Thank you to Simon & Schuster for this digital ARC! Oh boy, I really need to stop reading horror late at night before bed lol. I absolutely devoured (ha) this novel. Despite the setting being rather slow, this book felt extremely fast-paced and laced with action that made it difficult to put down. Easy to read (despite the subject material) I very quickly was a fan of Veronica, relating heavily to her negative feelings towards men (and particularly about wanting them to fear HER for once) as a teenager. I loved her gentle dynamic with her brother juxtaposed with the violence other men, even her Ba, projected around her. The evolution of the other female relationships in her life, mainly her aunt and her mom, felt way paced and right. I did not give this book 5 stars because something felt inconclusive to me about the ending. I feel that revealing Tommy's relationship with Will (possibly queer relationship?) was odd, and didn't do much for Ronny or for finding closure in the grief with her brother. It also didn't supply me with the intended punch that Tommy had a life outside of Ronny. That hanging thread bothered me a bit, especially because I felt it didn't need to be written in at all. Overall, book was a great read and I would definitely recommend!

The Nguyen family works very hard to keep up appearances. Ronny's father works hard to keep a roof over their heads. Her mother cooks delicious Vietnamese dishes. Her older brother Tommy is the family's hope for further upward mobility. Until Tommy's sudden death early in Catherine Dang's shocking new novel, What Hunger, Ronny is able to drift along in Tommy's wake while she tries to figure out what she wants to do with her life.

The summer and fall after Tommy dies are the worst of Ronny's life. He was the glue that held everything together. Without him, Ronny's father is lost to anger and alcohol, and her mother is falling into a deep depression. And now Ronny is the one to bear the weight of her parents' expectations. She's always been an indifferent student but now everyone expects her to excel in high school, go to college, and get a high-earning job. It's not surprising that the pressure and grief might lead Ronny to act out. Her one act of teenaged rebellion is to sneak out to a party being held by friends of friends of friends, where she drinks too much. A boy Ronny thinks likes her offers to take her upstairs to get away from the noise, where he assaults her. Thankfully, Ronny finds enough of a spark of violence to fight back.

Ronny has no questions about what Michael did to her. Instead, she has a lot of questions about that spark of violence, the one that led her to use her fingernails and teeth to stop Michael. Why does she now crave meat? Why does she constantly imagine the textures and tastes of raw meat? Why does she wonder what it might be like to literally bite back? With her parents lost in their own misery, Ronny has to navigate the emotional aftereffects of what Michael did to her and her increasing need to consume blood and flesh. Is she even human anymore?

I appreciated that Dang answers these questions, though I felt the ending of What Hunger was somewhat rushed. What I liked most about this book was the thoughtful way that Dang developed the theme of food and survival. Food carries a lot of symbolic weight in every culture. Recipes are memories as often as they are nourishment. Most of the foods mentioned in What Hunger are only referred to by their Vietnamese names, leading me down a fun rabbit hole of Vietnamese cuisine and its soups and braises and intriguing combinations of ingredients I'd never heard of before. Ronny's mother and aunt are proud that they can feed family and friends until they burst. Ronny's mother, however, can remember the hungry years during and after the Vietnam War. It's little wonder that Ronny's parents are so careful about money, even decades later, because they know what it's like to starve. Without the right food, human beings can think of little else but getting calories into our systems. And this line of thought brings me to one of the biggest questions I had about What Hunger: what feeds Ronny, literally, emotionally, and intellectually?

what a moving, beautiful and wowing story. I did not expect to feel as much as I did reading this, and i feel like it’s going to stick with me for so long.

"What Hunger" by Catherine Dang is a visceral, raw coming-of-age horror novel that follows 14-year-old Veronica “Ronny” Nguyen as she grapples with grief, trauma, and a disturbing craving for flesh after the sudden death of her brother and a violent assault. Blending body horror with psychological depth, the novel dives into Ronny’s spiraling obsession with consumption—both literal and emotional—while exploring themes of generational trauma and the complexities of Vietnamese-American identity.

