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Mendell Station
A tender debut that follows a woman who, after her best friend's death, loses her faith and quits her job to join the postal service, quickly becoming an 'essential worker' as the city shuts down.
It's January 2020, and Miriam is already getting a sense that the world might be ending. First, she learns that her best friend, Esther, has died. Then her faith in God—in everything, really—follows suit. Her job teaching Scripture at a private Christian school suddenly seems untenable, so she quits. Thankfully, the postal service is hiring.
While Miriam finds comfort in her route, the mail truck can hardly outpace the memory of her lost friend and eroded faith. She finds herself composing letters to Esther that she will never deliver, reflecting on their shared childhoods and deep understanding of each other's difficult families.
Mendell Station depicts one woman's deliverance through the peculiar rhythms of work, and the beauty found in small details and gestures, those quotidian labors of love.
It's January 2020, and Miriam is already getting a sense that the world might be ending. First, she learns that her best friend, Esther, has died. Then her faith in God—in everything, really—follows suit. Her job teaching Scripture at a private Christian school suddenly seems untenable, so she quits. Thankfully, the postal service is hiring.
While Miriam finds comfort in her route, the mail truck can hardly outpace the memory of her lost friend and eroded faith. She finds herself composing letters to Esther that she will never deliver, reflecting on their shared childhoods and deep understanding of each other's difficult families.
Mendell Station depicts one woman's deliverance through the peculiar rhythms of work, and the beauty found in small details and gestures, those quotidian labors of love.
208 pages, Hardcover
First published July 22, 2025
29 people are currently reading
7190 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 103 reviews
July 1, 2025
Probably 4.5 stars. There is something so beautifully simple about this book. It moved me greatly.
July 24, 2025
I originally gave this three stars, but after thinking it over more, I concluded that Mendell Station had affected me more than a neutral rating suggested. The author deftly examined a crisis of faith after the death of the main character’s best friend, but she also showed us how that uncertainty was lurking beneath the surface long before the loss.
There are a few sexual details in this that felt oddly out of place. I understand how Christian teachings can be harmful to one’s comprehension of sex and the human body, so I can only conclude that this is what the author was trying to communicate. It was a bit more vivid than I prefer, but perhaps I still I have my own deformed lens to reshape. I’ve been working on it for a long time, and I suppose that will be true for Miriam, too.
Mendell Station also made me consider my own mail carrier differently. While I’ve tried to express gratitude to her for all she does (especially since she picks up packages from my porch every single day), this novel helped me recognize the struggle of her job on a deeper level, forcing me to examine the past appreciation I’ve shown and the way that it has been lacking.
This is a lovely, quiet novel that I now realize makes a thunderous impact.
I am immensely grateful to Libro.fm and Bloomsbury Publishing for my copy. All opinions are my own.
There are a few sexual details in this that felt oddly out of place. I understand how Christian teachings can be harmful to one’s comprehension of sex and the human body, so I can only conclude that this is what the author was trying to communicate. It was a bit more vivid than I prefer, but perhaps I still I have my own deformed lens to reshape. I’ve been working on it for a long time, and I suppose that will be true for Miriam, too.
Mendell Station also made me consider my own mail carrier differently. While I’ve tried to express gratitude to her for all she does (especially since she picks up packages from my porch every single day), this novel helped me recognize the struggle of her job on a deeper level, forcing me to examine the past appreciation I’ve shown and the way that it has been lacking.
This is a lovely, quiet novel that I now realize makes a thunderous impact.
I am immensely grateful to Libro.fm and Bloomsbury Publishing for my copy. All opinions are my own.
July 31, 2025
Grief turns people inside out.
My Highlights:
« I began to pity anyone who asked me out, as if I'd inadvertently fooled him into thinking I was normal. »
"Family are the people who've done more for you than anyone else, hurt you more than anyone else, and ask for more than anyone else. That's why you wish you could give them everything and run away from them at the same time. »
« Nothing we do for each other is weighed down by guilt or blood. It feels lighter. »
« I wish I could have seen you even a day older than you were. »
« Back in the truck, I took a sip of water and thought about my mother telling me about gaeksa, the Korean word for dying outside one's home. The distinct tragedy of dying unaccompanied and unknown. »
« Nothing in this world makes sense, least of all your absence. But here was one thing that did. »
« Entire communities, young and old, here in the States and abroad, lived with regular, constant death. And I knew now that each loss brought all the other ones back. »
« I associated our conversations with the practice of beating a rug until no dust was left on it. We emptied out every thought and feeling we had in our minds. There was nothing memorable about it. »
My Highlights:
« I began to pity anyone who asked me out, as if I'd inadvertently fooled him into thinking I was normal. »
"Family are the people who've done more for you than anyone else, hurt you more than anyone else, and ask for more than anyone else. That's why you wish you could give them everything and run away from them at the same time. »
« Nothing we do for each other is weighed down by guilt or blood. It feels lighter. »
« I wish I could have seen you even a day older than you were. »
« Back in the truck, I took a sip of water and thought about my mother telling me about gaeksa, the Korean word for dying outside one's home. The distinct tragedy of dying unaccompanied and unknown. »
« Nothing in this world makes sense, least of all your absence. But here was one thing that did. »
« Entire communities, young and old, here in the States and abroad, lived with regular, constant death. And I knew now that each loss brought all the other ones back. »
« I associated our conversations with the practice of beating a rug until no dust was left on it. We emptied out every thought and feeling we had in our minds. There was nothing memorable about it. »
August 30, 2025
just look at how long i took to finish this and i just dont care
July 25, 2025
J.B. Hwang's debut novel Mendell Station arrives at a moment when the world feels particularly fragile, offering readers a profound meditation on loss, faith, and the unexpected dignity found in essential work. This deeply personal narrative follows Miriam, a Korean-American woman whose carefully constructed life unravels after her best friend Esther's sudden death, leading her to abandon her teaching career and join the postal service just as the pandemic transforms San Francisco into an eerily empty landscape.
