and eating healthy. He worries that she lives in a tiny underground apartment with the alcoholic father he resents and avoids.
Much of the book is spent contrasting the growing and blossoming life in the countryside from the wilting and decaying life in the big city. Madang actively works to keep the two separated, rarely taking his wife and child along on his runs to the city and never bringing either of his parents out to his house. Heavy compartmentalization at work.
Throughout the book, though, his cooking at home entwines him with memories of his mother as he copies her recipes and remembers the happiness she visibly projected while cooking for him and his brother.
The book has a slow start, but I found myself drawn into small dramas of caregiving, health crises, and mixed emotions children can have about their aging parents and appreciated that Madang, who is a bit of an ass really, at least has some insights about himself and demonstrates some personal growth.
I am bothered though by the self-centered nature Madang's marriage, with his unnamed wife serving as little more than a sounding board for his thoughts. And he presents himself as doing almost everything around the house in addition to all he does for his parents while all she seems to do is lie around and breastfeed. Unless you have read and can connect this book to Uncomfortably Happily, you don't find out until deep in the story that she, like Madang, works from home as an artist. Even his mother, the heart of the story, is reduced to her role as "Mom" or "Mrs. Bae." Only Madang, his son, and his brother get first names in the story because that's a male privilege, I guess. (And yes, this is a pet peeve of mine because it seems moms and wives go unnamed in so many stories and books.)
December 8, 2024
5☆ I loved this book. Amazing. Highly recommended.
Watch some comments about the book here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hh5Ow...
Watch some comments about the book here - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hh5Ow...
February 3, 2021
Madang is a cartoonist and new father who moves to the countryside with his wife and young son. He's excited to live in a quiet little town where they have space for a garden and a chicken coop, but he is constantly having to drive back into Seoul to care for his parents, whose health is rapidly declining. Madang loves his mother and strives to recreate many of the healthy, home-cooked meals she made in his childhood for his own son. He has a much more challenging relationship with his father, an abusive alcoholic who he had cut out of his life earlier, but now pities. At home, Madang's world is full of new life, growth, busy days, creative pursuits- while his parent's days are empty, and they both seem to have lost a will to live. Madang and his brother struggle to pay the mounting hospital bills and mentally prepare to lose one or both of their parents within the year. The cold, uncomfortable hospital halls are a stark contrast to the richly drawn, detailed nature scenes. I liked how the artist placed with scale- when he feels overwhelmed, he often shrinks down to a few inches high while his problems loom over him.
September 26, 2020
Beautiful and sad. The characters may look like anthropomorphic cats but the story hit me in the gut. I really appreciated the craftmanship displayed in the drawings and the way the seasons wind their way through everything. The book also boosted my desire to have a garden to grow my own food and planted the idea of making a year's worth of kimchi...
August 4, 2021
The best thing that I read this early month. 😭😭I cried in the last 50-pages. Cerita nya agak slow diawal dan mungkin agak membosankan, but the more pages to go the more story going interesting and giving you goosebumps. 😭😭
"How did mom cook up all those dishes from her tiny kitchen? for so many years? Umma's table was bigger than the kitchen itself."
"How did mom cook up all those dishes from her tiny kitchen? for so many years? Umma's table was bigger than the kitchen itself."
April 11, 2020
I cried through the final fifty pages of this. It's the kind of difficult that's worth reading in its treatment of aging parents and adult children.
Full review eventually appearing on ANN.
Full review eventually appearing on ANN.
July 22, 2020
Sometimes you read a book at just the right time in your life.
I read The Perks of Being a Wallflower during a critical time as a teenager. I read Fight Club as a young man dealing with anger toward society. I read Invisible Man while I struggled to define my identity. Now I've read Umma's Table while I have a young family, again defining who I am and what I want my future to look like.
