Thank you Netgalley for my free copy in exchange for an honest review.

I always find it hard to review memoirs. Some are more engrossing than others and it's hard to judge one person's story. I quite enjoyed this one. I picked this one up because as an immigrant myself, I was interested in reading about other people's journeys and stories of adapting to a new country and culture and especially how to navigate the culture you came from and the one you live in. Quite enjoyed it!

A bittersweet and fascinating insight into the life of a Korean woman bound by tradition. I enjoy reading real-life stories about Koreans that k-dramas don't exhibit, e.g. being married to a white person, wanting to live a life outside the chosen path, strained relationships with parents, etc.

Rho has done a wonderful job in making me know more about the Korea that you don't see until you scratch the surface; how her self-discovery stemed from her complete upheaval from her motherland, and the situations she had to endure to find herself and her roots again.

This book really should get more attention!

Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC. I really enjoyed it.

Moving memoir which gives insight into the experience of a migrant to America, trauma in her childhood, the stress of being a doctor in the USA and her internal conflict about reconnecting with her Korean heritage. It is not an uplifting read, but does a tackle powerful and personal subjects, some deeper than others. For me the insights into life in Korea and the identity issues that migration provokes were the most interesting.

A powerful and moving memoir. Helena Rho was six years old when her family left Seoul, Korea, for America and its opportunities. Years later, her Korean-ness behind her, Helena had everything a model minority was supposed to want: she was married to a white American doctor and had a beautiful home, two children, and a career as an assistant professor of pediatrics. For decades she fulfilled the expectations of others. All the while Helena kept silent about the traumas—both professional and personal—that left her anxious yet determined to escape. It would take a catastrophic event for Helena to abandon her career at the age of forty, recover her Korean identity, and set in motion a journey of self-discovery.

I get why Helena Rho is angry- she details all that's happened to her in this memoir- but she's just so so angry. I don't need uplifting in every memoir nor do I need a happy ending but this one just wasn't for me. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. I wish her a brighter future.

I’ve spent a good amount of time thinking and talking about what I expect of and like most from memoir as a genre. My best friend/roommate/favorite book discussion partner and I talk a lot about how memoir works best when it’s about a specific experience (The Year of Magical Thinking, for example). I’m also glad to read a collection of essays, but that’s a different genre (I Miss You When I Blink, for example). Great memoirs may also be built more around a certain theme in a person’s life (Educated) or stem from a certain time/experience that also broadens the reading experience into something wider than a straightforward memoir (H is for Hawk).

I’ll also say I absolutely think celebrity memoirs are held to a different standard, and that’s okay. These tend to lean more toward autobiography in scope, but the buy-in is different—I’m probably reading a celebrity memoir because I want to know more about that person, including their childhood experiences and gossip from their lives in the spotlight. There are plenty of good examples (Bossypants; Just As I Am; In Pieces; Love, Loss, and What We Ate; even Becoming to an extent).

I say all of this because I found that American Seoul disappointed me on many levels, but as a memoir was probably the biggest. At the risk of sounding harsh, I couldn’t understand what made this story worth telling. I don’t say that to belittle Rho’s life or experiences, but to ask why a reader would wish to pick up this book and what they might hope to gain from it. There’s no unity to guide the experiences detailed in these essays. If celebrities get buy-in from readers because of their fame, why should I want to read the memoir of a regular woman? This book didn’t really answer that question for me.

Rho has had undeniably difficult and tragic experiences in her life, but it’s hard to know what to latch on to in this memoir. Personally, I found the deepest feeling in her essay on connecting with another Korean woman at the supermarket about their languages and their daughters. I was frustrated by a lot of the storytelling (very “woe is me” all the time, though I don’t at all mean this in relation to the abuses she’s suffered), and I take personal umbrage with her characterizations of Hemingway in the penultimate chapter (she doesn’t seem to know that much about her supposed favorite writer, who doesn’t come up until this moment).

So. I felt a lot related to this book, which says something about it. I just wish some of those feelings were more positive.