The novel's strength lies in Hwang's ability to transform the mundane into the sacred. As Miriam navigates her new role as a mail carrier, every detail of postal work—from organizing packages in hampers to memorizing route sequences—becomes a form of meditation, a way to anchor herself in the physical world when spiritual moorings have been severed. The author's own experience as a mail carrier during the pandemic infuses the narrative with authentic texture, from the peculiar camaraderie among immigrant coworkers to the exhausting Christmas-level package volumes that defined essential work during lockdown.
The Weight of Friendship and Loss
The relationship between Miriam and Esther forms the emotional core of the novel, revealed through carefully crafted flashbacks that illuminate the depth of their bond. Hwang masterfully depicts how friendship can serve as both sanctuary and burden, particularly for those carrying the weight of difficult family histories. Both women emerge from households marked by trauma—Miriam's father's terminal illness and her mother's harsh pragmatism, Esther's family's financial struggles and her father's drinking—finding in each other a refuge that feels both chosen and inevitable.
Esther's death by falling onto subway tracks haunts every page, but Hwang resists easy explanations or closure. Instead, she explores the maddening ambiguity of sudden loss, the way unanswered questions can torment the living. Miriam's inability to determine whether Esther's death was accidental or intentional mirrors the larger mysteries that faith once helped her navigate, leaving her in a spiritual wilderness where doubt replaces certainty.
Faith, Doubt, and the Problem of Hell
Perhaps the novel's most compelling element is its unflinching examination of evangelical Christianity through the lens of grief. Miriam's crisis of faith doesn't stem from intellectual doubts but from the visceral impossibility of reconciling a loving God with the concept of eternal damnation for unbelievers like Esther. Hwang's portrayal of religious community is nuanced, acknowledging both the genuine care and crushing limitations of faith-based responses to tragedy.
The author handles theological questions with remarkable sophistication, avoiding both easy dismissal and uncritical acceptance of religious doctrine. Miriam's journey away from faith feels authentic precisely because it's rooted in love rather than anger—she cannot worship a God who would condemn her dearest friend to hell. This emotional honesty elevates the novel beyond simple crisis-of-faith narratives into something more complex and humane.
Immigration, Identity, and Essential Work
Mendell Station offers a rich portrait of working-class immigrant life in contemporary America. The postal workers who become Miriam's new community—primarily Cantonese-speaking immigrants with their own stories of survival and adaptation—represent a different model of belonging than the religious community she's left behind. Here, solidarity emerges from shared labor rather than shared belief, and dignity comes from essential work that society simultaneously depends upon and overlooks.
Hwang's treatment of her Korean-American protagonist feels particularly authentic in its exploration of intergenerational trauma and cultural displacement. Miriam's relationship with her mother, marked by duty rather than warmth, reflects broader patterns of survival strategies among immigrant families. The author avoids romanticizing either tradition or assimilation, instead presenting a character caught between worlds, seeking meaning in the space between.
Literary Craft and Narrative Structure
The novel's epistolary elements—Miriam's unsent letters to Esther—provide some of its most poignant moments. These one-sided conversations serve multiple functions: they maintain the deceased friend's presence in the narrative, allow for deeper exploration of memory, and create a space where Miriam can process her grief without the constraints of social propriety. The letters feel genuine rather than contrived, capturing the desperate need to maintain connection across the ultimate divide.
Hwang's prose style reflects the influence of contemporary writers like Hanya Yanagihara and Min Jin Lee, combining psychological realism with careful attention to cultural specificity. Her descriptions of postal work achieve an almost devotional quality, finding poetry in the repetitive motions of sorting mail and the satisfaction of completing routes. The writing occasionally becomes overly dense with detail, but these moments serve the larger purpose of immersing readers in Miriam's attempt to lose herself in work.
The Pandemic as Backdrop and Metaphor
The timing of Miriam's career change—beginning her postal service training just as San Francisco enters lockdown—creates a powerful backdrop for her internal journey. The empty streets and essential worker designation transform her grief into something shared, if not understood. The pandemic serves not as crisis but as revelation, exposing the essential workers who keep society functioning while remaining largely invisible.
Hwang captures the surreal quality of those early pandemic months with remarkable precision. The protests following George Floyd's death, the curfews, and the constant uncertainty create an atmosphere where personal and collective grief become inseparable. Miriam's status as an essential worker grants her both purpose and isolation, reflecting the broader contradictions of a society that applauds essential workers while failing to protect them.
Areas for Critical Consideration
While Mendell Station succeeds as both character study and social commentary, certain elements feel less fully developed. The supporting characters at the postal station, while individually compelling, sometimes blur together despite Hwang's attempts to distinguish them. The novel's pacing occasionally slows under the weight of detailed workplace descriptions, though these moments serve the thematic purpose of showing how repetitive work can become a form of prayer.
The book's ending, while emotionally satisfying, may disappoint readers seeking greater resolution regarding Esther's death or Miriam's spiritual future. However, this ambiguity feels intentional—a reflection of how grief reshapes rather than resolves our fundamental questions about meaning and mortality.
Final Assessment
Mendell Station marks the emergence of a significant new voice in contemporary American fiction. Hwang has crafted a novel that honors both the specificity of Korean-American experience and the universal nature of grief and spiritual seeking. While this is her debut work, the maturity of her prose and the complexity of her themes suggest a writer with substantial depth and promise.
The book succeeds most powerfully in its quiet moments—Miriam's careful organization of mail, her wordless camaraderie with coworkers, her desperate attempts to maintain connection with a dead friend through unsent letters. These details accumulate into something larger: a portrait of how we find meaning after meaning collapses, how we build new communities after old ones fail us, and how the simple act of showing up for work can become a form of devotion in itself.