Dang’s writing is vivid and unflinching, capturing Ronny’s anger, grief, and isolation with sharp, uncomfortable detail. The body horror elements are especially compelling, with scenes of cannibalism that are both grotesque and strangely empowering. Ronny's transformation into a character who seeks justice through extreme means, like biting off an assailant’s ear or devouring her enemies, creates moments of dark satisfaction, though they are often tempered by the horror of her actions.

While the book’s pacing is uneven, and some character developments come too late to make a lasting impact, "What Hunger" remains a bold, unapologetic exploration of survival and vengeance. It’s a book that doesn’t shy away from its bloody, unhinged moments and delivers a narrative that is both disturbing and darkly empowering. For readers who crave gritty, emotional horror with a side of justice, this one is a must-read.

Catherine Dang’s What Hunger is a coming-of-age horror novel following high school freshman, Veronica Nguyen — a grieving girl whose hunger spirals into obsession after the sudden death of her brother, Tommy. Set against a backdrop of religious tension, buried family history, and grotesque bodily craving, What Hunger explores what it means to consume and to be consumed.

What Hunger offers an intriguing premise and genuine shock value, but for me, the execution left something to be desired. The writing style was my biggest obstacle, often missing the poeticism I felt such heavy themes warranted. Much of the prose was declarative, relying on repetitive sentence structures and similes that failed to evolve as the story went on. For a novel so centered on hunger and psychological deconstruction, the book's style was missing a layer of emotional depth I felt would help this land. I wanted lyricism. I wanted immersive imagery to help me meet Veronica in the exact time and place she lived. If I was going to be convinced of a story as fantastical as this one, I needed to experience veronica’s world in more vivid detail.

The book's prose shone brightest during scenes of consumption. Depictions of food, particularly raw meat, felt visceral, gory, and uncomfortable. I was horrified yet fascinated all the same. There were beautiful lines woven through the preparation of traditional Vietnamese dishes like spring rolls and pho, adding cultural richness and context to the story; however, even those scenes occasionally pulled me out of it as the repeated conflation of myoglobin with blood became distracting. While it’s conceivable a teenager might not know the difference, the book didn’t frame these instances as a character simply misunderstanding. The “blood” was described as thick and staining, making it feel more like a slip than an intentional narrative choice. It stood out and undermined the realism of the story, especially considering how fixated it was on meat and cooking.

Veronica herself was a character I struggled to fully believe. Her dialogue and mindset didn’t always read like that of a teenage girl, but rather an adult’s idea of a teenage girl. Her voice felt like a caricature of itself, molded by adult musings and realizations instead of what I would perceive as authentic adolescent psychology. Her dialogue and conversations with her parents also lacked conviction, distracting me from their greater purpose.

Some thematic elements landed really well — I appreciated the slow reveal of Tommy’s secret relationship, conveying the broader notion of unknowability within families. The religious undertones moved the story along, guiding Veronica’s actions in something larger than herself. I also adored her mother’s eventual role in the story, as it added dimension to the exploration of inherited repression and hunger. It prompted me to think about an immigrant’s experience in the United States and all that is left behind when you leave your homeland. I only wish these elements had been introduced earlier, as some of the most interesting emotional moments came too late to leave a lasting impact — especially Veronica’s relationship with her mother, who remained too sidelined until the final act. She was the most interesting character, in my opinion, yet we weren’t truly with her until the last couple of chapters.

What Hunger has a compelling narrative at its core — it just felt a little underdeveloped. With more stylistic prose and variation in sentence structure and dialogue, this could have packed more of a punch. As it stands, the novel feels more like a sketch rather than a finished portrait.

Thank you to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for providing an advanced reading copy. All opinions expressed are my own.

4.25 stars

This book explores what happens when a girl becomes the monster she was taught to fear. It is a visceral, rage-fueled descent into grief, hunger, and generational trauma. It’s part horror, part coming-of-age. Vietnamese American identity, girlhood rage, and family dysfunction all simmer beneath the surface until they

Ronny is such a complicated narrator. She’s furious, lost, alienated. Her voice is sharp, wounded, unflinching, and she doesn’t go on a redemption arc, and the book doesn’t try to make her likable. The horror elements (which lean body horror and psychological) are really well done, but it’s the emotional horror, the grief, the isolation, and the inherited pain, that hit hardest.

