I really wanted to like Artifacts, but it just wasn't for me.

Artifacts is a dual timeline murder and legal mystery told from the point of view of an American classics student turned estate and tax lawyer. We bounce back and forth between 2004 and 2022, from the main character's archaeological dig summer with some family drama on the side to the main character's current legal career... with some family drama on the side. I had a really hard time connecting with the main character, so I just felt so emotionally detached from her personal struggles. Her choices also did not seem to make any sense and she ran away from just about any emotional depth. The side characters were honestly more compelling to me.

The beginning was really tough to get me going, and writing style and information dumping didn't help. The author either assumes we have background knowledge in Roman, Etruscan, and other contemporary history; French; Italian; archeology; and the like or they thought that we would just pick it up on the fly (I didn't). There were some abrupt transitions that felt a little illogical and that made me retrace my steps to figure out the context. I was intrigued by the murder mystery element and I understood that the author was meaning for me to feel high emotional stakes, but I just felt impatient to get to the reveal. In the last third, I was very eager to find out what in the world was going on, and the ending just fell soooo flat for me, losing the momentum.

I was most interested and engaged in the discussions of cultural ownership and provenance of artifacts. A character makes a comment early on about how looters are often victims of colonialism themselves, and there are philosophical and legal discussions of who really ought to "own" or be responsible for historical artifacts. I wanted more of this and less of the mafia stuff that didn't add much depth to the story, in my opinion. Also, the main character seemed like a very incompetent and honestly unethical lawyer, and I really kept expecting consequence for this, but alas.

There is discussion of loss of a parent and murder, but it's overall a pretty tame book. If you like a paper trail kind of mystery that plods along at a verrrry slow pace with a subplot of sibling and parental drama, this is the book for you! It just wasn't for me, and I don't think I would read more from this author.

Thank you, Simon & Schuster, for the arc!

I’ve held off on writing a review for Crying in H Mart for weeks because I don’t even know where to begin explaining how much this book meant to me. To be quite honest, there is no way for me to write this review without getting personal because so many parts of the book felt like Zauner was holding a mirror against my own life.

Crying in H Mart is more than a memoir. It is a testament to the all the ways in which we can heal and all the things in which we can find comfort. It is an honest account of how unfair life can be and how we must find a way to move on despite the unfairness. Zauner’s writing style is mesmerizing and her ability to transform her grief into an exploration of cultural identity and find comfort and healing in cultural dishes is nothing short of impressive and beautiful and meaningful.

Mother-daughter relationships, especially growing up, can be incredibly complex and painful. Zauner’s relationship with her mother was reminiscent of this dynamic and their relationship was depicted as complex and complicated throughout the narrative. Zauner did not shy away from portraying the nitty gritty of their relationship. I found that this portrayal resonated with me immensely as someone who doesn’t have a relationship with her mother as an adult.

Like Zauner, nothing I ever did was good enough for my mother. She always wanted me to dress a certain way, look a certain way, and act a certain way. This severely damaged my confidence even as an adult. I cried multiple times thinking about how Zauner’s mother became sick and passed away just as they were starting to heal their relationship and learn to understand one another better. I don’t know what the future holds in store for me and my mother but I feel so much anger on Zauner’s behalf at life for taking her chance to have a relationship with her mother away.

Zauner’s experience with being treated and seen as American by her family members while in Korea but being seen as Korean while living in the U.S. is something that I found incredibly frustrating and extremely relatable. While I am fully latina, I moved to the U.S. as a teen, and now I’m seen as too latina by American people and too American by latinos. It is an experience that leaves you disconnected from the people and world around you. It makes you question your identity and your being and your place in society. It makes you feel like you don’t truly belong anywhere.

Zauner’s sadness at venting to her mother and explaining to her that she doesn’t know what it’s like to be the only Korean girl in school and her mother replying with confusion because she’s not Korean, she’s American was palpable. It was a scene that was reminiscent of an experience I had with my grandmother recently in which I expressed frustration to my grandmother about being called “American” and my grandmother replying with “well, you are American”. It doesn’t matter that I’ve retained the food, the language, the culture. I exist in a permanent in-between state.

Like Zauner, I escaped through music as a teen and as an adult, I have found a lot of comfort in engaging with my culture while on my healing journey. Reading about how Zauner was able to find healing in cultural dishes and later on developing a relationship with her family in Korea was incredibly comforting. The way that Zauner reclaimed her heritage and culture as a way to process grief was impactful and powerful.

Completely blew me away, Kylie Lee Baker has officially solidified herself as an autobuy author for me with this one. It’s one of those books where you know there’s a million pieces moving under the surface, but you don’t fully see the shape of it until the very end and then it all comes together. The dual timelines (following Lee in the present and Sen in the past) are woven together so seamlessly, and the way their stories echo each other across time is honestly kind of breathtaking. I loved that every detail mattered, even when I didn't realize it yet.

The atmosphere was my favourite aspect. It's so dark, claustrophobic, and deeply unsettling which seems to be Baker's forte when thinking about Bat Eater in comparison. She does descriptive prose and dread so incredibly well. The horror does an incredible job with what’s lurking in the shadows, but also has a focus on grief, history, and the weight of generational trauma. The house itself feels alive, shifting and watching, and the blend of Japanese folklore with this eerie, almost dreamlike storytelling makes everything feel so surreal at the same time. And the characters, especially Lee and Sen, are so painfully human that I couldn't help but get attached. I felt so much pain for them. Their connection, even without romance, carries so much emotionality behind it.

This is horror with a heartbeat. This is the genre Baker absolutely thrives in. It’s so beautifully written, haunting, and genuinely affecting. I needed answers from the very first chapter, and while I was constantly theorizing, it somehow it still managed to surprise me. The author’s note is 100% worth reading after, as well! Just so, so extraordinary.

*Many thanks to Harlequin Trade Publishing | Hanover Square Press for the eARC in exchange for an honest review.