Memento Mori

by Eunice Hong

Don’t look back.

Did Eurydice want to return from the underworld? Did anybody ask?

In this brilliant portrait of rage and resilience, a Korean woman tries to connect with her younger brother and grapple with family tragedy through bedtime stories that weave together Greek mythology, neuroscience, and tales from their grandmother’s slipping memory.

Recasting the myths of Eurydice, Orpheus, Persephone, and Hades through the lens of a Korean American family, Eunice Hong’s debut novel offers a moving and darkly funny exploration of grief, love, and the inescapability of death.

Genres: Fiction, Mythology

256 pages, Paperback

Published August 13, 2024

Reviews

[Nicki Markus · Rating 5 out of 5]

Memento Mori was a stunning work that wove myth retellings through the tale of a young woman grappling with grief and loss as her family sought to deal with a tragedy that had a deep impact on them all. The prose was easy reading on the one hand but full of emotional impact at the same time. The segmented flow of the story also contributed to the feeling of disruption and disjointedness and helped to highlight the narrator's disordered mind as she tried to make sense of everything that had happened to her. It is a fairly stark story and the subject matter may not be for everyone, but I recommend it to readers looking for a raw portrayal of grief told in a lyrical, captivating way. I am giving it 4.5 stars.

I received this book as a free eBook ARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

[Elena L. · Rating 5 out of 5]

[4.5/5 stars]

MEMENTO MORI is about a woman grappling with grief and loss after a tragedy inflicts on her family.

Told in form of essays, Hong provides a raw depiction of grief and trauma; and the most unique aspect of this novel is the way the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice blends into the narrative, creating absorbing moments with fairy tale vibes amidst devastation.

Using memory as a foundation, Hong explores the essence of memory, dissecting both its volatile and steady sides that build a relationship with oneself. The narrator is self-aware and through distinct ways of language, she exposes sentiments of longing while piercing philosophical reflections on death. With mesmerizing prose, this book feels all the more cathartic as if one is directly listening to the narrator's memories, the intimacy that transcends any kind of boundaries.

The words exude preciousness and I found each moment purposeful. This book isn't solely desolation, elegantly balanced by splashes of humor. Throughout the novel, the emotions are tangible and one is easily inspired by the family's story.

MEMENTO MORI is an emotionally laden novel with innovative structure. This is a remarkable book that spoke to my heart with its candidness and I hope everyone reads it.

[ I received an ARC and all opinions are my own ]

[Christine · Rating 5 out of 5]

[Copy gifted by author]

READ IF YOU LIKE...
• Devastating reflections on grief
• Nonlinear storytelling
• Discussing what it means to live

I THOUGHT IT WAS...
An incredibly written novel that explores memory, trauma, grief, and death, all couched within a reexamining of the classic Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice.

Look up a synopsis on your own if you want, but I believe this novel is best experienced by letting your brain do the legwork on what's happening and why this novel is written in fragments that feel random. What I will say is stick with it, because all the different philosophical conversations and reflections coalesce in the most devastating of ways.

I absolutely loved the way Hong used the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. When looked at from Orpheus's perspective, it's a tragic love story. But did Eurydice actually want to return to the living? Did anyone ask her? Hong uses this new perspective to frame our own reactions to those we love who are in the process of fading away, where their body lives but the mind is gone. We cling to them with the hope they will recover, yet how much does that hope stem from selfishness? What if they actually wish to pass on? These are heart-wrenching questions almost impossible to answer, but worth discussing with your loved ones before it's too late.

[Sydney Muñoz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Eunice Hong perfectly encapsulates the journey of grief. Both the struggle of grieving the ones we have lost and also the version of ourselves we have lost over time. I wish I could have read this book sooner. At 17, at 22, but I am grateful to have read this now. Will definitely be coming back to it again in a few years.

[J · Rating 5 out of 5]

More a 4.5 than a 5, but I decided to round up.

In Memento Mori, Hong took a unique approach to grief, trauma, and memory through her ideas and prose. From its nonlinear nature to the different stylistic choices across chapters, I will say that this novel might not work for everyone with how it leaned a bit more to the experimental. Yet, I would say Hong’s choices worked well for what she wanted to get across. It was especially interesting how she blended Greek mythology (focusing particularly on Orpheus and Eurydice), Korean history, and events in the unnamed protagonist’s life to, ultimately, reflect on her resilience.

