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The Language of Blood: A Memoir
"A book that translates, and transcends, the eternal question of home, belonging, family, identity." —Star Tribune (Minneapolis)
My name is Jeong Kyong-Ah. My ancestry includes landowners, scholars, and government officials. I have six siblings. I am a citizen of the Republic of Korea. I come from a land of pear fields and streams, where people laugh loudly and honor their dead. Halfway around the world, I am someone else.
Jane Jeong Trenka and her sister Carol were adopted by Frederick and Margaret Brauer and raised in the small, homogeneous town of Harlow, Minnesota—a place "where the sky touches the earth in uninterrupted horizon . . . where stoicism is stamped into the bones of each generation." They were loved as American children without a past.
With inventive and radiant prose that includes real and imagined letters, a fairy tale, a one-act play, crossword puzzles, and child-welfare manuals, Trenka recounts a childhood of insecurity, a battle with a stalker that escalates to a plot for her murder, and an extraordinary trip to Seoul to meet her birth mother and siblings. Lost between two cultures for the majority of her life, it is in Korea that she begins to understand her past and the power of the unspoken language of blood.
My name is Jeong Kyong-Ah. My ancestry includes landowners, scholars, and government officials. I have six siblings. I am a citizen of the Republic of Korea. I come from a land of pear fields and streams, where people laugh loudly and honor their dead. Halfway around the world, I am someone else.
Jane Jeong Trenka and her sister Carol were adopted by Frederick and Margaret Brauer and raised in the small, homogeneous town of Harlow, Minnesota—a place "where the sky touches the earth in uninterrupted horizon . . . where stoicism is stamped into the bones of each generation." They were loved as American children without a past.
With inventive and radiant prose that includes real and imagined letters, a fairy tale, a one-act play, crossword puzzles, and child-welfare manuals, Trenka recounts a childhood of insecurity, a battle with a stalker that escalates to a plot for her murder, and an extraordinary trip to Seoul to meet her birth mother and siblings. Lost between two cultures for the majority of her life, it is in Korea that she begins to understand her past and the power of the unspoken language of blood.
224 pages, Hardcover
First published January 1, 2003
12 people are currently reading
1027 people want to read
About the author
Jane Jeong Trenka
4 books17 followersJane Jeong Trenka has received fellowships from the Jerome Foundation, the McKnight Foundation, the Minnesota State Arts Board, the Loft Literary Center, the Blacklock Nature Sanctuary, and SASE: the Write Place. Cited by the City Pages as “Best Book by a Local Author” and by the Minnesota Humanities Commission for a “New Voice” commendation, her first book, The Language of Blood, received the Minnesota Book Award for Autobiography/Memoir and was a Barnes & Noble Discover Great New Writers Selection. Together with Julia Sudbury and Sun Yung Shin, Trenka co-edited an anthology on transracial/transnational adoption entitled Outsiders Within.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 57 reviews
January 1, 2011
I've been wanting to read this memoir for as long as I was made aware of it. I'm always interested in what other transracially adopted persons create because they share a history equivalent to mine.
The one main theme I recognized as I read through the book was the author's struggle with silence, both internally and externally. Many adoptees feel yoked to society's stereotype of an adoptee who should feel forever grateful for a second chance at life and eternally happy that they were saved from unfortunate circumstances. This stereotype seeks to erase any ambiguity an adopted person may feel toward one's own (lack of) history and relegate the person to a silent end.
Trenka pushes back forcefully against such a scripted narrative by deftly telling the story of reconnecting with her first mother and how her second mother rejected her daughter for defying the fairytale ending.
Also, what fascinated me was the reverse assimilation experiences of both Trenka and her adopted sister. Trenka assimilated back into her birth family and culture much better than her sister did. Paradoxically, Trenka's sister expertly assimilated to the American way of life and had quite a difficult time trying to re-familiarize herself to her Korean family and heritage. Neither one is good or bad, but this dichotomy speaks very deeply to the transracial/international adoption experience.
The author's prose is quite poetic in many passages, which made reading Trenka's tale that much easier and more worthwhile.
The one main theme I recognized as I read through the book was the author's struggle with silence, both internally and externally. Many adoptees feel yoked to society's stereotype of an adoptee who should feel forever grateful for a second chance at life and eternally happy that they were saved from unfortunate circumstances. This stereotype seeks to erase any ambiguity an adopted person may feel toward one's own (lack of) history and relegate the person to a silent end.
Trenka pushes back forcefully against such a scripted narrative by deftly telling the story of reconnecting with her first mother and how her second mother rejected her daughter for defying the fairytale ending.
