by Robin Ha
memoir
Robin Ha’s graphic novel memoir is a painfully honest account of her childhood, a genuinely heartfelt testimony of her relationship with her mother, and an inspiring (but not saccharine) immigrant story. As Ha describes in the afterward, the memoir helped Ha reconcile her childhood and her mother’s choices, and that struggle was clearly felt throughout the book; yet the book itself is evidence that Ha (and her mother) triumphed over their hardships.
When fourteen year old Chuna leaves Korea with her mother, Cassie, she thinks she is just going on vacation in America – specifically Alabama, of all places. Little does Chuna – who chooses a new name, Robin – realize that she’s actually moving there, for good. Robin suddenly loses her friends, home, and culture, especially Korean and Japanese manga. As Robin tries to acclimate to a new family and school on the other side of the world – all while struggling to learn English – we also see her dynamics with her mom grow and change.
All American Girl is a poignant memoir that honestly reflects on loss, devastating loneliness, the cruelty of teenagers, and difficulty fitting in. While many of these experiences are universal to many teens, Ha’s experience is also specifically Korean. She shares her and Cassie’s difficult experiences with strict gender roles (and discrimination against single mothers) in Seoul, with an especially poignant chapter sharing Cassie’s past, skills as a businesswoman in a salon, and her decision to leave everything for a better life for her and her daughter.
Robin doesn’t shy away from painful memories, but she also does so with growing empathy and understanding for her mom, who eventually helps Robin begin her career towards making comics. The epilogue is an optimistic and heartening final note, but it also reflects on the unique first generation immigrant experience of being from two places, and also of neither. I would have loved to see more in this book – perhaps Ha can revisit it in a sequel.
Ha’s art style is a loose, kinetic watercolor style that seems to draw from both American and Korean styles – perhaps a reflection Ha herself. There are lovely half page spreads that communicate Robin’s strong imagination, and the colors are nicely saturated. There were times when the color palette felt nostalgic – like Robin’s childhood in Seoul, or a strong memory of Halloween one year – and others when the palette reflected Robin’s emotional state. I liked the messy doodle “type” Robin used when she was unable to understand a word in English, and there’s a short glossary in the back for Korean words and names used throughout the book.
Almost American Girl is a touching memoir worth reading by teens and adults alike. I deeply respect anyone willing to be so vulnerable and share their experiences in a memoir, and Ha does so with complexity, grace, and candor.
*a note that I used Robin’s first name when describing her as the ‘character’ in the book, and “Ha” when referring to her as the author.
Reading Art 