Praise for Shut Up, You’re Welcome

“Choi chasing after her mugger to get her purse back, or the one about her father’s painfully detailed driving lessons, are ripe for the sitcom treatment. Don’t the networks have room for an Asian-American Tina Fey?

Development executives, take note and don’t act all surprised. This girl is funny, even if she did grow up in the Valley.”
-LA Weekly

“Korean-American, LA-based Choi writes comedy for the page: standup-flavored material that’s meant to be read rather than heard. That’s not at all the same thing as writing for performance. In the books of some comedians (or their gag writers) seem to drip-feed a transcript of somebody’s act. It takes a doubly literary skill—joker and essayist—to narrate the funny so that it reads well. And it’s rare that a writer can pull it off as neatly as Choi does.”
-Paste Magazine

“It’s as if a friend with great comedic timing was telling you a very animated story about losing her luggage.”
-Bust Magazine

“Everything she writes seems comedy gold.”
-Meg Cabot, author of The Princess Diaries (and, like, a hundred other books)

Praise for Happy Birthday Or Whatever

“A fresh, funny memoir that echoes the generation — and culture-clash anecdotes of fellow Korean American Margaret Cho…Choi is a gifted and witty writer…”
-Entertainment Weekly

“Annie Choi’s memoir is a fantastically personal piece devoted to her mother’s strength and idiosyncrasies, as well as her own struggle to form an identity apart from her close-knit Korean heritage.”
-VenusZine

“Mining the age-old tensions between mothers and daughters, Choi’s strong debut is an uproariously funny memoir of growing up with her Korean American family in Los Angeles. Many stories expose the specific struggles of children of immigrants. When she entered kindergarten, for example, Choi was placed in a remedial learning program because her school didn’t have an ESL specialist. Other stories focus on familiar mother-daughter battlegrounds (when her mother asks her to wear an ensemble that Choi describes as ‘appropriate for Paul Revere’s stable boy,’ she writes, ‘I felt she had stopped loving me’) and on the universal adolescent feelings of a self-described ‘late bloomer’: ‘Anyone could confuse my back for my chest.’ From the elementary-school memories of her mother’s tough-love academic views—’Don’t be baby! You not wear diaper no more. You have to practice so you get A’–to the phone exchanges when college-age Choi learns of her mother’s breast cancer, these are indelible, poignant, and often riotously funny scenes of a daughter’s frustrations and indestructible love. Teens, particularly those with immigrant parents, will howl with laughter over many of these growing up stories.”
-Booklist

“Choi’s volatile relationship with her domineering, chronically dissatisfied mother is at the heart of this memoir, a funny and often moving account of growing up in a family of Korean immigrants. The parent/child compact in Choi’s childhood home was as follows: Mommy and Daddy’s job is to take care of the child; the child’s job is to study hard, go to Harvard and become a doctor. But Choi and her mother face each other across a seemingly unbridgeable divide: Annie has little desire to embody traditional Korean feminine virtues (and no desire to be a doctor); her mother–to whom social status is everything–cannot countenance her daughter’s “shortcomings.” Whether recounting the shame of bringing home a B-plus on a fourth-grade spelling test (a clear indicator that she’s destined for an inferior institution) or the greater horror of having to wear Korean clothes to American school (‘The fun of soup bring Spring’ reads one pair of her tracksuit bottoms), Choi adds acid wit–mixed with compassion–to her descriptions of immigrant life in the San Fernando Valley. This is that rare book that delivers more than it promises; Choi tackles the theme of mother/daughter conflict with grace and humor.”
-Publisher’s Weekly

“Everyone has funny stories about growing up in a wacky family, but few write about it with as much lively wit and self-deprecating humor as Korean-American author Annie Choi.”
-That’s Beijing Magazine

“Hilarious and heartrfelt–an exasperated valentine to Annie Choi’s unforgettable Family.”
-Jancee Dunn, author of But Enough About Me

“It’s good. I mean, I wouldn’t read it.”
-My brother

“I think maybe you OK at this writing. Maybe. Maybe not.”
-My mother