Mendell Station offers no easy answers to its profound questions about faith, friendship, and survival. Instead, it provides something more valuable: a deeply empathetic exploration of how we continue living after the world as we knew it ends. For readers seeking literary fiction that grapples seriously with contemporary spiritual and social questions while maintaining emotional authenticity, this debut novel represents a remarkable achievement.
The novel's strength lies in Hwang's ability to transform the mundane into the sacred. As Miriam navigates her new role as a mail carrier, every detail of postal work—from organizing packages in hampers to memorizing route sequences—becomes a form of meditation, a way to anchor herself in the physical world when spiritual moorings have been severed. The author's own experience as a mail carrier during the pandemic infuses the narrative with authentic texture, from the peculiar camaraderie among immigrant coworkers to the exhausting Christmas-level package volumes that defined essential work during lockdown.
The Weight of Friendship and Loss
The relationship between Miriam and Esther forms the emotional core of the novel, revealed through carefully crafted flashbacks that illuminate the depth of their bond. Hwang masterfully depicts how friendship can serve as both sanctuary and burden, particularly for those carrying the weight of difficult family histories. Both women emerge from households marked by trauma—Miriam's father's terminal illness and her mother's harsh pragmatism, Esther's family's financial struggles and her father's drinking—finding in each other a refuge that feels both chosen and inevitable.
Esther's death by falling onto subway tracks haunts every page, but Hwang resists easy explanations or closure. Instead, she explores the maddening ambiguity of sudden loss, the way unanswered questions can torment the living. Miriam's inability to determine whether Esther's death was accidental or intentional mirrors the larger mysteries that faith once helped her navigate, leaving her in a spiritual wilderness where doubt replaces certainty.
Faith, Doubt, and the Problem of Hell
Perhaps the novel's most compelling element is its unflinching examination of evangelical Christianity through the lens of grief. Miriam's crisis of faith doesn't stem from intellectual doubts but from the visceral impossibility of reconciling a loving God with the concept of eternal damnation for unbelievers like Esther. Hwang's portrayal of religious community is nuanced, acknowledging both the genuine care and crushing limitations of faith-based responses to tragedy.
The author handles theological questions with remarkable sophistication, avoiding both easy dismissal and uncritical acceptance of religious doctrine. Miriam's journey away from faith feels authentic precisely because it's rooted in love rather than anger—she cannot worship a God who would condemn her dearest friend to hell. This emotional honesty elevates the novel beyond simple crisis-of-faith narratives into something more complex and humane.
Immigration, Identity, and Essential Work
Mendell Station offers a rich portrait of working-class immigrant life in contemporary America. The postal workers who become Miriam's new community—primarily Cantonese-speaking immigrants with their own stories of survival and adaptation—represent a different model of belonging than the religious community she's left behind. Here, solidarity emerges from shared labor rather than shared belief, and dignity comes from essential work that society simultaneously depends upon and overlooks.
Hwang's treatment of her Korean-American protagonist feels particularly authentic in its exploration of intergenerational trauma and cultural displacement. Miriam's relationship with her mother, marked by duty rather than warmth, reflects broader patterns of survival strategies among immigrant families. The author avoids romanticizing either tradition or assimilation, instead presenting a character caught between worlds, seeking meaning in the space between.
Literary Craft and Narrative Structure
The novel's epistolary elements—Miriam's unsent letters to Esther—provide some of its most poignant moments. These one-sided conversations serve multiple functions: they maintain the deceased friend's presence in the narrative, allow for deeper exploration of memory, and create a space where Miriam can process her grief without the constraints of social propriety. The letters feel genuine rather than contrived, capturing the desperate need to maintain connection across the ultimate divide.
Hwang's prose style reflects the influence of contemporary writers like Hanya Yanagihara and Min Jin Lee, combining psychological realism with careful attention to cultural specificity. Her descriptions of postal work achieve an almost devotional quality, finding poetry in the repetitive motions of sorting mail and the satisfaction of completing routes. The writing occasionally becomes overly dense with detail, but these moments serve the larger purpose of immersing readers in Miriam's attempt to lose herself in work.
The Pandemic as Backdrop and Metaphor
The timing of Miriam's career change—beginning her postal service training just as San Francisco enters lockdown—creates a powerful backdrop for her internal journey. The empty streets and essential worker designation transform her grief into something shared, if not understood. The pandemic serves not as crisis but as revelation, exposing the essential workers who keep society functioning while remaining largely invisible.
Hwang captures the surreal quality of those early pandemic months with remarkable precision. The protests following George Floyd's death, the curfews, and the constant uncertainty create an atmosphere where personal and collective grief become inseparable. Miriam's status as an essential worker grants her both purpose and isolation, reflecting the broader contradictions of a society that applauds essential workers while failing to protect them.
Areas for Critical Consideration
While Mendell Station succeeds as both character study and social commentary, certain elements feel less fully developed. The supporting characters at the postal station, while individually compelling, sometimes blur together despite Hwang's attempts to distinguish them. The novel's pacing occasionally slows under the weight of detailed workplace descriptions, though these moments serve the thematic purpose of showing how repetitive work can become a form of prayer.
The book's ending, while emotionally satisfying, may disappoint readers seeking greater resolution regarding Esther's death or Miriam's spiritual future. However, this ambiguity feels intentional—a reflection of how grief reshapes rather than resolves our fundamental questions about meaning and mortality.
Final Assessment
Mendell Station marks the emergence of a significant new voice in contemporary American fiction. Hwang has crafted a novel that honors both the specificity of Korean-American experience and the universal nature of grief and spiritual seeking. While this is her debut work, the maturity of her prose and the complexity of her themes suggest a writer with substantial depth and promise.
The book succeeds most powerfully in its quiet moments—Miriam's careful organization of mail, her wordless camaraderie with coworkers, her desperate attempts to maintain connection with a dead friend through unsent letters. These details accumulate into something larger: a portrait of how we find meaning after meaning collapses, how we build new communities after old ones fail us, and how the simple act of showing up for work can become a form of devotion in itself.