This is a semi-autobiographical look at Yeon-Sik Hong's early married life, he and his partner moving into a new home with a new baby. The character Madang is Hong, and he finds himself at a kind of crossroads. While trying to establish himself as an artist, and while trying to establish his new family in their new home, Madang also has to deal with his ailing parents. Despite their relatively young age, Madang's mom and dad are in poor health. His mother is overweight with heart disease, and his father is a cruel alcoholic.
The story is told through seasons, the baby growing ever older, the house coming together piece by piece. Central to this passage of time is the home's garden. Madang and his wife create a vegetable garden, plant seeds, watch the plants grow, and harvest the fruit and vegetables for home cooking. As these changes occur, however, Madang's mother begins to have more and more health problems. The result is a tale of Madang striking a balance of supporting his parents while also taking care of his own family.
There are many insights that result from this juggling of duties. Madang feels torn, tormented, and frustrated--at his parents' inability to care for themselves, to make better choices for their own health, at his time being divided, at a potential future where his son does not know his grandparents, at the cost of mounting medical costs. How Madang responds to these struggles is relatable and understandable, and his devotion to his mother is heartbreaking and admirable. When emotions peak within the story, Hong introduces flashbacks that add depth to the feelings. The added texture elevates the narrative.
What elevates the story even more is the inclusion of food and cooking. Thematically, this story is about establishing one's own family apart from the family one is born into. Cooking then is used as a metaphor for the connections we have with one another, but it also represents self-reliance. Madang reminisces about eating his mother's homemade dishes and sauces. As an adult, Madang tries to emulate the meals, showing a transition from dependence to independence. This symbolism is stretched to other aspects of family life, but I don't want to go into much more detail to avoid spoiling anything. How it's used, though, is beautiful and tender and melancholic.
That melancholy persists throughout the story. Scenes of joy butt up against scenes of sadness, but there is always a sense of persistence--that the family just needs to get over the next big hurdle to regain normalcy. And hurdle after hurdle comes. One of my core takeaways was Madang's realization that he needs to be sure not to repeat his parents' errors. Seeing how his life is affected by his parents empowers him to choose a better life for himself and his son. He's not perfect about it, and sometimes he relies to much on his wife, but that human imperfection is something that makes this work more powerful than it might otherwise be.
This isn't a depressing story overall though, despite what I'm writing here. There is sadness throughout, but there is also hope and determination. Hong has written a great story here, and I'm glad to have found it, read it, and enjoyed it.
5/5
I read The Perks of Being a Wallflower during a critical time as a teenager. I read Fight Club as a young man dealing with anger toward society. I read Invisible Man while I struggled to define my identity. Now I've read Umma's Table while I have a young family, again defining who I am and what I want my future to look like.
This is a semi-autobiographical look at Yeon-Sik Hong's early married life, he and his partner moving into a new home with a new baby. The character Madang is Hong, and he finds himself at a kind of crossroads. While trying to establish himself as an artist, and while trying to establish his new family in their new home, Madang also has to deal with his ailing parents. Despite their relatively young age, Madang's mom and dad are in poor health. His mother is overweight with heart disease, and his father is a cruel alcoholic.
The story is told through seasons, the baby growing ever older, the house coming together piece by piece. Central to this passage of time is the home's garden. Madang and his wife create a vegetable garden, plant seeds, watch the plants grow, and harvest the fruit and vegetables for home cooking. As these changes occur, however, Madang's mother begins to have more and more health problems. The result is a tale of Madang striking a balance of supporting his parents while also taking care of his own family.
There are many insights that result from this juggling of duties. Madang feels torn, tormented, and frustrated--at his parents' inability to care for themselves, to make better choices for their own health, at his time being divided, at a potential future where his son does not know his grandparents, at the cost of mounting medical costs. How Madang responds to these struggles is relatable and understandable, and his devotion to his mother is heartbreaking and admirable. When emotions peak within the story, Hong introduces flashbacks that add depth to the feelings. The added texture elevates the narrative.
