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Following a Trail of Crumbs to Self-Understanding
December 04, 2007

Kim Sunée
Photo: JMM
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When Kim Sunée was three years old, in 1973, she was found abandoned on a bench
in a South Korean marketplace with a fistful of food left her by her mother.
At the police station where she was taken, she writes in her memoir, Trail
of Crumbs: Hunger, Love and the Search for Home (Grand Central), a January
Book Sense Pick, she spoke to the officers with insistence about her mother:
"She told me not to leave. She promised she'd be back."
Ever since, Sunée -- now living in Birmingham, Alabama, and the founding food
editor of Cottage Living -- has clung to language, and to food, as mutual
sources of comfort and survival.
"When I was three, I spoke Korean, they said, fairly fluently," Sunée
explained. "But English was the first language of survival, I guess, and
then Swedish, and then French."
Adopted
by an American couple, Sunée was raised in New Orleans, where her incipient
awareness and love of food was brought to the boil by the culinary and social
acts of her adopted mother's father. "My grandfather," she said, "was
an amazing cook. He just made big pots of gumbo and crawfish bisque for everyone.
He was the heart of the family, and I think it was his cooking that brought
everyone together. It wasn't about him. It was really about food as a gift to
everyone else -- to his loved ones, and to neighbors -- and even to people off
the streets. I remember numerous holidays when there would be homeless people
sitting at the table with us."
In New Orleans, too, Sunée's love of language and verbal expression flowered
-- through "voracious" reading, and then early efforts at writing
fiction and poetry. "When I was 12, I was reading The Bell Jar,
and Love Story, Nabokov, John Cheever," she explained. "I was
writing poetry and short stories when I was 12, 13, 14. I knew I wanted to be
a writer, but I didn't know what that meant."
The future author got a sense of some possibilities when, at 13, she was accepted
for admission to the New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. "We had visiting
writing teachers from all over," Sunée recalled, "and they really
did introduce us to everything. We were reading Jim Harrison, and watching Godard,
and Wim Wenders -- things that I would not have done at home." Even more
important, she said, was the instructors' attitude. "The teachers treated
us like we were much older ... as people who wanted to be writers. And Ellis
Marsalis was teaching music, and there were dancers and visual artists. It was
a very interesting atmosphere for New Orleans, I think, in the '80s."
Kim Sunée completed college at the University of Nice and then traveled in
Europe. "My whole life, I've sort of been a wanderer, and since I don't
really know where I'm from, I think that it was easier for me to sort of drift
and go anywhere. So I ended up in Stockholm, and I taught French and English.
And then I fell in love with a Frenchman and moved to France -- to Provence
and Paris."
With the Frenchman, a wealthy entrepreneur, Sunée lived a life many would find
enviable. "It was wonderful, and glamorous, and lovely, and all that you
would imagine," she agreed, "but being in a place like Provence [with]
a person very deeply rooted in where he was from -- and the fact that I didn't
know where I was from -- just made that contrast even sharper and more difficult.
So cooking, for me, became like language: another form of survival. It was probably
the only thing that I thought I could do well. And, like with my grandfather,
it was a gift. It was a way to give love to other people. So that's what I did.
I cooked all season long, for 30 to 40 people at a time."
Sunée did other things, too -- including, with the backing of her boyfriend,
run a poetry bookshop in Paris. All of this added to her French friends' --
and Kim Sunée's own -- confusion regarding her cultural and personal nature,
during her early- and mid-twenties. "The French looked at me -- Korean,
from New Orleans, cooking and living in France -- and they wanted to give me
an identity," she remembered. "You know, 'She's the American,' or
'She's the Asian-American,' or 'She's the poet.'
"I just knew that I was sort of a dilettante. I was still searching, really,
to figure out what I would allow myself to say that I was."
At last she tired of this ambiguous existence. "So I went on strike,"
she said with a laugh, "as all good French citizens do at one point in
their lives. I left the relationship, stayed on in Paris for a little while,
and started writing -- writing this story."
Sunée had no thoughts at first of publishing her memoir. "I just knew
I had to write it," she said, "to make sense of things, for myself."
In 2000, she returned to America, bringing with her a number of journals and
manuscript pages. "I came back to the States knowing I wanted to write,
and so I did."
In time, Sunée got an agent, and the agent got her a book contract, and the
end result is Trail of Crumbs -- a work begun as a search for identity,
and now about to acquire its separate existence in the world.
"I think when you write a memoir," Sunée said, "you really have
to step outside of yourself, in order for the narrative to take on a life
of its own. And I feel that the book has sort of done that. It's beyond me,
now. And I like that. It feels liberating."
Woven throughout this liberating text are some two-dozen recipes -- from "wild
peaches poached in Lillet Blanc and lemon verbena" to three kinds of "midnight
pasta" -- which seems fitting for a work that begins in a marketplace in
South Korea and ends in a marketplace in France. "I realized that food
is such a big part of my life, and of this story -- the recipes, for me, felt
natural. It was a guiding force, and not an afterthought. The book is about
searching for an identity, and the food that grounds and comforts, at each part
of the journey." --Tom Nolan
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