Mendell Station offers no easy answers to its profound questions about faith, friendship, and survival. Instead, it provides something more valuable: a deeply empathetic exploration of how we continue living after the world as we knew it ends. For readers seeking literary fiction that grapples seriously with contemporary spiritual and social questions while maintaining emotional authenticity, this debut novel represents a remarkable achievement.
August 8, 2025
Wow, what a beautiful, sad, brutal book. This book is about a Korean-American woman who becomes a mail carrier right before the pandemic after her friend’s death causes her to lose faith in God. (She was a religion teacher in a very Christian school.) It deals with grief, resource constraints in the government, race, challenges with family, and substance abuse, but without trying to solve them. The tone is reflective and beautiful and I related strongly to it as someone who lost a friend during this time.
Bonus-it’s set in SF and clearly written by someone who knows the city.
Bonus-it’s set in SF and clearly written by someone who knows the city.
November 2, 2025
???
Goodreads Giveaway
I have absolutely no fucking clue what I think about this book. Which makes me want to rate it highly. Because it made me feel so many things and I can’t quite explain what any of them were? I’m genuinely speechless. I finished the book and I just laughed. I’m genuinely at a loss. It read like a still life painting feels? Like nothing happens and yet you feel how the course of a life can be entirely thrown off by just one moment. How grief changes us irrevocably. And how grief isn’t stagnant or necessarily only spent on the dead. I just. I just really liked the way the book was written. The way she says some things were like borderline cringy, but like I enjoyed it? I'm sputtering here. If I ever come up with something of consequence or sense to say about this book, maybe I'll add it to this review but for now I’m just gonna say I fuck with this book heavy and I genuinely don’t have an answer as to why. And yes, I did finish this book in one day. A banger fr.
Goodreads Giveaway
I have absolutely no fucking clue what I think about this book. Which makes me want to rate it highly. Because it made me feel so many things and I can’t quite explain what any of them were? I’m genuinely speechless. I finished the book and I just laughed. I’m genuinely at a loss. It read like a still life painting feels? Like nothing happens and yet you feel how the course of a life can be entirely thrown off by just one moment. How grief changes us irrevocably. And how grief isn’t stagnant or necessarily only spent on the dead. I just. I just really liked the way the book was written. The way she says some things were like borderline cringy, but like I enjoyed it? I'm sputtering here. If I ever come up with something of consequence or sense to say about this book, maybe I'll add it to this review but for now I’m just gonna say I fuck with this book heavy and I genuinely don’t have an answer as to why. And yes, I did finish this book in one day. A banger fr.
October 18, 2025
I loved the USPS aspect of this book. I also wonder if that is the way working for the post office really is. I do remember Covid being stressful for them and they were constantly trying to recruit people, but I also always thought it was a coveted job.
I love that I learned what "marriage mail" is..I'll never think of junk mail the same😂.
As far as the depression aspect, I feel I have been spoiled by Austin's novels as she does a much better job dealing with mental issues.
I love that I learned what "marriage mail" is..I'll never think of junk mail the same😂.
As far as the depression aspect, I feel I have been spoiled by Austin's novels as she does a much better job dealing with mental issues.
January 14, 2025
I read this book as a DRC on Edelweiss. My opinions are my own.
Mendell station is first and foremost, an exploration of grief, the self, and how we interact with the world and people around us. I think for the most part it does a pretty good job at that. We specifically spend a lot of time with Miriam and her relationship with her faith and with God. Miriam has a complicated relationship with her faith throughout the book. Even in flashbacks to the past we can see her go through phases. I myself am not a religious person, and yet this still struck a chord with me, and I imagine anyone who has dealt with struggles of faith throughout their life will find that this book will hit really close to home.
However, as well written as this book was, I REALLY wanted it to do more. This piece does an amazing job with the process of grief, and yet nothing is ever really solved. I understand that this may be the explicit intention of the author to show that grief and loss always stay with us, and how it ebbs and flows (at least that's how I interpreted it). But nothing really ever happens, and that bugs me. I don't like that it bugs me. I really enjoyed my time with this book, with its characters and the questions it poses about faith and loss. I really liked the analogy of grief and life, and how both continue on no matter what. The postal service must keep delivering even if the world has ground to a halt because of Covid. I'm not satisfied. I want more, even though there really isn't anymore to give. I believe this piece fulfills its purpose by the end. Perhaps I feel this way because of what I'm used to reading. Perhaps I've come to expect a big climax to every story. Perhaps that in it of itself is the point of this book. Acceptance.
Acceptance in Miriam that she no longer finds the same comfort in her faith as she once did. Acceptance that her best friend and the person that has been with her through everything is gone. Acceptance that a story doesn't need to have a grand finale, or a grand overarching external conflict. Acceptance that I didn't particularly enjoy how abrupt this book ends. Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance. That should be your takeaway from Mendell station.
This is overall a very good piece. It does a good job at showing us Miriam's individual character. Her flaws and her strengths (mailing!), but this was not the book for me. I can comfortably say that if you don't mind an open-ended story this is a fantastic read. But don't come into this piece expecting that, otherwise I think you will enjoy this story less.
Three stars, but really more like 3.5.
Mendell station is first and foremost, an exploration of grief, the self, and how we interact with the world and people around us. I think for the most part it does a pretty good job at that. We specifically spend a lot of time with Miriam and her relationship with her faith and with God. Miriam has a complicated relationship with her faith throughout the book. Even in flashbacks to the past we can see her go through phases. I myself am not a religious person, and yet this still struck a chord with me, and I imagine anyone who has dealt with struggles of faith throughout their life will find that this book will hit really close to home.
