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 instantly drawn in by its tantalizing premise. A horror novel centered on a daughter’s revenge against the wealthy, infused with Haitian zonbi mythology? Yes, please! As a reader who thrives on unique narratives, the book promised a blend of societal critique and supernatural elements that felt too delicious to resist. However, my reading journey took me on a wildly convoluted ride, one that left me feeling both intrigued and, at times, bewildered.
From the outset, the character introduction was a strong point of the narrative—the protagonist, Brielle, grappling with her identity and a twisted curse, had the makings of a compelling heroine. Yet, as I delved deeper, the plot began to unravel. It felt overly stuffed with ideas that raked across various social commentaries, from healthcare injustices to the critique of wealth disparity, all while juggling the delicate threads of familial dynamics. Though I appreciated the authors’ passionate intent to weave their lived experiences into the fabric of this speculative horror story, the writing ultimately struggled to find its footing.
One of the most heartbreaking elements was the way the book hesitated to fully embrace its horror. The title alone hints at a bold narrative ripe for exploration, yet Brielle’s "bloodlust" was softened, robbing the story of its potential for visceral tension. There were moments when I found myself eager for a bolder approach—imagining Brielle not merely reacting to injustice, but actively pursuing a dark, calculated vengeance that could have elevated the overall tone and emotional impact of the narrative. Instead, what should have been a chilling journey sank beneath the weight of its unfulfilled potential.
Furthermore, the incorporation of traditional Haitian zonbi lore was an exciting angle that piqued my curiosity. Yet, the way this mythology was utilized felt muddled and at times misaligned with the story’s thematic goals. Brielle’s so-called "curse" lacked the depth necessary to resonate, leading to confusion rather than clarity around the social commentary it felt poised to make. The mythology had such rich potential; it was disheartening to see it relegated to mere plot devices rather than a powerful allegory for systemic oppression.
In the end, I found the romance subplot superfluous; it felt like an unnecessary distraction from the more profound themes of horror and transformation that the authors sought to tackle. If anything, it diluted the central narrative, diverting attention from Brielle’s moral struggle and her complex bond with her mother.
Despite its many flaws, The Summer I Ate the Rich sparked a myriad of thoughts about what it means to confront privilege and social injustice, a conversation I value dearly. I truly believe that with a more focused approach, the authors could have crafted a story where Brielle’s dark cravings and moral ambiguity sparkled at the forefront.
If you’re intrigued by novels that delve into societal critiques wrapped in supernatural elements, this book is worth picking up—just prepare for a ride that, while initially exhilarating, may leave you with more questions than answers. Ultimately, this read was a splendid exercise in navigating the complexities of themes like justice, identity, and familial ties, even if it stumbled along the way.
Discover more about The Summer I Ate the Rich on GoodReads >>