BOOK REVIEW | I WANT TO DIE BUT I WANT TO EAT TTEOKBOKKI – BAEK SE-HEE

I was fascinated by this book when I first found out about it. It’s a simple concept – a young woman who is suffering from a non-specific, pervasive malaise seeks help from a therapist and records her sessions. She starts off uncertain about many things – why she feels how she does, how others see her, whether there’s anything wrong with her, and if so, what? Does her lack of ability to summon positive emotion and connect deeply with friends and partners enough to count as depression? Should she even be there? We follow her therapy journey as she begins to unravel the tangled emotions and issues she’s experiencing, and learns about her own role in creating the situations she’s struggling with.

The first part of the book is a series of transcripts of Baek Se-Hee’s therapy sessions, without outside commentary or context. What we know is what she shares in her therapy sessions, and what we know about her decisions and their consequences is told through the same lens. There are both pros and cons to this approach. It’s very interesting to know only what is shared with the therapist and to have to try to interpret what is really happening. Is she sharing the whole story? Are her reactions genuine? Will she follow through after the sessions? We don’t know the answers to these questions for sure, and are left some room for interpretation. But it can also be a bit frustrating to read – because there’s no internal narrative, sometimes the prose feels a bit stiff or abrupt. I also found myself wishing for a bit more depth to some of the topics that were discussed – I wanted to know how Se-Hee actually felt, not just what she said out loud. There are a couple of sections at the end of the book – an epilogue in which the author shares some of her more personal reflections on where she is now, what she’s still struggling with, and what has helped. We also hear from her therapist, who discusses the way the book has impacted her and how she felt about having her professional life put out in public.

I think this is an important book, particularly for young women in a culture like this one (from what very, very little I know) that can place unique pressures on young women and girls. I can see many readers identifying with the conflicts and emotions Se-Hee describes, particularly her difficulty in expressing her genuine feelings to those around her and her need to be seen as successful and likeable. I also loved that it addresses a less dramatic version of depression than is often seen, and shares clinical terms and explanations for some of her symptoms. I think this could help many readers who perhaps didn’t realize that some of the things they’re struggling with in their lives are perhaps due to a similar kind of low-grade depression, and that it’s not their fault and they can ask for help dealing with it. Any book that shines light into the hidden corners of mental health issues and treatment will always be something I support.

This book had so much going for it, but I did find myself having some issues with it. I had trouble feeling emotionally connected to Se-Hee, I think in large part because of the lack of internal narrative and the reliance completely on these therapy transcripts right up until the end. It was very difficult for me to feel more than a sense of sympathy that she was struggling, but not a deep investment in her progress and improvement. I cared enough to keep reading, but wasn’t moved to tears, and I don’t think this voice is one that will stick with me. It also didn’t have the humour I expected from the title – I thought there’d be a bit of tongue-in-cheek or sarcastic references to the contradictions that can be found in depression, but there wasn’t really any of that here.

Some of this was also me. I’m in my 40s now. I’m through the part of my life where I was tied up with worrying how I looked, how others perceived me, whether my relationships were reciprocal, whether I’d said the wrong thing. I remember it, and it was excruciating at times, but it’s not my mental landscape anymore. That made it a bit hard to spend a whole book in a headspace that I no longer feel any emotional response to. This is why I think it will appeal more to younger audiences – perhaps women in their 20s who are still struggling with their self-image and sense of identity, and who need to know they’re not the only ones. It is a very difficult journey, and one I am glad to be mostly through with, frankly! I also felt like some of the elements that left me feeling distanced were cultural. Some of the worries and pressures that are described don’t feel quite how I remember them, and I think some of that could be because South Korean culture places a lot of pressure on young women to be pretty, polite and to conform to accepted gender roles. Of course I could be wrong on some of my interpretations here – I have no experience of Korean culture other than what I’ve read in books – so this is just a guess.

I can see why this book has been getting so much buzz. It is unlike any other mental health memoir I’ve read in the past, and it brings up a lot of intriguing and important discussions. I wish I had felt a stronger connection to it, but I am glad that I read it, and I would definitely recommend it to those who are in a similar place in their own lives, and who are perhaps struggling to find solid ground and a sense of self and purpose. I commend Baek Se-Hee for sharing her experiences and her (very) personal insights. It took courage, and I know she has already helped many who are suffering in a similar way, and will continue to do so. In the introduction she said she wrote this hoping it would find others like her, and help them feel less alone. I’m sure she has.

The South Korean runaway bestseller, debut author Baek Se-Hee’s intimate therapy memoir—think Crying in H Mart meets Maybe You Should Talk to Someone.

PSYCHIATRIST: So how can I help you?
ME: I don’t know, I’m—what’s the word—depressed? Do I have to go into detail?

Baek Sehee is a successful young social media director at a publishing house when she begins seeing a psychiatrist about her—what to call it?—depression? She feels persistently low, anxious, endlessly self-doubting, but also highly judgmental of others. She hides her feelings well at work and with friends; adept at performing the calmness, even ease, her lifestyle demands. The effort is exhausting, overwhelming, and keeps her from forming deep relationships. This can’t be normal.

But if she’s so hopeless, why can she always summon a yen for her favorite street food: the hot, spicy rice cake, tteokbokki? Is this just what life is like?

Recording her dialogues with her psychiatrist over a 12-week period, Baek begins to disentangle the feedback loops, knee-jerk reactions, and harmful behaviors that keep her locked in a cycle of self-abuse. Part memoir, part self-help book, I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki is a book to keep close and to reach for in times of darkness. It will appeal to anyone who has ever felt alone or unjustified in their everyday despair. – Goodreads

**Thanks to Bloomsbury, USA (via Netgalley) for providing an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review!**

Book Title: I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki
Author: Baek Sehee
Translator: Anton Hur
Series: No
Edition: Ebook/Audiobook
Published By: Bloomsbury, USA (via Netgalley)
Released: November 1, 2022 (first published June 20, 2018)
Genre: Non-Fiction, Memoir, Mental Health
Pages: 208
Date Read: September 12 – November 4, 2022
Rating: 7/10
Average Goodreads Rating: 3.67/5 (8,259 ratings)