The protagonist was deeply self-aware in a way that I found provocative, even finding myself reflecting on what she was thinking about. Hong captured a particular kind of intimacy that might be a little uncomfortable at times, but I also found it refreshing due to how candid the protagonist was. Perhaps being of Korean descent myself (and also loving the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, which was what initially drew me to this novel), I found that a lot of the protagonist’s reflections resonated with me. Another thing I wanted to comment on that really stood out to me was how Hong beautifully captured the grief one feels after losing someone while also contending with the grief of your own aliveness (or lack thereof). It was an honest and cathartic exploration of life and death that I felt differed from other approaches I’ve seen in other novels.

I will say that it took a bit to get used to the unique structure, and it wasn’t really until halfway through that I really got a sense of how everything was coming together. I know some people won’t be willing to wait it out that long, but I think it’s worth it for this novel. Furthermore, this is a book that asks you to take your time to sit with the protagonist’s grief and memories (i.e., don’t try to read quickly). I do think there were a couple ideas that could have been developed a bit more, but it didn’t take away from my overall enjoyment.

[Amr Saleh · Rating 5 out of 5]

It has been a very long time since a story was able to leave such a deep impact on me. I can’t even remember the last time I finished the last word of a novel and just stared into nothingness for a while. I don’t say this lightly but Memento Mori is by every definition a work of art.

Hong’s intellect simply shines through the pages as she weaves together ageless myths with a tale about grief, rage, survival, resilience, and most importantly, memories and how they shape us, relieve us, and deceive us.

Let me make it clear here that the briefness of this review does not reflect my lack of interest in Eunice Hong’s debut but my inability to find words good enough to describe it. Memento Mori is a story that stunned me from the first page and left me lost for words by the last. It’s an exquisite work of art that you should experience yourself because no review, blurb, or synopsis will do it justice.

[Jordan · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC of this book.

This story was a beautiful marriage of meaning and form, with a structure that repeatedly circled back on itself, mirroring the neuroscience of the memories rewriting themselves through trauma and grief. Building the story of the narrator piece by piece made the pacing a bit slow at times, but putting the pieces together across the varying timelines did keep me coming back to the book through a heavy series of tragedies for the narrator.

I think the question the book ultimately asks is: what are the responsibilities of the griever to the subject of grief? I'm not sure I have found the answer, but I appreciated the exploration of the question.

[Aldana · Rating 5 out of 5]

I want to thank netgalley, redhenpress & eunicehong for the arc.⠀
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We get to know the characters in this book through the eyes of one narrator. A girl, an older sister, the daughter of Korean parents. We get to know them through the eyes of someone that loves them, each of them in a different way perhaps, but no less true & unconditionally. This is a family like any other, but here we see the problems, the expectations, the sleepless nights wondering what to going to happen to all of us.⠀
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It has been hard to talk about this book, to come up with a review, to offer some kind of insight because 𝗶𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘆 𝗵𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲. The questions the narrator asks herself, her relationship with her grandparents, where she sees herself standing in life, trying to tick all the boxes, how we sometimes demonise good intentions. The book is raw, rough, is difficult in its own realness. To me, this book is for the girls, the only child, the older sisters, the ever caring mothers, 𝗶𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗯𝗼𝗼𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗿𝗲. The title of each chapter goes back to shared things between the narrator & her brother, her friends, the things one does when we would like to explore each corner of the universe from our own little corner, it was a wonderful way to tie the whole story.⠀
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As a bonus, for us, the girls 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝘀𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗱 with greek mythology, the book intertwines the myths of Orpheus & Eurydice and Hades & Persephone, how both of them are related to each other as well. It made me all the more excited for this book, this story, how we transport ourselves to this ancient moments so vividly. Eunice does an amazing job at taking us to that exact moment. I highly recommend this book, especially if you loved Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng.⠀
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Again, i want to thank netgalley, the publisher & the author for the arc. More to the author for hearing (reading?) me ramble & being so kind! & for the bookmark that is still out there but i hope to have here with me soon!⠀

[Hiba · Rating 5 out of 5]

It baffles me that this book doesn't have much recognition and is not as loved as I think it should be.
This family's story shattered my heart to pieces, but also mended my soul thanks to the heartwarming family ties that it portrayed.
Losing a sibling creates a chasm in a family's life that cannot be mended, no matter how hard you try to act normally, especially on happy occasions. You'll always feel incomplete.

The book is very well-written, easy to read to make up for the amount of grief it packs in its few pages. Surprisingly, I loved how the book was structured, and the back and forth between past and present added to the emotional charge of the story, especially the nighttime stories.

