The hunger we pass down is a well written story about the burden of the past and the impact it can have on the next generation.

I was drawn by the storytelling of the women from this Chinese-Canadian family. At the beginning, i was kind of bored by Alice and especially her children. But, when we started to go back in time and learn about her ancestors, my curiosity came back! The author is talented at getting you into the state of mind of these very lonely women.

This is the kind of book i'm glad i didn't know that much about because you gradually realize that this is so much more than a spooky story about a curse.

The cultural history was perfectly included in this book and has given another layer of terror to this psychological and emotional horror novel. I absolutely recommend it.

Jen Sookfong Lee’s writing is lyrical and eerie, with psychological horror that feels more haunting than scary. The story is thoughtful and emotional, though the pacing can feel slow at times and leans heavily on dark, heavy themes.

A good pick for readers who enjoy quiet, literary horror and multigenerational family stories.

Thanks to NetGalley and Penguin Random House Canada for the ARC.

The Chow family is haunted by a terrible family history of violence and rape, but only some of them know that they’re also haunted by something that is desperately seeking an impossible revenge. Jen Sookfong Lee’s The Hunger We Pass Down is a harrowing, challenging read about historical atrocities that can never be forgiven or forgotten.

There are two events that cursed the Chows: a suicide that followed the threat of a forced marriage and the kidnapping and forced prostitution of thousands of women by the Japanese Imperial Army during the Second Sino-Japanese War/World War II. I have always loathed the term “comfort women,” to the point that my skin crawls when I see or hear it used. Women from across Asia were kidnapped or lied to about jobs and were forced to serve as, essentially, sex slaves for Japanese soldiers. They were beaten, starved, and sometimes killed in addition to being raped repeatedly. Gigi, the ancestor of the other primary narrator, was snatched off of the street in Hong Kong and sent to Nam Koo Terrace, a real place in Hong Kong that still exists that really served as a brothel for the Japanese Army. Her descendants know only a little of the abuse and misery she suffered there. And they know that she died shortly after giving birth around the end of the war in 1945.

Most of the book is narrated by Gigi’s great-granddaughter, Alice. Alice is stretched thin with the demands of her business, her children, her strained relationship with her ex-husband, her new lover, too much alcohol, and her domineering mother. What she doesn’t know is that there is something in her home in Vancouver, Canada that’s also driving her towards breaking. Alice was never told the full extent of the history her family carries, nor was she told that she should have been on guard against (what I think is) a very hungry ghost. If the Chow women are not careful, not vigilant, they risk losing everything in their lives and their very souls to that ghost.

I struggled with this book, but perhaps not for the reasons you might expect. I had a hard time finishing this book because of its pacing and for the far too casual way that it handled the abuse suffered by Alice’s mother and grandmother. The way the pacing of The Hunger We Pass Down reads to me, there are three sections. The first section primarily deals with Alice’s depression. There are alternating passages that relate scenes from Gigi’s incarceration in Nam Koo Terrace, but most of this section shows us in far too much detail just how much Alice is suffering. (This might sound dismissive, but bear with me.) Around the half-way point, once Alice learns more about what’s really going on, we readers are galloped through a very fast history of what happened to Gigi’s daughter, Bette, and Alice’s mother, Judy. This section is almost a blur. The last section of the novel is the climax, in which the Chow women face up against all of the things that are haunting them. This climax is the best part of the novel, though I don’t think it makes up for the other issues I had with this book.

Now, for the second thing that bothered me. One thing that bothers me about depictions of abuse in fiction is that, sometimes, abuse is treated like a simple motivating factor or just a detail in someone’s backstory, rather than with thoughtfulness and nuance. In these stories, abuse is a trope akin to fridging. I loathe when abuse is unnecessary to the narrative. There are some absolutely horrific things that happen to Judy that are so briefly mentioned in the narrative that their only effect was to make an already terrible childhood even nastier. It reads to me like piling on rather than character development.

There are some interesting ideas in The Hunger We Pass Down but the execution doesn’t honor the premise or themes those ideas raise.

The Hunger We Pass Down by Jen Sookfong Lee
Pub Date: September 9/25

This is a haunting, multi-generational exploration of inherited trauma, passed through the women of one family. Spanning from 1938 Hong Kong, to various time periods in Vancouver, the novel traces the aftermath of a curse that begins with Gigi, who is kidnapped as a young girl and forced to become a comfort woman for Japanese soldiers at the infamous Nam Koo house - a place with its own tragic legacy.

Each woman in the lineage faces unique forms of suffering, shaped by her time and circumstances, but an accumulated sense of dread, shame and rage connects them all. They are plagued by dreams, visions and unexplained emotions that link them to the pain of their foremothers. The novel asks: Are these women doomed by an inevitable fate - bound by a curse - or are they caught in a cyclical grip of shared ancestral trauma?

The interwoven narratives with ghostly elements are emotionally compelling and deftly constructed creating tension, fear and mystery. Each woman’s story reveals the deep vulnerability of navigating womanhood in that era and their efforts to protect their daughters from similar fates was heartbreaking.

Lee’s writing is atmospheric, and the depiction of trauma is visceral. The birth of each daughter offers a glimmer of hope, a chance for a new life and beginning; but these hopes are slowly eroded as their lives begin to mirror the same haunted trajectory.