While I found some of the transitions abrupt, that final act still landed hard. It’s a little unhinged and a little feral, but I find that interesting.

If you like your horror with guts (literally and emotionally), stories about angry girls who don’t want to be saved, and you aren’t squeamish then give this a read.

A story about coping with grief, and overcoming family and personal trauma , this book was healing for me in many ways. I found myself relating to all of the characters in many ways. The writing was beautiful but simple enough for anyone to be able to enjoy the story. It was also deep at times giving a lot to contemplate. I loved the glimpses into Vietnamese culture. This book has left a lasting impression on me and I will probably be thinking about it for a while.

Oh, What Hunger, you deliciously messy book, you. Catherine Dang’s debut is like a steaming bowl of phở served with a side of existential dread and a garnish of teenage angst. I devoured it in two sittings, giggling, gasping, anddddd occasionally side-eyeing some choices.

Ronny Nguyen is our 14-year-old Vietnamese-American protagonist who’s just trying to survive high school, family secrets, and, you know, generational trauma. Her world crumbles after a family tragedy followed by a gut-punch assault at a party. When she goes full Mike Tyson and chomps her rapist’s earlobe off? I screamed. Like, YAS, QUEEN, serve that justice! But then things get raw. Ronny develops this primal craving for flesh, and I don’t mean a Five Guys burger. We’re talking straight-up cannibalism, and it’s as unhinged as it sounds. Dang writes these scenes with such raw, vivid detail that I felt like I was right there, heart pounding, wanting to wrap Ronny in a blanket and feed her some raw pork loin or something.

The scene where Ronny takes a literal chunk out of a pedophile’s arm? I was cheering. Dang describes it so vividly—blood dripping, sinew snapping. Ronny’s new motto seems to be “steak tartare or bust,” and her love for really, really rare meat is both grotesque and weirdly empowering. It’s like she’s reclaiming her body by, uh, snacking on creeps. Iconic, but also... girl, maybe try therapy?

When Ronny’s mom’s backstory finally drops, it’s a haunting tale of survival that made me want to hug them both. But, ugh, why did we have to wait so long for it? I was starving for more mother-daughter bonding over their shared hunger (literal and not). Imagine them swapping cannibalistic tips over a pot of phở, like, “Pass the fish sauce, and also, how do you tenderize a predator?” That could’ve been peak chaos, and I’m pouty we didn’t get it.

Dang’s prose is a vibe—descriptive, funny, and just the right amount of extra. She paints Ronny’s suburban town so vividly I swear I heard the hum of strip mall neon signs. Also, some side characters (looking at you, Generic Best Friend #1) felt flatter than my attempts at origami. I wanted more meat on their bones, you know?

Despite the hiccups, I enjoyed this feral fever dream. What Hunger is messy, bold, and doesn’t apologize for its bloodstains. It’s like if Fresh and The Sympathizer had a baby who loves rare steak and revenge. I laughed, I winced, I yelled, “RONNY, SPIT THAT OUT!” Would I die for more mama-Ronny cannibalism bonding? Obviously. But even with its late reveal and wonky pacing, this book’s a juicy 3.5 stars. I’m docking half a star for making me wait for the good stuff, because I’m bratty like that.

Now, I’m off to daydream about Ronny opening a butcher shop with a very exclusive menu. I can get behind cannibalism with a side of justice. Don't come for me.








**3.5 Stars for *What Hunger* by Catherine Dang: A Bloody, Biting Riot with a Side of Sass**

Okay, *What Hunger* by Catherine Dang is a wild, carnivorous ride that had me clutching my pearls and cackling like a hyena. This book is like *Heathers* meets *Raw* with a Vietnamese-American twist, and I’m here for it—mostly. Let’s sink our teeth into this gloriously gory tale, shall we?

Ronny Nguyen, our 14-year-old badass, is the snarkiest teen I’ve met since Juno. Her voice is razor-sharp, slicing through high school hell with lines like, “My gym teacher’s shorts are a war crime against retinas.” I was *living* for her wit, especially after the gut-wrenching assault at a party.

