Review of Hangry Hearts by Jennifer Chen
When I first stumbled across Hangry Hearts, the title alone sparked my curiosity—who doesn’t relate to those days when life is just a bit too much, and all you want is a comforting meal (and maybe a good romance)? Plus, with the enticing pitch of "ROMEO AND JULIET meets food" and the promise of an LGBTQ+ love story, I couldn’t resist diving into Jennifer Chen’s latest creation. After attending her panel at the LA Times Festival of Books, I left inspired but also a little apprehensive about how the story would unfold.
Set against the vibrant backdrop of a Pasadena Farmers Market, Hangry Hearts follows the budding romance between Julie and Randall, whose families once boasted a united front but are currently embroiled in a bitter feud. At its heart, the book grapples with themes of love, identity, and the bittersweet complexities of family dynamics. I was excited about the prospect of rich, sensory food descriptions that usually resonate with me; however, I found that what should have been a mouthwatering feast sometimes played more like a lukewarm leftovers scenario.
The relationship between Julie, a Korean American, and Randall, a Taiwanese American, promises a rich exploration of cultural identity and familial expectations. Yet, the narrative felt somewhat uneven to me. While it’s refreshing to see LGBTQ+ representation, particularly with Randall’s character being trans, the pacing left me wanting deeper exploration of the societal pressures they faced. I couldn’t help but feel that their love story lacked the layers of urgency and tension that come with navigating such family dynamics—after all, this is a world where both cultures place immense importance on familial approval.
Jennifer’s writing style is earnest and charming, and her dialogue often sparkles with wit, which I appreciated. Yet, as much as I wanted to root for Julie and Randall, I struggled to connect with their "sneaking around" escapades—especially considering I’m someone who has a hundred valid reasons to avoid the trek from Santa Monica to Pasadena (what are these “problems” of sneaking out and dating? I just can’t even!). And then there’s the parental drama. I get it; it’s a common trope in YA, but I wanted something with more depth than just the usual “you don’t understand me!” narrative.
That being said, the essence of Hangry Hearts lies not only in its romantic plot but also in the intersections of food and community. I found moments of warmth, like when the characters reflect on their families’ culinary traditions, which certainly enriches the narrative—the merging of food with deep-seated familial rivalry makes for a compelling metaphor. However, I hoped for more moments where this spark could ignite a fiercer tension or resolution between the characters.
In conclusion, if you enjoy YA stories centering on cultural dynamics with a splash of romance and food, you might find value in Hangry Hearts. While it didn’t fully resonate with my expectations, I appreciate the heart behind the narrative and the representation it brings to LGBTQ+ characters. There’s something beautifully refreshing about seeing young love in a context that’s intersectional, even when the execution sometimes leaves you with a hint of disappointment. For readers who revel in light-hearted romances that challenge familial norms, this book could certainly fill that niche. So, grab a snack (or two), and settle in for a charming story that, while not without its flaws, is undoubtedly filled with love and the joys of youth.