Also, what fascinated me was the reverse assimilation experiences of both Trenka and her adopted sister. Trenka assimilated back into her birth family and culture much better than her sister did. Paradoxically, Trenka's sister expertly assimilated to the American way of life and had quite a difficult time trying to re-familiarize herself to her Korean family and heritage. Neither one is good or bad, but this dichotomy speaks very deeply to the transracial/international adoption experience.
The author's prose is quite poetic in many passages, which made reading Trenka's tale that much easier and more worthwhile.
August 5, 2011
Trenka's enigmatic story is reminiscent of Shirley Geok-Lin Lim and Maxine Hong Kingston but moves far beyond the post-colonial experiences of those two writers. Her unique story does not even compare to the ethnic lit of second generation ________(fill in the blank)-Americans.
"The Language of Blood," instead, is a well told story about a woman who was adopted as a young age from Korea and raised in rural Minnesota. There are throwbacks to the post-colonial and second generation experience, but, really, Trenka's story is one of exile, displacement, and juxtaposition. It is a story of feeling both a sense of belonging and a sense of not belonging.
Other reviewers say she plays the victim (white-speak for "Not all white people are racist") too much. I never felt that she sees herself as or plays up the role of victim, rather she more so identifies with the refugee: Adrift, or, in a word she likes to frequently use, "suspended" and at the mercy of the world's whims.
Maybe it's just me, though. I really enjoyed it. Others might not, but all readers should judge it as her experience -- and everyone's experience can be different, as evidenced by both her siblings who remained in Korea and the sister who came with her. Maybe the story was interesting to me because, as the brother of trans-racial adoptee from Korea raised in rural Kentucky, I remember much of the scenarios she describes and satirizes. Through that lens, I could very much relate with Trenka's story.
"The Language of Blood," instead, is a well told story about a woman who was adopted as a young age from Korea and raised in rural Minnesota. There are throwbacks to the post-colonial and second generation experience, but, really, Trenka's story is one of exile, displacement, and juxtaposition. It is a story of feeling both a sense of belonging and a sense of not belonging.
Other reviewers say she plays the victim (white-speak for "Not all white people are racist") too much. I never felt that she sees herself as or plays up the role of victim, rather she more so identifies with the refugee: Adrift, or, in a word she likes to frequently use, "suspended" and at the mercy of the world's whims.
Maybe it's just me, though. I really enjoyed it. Others might not, but all readers should judge it as her experience -- and everyone's experience can be different, as evidenced by both her siblings who remained in Korea and the sister who came with her. Maybe the story was interesting to me because, as the brother of trans-racial adoptee from Korea raised in rural Kentucky, I remember much of the scenarios she describes and satirizes. Through that lens, I could very much relate with Trenka's story.
January 17, 2012
I read the other reviews of this book and I'm confused. I don't know how one would "enjoy" this story - it's compelling, it's moving, but it wasn't the kind of read I'd connect to enjoyment. Maybe it's because I know people who feel as Trenka does - they didn't do something, it was done to them, and yes, she and they are victims. It's how it's dealt with that makes her story compelling. Her amazing voice and command of words made me unable to put this down. The two adoptees in my house made me want to absorb her lessons, and to somehow learn how not to mess them up any worse than I have.
June 18, 2014
Jane Jeong Trenka was adopted with her sister from Korea as an infant in the 70's and raised in rural Minnesota by a white couple who were incapable of having children of their own. Jane's story is common--we see it every day. A kind, white couple doing the right thing--adopting poor children from overseas who deserve a better life. But is adoption always the ultimate good--a situation for which the adoptive children should be eternally grateful for?
From the moment Jane and Carol were picked up at the airport, their previous lives were wiped away. In their new steak and potatoes upbringing, there was no mention of adoption, Korea, or their true culture. When a young Jane asked her adoptive mother, "Why do some mommies give their babies away?" her adoptive mother got up and left the room.
As a child she was constantly on display--not because of the behavior of her adoptive parents, but simply because she was Asian. As a child her family was constantly bombarded with racist questions ("Are they good at math?") or stared at because of their visual differences. As she grows up she is stalked, harassed ("I just want to be punished. I've been bad. I know your people do the caning, right?"), and told to "go back to where she came from."