[Zana · Rating 3 out of 5]

Memento Mori' blends Greek mythology retellings with the story of a woman dealing with a personal tragedy and going through all the stages of grief.
It's a moving and heartbreaking tale, told through an experimental form, with a non-linnear timeline.
Despite the heavy topic, there's a lot of love and humanity that shines through.
As someone who's dealt with a lot of loss and grief over the years, I found 'Memento Mori' to be a beatiful and relatable reading experience.

[amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

tragic, heartbreaking, and so well-written.

[Serena · Rating 5 out of 5]

My thanks to the publisher and NetGalley and the author for allowing Memento Mori to be a 'Read Now' option there, I had seen snippets of news of the book forthcoming because I follow L. E. Jenks-Brown / @GreekMythComix who's coloring book I backed on Kickstarter in 2022.

It should be of interest that a pre-order of Memento Mori comes with a Eurydice & Orpheus bookmark designed by L. E. Jenks-Brown / @GreekMythComix and a signed bookplate that has Cerberus on it too! After you preorder, fill out this form!

Memento Mori Bookmark+ Bookplate



I read the bulk of the book in the past two days, diving into a narrative of a Korean American woman who calls upon the Muse of grief (is there a Muse of grief? Melpomene, perhaps) as she begins to recall telling her brother bed time stories of Persephone and Demeter, Eurydice and Orpheus.

We learn about her and her family, that she's endured not only his death - but the death of her grandpa and that her struggle to survive and endure in this one life is uprooted, not only by tragic death like in the myth of Eurydice and Orpheus- but by rapes as Persephone's was.

That none of those things mark a ending, or a victory, but another turn of the wheel of survival and what that means to her. That her hopes for herself, for her family and her mother and father's mother are sometimes unspeakable and tragic but like Orpheus, she can look back and live to find another way - or not.

Someone who knows the myths will tell where and how they are changed (Persephone's swallowed seeds pomegranate become golden and bejeweled threads that trap her to a life and realm she truly dreads -Eurydice is a girl who lives on a mountain with her family and flees a marriage with a man who kills her family and her) but myths, stories, must change because the people who tell them change from one generation to the next.

History tells us that those ancient people want to be remembered even as we live, "remember death", memento mori. No one can tell you what life means, or where to go with it, or what to do with it. It's yours. Live your life, but remember you will die. Remember that you will someday, sometimes only be remembered by the family stories you pass on to others, be they the friends, or enemies, who go on to tell them even to others after your death.

Until those who come after us might not even remember our names (I liked the perceptive device of using initials instead of names).

Readers will tell a author "This book saved my life" and it isn't something to be dismissed -books, stories, folklore, myths matter in our lives in ways we don't truly have the science or knowledge yet to explain to ourselves or fully to others. Yet they go on mattering and being told, living with us and sometimes...sometimes stories, words die out.

What is a Muse after all, only a daughter of memory.

[C.R. Comacchio · Rating 5 out of 5]

Thank you to NetGalley and Red Hen Press for an ARC of this novel.

The Latin phrase ‘memento mori’ translates to ‘remember you must die.’ Its use, spiritually and artistically, dates back to the ancient Romans, and it is a theme common to both pagan myth and Christian doctrine. It is two-sided in meaning, meant as both a comfort and a warning of human frailty and insignificance. Considering how short and nasty life could be for common people, until very recently, memento mori was woven into the cultural fabric. Now, most people prefer to forget that death is imminent and inescapable, and are encouraged to do so.

The unnamed narrator in this pensive novel admits to an overwhelming fear of death, and struggles constantly with the choice between living or not, a choice that she will also have to confront on behalf of others. But this isn’t a story about depression so much as a story about resilience, about holding on and letting go. We slowly learn her life story and family history back several generations. She is Korean-American, born to educated and affluent parents who maintain home and work in both worlds, but whose two children, she and younger brother M. , were raised in the United States by their beloved paternal grandmother.

The story centres on her relationship with her brother, whom she parented alongside their grandmother when their parents were in Korea. Much of her memory of their childhood has to do with their cherished bedtime ritual, in which she recounts mostly faithful versions of myths, especially the story of Eurydice and Orpheus. Unlike the traditional version, in which love spurs the hero to save his beloved from death, she raises the question that no one asked Eurydice because the story is about Orpheus: did she want to return? Maybe Eurydice was content in the underworld. The moral that she draws from it is ‘don’t look back,’ because it is dangerous. But so is not looking back.

