Sign in with Facebook
I double-tapped Timothée Chalamet’s most recent post. He was on vacation in Italy.
“Unlike the second languages I attempted to learn in high school, there are Korean words I inherently understand without ever having learned their definition. There is no momentary translation that mediates the transition from one language to another. Parts of Korean just exist somewhere as part of my psyche--words imbued with their pure meaning, not their English substitutes.”
― Crying in H Mart
― Crying in H Mart
“I’m searching for memories. I’m collecting the evidence that the Korean half of my identity didn’t die when they did.”
― Crying in H Mart
― Crying in H Mart
“Cooking my mother's food had come to represent an absolute role reversal, a role I was meant to fill. Food was an unspoken language between us, had come to symbolize our return to each other, our bonding, our common ground.”
― Crying in H Mart
― Crying in H Mart
“Sobbing near the dry goods, asking myself, Am I even Korean anymore if there’s no one left to call and ask which brand of seaweed we used to buy?”
― Crying in H Mart
― Crying in H Mart
“I had thought fermentation was controlled death. Left alone, a head of cabbage molds and decomposes. It becomes rotten, inedible. But when brined and stored, the course of its decay is altered. Sugars are broken down to produce lactic acid, which protects it from spoiling. Carbon dioxide is released and the brine acidifies. It ages. Its color and texture transmute. Its flavor becomes tarter, more pungent. It exists in time and transforms. So it is not quite controlled death, because it enjoys a new life altogether.
The memories I had stored, I could not let fester. Could not let trauma infiltrate and spread, to spoil and render them useless. They were moments to be tended. The culture we shared was active, effervescent in my gut and in my genes, and I had to seize it, foster it so it did not die in me. So that I could pass it on someday. The lessons she imparted, the proof of her life lived on in me, in my every move and deed. I was what she left behind. If I could not be with my mother, I would be her.”
― Crying in H Mart
The memories I had stored, I could not let fester. Could not let trauma infiltrate and spread, to spoil and render them useless. They were moments to be tended. The culture we shared was active, effervescent in my gut and in my genes, and I had to seize it, foster it so it did not die in me. So that I could pass it on someday. The lessons she imparted, the proof of her life lived on in me, in my every move and deed. I was what she left behind. If I could not be with my mother, I would be her.”
― Crying in H Mart
Authors & Reviewers
— 11203 members
— last activity 7 hours, 57 min ago
A&R is about helping authors promote their books. If you are a reviewer or a blogger, and you don't mind writing a honest review, then come and join u ...more
Evy!’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Evy!’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Evy!
Lists liked by Evy!