As Jane grows up and rediscovers her past--involving a long-sought relationship with her birth mother, who had to give Jane away as a baby before her alcoholic husband threw Jane out the window. On her first trip to Korea, Jane sees other white families accompanying their Asian children on cultural tours. She writes, "Over the course of the tour, I would grow envious of these children whose parents were so enlightened. Many of them were not 'replacement' children, as I had been, but children who were genuinely wanted for who they were. Their parents already had one or two children of their own, and because of their religious or social beliefs they 'made room for one more' and welcomed a Korean child into their home. How I wanted parents like that, parents who wanted me for me, not to act and look like their white child who never existed."
As a person who has considered adoption for many years, this book raises many questions on culture, race, and identity in adoption. Why do we adopt from overseas? What are the implications of this, and do we truly want a Korean child, or do we want a white child in an adorable Asian baby body?
From the moment Jane and Carol were picked up at the airport, their previous lives were wiped away. In their new steak and potatoes upbringing, there was no mention of adoption, Korea, or their true culture. When a young Jane asked her adoptive mother, "Why do some mommies give their babies away?" her adoptive mother got up and left the room.
As a child she was constantly on display--not because of the behavior of her adoptive parents, but simply because she was Asian. As a child her family was constantly bombarded with racist questions ("Are they good at math?") or stared at because of their visual differences. As she grows up she is stalked, harassed ("I just want to be punished. I've been bad. I know your people do the caning, right?"), and told to "go back to where she came from."
As Jane grows up and rediscovers her past--involving a long-sought relationship with her birth mother, who had to give Jane away as a baby before her alcoholic husband threw Jane out the window. On her first trip to Korea, Jane sees other white families accompanying their Asian children on cultural tours. She writes, "Over the course of the tour, I would grow envious of these children whose parents were so enlightened. Many of them were not 'replacement' children, as I had been, but children who were genuinely wanted for who they were. Their parents already had one or two children of their own, and because of their religious or social beliefs they 'made room for one more' and welcomed a Korean child into their home. How I wanted parents like that, parents who wanted me for me, not to act and look like their white child who never existed."
As a person who has considered adoption for many years, this book raises many questions on culture, race, and identity in adoption. Why do we adopt from overseas? What are the implications of this, and do we truly want a Korean child, or do we want a white child in an adorable Asian baby body?
August 20, 2010
This is the most articulate, vivid, and probably accurate account of psychic suffering I've ever seen. All the issues of loss of culture, loss of family, exile, difference, adoption pains that I could imagine are here, articulated directly and by metaphor, and faced with huge courage by the author. This is an extraordinarily brave work, and I recommend it very highly.
October 16, 2018
The voice is annoyingly self-indulgent. But I'm finding that's often the nature of very real and necessarily cathartic writing. I say this as an intercountry adoptee from China, and I respect the author for putting this out.
November 18, 2023
This book blew my mind and made me sob all throughout reading it.
Thank you for recommending this wonderful adoptee read Polly 🫰💕
_______________________________
Update 11/18/23 (after Mellon Mays Mid-Atlantic Conference): An Excerpt from My Presentation Script
“When my mom married my dad at age eighteen, she inherited this ill-fitting, shimmering crown of expectation, perhaps not to wear herself but to pass on to us, her daughters who would be haunted by the birth child who was never conceived, this pink-skinned boy who had pretty blue eyes like his mother and a funny smile like his father. We would be haunted by this shadow and by the ghosts of our own dead twins, whom we had simply replaced one day by changing clothes: Kyong-Ah who had lived to the age of six months, and Mi-Ja, who died at four years of age when she became Carol. From the photographic evidence, Carol came into this world as a child and was never a baby at all”
- Jeong Trenka, The Language of Blood, 28-29
Like Jane Jeong Trenka, I too, used to have a different name: Fēng Chūn Píng. Like her, I am also a transnational and transracial adoptee. I was born in Jiangxi Province, China. Approximately 3 days after my birth, I was left on the steps of a hospital and for the last 19 years, I have been raised by white parents in a predominantly white town, haunted by the ghostly presence of my Chinese birthmother and Chūn Píng – my alternate-self who lives on in China.
By the photographic evidence I was exposed to growing up, I was never a newborn. I was never a one-year old. And by my white adoptive parents’ account, I was never “Chinese.”
My adoptive parents raised me as if I was their own. This meant that not only did they adopt a child, but also they adopted a colorblind approach to my upbringing. They believed that “love would conquer all difference” and that I would grow up to be their daughter, and their daughter alone.
To reaffirm their love, my adoptive parents would constantly remind me of the fact that they had saved me from a life of Chinese destitution. They expected me to constantly express my gratitude for the life in America that I lived.