The Eurydice story frames the larger themes about dying, the ‘underworld’ that many visit even while on earth, the ways of trauma, loss, grief and mourning. The ways of remembering and the ways of forgetting.

As she tells it, the story covers about 20 years of the narrator’s life, from late childhood to her early 30s, much of it in memory. It is ostensibly a record of her life intended for her brother to read, explaining her periods of withdrawal as well as her memories of him, their parents and grandparents, their “foreignness” in both Korea and the United States. She speaks also of her paternal grandmother’s escape from North Korea, the accident that changed her, the way she repeatedly told her granddaughter, even as a young child, that she wanted to die. And of the friends who sustained her, and those who indelibly harmed her. These, too, are not named, and the most evil are identified only by the em dash.

The author imaginatively interweaves myth, astronomy, custom, neuroscience and philosophy of mind in its telling. She writes clearly and simply, while conveying the narrator’s complex inner life. It is a masterful debut.

[Alyssa Bohman · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m always a sucker for a Eurydice-Orpheus reimagining, but this exceeded all possible expectations I could have had for it. Everything about it felt so new and special to me, truly unlike anything I’ve ever read before and I can actually feel myself changing because of reading and reflecting on this book. Thank you, Faith, for finding it for us <3



TW: death / rape / suicidal ideation

[Maia Lee-Chin · Rating 5 out of 5]

TW for sexual assault, death, graphic imagery

Rage, grief, shame, and guilt wrapped up in one perfect Homeric simile for memory, trauma, and Asian-Americanness. Memento Mori was everything I wanted and more: a brilliant work of art that is just as insightful and darkly funny as it is beautiful.

I'd recommend Memento Mori to anyone interested in a fresh take on Orpheus and Eurydice: one that's sure to make readers cry, laugh, and (maybe the most challenging thing of all, according to the author) remember.

[Kamilė | cobwebshelves · Rating 5 out of 5]

“the road ends, eventually. past the ruined shell of a stone house, past the iron benches, past the massive tree trunk cut into a crude bench, the path stops. at its finish: a high circle of stone around an emerald. a garden of the dead. name. epitaph. date en dash date. the entirety of life contained in an accident of punctuation, an arbitrary designation of meaning to indicate separation.”

tw: familial death, mentions of rape and suicidal ideation

eunice hong’s “memento mori” is as gut wrenching as it is beautiful – and undoubtedly one of the best this year.

like the myth of orpheus and eurydice, this story is imbued with death. each page, each chapter, death follows the narrator, a constant reminder of that which is inevitable, no matter how hard you may try to delay it. life leads to entropy, to deterioration, until it has been snuffed out. until the energy must shift elsewhere. as she tells these stories to her beloved brother, as she slowly reveals what she has gone through, how it has shaped her into who she has become, the narrator always feels death trailing behind her, slowly, wordlessly.

emotionally, was a heavy read, a rare instance for me to be brought to tears. at times i wanted to stop, to close the chapter, to hold that inevitable away from myself and from the story, but i simply had to carry on, to let that pain exist, to watch life and death play another round of chess.

this is such a powerful debut for hong, showcasing incredible skill for balancing poetry, science, and the mundane of everyday life. along with life and loss, hong also explores the struggles experienced by korean women living both in south korea and as diaspora. topically, the gender roles, the sexism, and the sexual violence discussed felt topical with the revelations of recent weeks about the extent of misogyny and abuse in the country. it feels clever without making you feel stupid, even as you read about the myths, or the neuroscience, or the land of her ancestors.

i wish i could go back and read it again anew – despite the heart wrenching journey it took me on.

massive thanks to netgalley and red hen press for the access.

[Steph | bookedinsaigon]

DNFed at 39%. The writing is beautiful, but its experimental form, notably the non-linear timeline and the fact that almost none of the characters are explicitly named, failed to inspire the requisite awe and emotions in me. I mostly had no idea what was going on and what the main thrust of the story was. I think it's a meditation on the conflicted emotions surrounding loss, compounded by intergenerational immigrant family differences, using Greek mythology as allegories? Okay, but why is the brother a little kid in one chapter, and a full-grown adult in the next? Who is this "K." character and why is he significant? I ended up just feeling nothing.

It's not a bad book. If you like experimental writing and a strong desire to support new Asian writers, and if you don't need to necessarily connect and empathize with the characters in order to enjoy a book, then you might appreciate this one more than me.

