The debut novelist Cay Kim writes about being caught between two places and cultures, a tension the Seoul-born Columbia MFA graduate knows well.
Novelist Cay Kim
Photography by Hero Bean Stevenson.

AGE: 27
BASED IN: New York
NOW PLUGGING: The Future Perfect, June 2026

The delicate tension at the heart of Cay Kim’s debut novel is one that the author—who was born in Seoul before being whisked stateside and studying in New York (where she received her MFA from Columbia)—knows well. Caught between two places and cultures, her young protagonist travels between Korea and the U.S., subject to the whims of a mother intent on realizing her child’s full potential—at the expense, perhaps, of the family’s present happiness.

What’s writing for you? An act of agony? Delight? 

I write to mitigate the agony inside of me. I began writing through reading poetry. I was exposed to contemporary poetry in a classroom for the first time, and it felt astonishing, in an alter-your-brain-chemistry way, that black scribbles on white paper could induce an emotional release in me that had up to then been impossible by any other means. It’s been a one-way ticket from that moment. 

What’s the biggest challenge facing young writers today? 

The fact that we live in a society that increasingly only values capital. Literature is inherently anti-capitalistic because it dispels the myth that social or monetary valuation has any relation to the true worth of something. The structures that have raked in gargantuan profits by perpetuating capitalism have squelched the literary ecosystem. It survives, but under great duress. 

MFA programs are under fire in the arts. In what ways did your MFA program challenge you to grow? In what ways did it hold you back? 

I think the only reasonable attitude with which an inexperienced writer can approach an MFA is one of seriousness, eagerness, and gratitude for the opportunity to learn. The most important job is finding the professors whose teaching language uniquely speaks to you. If you find one or two mentors and earnestly learn from them, I don’t see how the experience can be anything but an immense gift. The only exception, in my view, is if the MFA will leave you with serious debt. In that case, I don’t see the reason to attend a costly MFA when there are many top-notch funded programs. 

What three books make up your personal canon? 

The Lover by Marguerite Duras for its inimitable originality in voice and form; The Passion According to G.H. by Clarice Lispector for capturing the language of human spirituality; Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson for its rare feat of centering beauty without forfeiting subject matter of the utmost gravitas. 

What do you think your generation should read more—and less—of?

We should all read more poetry. Nothing quite brushes upon the soul like poetry does. And: literature in general does this, but poetry specifically is the opposite of certainty. Negative capability is the term for it—the willingness to embrace the unknown, the possibility that what I know to be true might not be true, etc. This kind of cognitive flexibility is what helps us move through the world in the most humane and evolved ways, I think. 

What creature comforts do you turn to on deadline? 

I can’t get enough of baths. The only other person I know who dies for baths as much as I do is my Japanese friend, and it’s obvious to me that this is because we grew up in Korean and Japanese bathhouse cultures. What’s more, I’m constantly cold, so nothing beats a steaming hot bath to luxuriate in. 

Describe a “lowbrow” reading indulgence of yours. 

The New York Post. The most absurd headlines end up on my feed. I know I shouldn’t—but it’s hard to look away, like how overhearing an uproarious table at a restaurant can’t help but make you laugh.

This feature is part of the inaugural Young Writers list in collaboration with Montblanc. You can peruse the rest of the participants here.
Keke Palmer

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