Yet, looming in the shadows of the room lay my private grievances. The ghosts of the infant that was separated from their mother at 3 days, the ghost of the two-year old who had just begun to babble in Fujianese and then was again, separated from yet another set of people - my Chinese foster family - and the ghost of my birthmother, who deep down I believed would have loved me in the best ways she would have known - regardless of her poverty and regardless of the fact that I would have less opportunities to become ‘successful.’ Above all, I knew that if I had lived my life as Chūn Píng, she would have never expected me to hide my Chinese-ness.
My survival in a hostile white environment was dependent on my ability to imagine this alternate life for myself; to imagine another world where I would intuitively belong, a world where I would not have to constantly over-explain my existence. I clung onto these private fantasies as a life-line, an armor serving as defense against the racism and the incurable homesickness that haunted me, despite already being “home” in my adoptive parents’ house. In this way, imagining this alternate life - also known as the Ghost Kingdom - was my act of radical resistance.
Thank you for recommending this wonderful adoptee read Polly 🫰💕
_______________________________
Update 11/18/23 (after Mellon Mays Mid-Atlantic Conference): An Excerpt from My Presentation Script
“When my mom married my dad at age eighteen, she inherited this ill-fitting, shimmering crown of expectation, perhaps not to wear herself but to pass on to us, her daughters who would be haunted by the birth child who was never conceived, this pink-skinned boy who had pretty blue eyes like his mother and a funny smile like his father. We would be haunted by this shadow and by the ghosts of our own dead twins, whom we had simply replaced one day by changing clothes: Kyong-Ah who had lived to the age of six months, and Mi-Ja, who died at four years of age when she became Carol. From the photographic evidence, Carol came into this world as a child and was never a baby at all”
- Jeong Trenka, The Language of Blood, 28-29
Like Jane Jeong Trenka, I too, used to have a different name: Fēng Chūn Píng. Like her, I am also a transnational and transracial adoptee. I was born in Jiangxi Province, China. Approximately 3 days after my birth, I was left on the steps of a hospital and for the last 19 years, I have been raised by white parents in a predominantly white town, haunted by the ghostly presence of my Chinese birthmother and Chūn Píng – my alternate-self who lives on in China.
By the photographic evidence I was exposed to growing up, I was never a newborn. I was never a one-year old. And by my white adoptive parents’ account, I was never “Chinese.”
My adoptive parents raised me as if I was their own. This meant that not only did they adopt a child, but also they adopted a colorblind approach to my upbringing. They believed that “love would conquer all difference” and that I would grow up to be their daughter, and their daughter alone.
To reaffirm their love, my adoptive parents would constantly remind me of the fact that they had saved me from a life of Chinese destitution. They expected me to constantly express my gratitude for the life in America that I lived.
Yet, looming in the shadows of the room lay my private grievances. The ghosts of the infant that was separated from their mother at 3 days, the ghost of the two-year old who had just begun to babble in Fujianese and then was again, separated from yet another set of people - my Chinese foster family - and the ghost of my birthmother, who deep down I believed would have loved me in the best ways she would have known - regardless of her poverty and regardless of the fact that I would have less opportunities to become ‘successful.’ Above all, I knew that if I had lived my life as Chūn Píng, she would have never expected me to hide my Chinese-ness.
My survival in a hostile white environment was dependent on my ability to imagine this alternate life for myself; to imagine another world where I would intuitively belong, a world where I would not have to constantly over-explain my existence. I clung onto these private fantasies as a life-line, an armor serving as defense against the racism and the incurable homesickness that haunted me, despite already being “home” in my adoptive parents’ house. In this way, imagining this alternate life - also known as the Ghost Kingdom - was my act of radical resistance.
October 15, 2011
This book, about a Korean-American adoptee whose Korean birthmother reached out for a relationship, employed a lot of "experimental" techniques, such as including scripts for plays that depicted the author's relationship with her Asian identity, using names that dehumanized people (Mrs. A, Mrs. B, Mr. CEO), and mini-essays and stories within the larger narrative. While these snippets were at times interesting, they also made the story feel disjointed. Even in the more traditional storytelling, there were pieces in there that seemed not to belong; the definition of memoir is one that ties together a life based around particular themes, which isn't the same as an autobiography, which is more a record of events. Some details included here, while clearly central to the author's life, also felt out of place in this story, such as details about a man who stalked her in college. On the other hand, I found myself wanting MORE information about the parts of her life that did relate to her central narrative, such as her relationship with her birthsister (who was adopted by the same family) and additional details about her life with her parents.