However, as well written as this book was, I REALLY wanted it to do more. This piece does an amazing job with the process of grief, and yet nothing is ever really solved. I understand that this may be the explicit intention of the author to show that grief and loss always stay with us, and how it ebbs and flows (at least that's how I interpreted it). But nothing really ever happens, and that bugs me. I don't like that it bugs me. I really enjoyed my time with this book, with its characters and the questions it poses about faith and loss. I really liked the analogy of grief and life, and how both continue on no matter what. The postal service must keep delivering even if the world has ground to a halt because of Covid. I'm not satisfied. I want more, even though there really isn't anymore to give. I believe this piece fulfills its purpose by the end. Perhaps I feel this way because of what I'm used to reading. Perhaps I've come to expect a big climax to every story. Perhaps that in it of itself is the point of this book. Acceptance.
Acceptance in Miriam that she no longer finds the same comfort in her faith as she once did. Acceptance that her best friend and the person that has been with her through everything is gone. Acceptance that a story doesn't need to have a grand finale, or a grand overarching external conflict. Acceptance that I didn't particularly enjoy how abrupt this book ends. Acceptance, acceptance, acceptance. That should be your takeaway from Mendell station.
This is overall a very good piece. It does a good job at showing us Miriam's individual character. Her flaws and her strengths (mailing!), but this was not the book for me. I can comfortably say that if you don't mind an open-ended story this is a fantastic read. But don't come into this piece expecting that, otherwise I think you will enjoy this story less.
Three stars, but really more like 3.5.
March 16, 2025
Wow, this book surprised me.
The overarching theme of the book was grief and we got to follow Miriam as she spent six months dealing with the grief of her best friend passing. It totally shocks her and makes her question major things in her own life.
Seeing the POV of postal workers during the pandemic was very interesting (esp since the author was one themselves during COVID) and added an extra layer of grief to the story that was more worldly.
I totally understood why Miriam needed a change in job and kind of stopped doing everything she did before. Losing someone who was so essential to you and whom you dreamed of getting old with is hard. I'm glad that she was able to stay safe and find a sense of community in her coworkers. They might not have known what was going on in her life, but the comradery that occurs while at work and in deep shit is top tier and can honestly have you ending work on a high note.
This book was a gem that I was not expecting but I'm glad to have read it when I did. I'm assuming this is their debut work? Regardless, I'll for sure be on the lookout for more. I really enjoyed the structure and writing style of the author. Going back and forth between moments with Esther and moments at work worked really well and I never felt the desire to skip a part.
Thanks so much to Edelweiss and the publisher for the DRC!
The overarching theme of the book was grief and we got to follow Miriam as she spent six months dealing with the grief of her best friend passing. It totally shocks her and makes her question major things in her own life.
Seeing the POV of postal workers during the pandemic was very interesting (esp since the author was one themselves during COVID) and added an extra layer of grief to the story that was more worldly.
I totally understood why Miriam needed a change in job and kind of stopped doing everything she did before. Losing someone who was so essential to you and whom you dreamed of getting old with is hard. I'm glad that she was able to stay safe and find a sense of community in her coworkers. They might not have known what was going on in her life, but the comradery that occurs while at work and in deep shit is top tier and can honestly have you ending work on a high note.
This book was a gem that I was not expecting but I'm glad to have read it when I did. I'm assuming this is their debut work? Regardless, I'll for sure be on the lookout for more. I really enjoyed the structure and writing style of the author. Going back and forth between moments with Esther and moments at work worked really well and I never felt the desire to skip a part.
Thanks so much to Edelweiss and the publisher for the DRC!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 27, 2025
I feel conflicted about this--I thought the writing was excellent and I was intrigued by the premise, but perhaps I wasn't in the mood for something so reflective. I thought the look into working for the Postal Service was fascinating and appreciated the particular perspective of someone thrown into being an essential worker during COVID. So much of the novel deals with Miriam's struggle with her faith and that was less interesting to me, potentially because it was hard for me to understand being so committed and certain in your religion. In many ways, this feels like a very true-to-life depiction of grief, but I think the jumping around to various reflections made the overall narrative less cohesive. There are a lot of threads to follow, like Miriam's family dynamics, her friends, her memories of Esther, her faith, her new job, her old job, COVID, her dog, etc. that didn't weave together in a way that resonated with me. Despite this, I'll definitely be following J.B. Hwang and looking forward to her next book.
July 28, 2025
There's not a lot to say about this book... a quick read, an enjoyable read (although rough, due to the overall theme of grieving and loss). An interesting look at the inner workings of the post office, which I enjoyed. You don't see a lot of stories from that POV, someone most of us cross paths with six times a week.
August 25, 2025
Quiet novel about Miriam, who mourning the death of her best friend, questions her faith, quits her teaching job, and joins the USPS to become a mail carrier right at the onset of COVID in 2020. As someone grieving the loss of a pet and who worked as a temp mail carrier, I connected with this one.
August 28, 2025
I quite enjoyed reading this. The behind the scenes look at the US Postal Service was intriguing, albeit dull in places. I loved the episodes of grappling with loss and faith, and the letters to the dear friend. An easy read.
July 10, 2025
what was the reason of making this take place during the pandemic???
September 15, 2025
3.5 stars! full review:
https://www.creationmag.org/blog-3-1/...
https://www.creationmag.org/blog-3-1/...
October 1, 2025
Great book- very short read and interesting look at being an essential worker during covid, what its like to be a postal worker and grief. Loved every aspect of it!
November 1, 2025
a surprisingly lovely slice of life book
September 29, 2025
No pasa nada realmente en este libro y a la vez es una ventana a una de las caras complicadas de la época fuerte de la pandemia. Me gustó mucho como exploración y desarrollo de un personaje bastante realista.
January 14, 2025
DRC from Edelweiss and Bloomsbury Publishing / Macmillan
Story about grief, friends, and belief in God.