What elevates the story even more is the inclusion of food and cooking. Thematically, this story is about establishing one's own family apart from the family one is born into. Cooking then is used as a metaphor for the connections we have with one another, but it also represents self-reliance. Madang reminisces about eating his mother's homemade dishes and sauces. As an adult, Madang tries to emulate the meals, showing a transition from dependence to independence. This symbolism is stretched to other aspects of family life, but I don't want to go into much more detail to avoid spoiling anything. How it's used, though, is beautiful and tender and melancholic.
That melancholy persists throughout the story. Scenes of joy butt up against scenes of sadness, but there is always a sense of persistence--that the family just needs to get over the next big hurdle to regain normalcy. And hurdle after hurdle comes. One of my core takeaways was Madang's realization that he needs to be sure not to repeat his parents' errors. Seeing how his life is affected by his parents empowers him to choose a better life for himself and his son. He's not perfect about it, and sometimes he relies to much on his wife, but that human imperfection is something that makes this work more powerful than it might otherwise be.
This isn't a depressing story overall though, despite what I'm writing here. There is sadness throughout, but there is also hope and determination. Hong has written a great story here, and I'm glad to have found it, read it, and enjoyed it.
5/5
July 18, 2020
This was a beautiful and humbling comic. Yeon-Sik Hong has made a soulful comic about mortality, family, food, and the ways in which we build and grow our lives with what we have and what we choose to do with it. Though mostly about the disease which is slowly killing his mother Hong also shows his life with his own immediate family and the daily routines and struggles that come with balancing work and family while tending to an elder relative. Hong's pages are gorgeous and even in their most minimal he's shows true form as an amazing cartoonist. His linework alone had me drooling through most of the book.
I don't know what else to say really. This book made me feel so much and I can't wait to read more of Hong's work in the future.
Oh yeah also everybody are cats, that's a thing.
I don't know what else to say really. This book made me feel so much and I can't wait to read more of Hong's work in the future.
Oh yeah also everybody are cats, that's a thing.
November 22, 2020
The storytelling in this felt reminiscent of slice-of-life kdramas, which I love, and it felt so vulnerable yet meditative and calming. Not surprisingly, it made me tear up as well. Although, I can't help but wish to spend a bit more time with the mourning main character and see him come to terms with everything for a longer while.
I thought that I won't be able to connect with graphic novels after reading On A Sunbeam and feeling amazed but not too invested but this totally won me over! Highly recommend! The story is well written and drawn and I definitely plan on checking out the author's other work in the future.
(P.s. a huge thanks to my friend Emilija for unexpectedly finding and gifting me this gem!)
I thought that I won't be able to connect with graphic novels after reading On A Sunbeam and feeling amazed but not too invested but this totally won me over! Highly recommend! The story is well written and drawn and I definitely plan on checking out the author's other work in the future.
(P.s. a huge thanks to my friend Emilija for unexpectedly finding and gifting me this gem!)
October 31, 2020
Fantastic exploration of family. Of loss and growth. Of raising kids and losing parents and what it takes to truly appreciate what those who came before sacrificed to help us live the life we lead.
I enjoyed Uncomfortably Happily as well but feel like Umma’s Table improves on the things that I didn’t like as much in the previous book. Much more focused and full of emotion, Yeon-Sik Hong is able to weave the story of cooking, gardening and raising kids with the regret of not being able to do more for aging parents. Equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking, I can easily recommend this book to everyone.
I enjoyed Uncomfortably Happily as well but feel like Umma’s Table improves on the things that I didn’t like as much in the previous book. Much more focused and full of emotion, Yeon-Sik Hong is able to weave the story of cooking, gardening and raising kids with the regret of not being able to do more for aging parents. Equal parts heartwarming and heartbreaking, I can easily recommend this book to everyone.
October 1, 2020
Absolutely devastating and heart-wrenching but made palpable from the very sweet illustration. I adored the style of this and couldn't put it down, despite it spiraling me into fear of the mortality of myself/parents and staring quietly into space as I thought about my parents' marriage.
January 26, 2021
Why are they cats? Who cares. It doesn't matter. Don't ask. Frankly, you stop noticing almost immediately.
