Poet, novelist, and translator E. J. Koh, 37, is emerging as a leading voice in Korean American literature. Her 2020 essay collection The Magical Language of Others: A Memoir won the Washington State Book Award, the Pacific Northwest Book Award, and the Association of Asian American Studies (AAAS) Book Award. The book was translated and released in South Korea last month. Koh, who resides in Seattle, spoke via email.
The Magical Language of Others is a memoir that explores the complexities of the mother-daughter relationship. When Koh was 15, her father accepted a three-year executive role at a major South Korean conglomerate. Her parents relocated to Korea, leaving Koh and her older brother in California. The assignment, which was initially set for three years, was extended multiple times, resulting in a seven-year separation. During this time, Koh experienced profound loneliness, carefully preserving the handwritten letters her mother sent weekly.
The 49 letters Koh found became the foundation of her book. Korean American poet and translator Don Mee Choi—best known for her translations of poet Kim Hye-soon—told Koh that, in Buddhist tradition, the number 49 represents the days a soul wanders the earth in search of answers before crossing into the afterlife.
“After hearing that, I realized I had to translate those letters,” Koh said. To provide context, she interwove 10 of her mother’s letters with her own reflections, structuring the book in alternating passages of prose.
Koh’s adolescence was shaped by absence, neglect, and the emotional wounds of abandonment. The memoir opens with the line, “The present is revenge on the past. In Korea, there is a belief that one is reincarnated as the daughter of the person who hurt her most in a past life,” and closes with, “And then I let my mother go. For the first time.” Through a gradual unraveling of resentment and longing, Koh ultimately arrives at release. “I’m not a child anymore, but whenever I think of my mother, I sink into a habitual longing,” Koh said. “Letting her go was the only path to freedom.”
Some readers may draw comparisons to Crying in H Mart, Michelle Zauner’s best-selling memoir, which also delves into the intricacies of a Korean American woman’s relationship with her mother. Koh addressed the broader question of identity that often accompanies such works: “What makes something Korean? What makes something American?”
“That question is deeply entwined with the struggle to be seen as individuals, rather than being defined solely by our Korean American identity,” she said. “Each of us is navigating the challenges embedded in our work in our own way—expanding, pushing through, and overcoming them.”
In recent years, diaspora narratives have gained momentum across English-language media, as seen in the television series Pachinko and Beef, and films such as Minari and Past Lives. Koh noted that these works do not stem from a desire to follow trends, but rather from a heightened awareness cultivated through marginalization.
“As members of the diaspora, we are constantly aware of and attuned to the challenges placed upon us—be they linguistic, historical, geographic, or in the form of racism and xenophobia,” she said. “That awareness is now being vividly expressed across literature and the arts.”
