At once personal and universal, this book is about finding a path to awareness, understanding, and wisdom.” —Kirkus Reviews
“Honest and authentic throughout . . . A sincere attempt at self-discovery that will resonate with young people who suffer from similar forms of depression and anxiety.” —Library Journal
“Candid . . . heartfelt . . . Sehee's mission to normalize conversation about mental illness is an admirable one.” —Publishers Weekly
“A testament to the gradual nature of therapy's cumulative healing effects, I Want to Die should resonate with anyone who eagerly transcribes every nugget of advice they get.” —Buzzfeed
“Earnest . . . clever . . . [Baek Sehee] uses months of (real) transcripts from her therapy sessions to explore her own depression and anxiety, always tiptoeing toward something like self-awareness.” —Chicago Tribune
“An eye-opening view into a person's most vulnerable moments in a new way.” —Cosmopolitan
“With candor and humor, Baek offers readers and herself resonant moments of empathy.” —Booklist
"I like that this book’s conversations don’t follow a conventional narrative arc from conflict to redemption. Baek doesn’t stand on a pedestal purporting to have found all the answers . . . Ultimately, there are no shiny promises that Baek will keep getting better; I appreciate her bravery to admit this to readers.” —Electric Lit
“For readers feeling a little icy around the edges, [Sehee's] memoir promises to defrost.” —Wired.com
“[I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki] is a therapeutic salve . . . Sehee's memoir is a connective tissue for all of us looking for a silver lining.” —PopSugar
“Compelling . . . there is a fascination being inside the counseling room with [Sehee]. We feel we are a party to a sacred realm and find ourselves drawn to her testimony; mesmerized by her ability to keep thwarting herself from getting better. And we want her to get better.” —Books & Film Globe
“If you've ever felt exhausted and anxious by performing well-being, this is a book for you.” —Ms. Magazine
“This book will comfort anyone who's ever been depressed, anxious, or just frustrated with themselves.” —Real Simple
“Baek Sehee ingeniously combines elements of memoir and self-help . . . She offers an intimate look into one patient's experience in therapy and her own analysis of and takeaways from those sessions . . . Everyone is just trying to be as okay as possible, after all-and seeing Sehee's processing of that in I Want to Die but I Want to Eat Tteokbokki is sure to make readers feel a little less alone in their own attempts.” —Shelf Awareness
08/01/2022
Sehee, a successful professional in the publishing industry, grew up in Korea with an abusive father and a hypercritical mother. Internalizing their behavior, she questioned and criticized herself to the point of depression and severe anxiety. The depression is disruptive but not so debilitating that she does not still want her favorite foods, such as tteokbokki, a spicy rice cake popular in Korean cuisine. After initiating therapy with a psychiatrist, the author began to record her sessions, and the bulk of this book consists of transcriptions of their discussions about her depression and pervasive self-criticism. Sehee is honest and authentic throughout, beginning each chapter with a brief essay that introduces a topic she wants to discuss with the psychiatrist and concluding with an essay reflecting on what she learned from the session. Chapters address topics such as honesty, self-surveillance, self-esteem, medication, physical attractiveness, and more. VERDICT This is a sincere attempt at self-discovery that will resonate with young people who suffer from similar forms of depression and anxiety.—Rebecca Mugridge
2022-06-02
A South Korean author recounts her long journey through anxiety and depression.
Tteokbokki is a popular Korean dish of bland rice cakes immersed in a spicy pepper sauce. The duality is a good metaphor for this book, a bestseller in South Korea. Baek has dysthymia, a low-level but persistent depression. The narrative is primarily a collection of the author’s discussions with her therapist, punctuated with short essays leavened by the poignancy of self-reflection and occasional flashes of humor. Though issues involving mental health continue to be stigmatized, Baek is clear in her belief that her story could help those in similar circumstances. “I wonder about those like me, who seem totally fine on the outside but are rotting on the inside,” she writes, “where the rot is this vague state of being not-fine and not-devastated at the same time.” While the author realizes that many of her problems stem from a painful family background, she also examines the pressure on Korean women to conform to an idealized image. She worries constantly about her appearance and what other people think about her, a mindset that plagues many Korean women. Some of the author’s discussions relate directly to Korean culture, but much of it transcends borders and will resonate with readers around the world. As she gradually worked through the therapy process, Baek learned how to avoid the emotional roller coaster that comes with dysthymia and how to avoid constantly judging herself and others. Though the act of living always comes with ups and downs, it’s important to keep them in context and seek an appropriate balance. Baek acknowledges that she might never be entirely free of her dysthymia, but she can manage it, live with it, and understand it as part of her being.
At once personal and universal, this book is about finding a path to awareness, understanding, and wisdom.