At first, I was put off my Jane's tone, which did come across as a little whiny and entitled. But as the story unfolds, we see that Jane understands both the gifts and the hardship that comes with interracial adoption, and we also see that her parents mishandled the experience in many ways (denying her Korean identity, not supporting her in her grief when her birthmother died, etc.) We also see Jane's forgiveness of them and her genuine warmth toward other Korean adoptees and their adoptive parents. By the end of the story, I fully emphasized with Jane's perpetual identity as an "outsider" and understood how this struggle to find self and an emotional home could wreak havoc upon her psyche. Although I didn't love this book, I'm keeping it in my collection because I still hope to pursue international adoption one day, and I want this book as a potential resource for a child who could face similar identity struggles.
At first, I was put off my Jane's tone, which did come across as a little whiny and entitled. But as the story unfolds, we see that Jane understands both the gifts and the hardship that comes with interracial adoption, and we also see that her parents mishandled the experience in many ways (denying her Korean identity, not supporting her in her grief when her birthmother died, etc.) We also see Jane's forgiveness of them and her genuine warmth toward other Korean adoptees and their adoptive parents. By the end of the story, I fully emphasized with Jane's perpetual identity as an "outsider" and understood how this struggle to find self and an emotional home could wreak havoc upon her psyche. Although I didn't love this book, I'm keeping it in my collection because I still hope to pursue international adoption one day, and I want this book as a potential resource for a child who could face similar identity struggles.
April 6, 2013
I can't recall very many books that were as stimulating as this one. The Language of Blood is unlike any memoir I have read. This is my first experience with adoption and related subjects, but Trenka's story is so moving that I will be sure to pursue other books like it.
At times her story is saddening, well the majority of her early story is saddening, but it evolves into a combination of despair and hope that connects the reader with the author almost instantly.
The book maintains a somewhat disorganized nature. The beginning of the book is easy to follow because it is mostly chronological and set over the course of only a decade. Later, however, the book becomes a bit scattered. The story of her journey to Korea is mixed with flashback to her American family and home. I found these interjections as more of a distraction than anything else. I did enjoy learning more about her life in both America and Korea, but it would have made more sense to be if they had been set in different parts of the book. Though I can see the benefit of comparing and contrasting cultures in certain passages.
It was disheartening to read of her struggles with personal identity. Being white and not adopted, I can't really relate or even try to comprehend how difficult and painful this must have been for her. I am grateful that despite the organization of information, she is a passionate writer who was able to personify this pain enough for me to at least gain an appreciation of what it was like for her.
It seems that as a result of her missing identity her actions were not always virtuous. I am not here to judge so I won't. I will say that reading about her many failed relationships, and there were many, somewhat made my heart sink. Not out of anger or annoyance, but in the knowledge that she will probably have to deal with those regretful actions later in life.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book. 4/5 stars for disorganization only! Otherwise it was a moving and heartfelt book about regaining ones identity when it has been all but stripped away from you.
At times her story is saddening, well the majority of her early story is saddening, but it evolves into a combination of despair and hope that connects the reader with the author almost instantly.
The book maintains a somewhat disorganized nature. The beginning of the book is easy to follow because it is mostly chronological and set over the course of only a decade. Later, however, the book becomes a bit scattered. The story of her journey to Korea is mixed with flashback to her American family and home. I found these interjections as more of a distraction than anything else. I did enjoy learning more about her life in both America and Korea, but it would have made more sense to be if they had been set in different parts of the book. Though I can see the benefit of comparing and contrasting cultures in certain passages.
It was disheartening to read of her struggles with personal identity. Being white and not adopted, I can't really relate or even try to comprehend how difficult and painful this must have been for her. I am grateful that despite the organization of information, she is a passionate writer who was able to personify this pain enough for me to at least gain an appreciation of what it was like for her.
It seems that as a result of her missing identity her actions were not always virtuous. I am not here to judge so I won't. I will say that reading about her many failed relationships, and there were many, somewhat made my heart sink. Not out of anger or annoyance, but in the knowledge that she will probably have to deal with those regretful actions later in life.
Overall, I really enjoyed the book. 4/5 stars for disorganization only! Otherwise it was a moving and heartfelt book about regaining ones identity when it has been all but stripped away from you.
August 1, 2017
The author's journey to patch the pieces together of her life (her American mom and her Korean mom (Umma)) created a kaleidoscope of bittersweet, radiant colors. The emotional depth and powerful prose affected me in ways I can't express in words, only in tears.