I’m obsessed with how Dang weaves Vietnamese folklore and family trauma into this bloody buffet.
Dang’s prose is a vibe—gritty, funny, and dripping with attitude. Ronny’s town feels so real I could smell the fryer grease at the local diner. The dialogue pops like nobody’s business, and the gore is written with such glee I’m convinced Dang was grinning maniacally at her keyboard. But, okay, the pacing’s a bit like a drunk cheetah—lurching through Ronny’s trauma then lingering on her crush’s cheekbones for, like, forever. And some side characters? Cardboard cutouts. I wanted more flavor from them, not just “best friend who says lol.”

Now, I’m off to daydream about Ronny opening a butcher shop with a *very* exclusive menu. Xoxo, don’t @ me!

Truly unhinged female rage and cannibalism in the tradition of A Certain Hunger by Chelsea Summers. I liked the cultural and family background for the character, and that she wasn't exceptional (which flies in the face of Asian familial expectations). That said, some of the writing was rough at the sentence level. Every time the dad drank (which was a lot), he was described as flushing to indicate drunkenness, etc. The vibes are impeccable, however.

A messy coming of age story of a Vietnamese American teenager who explores her deep hunger - cannibalism. A feral fever dream set in a suburban town that delves into generational trauma as well. Slow to start but a good unsettling read

An impressive sophomore novel that perfectly melds first-gen coming of age literary fiction with visceral body horror and ruminations on grief, loss, and intergenerational trauma.

Ronny Nguyen is fourteen years old and excited for what her recently graduated, high school valedictorian, handsome, tall, all-star older brother Tommy calls the Big Summer. She melts in the Midwestern heat and reads romance novels and fights with her parents and yearns to spend time with her busy brother. But at the end of summer, after a big fight between her dad and brother, tragedy strikes. Ronny enters high school reeling, completely unmoored, and with a newfound bloodlust for raw meat.

Ronny becomes fixated on consuming one target - a boy who deeply wronged her - almost as a distraction from being unable to deal with her family’s loss. The horror writing is strong, but I really loved the subtle and almost unwilling ways Ronny matures in the third act: learning about her parents’ immigrant histories, beginning to see them as people, recognizing that her trauma is inexorably linked to theirs, and learning to tame her wild animal desires.

We love a girl who bites back.

Ronny is 14 when her brother dies. When a boy crosses a line. When she begins to crave raw meat. And when the craving becomes too big to hold, the only way through is to feed it.

What Hunger follows Veronica (Ronny) Nguyen, the overlooked daughter of Vietnamese immigrants, as she tries to metabolize grief, silence, and the weight of violation — all while still stuck in the hormonal purgatory of being fourteen. And like many of us know: being a teenage girl is visceral, horrific, powerful work.

I love blood and gore and horror and cannibalism at the heart of women’s stories — how transgressive they feel, how much relief they offer. There’s something so charged about using cannibalism to explore grief, hunger, and femininity. But for me, the metaphor didn’t fully land.

This wasn’t a standout read. The writing felt thin — too emotionally flattened to carry the weight of its message. And I expect a lot from books, especially ones exploring rage and trauma and the body as a battleground. I wanted more depth. More meat on the bone. The cannibalism metaphor could’ve gone weirder, sharper, riskier. It didn’t quite get there.

Still, I can’t write it off. Feminine rage novels exist for a reason. Because even when they’re messy or uneven, they name something real:
the gnawing, howling feeling that no one is coming to save you —
so you might as well devour the world instead.

And if you’ve ever been a girl in pain with nowhere to put it, you’ll understand why Ronny starts to eat.

Thank you NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I enjoyed the plot, but this very much read like a YA book. It was a quick and easy read. Veronica's sassiness was a bonus because what teenage girl isn't mouthy to everyone? I felt the author nailed that character. I very much wanted her to be able to get revenge and eat. That sounds a bit weird but once you've read it, you'll understand. I also despised the neighbors. Overall, I liked the family history that was revealed throughout the book and made the parents more related able.

Ronny is 14 heading into her freshman year and finds herself in the middle, not old enough to work, but to young to sit around watching cartoons on her summer break. She instead spends her time reading trashy novels. Her brother, Tommy is the complete opposite, valedictorian and heading off to college.
Their parents don't really discuss their time in Vietnam and except through cooking. Ronny and Tommy were taught the value of meat and its symbol of survival. Then tragedy strikes and a few days later attends her first high school party. A boy takes it too far and her anger is replaced by hunger a hunger for raw meat.