The memoir comes with a sad tone; it is a bit difficult to relate at the beginning, but the more I read, the more I can relate her story as an Asian. I am glad to see the author decided to tell her story and to embrace the career she truly likes (instead of the ones obligated by Asian expectations).

This ARC was provided to me via Kindle, Little A and by #NetGalley. Opinions expressed are completely my own.

A unique, gripping tale that may be hard for many. It tackles serious issues, traumatic experiences.

This artistically written memoir gets high marks for me in the category of memoirs both for the content and the style of writing. There were times when I felt annoyed with the writer for not having a bit more gumption, but her upbringing explains a lot of that. It is fascinating to read about her experiences in Korea and as both a pediatrician and a writer. One wishes she'd had far more support as a child. And I do wonder what her sisters will think of this book. I'd easily recommend this to anyone.

Thank you to NetGalley for an advance copy of this book.

This is an interesting, engaging memoir by a Korean woman raised in Uganda and the USA, who becomes a paediatrician and then a writer. It’s a powerful read about fractured families, estrangement, identity and abuse. It gives a real insight into growing up, not quite being sure where you belong or fit in as an immigrant. It’s a brutally honest, at times bitter, portrayal of her life and her destroyed relationships. I felt it lost it’s way in the final 20% but I did enjoy learning about Korean food, culture and language, and her visits back to her birth country.
Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the ARC. All views are my own.

I first came across Helena Rho’s work in the 805 Lit + Art where they published the first chapter of American Seoul, “Crossroad.” I was immediately captivated by Helena’s writing. To be honest, I haven’t reviewed many memoirs. I looked up an article where it said a memoir is successful if it entertains you, makes you think, makes you feel, makes you learn, and if it makes you remember. After reading American Seoul, I can confidently say Helena wrote a memoir that successfully encapsulated these five traits.

Personally, I related a lot to Helena. Little things like people asking her if she’s Korean or spoke Korean or immediately assumed she could. I was born in Gwangju City, South Korea and adopted at four months and have not grown up in Korean culture. I’ve never come across a memoir or novel whatsoever about a woman’s struggle with her Korean identity and really enjoyed Helena’s story of self-discovery. I learned a lot and appreciated Helena's attention to detail when she talked about Korean dishes and pronunciations and definitions of Korean words. It was interesting to learn about Korean culture itself and see what’s changed and stayed the same.

The biggest heartbreak was reading about Helena’s estranged relationships with her parents, sisters, and ex-husband as well as the traumatic experiences in her childhood and adult life. For Helena to go through what she did and come out the other side is inspiring. To quit a successful job and take a big risk like that to become a writer…I could never. I hope readers can look back on this memoir too and realize it’s never too late to start over and to keep moving forward. I have the wonderful privilege of speaking with Helena this summer about American Seoul and can’t wait to have an open conversation and thank her for sharing her story.

This book is a gripping exploration of identity and recovery. The author grapples with complex issues such as cultural identification, abuse, prejudice, language identity, cultural expectations, and physical challenges. I found it particularly engaging due to my interest in Korean culture, my background of living in Korea in the 80s and 90s, and the fact that I was a child immigrant to the US (from another country). There was a lot to hold my interest.

What I liked most about this book were the raw emotions, a genuine portrayal of immigration, a recounting of a unique family history and how it affected the author’s life, and the impact of physical events on one’s life choices. Ultimately, the book is about making life choices, which I found very interesting.

What I liked less is related to my personal preference. I prefer a more straight forward and clear timeline. Sometimes this story jumped and followed the emotional journey (which made sense) but I lost track of details which were important to me, such as the ages of siblings or exactly which event followed which. I also felt that some of the stories in the book could have been developed further. The fact that I wanted to know more, however, is testimony to my engagement with the book and the interest it held for me.

While this is probably not the book to turn to for a tutorial in modern Korean culture, it provides an excellent account of cultural influences on immigration and what can happen when a child is removed from her original culture. Overall, this is a sensitive, engaging, and fascinating read, and I recommend it to anyone interested in psychology, culture, healing from trauma, or traditional Korean culture.