Miriam’s best friend, Ester, has died and she finds herself losing her faith because of it. She quits her teaching job in a Christian school and takes a job with the post office. It is 2020 and COVID is just breaking out. Through flashbacks we learn about Ester and Miriam’s relationship. As a coping mechanism, Miriam writes letters to Ester that she never mails. Although she took the job with the post office in order to be alone in her grief, Miriam learns that having coworkers, especially ones who care and help, can also be healing.
Story about grief, friends, and belief in God.
Miriam’s best friend, Ester, has died and she finds herself losing her faith because of it. She quits her teaching job in a Christian school and takes a job with the post office. It is 2020 and COVID is just breaking out. Through flashbacks we learn about Ester and Miriam’s relationship. As a coping mechanism, Miriam writes letters to Ester that she never mails. Although she took the job with the post office in order to be alone in her grief, Miriam learns that having coworkers, especially ones who care and help, can also be healing.
August 6, 2025
Reads more like a memoir than a novel. Both too religious-y and too sexually graphic for me, which sounds like a strange combination, but there you go. The writing is excellent, and there are many compelling parts, but I'm simply not the right reader for this book.
March 29, 2025
This book is completely devoid of emotion, and the only part of the story that was convincing was the mundanity of working for the USPS.
August 8, 2025
I was immediately engrossed in J.B. Hwang’s debut novel, “Mendell Station.” Her writing is lyrical, poetic, and deeply relatable — an impressive feat, especially given that she’s writing from the perspective of a 30-something Korean-American woman, and I’m a white woman in my 60s, raised in the hearty Midwest. Such is the beauty of Hwang’s talent: she transcends boundaries of age, culture, and class, creating a story that speaks to the heart.
At its core, “Mendell Station” is a moving meditation on grief and faith. When an unexpected death rattles the foundation of the protagonist’s life, it forces a reckoning: not only with loss, but with long-held spiritual beliefs.
The novel centers on Miriam, a 33-year-old Korean-American woman raised by immigrant parents, her father, who suffered from muscular dystrophy, and her mother, who struggled with mental illness. As a child, Miriam often felt ashamed of her family’s dysfunction. That is, until she met Esther, another young Asian girl who accepted her completely. Esther became Miriam’s anchor—the kind of friend whose presence made the world feel steady. Esther was out-going and fearless while Miriam was insecure and quiet.
As the novel opens in January 2020, Miriam is teaching scripture at a Christian high school and living a life guided by her devout faith. But Esther’s sudden death upends everything. Was it an accident? Was it intentional? The ambiguity leaves Miriam spiraling, not only grieving her best friend, but questioning the very beliefs that have defined her life. Hwang writes with such emotional precision that Miriam’s spiritual crisis feels not only believable, but inevitable.
In the aftermath, Miriam yearns for solitude and simplicity. When she sees a hiring notice for postal workers, she applies, drawn to the idea of working outside, alone, and unnoticed. Hwang, who herself worked for the USPS during the pandemic, brings realism and wit to Miriam’s training and experiences. Set in the San Francisco Bay Area, “Mendell Station” explores the inner workings of the postal service: the outdated tech, the punishing hierarchy, the unglamorous grind of the job — especially for newbies like Miriam, who gets stuck with the least desirable routes.
Yet amid the chaos, there’s a powerful sense of community, particularly among her fellow Asian-American coworkers. As the pandemic unfolds, Hwang portrays the rising fear around surfaces and contact, especially for those delivering mail and packages. Miriam’s new coworkers not only help her navigate the physical challenges of the job, but also offer kindness, humor, and solidarity.
Hwang skillfully interweaves flashbacks of Miriam and Esther’s friendship, as well as poignant letters Miriam continues to write to her late friend, letters she keeps in her mailbag, marked “deceased and undeliverable.” These moments serve as emotional touchstones, reminding us how central their bond was, and still is, to Miriam’s identity.
Though “Mendell Station” is a story about grief, it is also a story about female friendship, resilience, and the quiet strength found in unexpected places. It captures the loneliness and confusion of the early pandemic days, but also the fierce loyalty and beauty of community—particularly within the Asian-American experience.
At just 187 pages, this is a slim novel with a deep emotional current. Yes, it’s sad at times, even haunting, but it’s also quietly profound. Hwang explores spiritual disillusionment, the tenderness of friendship, and the invisible weight of carrying grief in a world that just keeps moving.
Mendell Station is a beautifully rendered story, and one I won’t soon forget. Highly recommended.
At its core, “Mendell Station” is a moving meditation on grief and faith. When an unexpected death rattles the foundation of the protagonist’s life, it forces a reckoning: not only with loss, but with long-held spiritual beliefs.
The novel centers on Miriam, a 33-year-old Korean-American woman raised by immigrant parents, her father, who suffered from muscular dystrophy, and her mother, who struggled with mental illness. As a child, Miriam often felt ashamed of her family’s dysfunction. That is, until she met Esther, another young Asian girl who accepted her completely. Esther became Miriam’s anchor—the kind of friend whose presence made the world feel steady. Esther was out-going and fearless while Miriam was insecure and quiet.
As the novel opens in January 2020, Miriam is teaching scripture at a Christian high school and living a life guided by her devout faith. But Esther’s sudden death upends everything. Was it an accident? Was it intentional? The ambiguity leaves Miriam spiraling, not only grieving her best friend, but questioning the very beliefs that have defined her life. Hwang writes with such emotional precision that Miriam’s spiritual crisis feels not only believable, but inevitable.
In the aftermath, Miriam yearns for solitude and simplicity. When she sees a hiring notice for postal workers, she applies, drawn to the idea of working outside, alone, and unnoticed. Hwang, who herself worked for the USPS during the pandemic, brings realism and wit to Miriam’s training and experiences. Set in the San Francisco Bay Area, “Mendell Station” explores the inner workings of the postal service: the outdated tech, the punishing hierarchy, the unglamorous grind of the job — especially for newbies like Miriam, who gets stuck with the least desirable routes.