A haunting coming-of-age tale following the daughter of Vietnamese immigrants, Ronny Nyugen, as she grapples with the weight of generational trauma while navigating the violent power of teenage girlhood, for fans of Jennifer’s Body and Little Fires Everywhere.

Loved this one!

You know what? Hell yeah.

I am all for a book that lets its female protagonist engage in a bit of rage-fueled violence. This book delivered. I loved the relationship dynamics between siblings and the main character’s perspective on her parents’ marriage.

Though it is a book that leads to —spoiler alert - cannibalism - there were passages in this book that were poignant. I especially loved how the book delved into a first-generation immigrant family and how they had to move about their world and environment as a result of racism and being othered by those in their community.

This was a fun ride!

This thriller crackles with intensity, weaving a clever plot full of misdirection and suspense. The pacing is razor-sharp, pulling you deeper with every page. Characters are as compelling as the mystery itself, making the stakes feel personal and real. A brilliantly executed story that keeps you hooked right up to its final, breath-stealing twist.

What Hunger by Catherine Dang was such a great read!!
It had a very interesting beginning that kept me entertained; although it was pretty sad in the beginning- it made me excited to keep reading to find out what would happen next.
The portrayal of grief and loss was so descriptive and I felt like I was actually feeling all the emotions for the characters. There was slow building for anticipation, but it was all worth it! There were so many deep emotions; the anger and rage. The hunger. The grief and longing of Veronica missing her brother.
I loved how Veronica’s thoughts were represented- the slow acceptance/ realization of everything. I also really loved the fast-pace and all the culture and representation in this book too! This story felt unsettling at times, but so intriguing!
What Hunger is a remarkably interesting, complex coming-of-age novel.

What Hunger was a somewhat gorey, rage-infused story centered around a young Vietnamese teen who has to grapple with the loss of her brother and the growing hunger she feels. It was simply written and fast paced, if a bit repetitive. The beginning half was a bit hard to get into as it had some tropey story beats to it, but I enjoyed the latter half of the novel. The protag, being a teenager, made the book read a little young at times , even though I think this is new adult, at least? It made it hard to place the age group for readers at times. I enjoyed the reveal towards the end, and the historical components makes this book stand out against the rest of femme rage/cannibal books out there. Thanks to NetGalley and Simon & Schuster for the eARC in exchange for an honest review!

This book gave me exactly what I wanted. I had never read a book with a Vietnamese main character and I loved the representation. It was so interesting getting to learn some things about the culture. It was also great getting the perspective of someone who is a child of immigrants. There were so many descriptions of Ronny being immersed in her culture but still not feeling like she belonged that were beautifully written. The grief and how it can affect a family felt so real. I really loved the way Ronny’s hunger was written. It slowly became all consuming. Getting the stories from her family only added to my love for the way that female strength / female rage was portrayed by this author.

What Hunger? hits you right in the gut and heart. Georgia Hunter turns her sharp eye to the struggle for survival—not against the backdrop of war, but against the internal battles of loss, identity, and desire. The story follows a protagonist wrestling with an emptiness she can’t quite name—be it grief, longing, or the ache of unspoken needs. Hunter’s strength lies in her ability to render small moments with big emotional clarity: a passing glance that reveals years of unsaid words, a meal eaten alone that becomes a stand‑alone act of rebellion, a craving that speaks to more than just empty stomachs.

Hunter’s prose is understated but potent—sparing, thoughtful, and drenched with a sense of atmosphere. You feel the tension in every breath, the quiet desperation beneath everyday routines. The pacing is deliberate; there’s no rush to deliver answers. Instead, you’re invited into the messy, meandering process of healing and reckoning. Some readers might wish for a punch‑drunk payoff, but that’s not Hunter’s style. She’s more interested in the journey—and that’s where the beauty lies.

If you're drawn to emotionally resonant fiction that tackles what it means to hunger—figuratively and literally—for connection, purpose, or peace, this one’ll stay with you. It’s introspective, slow‑burn, and unafraid to sit in the ache, trusting that even the smallest flares of hope can feel spectacular.