[Cherlynn | cherreading · Rating 4 out of 5]

Haunting, heartwrenching and achingly beautiful.

I had no idea what this book was about when I picked it up or what direction it would go in, but... damn. Pains me that there are excerpts I could relate to but at the same time, they made me feel less alone. The storytelling is unique and powerful, with so much emotion radiating through the pages.

Not sure how this book isn't talked about more but I doubt words would suffice anyway.

[Vidhi Patel · Rating 5 out of 5]

4.5. - a little confusing at first with the nonlinear storytelling but eventually was hooked. beautiful and heartbreaking story about grief and family. I liked the authors creativity with the chapter numbers/names and how they connected to the story being told in that section

[kelli h · Rating 4 out of 5]

4/5

I'm really confused, but I'm also really numb.

this was a book I picked up after scanning its description and spotting mentions of the greek underworld myths. on one hand, they're told as bedtime stories to the narrator's younger brother (accompanied by his legendary commentary). on another, they're picked apart by the narrator when touching on topics like life and death, and who truly has the final say in 'saving' one or letting one move on.

majority of Memento Mori also digs into the narrator's family and personal life, which can all be described as touchingly bittersweet. I don't want to spoil anything, but she really does go through some shit. and honestly? felt.
she cherishes her family a lot, and the lengths she goes through to simply BE with them — which is especially so in the later half of the book — made me emotional. got me thinking back to my own family and it just breaks my heart.

idk how to conclude this but the this was just *chef's kiss*

[bookishde · Rating 5 out of 5]

This novel is a moving narrative, where the unnamed narrator tells the story of her life, framed within the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice. I initially picked this one up due to the Greek mythology theme, but found myself enjoying the day-to-day experiences of the narrator even more than the chapters focused on retelling the myth.

Reading this book was an emotional roller-coaster. I found myself laughing at the beginning of the book, and then crying by the end - this will be a book I revisit when I need a cathartic cry. The exploration of grief, depression, and the loss of self is handled with sensitivity, while emphasising the importance of connecting with the ones we love.

Though it's only June, this is likely to be my book of the year.

Thank you to Eunice Hong and Red Hen Press for the e-arc, in exchange for an honest review.

[Angela · Rating 5 out of 5]

Beautifully written, more people need to pick this up! The author is clearly brilliant. She somehow managed to include so many academic references without info-dumping or making me feel like an idiot.

[John Armstrong · Rating 5 out of 5]

Eunice Hong’s Memento Mori: A Novel (2024) is by far the best Korean-American novel I have ever read and is the one contemporary novel, Korean American or Korean, I have read that I would put in the same class as Han Kang’s, which is saying a lot. In fact, for me this book bears a strong resemblance to Han’s The White Book, for its portrayal of sustained, quiet but profound grief, and Greek Lessons, for the meticulous fragmentation of its narrative.

I recently described the book in another place, concisely and maybe a bit overly so, as a compelling work of literary fiction that is at once a poignant close-friends-and-family-centric coming-of-age story and an extended meditation on death – or more accurately on life and death and the choice between them that some people get to make and others don’t.

It tells the story of a highly intelligent, high achieving, but socially “slow” young woman in a three generation mixed Korean/Korean-American family. The young woman (unnamed, but I ‘ve gotten into the habit of calling her N) is the first person narrator of the story, and presents it as a series of memories which she has accumulated over time and wants to share. Death is always on her mind, and in the course of her story she has four encounters with it. Of these the third, due to a random accident, is the most traumatic for her, and divides her life (and the book) into two parts, before and after.

The bold primary colored cover features a single blurb by an author of popular books about Greek mythology that declares that the book “Reimagines the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice beautifully,” and this view is echoed in every blurb and highlighted in every review. The reimagining, or rather reimaginings, for they include not only Orpheus and Eurydice but also the other two great Greek myths of women in the underworld – Hades and Persephone and Admetus and Alcestis – are presented as stories which had been told to N as a child by her paternal grandmother (Halmoni) and she now recalls telling to her little brother M when he was young. N’s versions are presented in a half dozen installments (plus a few subsequent reflections) interspersed in the main narrative, starting at the very beginning (“Once upon a time” = Chapter 0 – BTW be sure to check out the Notes at the end of the book and acquaint yourself with the author’s unique way of naming her chapters) and continuing up to the point, late in the first half, where things take a serious turn.

