Korean-born author Laure Mi Hyun Croset has transformed her fragmented memories of growing up as an adoptee in Switzerland into powerful literature that speaks to anyone who has experienced rejection or shame. Her autobiographical novella "Polaroids" and latest novel "Made in Korea" have recently been translated into Korean, marking a significant homecoming for the writer who left Korea as a 10-month-old infant.

Croset's writing emerges from the understanding that childhood memories rarely come with clarity. Instead, they survive as flashes and blurred images that surface unpredictably, like scattered Polaroids strewn across a vast landscape. Her debut novella "Polaroids," originally published in French and set to be translated into Italian, captures this fragmented nature of memory through a series of vignettes spanning from childhood through her thirties.

The author describes her first "Polaroid" as forever blank, with only the faint image of a woman with long black hair remaining – an apparition so hazy she cannot distinguish whether it belongs to memory or dream. The book unfolds as a collage of moments: empty schoolyards, bunk beds at summer camp, birthday parties, first love, dates, and travel. These scenes are connected not by traditional plot structure but by the common thread of shame and emotional experience.

"I first began writing 'Polaroids' when I was about 25. At that age, I didn't really know the world, or other people," Croset told The Korea Herald. "So I decided to write about the only thing I knew: myself. But I didn't want to turn it into a glorious self-portrait." Instead, she chose to explore humiliation, confusion, and the painful process of self-recognition as a Korean adoptee navigating Swiss society.

Croset's experience of dislocation was constant and profound. Growing up in Switzerland during the 1970s and 80s, her French name didn't match her Asian appearance, leading to daily encounters with misplaced assumptions and casual racism. "My life was a series of misunderstandings," she recalled. "On the streets of Geneva, strangers tried to sell me Swiss watches or greeted me with 'ni hao,' 'sayonara,' or every Asian language. Even at university, professors would write Chinese characters on the board and look at me as if I should understand them. I didn't recognize a single one."

These painful experiences became the raw material for her literary work. "They taught me how it feels to be outside the norm. I think I can understand people who don't fit society's standards better because of this," Croset explained. The deeply personal nature of "Polaroids" resonated with readers, earning her Switzerland's Academie Romande Yves Award in 2012.

Despite the autobiographical nature of her work, Croset was deliberate in making her story universal rather than merely confessional. "I drew on something that was really burning, really painful, so that it could become universal. This story is not only for Korean adoptees in Switzerland. It is for anyone who has been rejected, anyone who has been shamed," she said. The writing process itself became transformative: "Once you expose your vulnerability, you feel liberated. I felt like a dancer stepping onto the stage naked for the first time. After that, you are no longer afraid of anything."

Croset's latest novel, "Made in Korea," which was coincidentally translated into Korean alongside "Polaroids," represents a shift in perspective from her earlier work. The story follows an overweight, socially withdrawn French man of Korean origin who travels to Korea following a diabetes diagnosis and health crisis. There, he discovers taekwondo and gradually reclaims both his physical health and will to live.

"If 'Polaroids' is shaped by passivity in how the world looks at her, 'Made in Korea' reverses the lens," Croset explained. "It is the only novel of mine with a truly hopeful message. A man completely lost in the universe comes to Korea and finds purpose in his life." The timing of the book's publication feels particularly significant to the author, who notes that global enthusiasm for Korean culture has evolved beyond entertainment and products to encompass lifestyle and philosophy.

Croset's recent trip to Seoul for the Korean publication of both books felt markedly different from her previous visits to the country. "I left this country as a poor little baby. I came back as a writer. This time, I wasn't coming to search for my parents. I was coming to share my work with Korean readers. And that felt incredibly special," she reflected.

While adoption left Croset suspended between two nations, she has found her true home in language itself. "I've always felt torn between Switzerland and Korea," she said. "As a writer, I've come to a conclusion: it is French. Language is my identity." This philosophy influences her meticulous attention to style and her exploration of a recurring theme across her work: the unreliability of perception.

"We should never completely trust what we see. And we should never fully trust how we ourselves are seen. There is always something hidden behind appearances. That is what I enjoy exploring," Croset said. This fascination with the gap between appearance and reality continues to drive her literary investigations.

Looking ahead, Croset is considering a long-term literary residency in Korea – perhaps three months or even a year – with plans to publish a short-story collection drawn entirely from Korean life. "I want to go deeper into society," she explained. "Into customs, daily rhythms, and things you can only truly feel when you live in a place." This potential project would represent another chapter in her ongoing exploration of identity, belonging, and the power of literature to bridge cultural divides.