Yet amid the chaos, there’s a powerful sense of community, particularly among her fellow Asian-American coworkers. As the pandemic unfolds, Hwang portrays the rising fear around surfaces and contact, especially for those delivering mail and packages. Miriam’s new coworkers not only help her navigate the physical challenges of the job, but also offer kindness, humor, and solidarity.
Hwang skillfully interweaves flashbacks of Miriam and Esther’s friendship, as well as poignant letters Miriam continues to write to her late friend, letters she keeps in her mailbag, marked “deceased and undeliverable.” These moments serve as emotional touchstones, reminding us how central their bond was, and still is, to Miriam’s identity.
Though “Mendell Station” is a story about grief, it is also a story about female friendship, resilience, and the quiet strength found in unexpected places. It captures the loneliness and confusion of the early pandemic days, but also the fierce loyalty and beauty of community—particularly within the Asian-American experience.
At just 187 pages, this is a slim novel with a deep emotional current. Yes, it’s sad at times, even haunting, but it’s also quietly profound. Hwang explores spiritual disillusionment, the tenderness of friendship, and the invisible weight of carrying grief in a world that just keeps moving.
Mendell Station is a beautifully rendered story, and one I won’t soon forget. Highly recommended.
July 13, 2025
Mendell Station by J.B. Hwang follows Miriam, a former scripture teacher in San Francisco who, after the sudden death of her best friend Esther and a crisis of faith, leaves her job and becomes a mail carrier. Set during the early days of the pandemic, the novel weaves between Miriam’s new daily routines, her memories of Esther, and her quiet struggle to process grief and find meaning again.
I liked the book well enough, but it didn’t leave much of a lasting impression on me. It’s a quiet, introspective story, more focused on mood and processing loss than on moving any real plot forward. About a third of the way in, I was already feeling like not much was happening. Each chapter gives us another memory of Esther or a glimpse into Miriam’s work at the post office, but without cliffhangers or much tension to keep you hooked. By the end, I was still wondering what the point of it all was—was it simply to watch one person’s way of dealing with grief?
The synopsis does mention Miriam’s faith, so I expected some references, but God actually comes up quite a bit. It’s not categorized as religious fiction, so if you have a lower tolerance for overt spiritual themes, it’s something to be aware of.
One thing I did appreciate was learning about the world of mail carriers. Interestingly, Miriam’s coworkers ended up adding more life to the story than her actual friends and family. Given that Esther’s death is what pushes Miriam into this new chapter, I thought her relationships outside of work might have more weight. It’s almost ironic that the people she meets on her postal route felt more developed.
I also hoped there would be more about the pandemic, since it’s a shared experience so many of us can relate to, but it mostly sits quietly in the background.
Overall, the book was fine. There's nothing really wrong with it, but it just meanders along without a clear climax or much to propel it forward. If you enjoy quiet novels that explore how we carry grief and keep going, this might speak to you more than it did to me.
I liked the book well enough, but it didn’t leave much of a lasting impression on me. It’s a quiet, introspective story, more focused on mood and processing loss than on moving any real plot forward. About a third of the way in, I was already feeling like not much was happening. Each chapter gives us another memory of Esther or a glimpse into Miriam’s work at the post office, but without cliffhangers or much tension to keep you hooked. By the end, I was still wondering what the point of it all was—was it simply to watch one person’s way of dealing with grief?
The synopsis does mention Miriam’s faith, so I expected some references, but God actually comes up quite a bit. It’s not categorized as religious fiction, so if you have a lower tolerance for overt spiritual themes, it’s something to be aware of.
One thing I did appreciate was learning about the world of mail carriers. Interestingly, Miriam’s coworkers ended up adding more life to the story than her actual friends and family. Given that Esther’s death is what pushes Miriam into this new chapter, I thought her relationships outside of work might have more weight. It’s almost ironic that the people she meets on her postal route felt more developed.
I also hoped there would be more about the pandemic, since it’s a shared experience so many of us can relate to, but it mostly sits quietly in the background.
Overall, the book was fine. There's nothing really wrong with it, but it just meanders along without a clear climax or much to propel it forward. If you enjoy quiet novels that explore how we carry grief and keep going, this might speak to you more than it did to me.
January 29, 2026
I picked this up at the library because I am interested in fictional portrayals of faith and wrestling with doubt, etc. This aspect of that turned out to be rather uninteresting even if well done. The amin character Miriam, doesn't wrestle with her faith so much as just lose it in a moment of terror and grief when her best friend dies. The scales fall from her eyes, to use a cliche, and suddenly god and faith are no longer real or present and she begins to wonder how she saw the world in that way. It is an honest portrayal of this event or process but not unique or interesting to me at least. It is a very old story: fundamentalist raised in a close knit church community suddenly finds that the pieces not longer fit and faith collapses.
What is more interesting is the way the book describes life of someone who was on a path out of working class life via Stanford only to be derailed by grief. The intellectual and spiritual structure she had build disappears and she slowly rebuilds it by working for the Postal Service. The physical and mundane reality of just doing the hard work or delivering the mail and navigating the relationships with coworkers grounds her back in reality in some way.
The epistolary sections are tender explorations of trying to figure out who you really are after a life altering event makes you question everything. It is in its way an exploration of friendship and growing up.
I am rather prudish, but I found the role of alcohol and sex rather odd and incongruous at times. I suppose it is also part of the rebellion that happens when dysfunctional families, trauma and brittle fundamentalism intersect.
I enjoyed reading the novel and feel like I have greater insight into the lives of people very much not like me (women, Asian Americans, etc.). Interesting but I am not sure it all came together as a whole.
What is more interesting is the way the book describes life of someone who was on a path out of working class life via Stanford only to be derailed by grief. The intellectual and spiritual structure she had build disappears and she slowly rebuilds it by working for the Postal Service. The physical and mundane reality of just doing the hard work or delivering the mail and navigating the relationships with coworkers grounds her back in reality in some way.