A sincere, simple story of being a parent and a child. I loved the author's first book, Uncomfortably Happily, and I'll be excited to read his next one. Don't let the aesthetics put you off; despite the cats on the cover it's a very human story.
A sincere, simple story of being a parent and a child. I loved the author's first book, Uncomfortably Happily, and I'll be excited to read his next one. Don't let the aesthetics put you off; despite the cats on the cover it's a very human story.
June 18, 2021
3.5
oh wow can this artist draw plants and food - so many glorious wide scenes of his garden in different seasons.
I also like how he drew humans as vaguely cat-people; he really did manage to blend a human face and a cat face without it looking too uncanny. Also, it made me laugh when he would put in an actual cat.
The most impressive bits were when he used visual metaphors - often of planets - to illustrate how he feels about how close he wants to be with his family. The main tension of this book was about how he yearns to be independent and free of his ailing mother and alcoholic father, but at the same time knows he should be taking care of his parents. Some of the scenes around this theme were a little repetitive, I felt. But overall, a good graphic novel!
oh wow can this artist draw plants and food - so many glorious wide scenes of his garden in different seasons.
I also like how he drew humans as vaguely cat-people; he really did manage to blend a human face and a cat face without it looking too uncanny. Also, it made me laugh when he would put in an actual cat.
The most impressive bits were when he used visual metaphors - often of planets - to illustrate how he feels about how close he wants to be with his family. The main tension of this book was about how he yearns to be independent and free of his ailing mother and alcoholic father, but at the same time knows he should be taking care of his parents. Some of the scenes around this theme were a little repetitive, I felt. But overall, a good graphic novel!
January 16, 2021
4.5 Stars!
I can’t help but notice that so many South Korean books seem to have a dystopic or post-apocalyptic feel about them, many of them matching the many memoirs from their neighbours from the North in terms of misery, despair and depression.
Many fine graphic artists from Spiegelman to Jason have relied on the animals as people in their work to good effect, and it works really nicely in here too, adding a disarming softness that might otherwise be hard to get across. There was a lot to like about this, not least the delicious sounding food.
Although many dark subjects appear in here and some deeply emotional moments surface, there is an unmistakeable positivity and optimism that comes through, making this a surprisingly feel good read. There were times when I thought this was a beautiful book. This is yet another fine addition to the delightful batch of graphic memoirs which have come out of South Korea recently.
June 5, 2022
Shaking, crying, AND throwing up (repeatedly)
January 30, 2022
This one made me cry… an autobiographical (catified!!) story of a comic artist making a home with his wife and young son, while being continuously pulled back by his parents and the home he left behind. I love the seriousness of this, somehow he balances tragic, real-world problems with cute cat character designs and every food drawing made me hungry.
September 3, 2017
Un bon 3,5+ même.
May 18, 2021
Yeon-sik Hong just about broke my heart with this story of a young man balancing his dream life and his new family with the trials of caring for his ailing mother and alcoholic father.
April 29, 2020
Świeżynka z D&Q. Drugi wydany na zachodzie komiks koreańskiego autora Yeon-Sik Honga. Druga część rodzinnej trylogii, lecz tak naprawdę zamknięta historia, którą można czytać osobno. Ucieczka na wieś po narodzinach syna, uczenie się funkcjonowania w nowym miejscu, próba pogodzenia własnego życia rodzinnego i euforii z tym związanej z opieką nad starzejącymi się rodzicami, a ponad tym wszystkim kult przygotowywania i celebrowania posiłków mocno osadzony w kulturze koreańskiej. Wielowątkowe i poruszające. Uwagi i opisy przyrządzania posiłków kojarzyły mi się z wtrętami na temat kultury japońskiej z "Usagi Yojimbo", a dodatkowo urzekała delikatnie wrzucana co jakiś czas metaforyka, co najlepiej widać w pierwszych kadrach, gdy podróżując do nowego domu bohaterowie zaczynają unosić się nad ziemią i frunąć samochodem. Bardzo dobra rzecz, "Uncomfortably Happily" tego autora wędruje na szczyt wishlisty
March 5, 2022
umma's table relies on chapter-long vignettes to paint – or, rather, illustrate – a roundabout portrait of madang's existence as he struggles to balance his career, his commitment to his wife and newborn son, and his caretaking responsibilities for his aging parents. he strives to keep each of these selves independent, and seldom self-examines that choice, which betrayed my expectations for his character arc. i was also dismayed to see him position himself as the sole steward of his kid – consider me skeptical that his wife, who remains unnamed, truly takes on zero child-rearing responsibilities outside of breastfeeding – especially given the author seems to see madang as the anthropomorphic cat representation of himself. however, his drawings of communal cooking and multigenerational meals warmed me. the medical/emotional plight of madang's mother, too, pulled on my heartstrings, and left me curious about the hospital and housing systems of seoul.
