#IMWAYR: Hungry Heart!

Hello, hello, everyone! I'm excited to share a delightful graphic novel with you today, so let's hop to it!

Hungry Heart

Volume 1

Written and illustrated by Jem Milton

Young adult/adult · Graphic novel · 2024

Add it on Goodreads · Preview the illustrations

· · · The publisher says: · · ·

The humdrum life of an aspiring food writer changes when he meets a famous celebrity chef. Equal parts funny and heartwarming, Hungry Heart, based on the hit webcomic, is an endearing queer rom-com that grapples with self-discovery, finding your voice, and the power of acceptance.

Laurie, a plucky young food writer, gets his big break interviewing heartthrob chef, Oryan Adjei. Laurie has idolized Oryan since watching him rise to fame in the UK Kitchen Trials back when they were both teens. But Oryan's life is lonelier than it seems from the outside and his career has taken a direction he isn't sure he wants to continue. Laurie seems to get Oryan in a way few others do. Their clumsy first meeting turns into a series of interviews that takes them on a food tour across London, from a coffee shop in a snow flurry to a hole-in-the-wall burger shack and Oryan's own kitchen. Despite their attempts to keep things professional, the two begin to bond over cheesesteaks, flat whites, and stolen hors d'oeuvres. As the pair find themselves in a pressure cooker of celebrity and personal struggles that threatens their chance at romance, will Oryan learn to trust himself and follow his heart?

Hungry Heart is a beautifully illustrated graphic novel that reminds us that all kinds of love are possible.

· · · · · ·

I LOVED THIS BOOK SO MUCH. 😍 And I have big, existential thoughts to share about this rom-com. I'm going to try to do it in as few words as possible.

About a year ago, my first (and so far only) boyfriend broke up with me. Since then, I have been thinking a lot about ideas of "coolness." I didn't go to a traditional middle school or high school, so I didn't play the coolness game much. I'm getting to it late. But it seems to me like ideas of coolness are everywhere—especially for gay men.

From what I can tell, coolness means several things. It means sex appeal, and fashionable clothing, and social charm and slickness and humor. It means existing above other people, not alongside them. It means being big rather than small. It is about confidence, and it is not about emotional vulnerability. And however queer you might make it, it still seems deeply associated with stereotypical masculinity.

My ex-boyfriend was very good at fulfilling norms of coolness. I thought he was so cool. Sometimes it felt like I was a little moth fluttering around his lantern glow.

I am not very good at fulfilling norms of coolness. So I felt very small in comparison to him. When he broke up with me, it was hard not to feel like he left because I was pathetic.

Coolness seems to be a metric by which we value or rate people in our society. And I think particularly for queer people, who may be seeking the validation or love that society withholds from us, it is a very tempting game to play. Society rates queer people down, and sometimes we just want to climb the ladder.

But coolness is really a terrible metric for anything that matters. It does not measure kindness, or insight, or giving back to one's community. And it certainly does not measure one's own intrinsic worth.

That brings us to Hungry Heart (almost). Something I've noticed in romance stories is the trope of a normal person falling in love with someone "out of their league." I would say "out of their league" is synonymous for "cooler," or "above them," or "more worthy," or whatever other hierarchical word you would use. We believe strongly that people should date at their level, whatever "level" means, but we also feel trapped by this system. So we create romance stories that allow us to fantasize about "dating up." The normal-person protagonist is designed to be relatable, so we can insert ourselves into their shoes. The "out of their league" love interest is designed to be a "dreamboat" or "heartthrob," so we can fantasize about experiencing their love.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with these kinds of stories. It's fun (and human) to fantasize about the perfect romance! But at the same time, I wonder what happens to these fictional couples. If one member is placed on a pedestal, and that person's partner feels inferior, I suspect that can't be healthy. And I suspect that relationship can't last.

OK, now we're finally at Hungry Heart. At first glance, this book seems like the embodiment of this romance trope, and the coolness imbalance it is built upon.

Laurie is our normal-person protagonist. Here are some traits that Laurie has, and that I also have, and that are often considered "uncool":

• Laurie and I are both comically awkward at times.
  
• Laurie and I are both quiet and sometimes feel overshadowed by other people.
• Laurie and I both have normal human body types (i.e., we're not ripped).
• Laurie is not terribly concerned about fashion. (This was me until very recently.)
• Laurie and I both have mental health conditions. (Laurie has an eating disorder, which warrants a content warning.)

Oryan is our out-of-his-league love interest. Here are some traits that Oryan has that are often considered "cool":

• Oryan is famous and projects an image of confidence, such as through his willingness to come out to the public as queer.
• Oryan is considered a "heartthrob" by the general public.
• Oryan has a legion of adoring fans.