The affection that many readers express for the stories is well deserved, and they are a great entry point into the story of N’s own life. Like many other readers I was captivated by the tales and continued to think about them till I reached the end of the book – and then want back to read it again (and again after that). But what captivated me was not just the tales themselves, but – and really more – the intimacy of their telling: for we don’t just hear the voice of N as she relates the tales, we also hear the voice of her little brother M as he repeatedly (but not too repeatedly) interrupts her with questions and comments, mostly humorous but always to the point.

As to the tales – there are actually four of them, the three Greek tales, and also, very briefly told in the afterthoughts, the Old testament story of Lot and his Wife –, most readers and reviewers point to two recurring themes:

• When escaping from death, don’t look back: Orpheus; Lot’s wife.

• When presented with a choice between life and death, both are valid options: Eurydice (in N’s version of the tale); Alcestis.

I see them too, but I also see several more. The most prominent one is:

• When a woman finds herself facing death, there’s a good chance that, one way or another, it is a man who has brought it about: (1) Persephone, who was not only abducted and “taken” (M: “oh, that taken…”) by Hades, King of the Underworld, but suffered this fate due to being sold to Hades by her father Zeus; (2) Eurydice, who died from a snakebite while fleeing from Aristaeus, the vengeful bee-keeping rejected suitor (in N’s version of the tale, who names him only as, I’m sure much to M’s delight, His Creepiness of the Bees), and then died a second time when her last-minute husband Orpheus, given a chance to take her back to the living world, can’t resist looking back at the last minute to make sure she is following him; and (3) Alcestis, who chose to die in place of her husband Admetus (unnamed in N’s version), who did not consider dying himself to save her.

Another fairly clear theme I see is:

• A person may be both alive and dead, which is to say, suspended between life and death: most clearly (1) Alcestis, when she is mortally ill and on the verge of dying – really dying, a physical death, which is what she committed to – and N actually quotes her handmaid’s description of her (not mentioned in N’s version), “You can say she is both living and dead” from Euripides’s play Alcestis (in the original Greek! Along with a translation); and maybe also (2) Persephone, who spends half her time in the land of the living with her mother Demeter and her siblings, and half in the land of the dead with her husband Hades.

And finally there’s one that’s maybe not so clear:

• Sometimes a person has to give up on getting what they really want and settle for what they can get: I can see this in (1) the deal Persephone makes with Hades to be his wife if he will allow her to divide her time between him and her family; but it really hits me in (2) Eurydice’s dramatic response to Persephone, now queen of the underworld, when she tells her that her husband (Orpheus) has arrived and wants to take her back with him, and asks her, “Don’t you miss the warmth of the sun? You chose your husband freely, didn’t you?”, to which Eurydice replies, “I chose him more than I did not choose him.”

All these themes start out in the ancient myths that N relates to her young brother, but all, I believe, also pass over into to her own life as she relates it to us. The interweaving of the two threads is a big part of what makes the book so good. But it is practically impossible to get into specifics without crossing the line into spoiler territory, which most/all other GR reviewers decline to do. So I will too, and just encourage people to keep them in mind as they read N’s story.

Even putting aside the mythical themes, It's hard to get into the specifics of N’s own story without getting into spoiler territory, so I’ll confine myself to one aspect of the book as a whole that had a big impact on how I read it.

Memento Mori is a work of fiction. But for me N’s story and N herself were so believable – so “authentic” – that I had to keep reminding myself that they were not real – or at least not 100% real.

For me Memento Mori is what the Japanese call an I-novel (shi-shōsetsu; the corresponding Korean term is sa-soseol, though I’m not sure it’s much used), by which they mean a realistic fictional first person narrative which puts the narrator him/herself – “I” – at the center of the story and relates not only their actions and experiences but their thoughts and feelings, both good and bad, in a totally open and honest way. I-novels are all that, but they’re also something else too – though definitely fiction, the narrator is generally modeled on the author themself, and the story is based on their real life, even if it diverges from it in significant ways. The question is, for those like me who can’t resist asking it, how much of N and the life she recounts in the book are fiction, and how much reflects Eunice Hong and her own life?


Only the author herself and her family and close friends know what in the book is fiction and what is true (or close to it). Certainly I don’t. But fortunately you can hear what the author herself has to say about her book in her essay, “On Writing Memento Mori” by Eunice Hong, August 13, 2024, on By Women Writers Women Books. I don’t know if I can share the link, but it’s easy to find it by googling the author and title.


