Book Review: The Summer I Ate the Rich by Maika and Maritza Moulite
When I first stumbled upon The Summer I Ate the Rich, I was immediately intrigued by its provocative title and the tantalizing promise of a horror novel that explores the intersection of wealth, morality, and culinary indulgence. Written by the dynamic duo of Maika and Maritza Moulite, this book had all the ingredients for a satirical feast on societal greed, and I was ready to dig in. However, what I encountered was a mixture of brilliance and bewilderment that left me feeling both impressed and perplexed.
At the heart of the story is Brielle, whose struggles with her own form of zombification—and a literal hunger for the rich—create a unique backdrop for a tale that intertwines horror and social commentary. The Moulites clearly aim to blend personal experiences with pressing issues like healthcare inequality, drawing from their own mother’s challenges within the system. Such ambition is commendable, but I found that the plot often wobbled under the weight of its numerous themes.
The premise of "eating the rich" offers so much potential for a dark, morally complex narrative. I kept waiting for the cathartic moments where Brielle would fully embrace her monstrous side, dishing out poetic justice against her wealthy targets. Instead, the novel hesitated, choosing to soften her character and limit the horror elements, which left me craving more gravitas. It was as if the authors struggled to balance Brielle’s moral ambiguity, and in doing so, they diluted the haunting potential of the story. After all, real stakes often lie in the shadows; it’s where our fears of injustice take concrete form.
One particularly powerful element that could have amplified the horror was the incorporation of Haitian zonbi mythology. While I was thrilled to see this cultural aspect introduced, the narrative faltered in its application. Brielle’s curse seemed to twist the original meaning of the zonbi lore into something less profound, feeling more like a narrative complication than a poignant metaphor for systemic oppression. The disconnect between the intended symbolism and its execution left me puzzled rather than enlightened.
Moreover, the relationships woven into the plot—especially concerning Brielle and her mother—had the potential to anchor the emotional weight of the story. Yet, they often felt overshadowed by unnecessary romance subplots that diverted attention from the darker themes of rebellion and revenge. I found myself wishing for a more singular focus on Brielle’s moral journey, with the narrative honing in on her internal struggles and the stark realities of her world.
In essence, The Summer I Ate the Rich is a compelling concept that unfortunately struggles under the burden of its ambition. While its heart is in the right place, the adventure feels scattered, failing to unpack the meaty themes it introduces. For readers who appreciate a book with an intriguing premise rooted in social critique, this novel has much to offer—if only it had fully leaned into its darker inclinations.
Ultimately, while I may have left the reading experience feeling perplexed, I also appreciate the Moulites’ bravery in tackling such complex issues. If they ever decide to rewrite certain sections and allow Brielle to dive deeper into her revenge fantasy, I’d be first in line for a second helping. Until then, I would recommend this book to readers who enjoy a mix of social commentary and horror, with a willingness to navigate its convoluted layers.
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