April 5, 2020
Umma's Table eli "Äidin pöytä" on sarjakuva äidin rakkaudesta, ruoasta ja vanhuudesta. Madang on perheenisä, joka muuttaa maalle vaimonsa ja vastasyntyneen lapsensa kanssa. Kaupungin halpaan kellariasuntoon jäävät Madangin huonokuntoinen äiti ja alkoholisti-isä. Madang yrittää iloita uudesta asuinympäristöstä, mutta huoli vanhemmista kalvaa. Kuinka tasapainotella hankalassa tilanteessa?
Parasta tässä sarjakuvateoksessa olivat ruoka-asiat ♡ Äidin ja toisaalta Madangin rakkaus perhettään kohtaan näkyy tuoksuvina ruokina, jotka pulputtelevat kattilassa ja sihisevät pöydässä. Tarina on koskettava ja varmasti moni löytää siitä tuttuja pohdintoja. Miinuksena piirroshahmojen samankaltaisuus, sillä välillä en tiennyt, onko hahmo nuori Madang vai hänen poikansa.
Parasta tässä sarjakuvateoksessa olivat ruoka-asiat ♡ Äidin ja toisaalta Madangin rakkaus perhettään kohtaan näkyy tuoksuvina ruokina, jotka pulputtelevat kattilassa ja sihisevät pöydässä. Tarina on koskettava ja varmasti moni löytää siitä tuttuja pohdintoja. Miinuksena piirroshahmojen samankaltaisuus, sillä välillä en tiennyt, onko hahmo nuori Madang vai hänen poikansa.
September 12, 2021
I was impressed at how well the "cats" were drawn, particularly in depicting a wide range of ages and characters. I will pretty much always read a graphic novel about parenting young kids, but the depiction of caring for elderly parents is something I've come across much less frequently. Overall, it was skillfully done, although I didn't enjoy some of the main character's interactions with women (cringingly especially when he tells his infant son that his wife's breasts don't belong to the child but belong to him - ugh!).
June 18, 2022
Not what I expected from the description. Food doesn't play that prominent a role in the story. I wish Madang's relationship with his mother is explored more. She's supposed to be the anchor of the narrative yet we don't actually know all that much about her. Through flashbacks, we get a hint of what she's like but she remains abstract and never feel like a real person. As a result, the emotional moments don't really strike a chord.
December 10, 2020
With teens into k-pop (and myself into k-dramas), we spend a lot of time learning about Korean culture in this house. This book was one of my favorite graphic novels and was so moving that I found myself sobbing.
December 10, 2020
Beautiful, but heart-breaking.
February 8, 2021
Bittersweet in parts, heartbreaking in others.
January 26, 2022
ALL. THE. FEELS. It's a bit jarring when it shifts back and forth between Madang's idyllic world with his wife and baby son in the countryside, to the cold, dark, and depressing world of his parents. That jarring transition is so relatable and hits you right in the gut if you're also on the journey of creating a new path for yourself. It's an unflinching look at how one struggles to care for two generations when the chasm grows more and more each day.
Displaying 1 - 30 of 141 reviews