"There is nothing in my sight but me, a dim lamp, and a miraculous telephone connecting me to the other side of the world, to my mother, who could say nothing but my name, over and over in her breaking voice, “Kyong-Ah. Kyong-Ah.” (71)
"Could we accept each other if we are blind? Would we know each other by touch? Touch me here, Mom, in this place where I am sorry, where I love you, where I need to be healed." (231)
"Umma, I would bring you back to life with will and words if I could--pure words, crisp, fresh ones, like water and sky and air. These English words--transparent, swirling, full of life--I give to you, to imagine you into life again, because I miss you so, and because I cannot bear the thought of never seeing you again.
But to recreate you with words of dying, the way I knew you the longest, suspended halfway between life and death--it hurts to remember you this way. Umma, I know that you want me to stop in my sadness, you want me to let go. So I will make you now with these words, these terribly, ugly words that I hate to write." (160)
"There is nothing in my sight but me, a dim lamp, and a miraculous telephone connecting me to the other side of the world, to my mother, who could say nothing but my name, over and over in her breaking voice, “Kyong-Ah. Kyong-Ah.” (71)
"Could we accept each other if we are blind? Would we know each other by touch? Touch me here, Mom, in this place where I am sorry, where I love you, where I need to be healed." (231)
"Umma, I would bring you back to life with will and words if I could--pure words, crisp, fresh ones, like water and sky and air. These English words--transparent, swirling, full of life--I give to you, to imagine you into life again, because I miss you so, and because I cannot bear the thought of never seeing you again.
But to recreate you with words of dying, the way I knew you the longest, suspended halfway between life and death--it hurts to remember you this way. Umma, I know that you want me to stop in my sadness, you want me to let go. So I will make you now with these words, these terribly, ugly words that I hate to write." (160)
July 11, 2015
A superb memoir. I felt I learned a lot about some of the unique inner struggles of adopted children, particularly those who must deal with being of a different race than their parents and other family members. The flood of Korean adoptees in particular during the 1950s-1970s were especially prone to adoption by parents unprepared to give credence to their adopted children's special background, to their country of origin and to their birth families. The author was a sensitive person who felt herself to be a perpetual outsider to those around her in rural Minnesota. She refers to herself as one of the "replacement children" to her staid, reticent parents, who adopted her and her older sister to "replace" the white children they couldn't have.
As her sister assimilated fairly smoothly (according to the author - but the sister might have a different story to tell), Jane seeks out the birth mother who has written to her and makes several trips to Korea as a young adult to live briefly with her family of origin. The birth mother's story and her anguish toward her lost daughter are heartbreaking, yet the two are able to establish a close relationship in the short time they have to rediscover each other years later.
As her sister assimilated fairly smoothly (according to the author - but the sister might have a different story to tell), Jane seeks out the birth mother who has written to her and makes several trips to Korea as a young adult to live briefly with her family of origin. The birth mother's story and her anguish toward her lost daughter are heartbreaking, yet the two are able to establish a close relationship in the short time they have to rediscover each other years later.
February 19, 2014
The author and her sister, four years older, were placed for adoption in the U.S. by their Korean mother to escape an abusive situation at the hands of their alcoholic father. Both Jane and her sibling end up in a farming community in western Minnesota where there are no other Asians and no opportunity to explore their Korean heritage. Through the persistence of her birth mother, who seems to be a force of nature, contact is made, and first one, and then several more trips back to Korea are made by Jane to visit her birth family (minus father)where, although she can understand only a few Korean words, experiences the "language of blood."
Reflecting on both her adoptive parents and her birth family, the author brilliantly evokes how it feels to her to be stripped of her family and ethnic identity. She is hard on her parents for their stoicism and inability to allow her her own feelings. At the same time, her mercurial nature sometimes works against her, causing her to burn bridges and intensifies her own unhappiness. Nevertheless, this book offers an inside and insightful look at the complexities of international adoption and how it is played out in one daughter's life.
Reflecting on both her adoptive parents and her birth family, the author brilliantly evokes how it feels to her to be stripped of her family and ethnic identity. She is hard on her parents for their stoicism and inability to allow her her own feelings. At the same time, her mercurial nature sometimes works against her, causing her to burn bridges and intensifies her own unhappiness. Nevertheless, this book offers an inside and insightful look at the complexities of international adoption and how it is played out in one daughter's life.
January 13, 2019
The book details the author's journey towards self-discovery after having been expelled from her own homeland and adopted by an American couple, an act which severed her connection to her country, nationality and history, and erased her native language, culture and name.