The epistolary sections are tender explorations of trying to figure out who you really are after a life altering event makes you question everything. It is in its way an exploration of friendship and growing up.
I am rather prudish, but I found the role of alcohol and sex rather odd and incongruous at times. I suppose it is also part of the rebellion that happens when dysfunctional families, trauma and brittle fundamentalism intersect.
I enjoyed reading the novel and feel like I have greater insight into the lives of people very much not like me (women, Asian Americans, etc.). Interesting but I am not sure it all came together as a whole.
January 9, 2026
There are 6 blank sheets of paper at the end of this book, which I don’t like- that’s too many. This is a solid 3-star book. Not 4 or 5, because it contains typos, and one gratuitous allusion to violent sexual assault. But 3, because it seems to be a great showcase of what it was like to be a mail carrier during the pandemic. And it also was a very touching story about how grief can completely transform your life and change your priorities. Also about the Korean-American experience. It’s a promising debut, as the author clearly drew on a lot of her life experiences (as a mail carrier during the pandemic, former inhabitant of SF, and Korean-American). I liked how some of the chapters were flashbacks, but not every other one, that kinda kept me on my toes. Books usually alternate chapters, I’ve never seen it be random. Maybe it wasn’t random and I just didn’t recognize a pattern, lol. I don’t think this book would appeal to many people, but I hope it reaches a wider audience.
“I associated our conversations with the practice of beating a rug until no dust was left on it. We emptied out every thought and feeling we had in our minds. There was nothing memorable about it.” 172
“Your love was worth far more than the pain of losing you,” 184
“I associated our conversations with the practice of beating a rug until no dust was left on it. We emptied out every thought and feeling we had in our minds. There was nothing memorable about it.” 172
“Your love was worth far more than the pain of losing you,” 184
April 27, 2025
When her best friend Esther dies in a freak accident, Miriam begins to doubt her Christian religion. As a Sunday school church teacher, she doesn't feel she has it in her to teach what she herself doubts, so she signs up to be a mailwoman. From this interesting premise, this novel leads us to explore Miriam's new life along with her. The story of Miriam's physical journey along new postal routes, as well as her spiritual journey through the pain of her loss, alternates with flashbacks to her and Esther's past. In addition, Miriam intersperses her new experiences with letters she writes to her dead friend. The story is touching and relatable. We've all been in situations where we "just can't do this anymore." This is the story of one young woman's journey through pain, via new experiences, coworkers and challenges. I liked it a lot. I particularly like the behind-the-scenes look at working for the USPS. Makes me want to strike up more conversations with my mailman!
July 23, 2025
Mendell Station by J. B. Hwang
Thanks to the ALC program I found this lovely novel written by J. B. Hwang that took me back to pandemic and how we felt at that time as well as what it meant to be an essential worker.
This novel revolves around Miriam’s life and choices and how she deals with the loss of her best friend.
There are several connections with religion all along the novel as faith and relationships with God or the lack of are dealt with throughout the plot.
Esther died leaving a huge hole in Miriam’s life and she has profound conversations with her all along her daily trips delivering mail.
No matter how tough and unfair everything seems to be, she keeps showing up for God and her faith. She keeps on believing and embracing Christian values. This keeps her going and keeps her rooted.
The story is set during the pandemic and I believe that lots of us need a friendly reminder of how essential workers experienced those times.
Thanks to the ALC program I found this lovely novel written by J. B. Hwang that took me back to pandemic and how we felt at that time as well as what it meant to be an essential worker.
This novel revolves around Miriam’s life and choices and how she deals with the loss of her best friend.
There are several connections with religion all along the novel as faith and relationships with God or the lack of are dealt with throughout the plot.
Esther died leaving a huge hole in Miriam’s life and she has profound conversations with her all along her daily trips delivering mail.
No matter how tough and unfair everything seems to be, she keeps showing up for God and her faith. She keeps on believing and embracing Christian values. This keeps her going and keeps her rooted.
The story is set during the pandemic and I believe that lots of us need a friendly reminder of how essential workers experienced those times.
September 6, 2025
I have to give props to a book that can make you feel the emotions it conveys, even if you haven’t experienced something similar. Mendell Station truly dives into grief and feeling lost after losing someone, which is how I’d imagine it. The reflections on her time spent with Esther was interesting and even reflecting on their friendship. Also, even as not a super religious person, I enjoyed the exploration of the different waves she went through with being close and estranged from God. I almost wish that she had completely found her way back at the end. Overall, very good, I was a little disappointed that the end didn’t come full circle with her figuring out her beliefs or anything but upon reflection, it makes sense that the reality of losing someone is you won’t find your way quickly if ever. I rated a 3/5 because I thoroughly enjoyed while reading but I was not anxious to read it when doing other things & like I’ve been with other novels & even went a few days between reading.
December 6, 2025
Slice-of-life mixed with a lot of family and religious trauma. Miriam is a 33-year-old Korean woman living in San Francisco as a postal worker during COVID-19. It was eye-opening to follow the daily life of one of the "essential workers" during the pandemic and getting glimpses of her upbringing and friendship with her dead best friend Esther. Her discussions on sex, sin, Christianity, and family values were pretty interesting to read about since you don't really see this combination too often in fiction. The George Floyd protests also happen in the book. Seeing such recent historical events in fiction is new and refreshing.
However, this book doesn't really have a driving plot and it doesn't have a distinctive beginning, middle, and end, so it could be rather easy to DNF. Sadly, I didn't really feel too much empathy for Esther despite her pretty much being in the spotlight with Miriam as the narrator. The ending also felt a tad incomplete.
However, this book doesn't really have a driving plot and it doesn't have a distinctive beginning, middle, and end, so it could be rather easy to DNF. Sadly, I didn't really feel too much empathy for Esther despite her pretty much being in the spotlight with Miriam as the narrator. The ending also felt a tad incomplete.
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