There’s so much more I would love to say about this wonderful book, but I’ll limit myself to a single parting recommendation. Keep an eye out for the chapter about …
…the 88 constellations recognized by the International Astronomical Union.

When you find it you will see N’s the last and most personal reflection on the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice.

[Emma Ito · Rating 5 out of 5]

MEMENTO MORI is a beautiful, poignant reflection on life, death, grief, & family.

When I started this book, I was a little confused. Written in essay form, MEMENTO MORI opens conversationally and you must fill in the blanks to who she is talking to. Yet if you stick with it, this book flowers into a powerful work. We see glimpses of conversations with and about her brother M., her friends K, G, & C, her halmoni (her father's mother), her grandma (her mother's mother), her grandpa (her mother's father), her appa, and her umma.

Spoilers below:
I think the second half of this book is stronger than the first; MEMENTO MORI dives deeply into every moment of grief as her halmoni and her brother are in the hospital. Having gone through similar experiences, Hong puts words to the exact feelings of being in the hospital, days on end; "We are not bored. Why aren't we bored? Sitting, lying, sitting, sitting, all day waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting but we aren't bored. Nothing in our heads as we look at his, but we aren't bored." (p.162) Those moments where time both stops and flies; where you sit on the edge of your seat, exhausted. I wish I didn't know how real these moments are, these moments that Hong so perfectly writes down.

Moments that brought me back to the hospital, waiting, sitting, lying, staring while my own brother laid on while in a coma; "I am in stasis. I cannot mourn one who is both living and dead. He stares at me with his same face and eyes, but everything is blank. This liminal space holds me prisoner." (p184) Perhaps this book is too personal to me, perhaps I'm too close, but reading this was an experience for me. All the more that which makes me grateful my brother woke up and is with me today.

Just like in the book, I also recently lost my grandmother and her memories did start to fade away as she moved closer to death. Hong writes of loss so personally that I had to look up if this all happened to her. In a recent blog from Books By Women titled "On Writing Memento Mori," Hong wrote that her beloved grandmother did slip away, just as what happened in MEMENTO MORI.

"I knew only that I was terrified of death and that I loved my grandmother beyond reason. I clung to her life because she would not. I was incapable of considering that perhaps she did not want to come back—that she was content with the life she had lived, and she was ready to move on from a body worn away by time and disease...I expected to wallow for months, maybe years. Instead, I forgot. I wasn’t delusional; I knew she was dead. But unless someone directly asked me about her, my brain papered over her passing as if it had never happened. It was only a year later, in preparation for her memorial service, that the reality of her death started to sink in as I tried to capture in words the life I had been so desperate to preserve at the cost of her happiness. As I looked back, I was finally forced to acknowledge that my grandmother no longer existed except in the stories and memories she left me. And though I mourned her absence, I was also profoundly grateful that she no longer suffered."

Ugh. I don't often cry at books, but MEMENTO MORI is one that will stay with me long after the year ends. Strange, winding, and incredibly striking, after finishing I sat languid on the couch, reflecting on how close to home this book was. Sometimes books speak to the reader, & for me, this was exactly that.

[Maddie M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

“I write to remember. I write to forget.”

In this novel, a young woman contemplates life, death, memory, immigrant family dynamics, personal trauma, and grief, all through a letter she writes to her younger brother.

Memento Mori is the kind of book that makes you feel smarter by reading it. The narrator weaves memories of her childhood and young adulthood together with stories from her family history and tales from Greek mythology. The chapter titles play around with both the chapter number and the narrator’s state of mind at that point in the story. Bouncing around between several stories and characters at once, the reader follows the narrator as she uses storytelling to work through the existential anxiety, trauma, and grief that she experienced in her early adulthood. Admittedly, it can be hard to follow at times, especially if you don’t tend to read in long stretches, but it’s worth the effort.

The book is filled to the brim with sparkling phrases that, to me, beg to be read aloud. Phrases like “I can’t claw my way out of my head. Instead of looking forward, I keep looking back, like the man with the lyre...” There are other chapters within the book where the narrator is just describing a walk she is taking, and the imagery is so vivid it feels like you’re there with her.

It is important to note the need for a content warning for the majority of the novel - especially for readers who are sensitive to discussions of death, suicidal ideation, and intimate partner violence. Still, I highly recommend Momento Mori to the kind of reader who likes introspective stories-within-stories and doesn't mind if things jump around a bit. It’s not a long book, and it’s best if you can dedicate one or two lazy afternoons to really, truly pay attention to the story Eunice Hong is trying to tell. It’s a good one.

