What Hunger: A Dark Yet Relatable Journey
When I first laid eyes on What Hunger by Catherine Dang, I couldn’t help but be drawn in by that tantalizing title and the eye-catching cover—complete with a tiny trickle of blood that stirred a visceral kind of curiosity in me. After all, who wouldn’t want to explore a narrative that promises not just hunger in a physical sense, but emotional and existential cravings as well? As a lover of intense, thought-provoking reads like Tender is the Flesh and A Certain Hunger, I saw a potential gem waiting to be unraveled.
What Hunger navigates the tumultuous waters of adolescence, weaving themes of agency, fear, and the often murky boundaries of morality within the lives of high schoolers. The protagonist, confronted by a world of expectations and hypocrisy, strives to carve out her identity, leading to personal revelations that resonate universally—even for the adult readers who might think they’ve left such feelings behind. I particularly connected with the quote, “The adults in our lives acted so sure of everything, but we sensed it was a lie.” It encapsulates that undercurrent of teenage rebellion, a sense of wanting to expose the fallibility of those who seem infallible.
The narrative unfolds in a stream-of-consciousness style that Dang manages with remarkable finesse. While this technique often makes for challenging reading, here it captures the chaotic whirl of emotions that accompany the protagonist’s journey. The pacing meanders as we sift through her thoughts, transforming mundane high school activities into the backdrop for an exploration of deeper questions. Questions like, “But if you’re being good just to get into heaven, are you actually being good? Or are you being selfish?” highlight the moral ruminations that underpin her formative experiences and differentiate this book from a traditional thriller.
The way Dang portrays moments of visceral horror, particularly around animal cruelty and raw emotions, struck me as a brilliant balancing act. For instance, the palpable tension when the protagonist grapples with both the ethics of her actions and the camaraderie of teenage friendships encapsulates the struggles of growing up. The moments where she asserts, “You’re hurting them. It’s not—it’s not necessary,” echo a broader theme of compassion versus survival, showcasing how difficult it can be to remain tender in a world full of harsh realities.
Now, it’s important to note that despite my admiration for the writing style, the book’s abrupt ending didn’t sit right with me. I felt it left threads dangling that could have been woven into a more satisfying conclusion. It had all the makings of a dark coming-of-age tale, but I yearned for closure—an exploration of what these characters might become rather than leaving them suspended in uncertainty.
Overall, I would recommend What Hunger to fans of weird fiction and dark, character-driven narratives. If you appreciate a stream-of-consciousness approach, or even just those complex psychological explorations of adolescence, this book will certainly resonate. You might not walk away with a conventional thriller’s adrenaline rush, but rather with a raw, unsettling understanding of hunger in its many forms—hunger for belonging, understanding, and ultimately, self-realization.
Catherine Dang has crafted a thought-provoking narrative that lingers in the mind long after the last page. I appreciate how it dives into the real darkness and complexity of youth while managing to provoke meaningful questions about our human experience. This book is definitely worth picking up, and I look forward to seeing where Dang takes us next.