Review of Hangry Hearts by Jennifer Lee
From the moment I stumbled upon Jennifer Lee’s Hangry Hearts, I was captivated. As a passionate foodie and a lover of YA romances, the intriguing pitch of "Romeo and Juliet meets food" had me ready to dive in. I had the pleasure of attending a panel at the LA Times Festival of Books where Jennifer spoke about her writing process and the importance of representation. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I knew I needed to plunge into this story despite holding it in my hands for longer than I’d like to admit.
Hangry Hearts follows the blossoming romance between Julie, a Korean American girl, and Randall, a Taiwanese American boy, who find themselves tangled in a love that transcends their grandmothers’ long-standing feud. It’s set against the backdrop of a bustling Pasadena Farmers Market, each character’s food stall serving both as a setting and a metaphor for their personal struggles. While the concept felt rich and vibrant, I found the execution surprisingly lacking in the flavor I crave from a food-infused narrative.
The central themes of familial expectations and cultural identity resonate deeply, particularly in the context of Asian American experiences. However, at times, the drama felt a bit underwhelming. Yes, Julie and Randall’s struggle to reconcile their family dynamics was relatable, yet my interest waned rather quickly. I couldn’t help but feel that the stakes just weren’t high enough to keep my heart racing. The pacing felt off, with the build-up to their romance unfolding in a way that felt predictable.
Having read my fair share of YA, I can often overlook typical tropes if the characters are compelling. Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get that "wow" factor here. Despite the authenticity of Julie’s emotive contrasts—balancing the desire for family approval with the thrill of first love—I found it difficult to fully immerse myself in their world. The description of food, which usually transports me, left me feeling somewhat unfulfilled. Instead of painting a luscious landscape filled with aromas that beckon, the food scenes felt more like an afterthought.
What I appreciated, however, was the representation of a trans character as a love interest—something I didn’t expect. While I believe representation is crucial, I couldn’t help but note the complexities of authorship. Jennifer is not part of the LGBTQ+ community, and while she utilizes sensitivity readers to navigate these narratives, it raises interesting discussions about who gets to tell what stories. It’s not the reason for my middling rating, but it’s part of the tapestry of thoughts I had while reading.
Despite it not hitting all of my marks, I believe Hangry Hearts finds its audience in those who appreciate gentle romances infused with cultural nuances and a dash of culinary adventure. It has a sweetness to it that might delight younger readers or those seeking lighter YA fare. Personally, I walk away with a greater appreciation for the attention to representation and cultural identity, even if the specific love story didn’t resonate with me.
In the end, while Hangry Hearts might not be the literary feast I had hoped for, it certainly offers a slice of love, culture, and the universal struggle of growing up. If you can overlook some of its pitfalls and savor its charm, this book could delight your heart in ways unexpectedly lovely.