A vibrant, bighearted coming-of-age story about a young woman caught between loving and leaving Oakland—the whiplash between trauma, dreams, and all the things that shape us below the surface.
Anastasia Ān Xiá Huang is the third generation of her family to live in Oakland, but now, in her twenties, she feels stuck in the city she loves. She assists a pretentious curator at a modern art museum, while her own artistic dreams have fallen to the wayside. When her beloved uncle passes away, she unexpectedly inherits his house, a rundown Victorian in Oakland Chinatown. At first, it seems like a bittersweet She can renovate the house with her best friend, Noa, and then sell it. That, combined with the bonus she’s been promised by her boss for locating a mysterious street artist, would give her the push she needs to apply to art school.
But the house itself seems to hold darkness. Not just the black mold on the ceiling, not just grief, but maybe something more, connected to the memories coming back to her with more force and frequency—of Anastasia’s childhood, the volatile father who abandoned her when she was five, the workaholic mother who continues to keep her distance.
Along with her wisecracking best friend, a resurfaced childhood crush, and an irrepressible elderly neighbor, Anastasia attempts to solve the interconnected riddles of her family, her home, and her art. Full of wonder, self-discovery, and bracing revelations, Eat Bitter, Anastasia is a colorful ode to the spirit of Oakland and a deeply intimate, surprising story about how the places and people we love contain so much more than meets the eye.
*Thank you Henry Holt and Co. for providing this book for review consideration via NetGalley. All opinions are my own.*
Anastasia, a Chinese-American artist born and raised in Oakland, California, struggles with feeling like she belongs in any of her communities. Her father left when she was young, she's the daughter of immigrants, and an artist dreaming of leaving to attend art school in Chicago. Feeling accepted feels out of reach. Her uncle, whom her and her mother are close with, leaves her his house, and she feels as if things will start to fall into place.
The story is pretty straightforward, and I felt connected to Anastasia almost immediately. There are instances throughout the book that bring you into her trauma, and immediately disrupt the story. And that's how trauma often works, right? I loved the flashbacks and how Anastasia was effected, however, when other memories would come back to her, a lot of the time, the writing felt choppy and I found myself going back to re-read how we got to the memory. There are also a handful of Chinese phrases that go untranslated (and my one year of Chinese did me almost no justice) that make everything feel a bit more complicated. It also took me a bit to get used to it being written in present tense.
A good read - I look forward to trying other novels from this author!