The first three quarters of the novel is gripping and filled with tension and suspense. However, as the past and present converge, the narrative shifts to more “telling” than “showing”, which contrasted with the earlier immersive style, and was less satisfying. That said, this was a thoroughly entertaining and gripping read and is a compelling portrayal of the lingering effects of trauma and the strength of women who carry its weight.

4.25

This was a really tough read about women and the hunger we pass down for safety, acceptance, and love in an ever changing world that wants us to feel nothing of the sort. Trauma lives in your bones, but because of everything we’ve taught women to be, WE’RE the ones who carry it. Are haunted by it. It’s a never ending tread to keep your head above water.

Fell apart in a few of the end scenes for me, but overall was really powerful.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for the E-ARC.

The Hunger We Pass Down was chilling and quite sad. This book about generational trauma will linger with me for a long time. The horror starts almost immediately - the reader experiences fears that are based in both real life and supernatural. I was filled with unease and a sense of dread while reading.

4.5/5 ⭐️ The Hunger We Pass Down by Jen Sookfong Lee is a haunting and deeply emotional exploration of generational trauma and the ways it shapes the lives of women across time. The novel weaves together past and present with skill, showing how the choices, losses, and experiences of one generation ripple forward to affect the next. At its heart, the story examines how women are often unfairly blamed, overlooked, or forced to bear burdens not of their making, all while navigating societal and cultural pressures.

The narrative blends supernatural elements with very real struggles, from grief over lost opportunities and loved ones to mental illness, alcoholism, and depression. The writing captures the tension between what a life looks like on the outside and what it feels like to live it from within, portraying characters whose perfect appearances hide deep pain and resilience. The sense of place, particularly the small-town and historical settings, adds layers to the story, showing how environment, culture, and family history intersect to shape identity.

The pacing carefully balances multiple generations, allowing the reader to see the connections between past and present without ever feeling confusing. The characters are vivid and complex, each carrying their own burdens while also reflecting the larger themes of survival, grief, and the enduring power of memory. The novel also explores how trauma can transcend time and space, affecting descendants in ways that feel both intimate and inevitable.

This book is a thoughtful, emotionally resonant read for anyone interested in stories about family, the unseen burdens women carry, and the ways past trauma continues to echo through generations. It blends historical and contemporary perspectives with a subtle supernatural thread, making the story feel both personal and hauntingly universal.

I had not been prepared to read a truly noir horror story about generational trauma handed down through ghosts, demons, and faceless creatures. As such I was disappointed that did not realize before reading the book that it would be horror fiction, a genre I do not normally read.
Fans of the genre would probably like this book.

“Alice considered the wounds, the hunger for survival that is passed down, repeated, and then passed down again, and wondered what she had already given to Luna without even knowing it.”

The book follows Alice who is trying to juggle her responsibilities as a single mother, business owner, as well as maintain a romantic relationship in the margins of her life. Feeling overwhelmed she finds herself needing to drink just to get through her day. When all the little chores she never has time to get to with her busy schedule start mysteriously getting done she feels relief and doesn’t want to look too closely. Things however quickly begin to spin out of control as she is losing blocks of time and questions what is real.

As the story unfolds we go back in time to Hong Kong where we are introduced to Gigi, Alice’s great grandmother, and discover the origin of the generational trauma in this family. Gigi was taken by Japanese soldiers as a girl and assaulted daily, becoming a “comfort woman”. The unimaginable torment she suffered creating a lasting curse that followed her daughter all the way to Canada and every generation after her.

This story takes us to unexpected places, filled with feminine rage, loss and grief. Horror fans looking for something a little different and an open ending will devour every page.

Thank you so much to Jen Sookfong Lee, Penguin Random House Canada, McClelland & Stewart and Netgalley for this eArc.

Quietly chilling and emotionally brutal. This one threads horror through the mundane—laundry, motherhood, trauma—and it creeps up on you. It’s not about jump scares, it’s about inherited wounds that won’t stay buried. Some moments are deeply disturbing, others beautifully tender. A haunting story wrapped in family pain, and it lingers long after the last page.

This book made me so sad, but I so enjoyed reading it. At times hopeful, but also haunting, it forces you to ask yourself: Along with our genetics, is it possible to inherit something sinister from our family?

The Hunger We Pass Down is a beautifully haunting novel that explores themes of family, identity, and the weight of history. Alice Chow’s hectic life as a single mother feels painfully relatable—juggling her online business, her teenage daughter, and her son’s screen obsession leaves her overwhelmed. The mysterious occurrences—finding her chores done when she doesn't remember staying up late—add an intriguing supernatural twist that keeps the pages turning. What elevates this story is how Jen Sookfong Lee intertwines Alice’s personal struggles with her family’s historical trauma, especially through her mother’s shocking stories of their great-grandmother’s imprisonment as a comfort woman during WWII. These stories deepen the novel’s exploration of inherited pain and the ways in which history continues to shape the present. While the supernatural elements add an eerie layer, it’s ultimately the emotional depth and the character’s internal conflicts that resonate most. The book thoughtfully examines how past and present traumas—both personal and collective—can haunt us in both subtle and undeniable ways. A compelling read that lingers long after the final page.