Review of Hangry Hearts by Jennifer Y. Lee
I must admit, the moment I heard about Hangry Hearts, it felt like it had my name written all over it. The enticing tagline “Romeo and Juliet meets food, but no death” had me intrigued; after all, who could resist a heartfelt romance steeped in the vibrant melting pot of cultural cuisine? Attending the panel at the LA Times Festival of Books in 2025, I was excited to support author Jennifer Y. Lee, especially after hearing such glowing praise from fellow panelists. But as I turned the last page, my feelings were a mixed stew of warmth and disappointment.
Hangry Hearts unfolds in the bustling Pasadena Farmers Market, centered around the food stalls of Julie and her love interest Randall. The backdrop of their grandmothers—once friends turned rivals—offers a rich tapestry of family dynamics, nostalgia, and cultural conflicts. Yet, I found myself wishing for greater depth. While the vibrant descriptions of food typically pull me in and spark joy, many of the culinary elements felt like missed opportunities. I expected a feast for the senses, but instead got a menu that, while tasty, lacked the flavorful punch I craved.
One of the standout aspects of the novel is the representation of the characters: Julie as a Korean American and Randall as Taiwanese American, with the added dimension of Randall being a trans character. I wholeheartedly commend Lee for including these identities, and I appreciate her diligence in using sensitivity readers, even if it stirred up mixed feelings about cultural narratives told from outside perspectives. It’s a complicated topic; while I generally cheer for diverse representation, I sometimes question how well it resonates when the author is writing from an experience outside of their own.
The pacing of the story felt uneven to me. Initially, I was drawn in by the premise—young love amid family rivalries—but as the romance unfolded, moments of tension became repetitive, and my interest waned. I often felt detached from the so-called “drama” of Julie and Randall sneaking around to date, which didn’t quite align with the intensity of the familial backdrop. As a Westside girl who’s ventured into Pasadena only a handful of times, the absurdity of the couple’s cross-regional escapades was not lost on me!
Amidst the highs and lows, there are some poignant moments in the text that resonate deeply, particularly in how they navigate identity and acceptance. Lines that delve into the intricacies of familial love and conflicts are likely to evoke nods of understanding from readers. I sincerely wish these moments had been elaborated upon further.
In the end, while Hangry Hearts delivered some warm and sugary bites of charm, it left me yearning for a richer and more fulfilling meal. This book will likely appeal to younger readers who enjoy lighthearted young adult romances, particularly those exploring LGBTQ+ narratives within Asian American contexts. A leisurely read for a lazy afternoon, it might not be a staple on my shelves, but it definitely left me contemplating representation, identity, and the myriad flavors of love.
Have you ever picked up a book that felt both perfectly suited to your tastes and yet somehow missed the mark? That’s exactly how Hangry Hearts left me—grateful for the narrative while hungry for something more.