Besides this obvious contrast of characteristics, Hungry Heart alludes to the coolness divide between Laurie and Oryan in other ways. There is a minor character, Hugo, who is (a) a friend of one of Laurie's friends, (b) also a gay man, and (c) an insufferable character, in my opinion. Hugo possesses many traits that society might consider "cool." He's fashionable, he's loud and confident, he's out on the town, etc. And he speaks highly of Oryan. And he denigrates Laurie, often calling him "lozzer" (which I assume is a Britishism for loser) or, at best, acting as though Laurie is an endearing pet.

So Hungry Heart sets up a wide divide between Laurie and Oryan, with Oryan on top. The book could just let both of them fall in love despite this divide. That would certainly be fun, but it would likely be unrealistic and unsustainable.

The book could also attempt to "fix" Laurie or "bring down" Oryan, to make them equals. (I'm reminded of a book I read recently where the normal-person love interest was abnormally ripped, as if to justify why the out-of-his-league love interest was interested in him.)

But Hungry Heart does not go down either of these paths. Instead—and this is the part that is so freaking awesome—Hungry Heart dismantles the idea that there is any real divide between Laurie and Oryan at all. It shows how both Laurie and Oryan possess traits that society deems cool or desirable, and traits that society doesn't. And it shows how Laurie and Oryan are equal in their worthiness and their beauty, and not just because of their "cool" traits, but their "uncool" ones too.

You know how I characterized Laurie as the self-insert character, and Oryan as the desirable "heartthrob" character? Well, Hungry Heart already throws a wrench in that: Laurie is desirable too. (He stole my heart...if I could find a boyfriend as sweet as him, I would literally die.) And Laurie is desirable not in spite of the traits of his I've told you about, but because of them. Because Laurie is quiet and thoughtful rather than social and out-there, he's a good listener and an observant writer. Florid prose from his food-review blog is interspersed throughout the story, and his ability to see Oryan as a full human being sets him apart from Oryan's countless fans. I felt so validated by Laurie as a character, because I relate so much to how his quiet, inward-looking nature supports his kindness and his creativity. And in realizing how much I would be delighted to have a boyfriend like Laurie...I was reminded how much someone else will be delighted to have a boyfriend like me.

So that's Laurie. What about Oryan? Well, you know how I characterized Oryan as famous and confident and put-together? That's his public image, facilitated by his agent and his team. In reality, Oryan is like one of us, if we became famous overnight. He's scared by all the eyes on him. He's struggling under the pressure to live up to everyone's expectations. And like any young adult, he doesn't yet know who he is, or what he wants to do with his life. And honestly, that made me like him so much more than if he was some slick, confident guy. The real Oryan is gentle, and sweet, and I would completely trust him to take care of Laurie.

And here's one more thing. I've been talking about coolness as an arbitrary way society divides people. But society also divides people arbitrarily with race, and class, and other identities. For all Oryan's fame and all Laurie's awkwardness, Hungry Heart points out how it's Laurie who goes through the world with more privilege. Laurie is White (and comes from a rich family, as we later learn), while Oryan is Black.

Hungry Heart acknowledges that it's instinctive to see Oryan as out of Laurie's league. And it also acknowledges that Laurie has privilege that Oryan doesn't. But the story also reminds us that none of these arbitrary rankings are valid ways to view Laurie and Oryan's worth. Hungry Heart shows Laurie being strong in his compassion and his thoughtfulness, and it shows Oryan being vulnerable in his anxiety and his youth. But it doesn't show these things to correct Laurie's "limitations," or to diminish Oryan. It shows these things to demonstrate how our strength and our vulnerability, together, are what make us worthy, and beautiful, and lovable.

I've been thinking more about vulnerability after watching Brené Brown's TED talks on vulnerability and shame for school. (They're so good, please watch them.) I think we all, like Laurie and Oryan, have sides of strength (or "coolness," or whatever word you like) and sides of vulnerability. But some of those sides were missing from my own past relationship. I don't think my ex-boyfriend ever let me see his vulnerable side, though I'm sure it was both lovable and underloved (as are most of our vulnerable sides). And I think I forgot that I had a strong side, with qualities that will hold the right person's attention someday, whenever I find him. Hungry Heart reminds us that love between two people isn't two strong people being cool and confident, or two vulnerable people hiding from the world, or one strong person sweeping a vulnerable person off their feet. It's two people who are strong and vulnerable, bringing out the strength in each other, showing care and love for the vulnerability in each other, and above all else, being their full, messy, beautiful human selves together.

Hungry Heart is just volume 1 of a series, but it has laid the groundwork for a remarkable and affecting (not to mention joyful, funny, and adorable) love story. I can't wait to see more.

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