**Thank you to Red Hen Press and Eunice Hong for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.**

[Caleb Bear · Rating 4 out of 5]

I initially struggled with this book because it was very different to my expectations. It seemed like the kind of book for fans of Pachinko by Min Jin Lee and Greek mythological retellings. However, it isn't so much a family epic as a family tragedy, and Greek myths are a small but important element. The blurb also doesn't mention that SA and self-harm are key issues alongside family tragedy.

I was irked by some of the formal techniques. For instance, the narrative structure was based on 104 fragments whose titles and content referenced their number in the sequence (e.g. fragment 94 was called 'Plutonium' because it is the 94th element in the table of elements, and the chapter referenced North Korea's nuclear program). Sometimes this seemed a little forced and meant the fragments had to be very short, or maybe having a notes section that explained what the titles meant gave the game away too much.

Overall, I did really enjoy this book and the questions it raised. The book asks whether Eurydice wanted to leave the underworld and whether Orpheus was acting out of selfishness or love. These questions have parallels for the characters, who wonder about their responsibilities when someone doesn't want to live anymore or their conscious self may never return. This is propelled by existential and neuroscientific questions about what life, death, and reality are. It is only through love, care, and storytelling that characters can make sense of and heal from their experiences.

I really enjoyed this moving story about family tragedy, grief, memory, and neuroscience. However, I wouldn't recommend it to someone who isn't mentally ready to deal with its discussions of death, self-harm, and SA.

[Amy DeBellis · Rating 5 out of 5]

I've always loved the concept of "Memento Mori" as well as just the way it sounds. I had high hopes for a book with such a poetic title -- and I was not disappointed. The nonlinear narrative structure was a welcome surprise. I love to see more experimental works of literature! Points to the author for incorporating a funny interplay right at the start (which also reminded me of "The Story Game", another experimental work) -- even as we gradually and inexorably dive deeper into the more serious and heartbreaking themes of the book.

The nonlinear structure also worked well in conjunction with the examination of mythology, which itself can be disjointed as legends play out in different ways, with different beginnings and midpoints and endings, across time. The way the author handled grief was beautiful as well. This is not a book that shies from grief or tries to cover it up with platitudes. No; the structure of this book requires you to sit with the narrator's grief. The narrator is unshakably candid and in a way brilliant with her honesty. It reminded me of my own grandparents.

I've thought for a while that there are SO many wonderful books coming out of small presses that don't get nearly enough attention or the praise they deserve. This is definitely one of them.

[Kiana · Rating 4 out of 5]

WHY does this book not even have 100 ratings on Goodreads? (At the time of writing this, it has 64.) Memento Mori is one of the most brilliant, heartbreaking, unique novels I've read and yet it seems that basically nobody has heard of it. It's a beautiful mood piece, a winding exploration of grief and perception crafted with extreme consideration and elegance. (The level of thought given to the chapter titles/headers alone is astonishing and commendable.) My demented analogy is "Invisible Cities meets Everyone In This Room Will Someday Be Dead," which probably no one will agree with, but that was the mash-up I felt while reading it. The literary world is seriously sleeping on this one. It's exquisite.

[Danny A · Rating 5 out of 5]

A beautiful book from start to finish that uniquely captures the essence of Eunice and her thoughtful and artistic frame of reference for making sense of the tragedies and injustices that have occurred in her life.

Despite having read several drafts as Eunice was writing this book, portions still remain *very* difficult to read, as the book provides brief snippets of a number of unfortunate mistakes/miscommunications made during a fraught year within our relationship. Nevertheless, even within these passages, it is beautiful to observe Eunice's thoughtful voice and her singular ability to so precisely distill her thoughts.

If this book is any indication, Eunice has a long and fruitful writing career ahead of her.

[Tracy Joy · Rating 3 out of 5]

“To live is to fight entropy… it takes a lot of energy to keep you where you are.” This quote resonated with me and was echoed as a recurring theme in the novel. A uniquely composed and stream of consciousness piece was a dive into the narrator’s soul. The book navigates tragedy, growth, mourning, with slices of daily life humor and happiness. I commend Eunice for bringing us generational elements that weaves the story of this Korean-American family. Though I think that overall the story might have been a bit hard for me to grasp although I know the style was intentional and meant to be prose and abstract. It was plunging and heavy, and will definitely hit for the right reader. Thank you for this opportunity to read this copy in advance!