Jane Jeong Trenka is one of the few who have dared stand up to the international adoption industry in Korea, having eventually returned to her homeland where she became an activist for change. I admire her courage in stating, in both "The Language of Blood" and elsewhere, what so few dare say: international adoption shouldn't happen; children deserve a connection to their country and culture of origin; the Korean government has an obligation to help its most vulnerable citizen, not make money off their misery by selling them into adoption (the Korean international adoption industry is run by private organizations, which naturally want to maximize their profits).
This beautifully-written book, and its sequel, detail the author's journey to find herself, try to make up for what was denied of her, and try to make things right.
Jane Jeong Trenka is one of the few who have dared stand up to the international adoption industry in Korea, having eventually returned to her homeland where she became an activist for change. I admire her courage in stating, in both "The Language of Blood" and elsewhere, what so few dare say: international adoption shouldn't happen; children deserve a connection to their country and culture of origin; the Korean government has an obligation to help its most vulnerable citizen, not make money off their misery by selling them into adoption (the Korean international adoption industry is run by private organizations, which naturally want to maximize their profits).
This beautifully-written book, and its sequel, detail the author's journey to find herself, try to make up for what was denied of her, and try to make things right.
February 25, 2019
I first came across this author while watching an episode of Obsession: Dark Desires. When I found out she had written about her experience with a stalker, I found this book. The stalking experience is just a small portion of this book. The rest of the book is quite fascinating as well. In it, she discusses how she was adopted from Korea along with one of her sisters and raised in Minnesota. She talks about what is was like growing up Asian in a mostly white town, reconnecting with her birth mother, and visiting Korea and her birth family. I enjoyed the writing style - most times I felt like I was reading a journal or maybe a letter, sometimes it was written like a play’s dialogue, and a few pages were even written like a stand-up routine! The only thing missing that I would’ve liked to see are pictures, but I’m sure those were left out since names were changed and to respect privacy.
September 6, 2010
My brother was home from college this weekend, and he had to read this book for his Ethnic class. Since I had nothing else better to do and I love to read, I took this book and read it. I can't even think of words to describe this book; I loved it.
I immigrated to the U.S. when I was 7. Just like the author herself, I've struggled to balance between who I was and who I am. It's really hard sometimes. I'm now 16, and this summer I get to go back to Taiwan. It's exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. I feel so close to the author in so many ways, and I've never felt like the way I did after I read a book. It was very emotional.
I think it was fate that I read this book. It was uplifting. I don't feel so alone anymore. Thank you.
A book that will touch every part of your soul. Recommended.
I immigrated to the U.S. when I was 7. Just like the author herself, I've struggled to balance between who I was and who I am. It's really hard sometimes. I'm now 16, and this summer I get to go back to Taiwan. It's exciting and nerve-wracking at the same time. I feel so close to the author in so many ways, and I've never felt like the way I did after I read a book. It was very emotional.
I think it was fate that I read this book. It was uplifting. I don't feel so alone anymore. Thank you.
A book that will touch every part of your soul. Recommended.
December 13, 2011
This book surprised me with the degree to which I enjoyed it. Personally aware of some of the challenges adoption may bring, I began to notice as the story unfolded that the author's self descriptions were very much like those associated with RAD. When her psychologist sister finally suggested exactly that I was impressed. Her life as an infant certainly would account for both RAD and PTSD; she likely suffered from both.
This is a book that I would highly recommend for adoptive parents. As Jane's sister observed, RAD is not that uncommon among adopted children. If parents are educated to watch for the symptoms, the children can benefit from the right kind of therapy. Jane's adoptive parents appeared to have no concept of how to parent a child with those challenges.
This is a book that I would highly recommend for adoptive parents. As Jane's sister observed, RAD is not that uncommon among adopted children. If parents are educated to watch for the symptoms, the children can benefit from the right kind of therapy. Jane's adoptive parents appeared to have no concept of how to parent a child with those challenges.
July 20, 2011
This is a valuable memoir for Korean adoptees and adoptive parents alike, but outside of that demographic, it's not a necessary read. The author meanders through her life story, including every significant event regardless of whether it fit with the story. The complaints about her parents are less that they were white adoptive parents and more that they were people who taught her to suppress her feelings, and refused to acknowledge any of their own emotions. This is dangerous for children of any situation. Overall, I felt that the book was unfocused and unprofessional, but still of value to people who are interested in the topic, so I settled on three stars.
August 15, 2011
A lyrical and lovely memoir. The author's attempt to weave together all parts of her family history and herself are moving and powerful. At first I was afraid that the mixture of storytelling elements would feel like a grad school exercise, but this felt very appropriate and beautifully executed. I truly enjoyed getting a look into her confusing and multifaceted life, both as an American and as a Korean, as she tries to figure out and articulate her identity. Even her parents are three-dimensional, sympathetic characters, when she could have painted them simply as closed-minded people. I would recommend this to anyone who enjoys artful storytelling.
