Akwaeke Emezi

From the critically acclaimed author of Pet and The Death of Vivek Oji, Bitter, a companion novel to Pet, takes a timely and riveting look at the power of youth, protest and art. Bitter is thrilled to have been chosen to attend Eucalyptus, a special school where she can focus on her painting surrounded by other creative teens. But outside this haven, the streets are filled with protests against the deep injustices that grip the town of Lucille. Bitter's instinct is to stay safe within the walls of Eucalyptus . . . but her friends aren't willing to settle for a world that the adults say is "just the way things are." Pulled between old friendships, her creative passion, and a new a romance, Bitter isn't sure where she belongs - in the art studio or in the streets. And if she does find a way to help the revolution while being true to who she is, she must also ask: at what cost?

Bitter

Sabrina D. 

Only Blessing and now Aloe knew the truth about how Bitter did want a better world, but also about how hope had been beaten out of her, how it was safer to curl up in the pessimistic dark because then none of the horrific things would hurt as much because you’d made part of yourself dead to them, dead to anything else. 

“And hope is not a waste of time. Hope is a discipline." Aloe said the words with such complete confidence, with such a backbone of faith, that this time Bitter let them seep into her, just enough to register. She knew about discipline from her work; she knew about rigor and how you had to practice and practice and practice until you carried it with you in your bones. She’d never thought of hope like that—as something serious and deliberate instead of something wishful and desperate. 

Lindsay

Only Blessing and now Aloe knew the truth about how Bitter did want a better world, but also about how hope had been beaten out of her, how it was safer to curl up in the pessimistic dark because then none of the horrific things would hurt as much because you’d made part of yourself dead to them, dead to anything else. Bitter knew that neither of them wanted her to live in that dark place, but Blessing was careful. She wasn’t the type to barge in and shine a light in places someone had curled over to hide. Aloe was the opposite. He barged in, bulldozing his hope and belief into dusty corners, shaking out the rugs and asking questions about what was underneath. He was clumsy and gentle, annoying and soothing at the same time.

Sometimes she wondered how he found the courage to flash emotions as if no one could hurt him with them.

She’d never thought of hope like that— as something serious and deliberate instead of something wishful and desperate.

Is like we get a life jacket and then you still know there’s people out there drowning and you just sitting on a boat watching them drown and you remember what the drowning was like but you cyah bring yourself to go back.” She shook her head. “It doh matter. We cyah make all of us safe, and unless all of us are safe, none of us are safe.”

Patrick Book

I liked the notion of getting to know Bitter better, but the universe is maybe too expanded in this? I’m not sure, but I enjoyed it nonetheless!

Bria

Emezi has done such a great job with world building and the political metaphors in Bitter and Pet. I need to read her whole catalog

Amira 

** spoiler alert **
           With everything happening in the world, I came into this book with a heavy heart. The book itself was written during 2020 as police brutality become a topic of discussion. 

Pet was such an interesting book because of how compact it was. The author knew the topics they wanted to discuss and did it in a short and concise manner that still made you think. I came out of that book frustrated, I didn’t like the ending but I understood it. It made me reflect and think about some things I could do to improve myself. I think, since all I can do is speculate, that that was the purpose of this book too. As a reaction to the increased hate crimes on black people and protesters but instead of making me think this book left me wanting more. To start off, I think this book was too long but weirdly enough it was also too short. I think the book was trying to do too much but also too little. The book dragged on but could’ve dragged on some more. The contradictions exist because I don’t think… this book should’ve been written. I understand the topics but I also wish they were discussed in a different book or a different world. The reason for this, the meat of the issue, is because I heavily disliked the way violence was discussed in this book. Especially revolutionary violence. I think I’m getting a little tired of hearing the same old story given to us when it comes to revolution and violence. ‘Oh my! We must kill the people who kill us! But aren’t we becoming just like them if we kill them?’ And my answer to that is no. This isn’t to say I LIKE violence but to remove the oppressed of the context they’re in is not the answer and asking this question seems like a tactic used by colonial regimes. Instead, I would’ve preferred if this book wrote or asked how far people can go, if people are a part of a system that kills and maims but do it for survival, what of them? The story didn’t take it far enough for me. It acknowledges the anger of people killed left and right by police brutality but it also doesn’t react by giving an answer to how to stop the police brutality, though I am aware that is a huge thing to ask of someone. I just wish we could’ve gotten out of the whole ‘if oppressed fight back oppressed just as bad as oppressor’ BCZ you are removing the oppressed from their context, aka, one where they are reacting, on the defense, where as the oppressors are the one who’s are on the offense. 

I also can’t help but notice the simplification of some of the leading causes of Lucille’s poverty and violence. One billionaire who’s apparently causing everything. A few politician mentioned in the end. This whole thing felt like something that was shallow but… trying to be deep? I don’t know how to explain it. That’s why I used contradictory language to describe it. Too long, too short. Lastly, BCZ I cannot think this late, I do wish the ending were a bit gloomier. I wish the story would’ve acknowledged, like the last one, how things are dark. I think if the story wasn’t so enclosed, if the town was connected to others that are similarly in disarray it would’ve added to this. But it was so closed off. I also understand to create that ‘happy’ ‘utopian’ setting in the first book it’s needed that the story end on a hopeful note, also to push some of its main ideas but, again, would’ve loved something that reflected reality a bit more. Ppl revolt, fight back then things get better but the rich get in the way. I am 100% aware though that this is expecting more gloom and doom from the book then the author intended

a really good prequel, it made me want to reread Pet :)

Crick

Doesn't stand alone, not enough world building. 

Amanda Kordeliski

Aditi

The writing was different from Pet which I wasn't expecting and isn't something that I enjoyed. I liked the characters in here though the plot was pretty predictable and it never surprised me. I think its more on me that I just don't enjoy these dystopian stories but this one didn't change that for me. Since this is so short and I don't want to go into spoilers, I'll just say that I definitely liked Pet more.

The origin story of Lucille and Bitter from the first book, Pet, about dismantling an oppressive system, guilt, strength, and hope. It was such a great read but there were kind of some plot holes that’s kind of annoying and I can’t stop thinking about. It took be longer than I wanted to finish this book but I think it was just because I was feeling burnt out from how much I’ve read this month. This was a solid 4 stars.

Cloey Yerger

Francesca Starecheski

Kweh Quiambao

Satya Nelms

From National Book Award finalist Akwaeke Emezi comes a companion novel to the critically acclaimed PET that explores both the importance and cost of social revolution--and how youth lead the way. After a childhood in foster care, Bitter is thrilled to have been chosen to attend Eucalyptus, a special school where she can focus on her painting surrounded by other creative teens. But outside this haven, the streets are filled with protests against the deep injustices that grip the city of Lucille. Bitter's instinct is to stay safe within the walls of Eucalyptus . . . but her friends aren't willing to settle for a world that's so far away from what they deserve. Pulled between old friendships, her artistic passion, and a new romance, Bitter isn't sure where she belongs--in the studio or in the streets. And if she does find a way to help the revolution while being true to who she is, she must also ask: at what cost? This timely and riveting novel--a companion to the National Book Award finalist Pet--explores the power of youth, protest, and art.

Bitter

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