May 28, 2013
I loved this memoir! Having never read anything about one's experience with adoption, I found this to be very, very interesting. I enjoyed the author's voice as it was both personable and sarcastic and aloof at times. Most of the story went in order, but at times it would jump around, which I also enjoyed. Being a Minnesotan myself, I could relate to some of the Midwestern culture she seemed to both love and hate. A very beautiful, honest, and raw memoir. Not only did it help me understand what many adoptees go through, it was also a gentle reminder o to really get to know a person instead of immediately placing them into a category based on their appearance.
September 27, 2021
In this autobiography, Korean adoptee Jane Trenka writes a touching and honest personal account of transnational adoption from the perspective of the adoptee. She discusses the profound loss of identity she suffered growing up without acknowledgment of her cultural roots. I am the mother of an adopted child of a different race, and this book gave me food for thought. I did however, think it was quite one sided, focusing on the negative aspects of the experience without any nod to benefits adoption provided for her.
September 23, 2018
A book that explores the universal question of identity, family and home and will resonate with most of us on many, different levels.
Beautifully narrated the memoir's central characters, Jane Jeong Trenka and her sister Carol (both Korean) are adopted by a white couple Frederik and Margaret Bauer in Harlow, Minnesota. They were raised as American children with American values, however the absence of a past continued to haunt them and eventually they connected with their mother and 4 other siblings in Korea. Read the full review here: https://www.booktherapy.io/pages/adopted
Beautifully narrated the memoir's central characters, Jane Jeong Trenka and her sister Carol (both Korean) are adopted by a white couple Frederik and Margaret Bauer in Harlow, Minnesota. They were raised as American children with American values, however the absence of a past continued to haunt them and eventually they connected with their mother and 4 other siblings in Korea. Read the full review here: https://www.booktherapy.io/pages/adopted
August 12, 2009
A very haunting memoir of displacement. The author was adopted as an infant from Korea by an American couple in Harlow, Minnesota. Her adoptive parents never addressed her Korean roots or culture, nor her birth parents or the circumstances that led her birth parents to give her up for adoption. She yearns for answers, reunites with her birth mother and sisters, and eventually becomes estranged from her adoptive parents as they refuse to take any interest in her birth family.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
March 14, 2017
This was, hands down, my favorite memoir/autobiography that I have ever read. Jane tells her story with vivid imagery and she uses a variety of tools such a creation myths and play scenes in order to make her points. As an adoptee, reading about Jane's experience was really meaningful to me. I think that every adoptee should look into this book, and non-adoptees should read it to gain insight about the intricate identity formation process that adoptees struggle through.
October 20, 2008
It's really so far interesting to read about her life! Also, some events in her life that coincide with mine makes it seem more real. (I, too, have been on the trip to Korea with CHS, and I've met Mrs. Han!) It does jump around quite a bit, which makes it hard to follow in some parts, but all in all an interesting read.
June 22, 2012
This memoir alternately fascinated and annoyed me. She does a few self-conscious writerly things, like inserting little one-act plays and whatnot, and these didn't feel organic. She also came across as whiny at times. However, her thoughts about being stuck between two cultures were compelling, and the chapter in which she describes being stalked is very powerful and disturbing.
November 27, 2008
An adult Korean adoptee's perspective on adoption by US parents and reuniting with her birth family. Suggest for parents of older, internationally adopted kids - while recognizing that the differences among families and countries of origin make every family's experience unique.
February 2, 2011
A compelling, honest look at international adoption through the eyes of an adoptee. Not always flattering to the adoptive family, but an important read for all adults contemplating international adoption. I recommend it.
May 3, 2019
Sad but I would recommend to someone considering an international adoption. I don't think it would change my mind about adopting but it would help me better understand the viewpoint of a child new to American culture.
January 3, 2023
“‘Your parents will always hate you…because you are not who you are supposed to be.’” (p. 179)
—The single most self-pitying, sanctimonious line of pure horse$&!t I’ve ever read.
Sincerely, an adoptee & adoptive mother
[Drop-kicks book into recycle bin]
—The single most self-pitying, sanctimonious line of pure horse$&!t I’ve ever read.
Sincerely, an adoptee & adoptive mother
[Drop-kicks book into recycle bin]
March 24, 2008
A must read for parents of adopted girls...especially if you live in MN where this TRUE story takes place.
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