Although Every Sweet Thing is Bitter, a literary fiction (of sorts) from debut author Samantha Crewson, isn’t a book I’m likely to pick up again, I’m glad it exists in the world. It follows 30-year-old Providence Byrd, a felon who returns to her hometown to help search for her missing mother and – although she may not admit it – confront her traumatic past. After growing up in an abusive household, running over her mother with a car, spending years in prison, and basically being disowned, Providence has many personal demons. The book is not a thriller or a mystery – it’s most similar to a literary fiction with its exploration of complicated relationships, trauma, and grief. I had issues with the narration and plot work but appreciated the atmospheric writing and intriguingly flawed characters. It’s not a perfect debut, but it is a powerful reminder to pay attention to your loved ones and neighbors for any signs of distress or abuse.
“The call ends and the loneliness returns, but I tell myself it’s a good thing. I’m lonely because I have people I miss. I’m lonely because I’m away from the people who love me.”
Every Sweet Thing is Bitter is written in Providence’s 1st-person POV and reads like a diary. You must rely on her interpretations of other people’s words and actions, but she’s unreliable because of her cynical viewpoint, self-loathing tendencies, and past grudges. An important note regarding the writing: although Providence didn’t pursue a college education because she was imprisoned, she has an overly-educated vocabulary and references historical events beyond a high school curriculum. My guess is that Crewson (who has a degree in political science) mistakenly inserted her own vernacular and education into Providence’s thoughts.
Crewson sets a grim, dismal tone with her descriptions of Annesville – a fictional Nebraskan town where religion is the ruling force. Its inhabitants are deeply flawed, with many people having wronged Providence in the past. Crewson sprinkles in grotesque physical descriptions of characters, which can be off-putting but ultimately enhance the bleak mood. Frequent allusions to childhood violence at the hands of Providence’s father, Tom, heightens the stakes when he’s present in a scene. You may become irritated at the limited, sometimes unconvincing narration, but you will also feel the same heartache, frustration, and rage boiling within Providence – a testament to Crewson’s writing skills.
“Guilt touches you on the surface, but remorse echoes through your marrow…We are not the only species that kills for sport, but we are the only one that feels remorse when we do – and if I cannot feel remorse for what I have done, then am I even human at all?”
Unfortunately, I was constantly puzzling out the plot’s intentions. It contains mystery components because of Providence’s missing mother, and at one point I thought it was going to transition into a higher-stakes thriller. In my opinion, though, it reads primarily as a literary fiction. The plot’s focus is on complicated character dynamics. The missing mother plot line serves to bring Providence back to her hometown to face her demons, with a few “clues” peppered in, presumably to maintain readers’ interest but which don’t result in a thrilling conclusion. The actual reveal, although unexpected, isn’t comparable to mystery or thriller novels. Pick up the book not for the disappearance of Providence’s mother, but for the intricate character study on grief, closure, and navigating deeply flawed relationships.
Interestingly, several scenes were included in the story without apparent reason. With no new insights about the characters or plot, I was left scratching my head to find their purpose. Although the story felt a bit long for such a short book, I was very satisfied with the ending. Despite being marketed with thriller or mystery tones, Every Sweet Thing is Bitter is best described as a dark literary fiction. It doesn’t have a perfect plot, but I believe readers who can look past the occasional pointless scene and stomach frequent references to alcoholism, self harm, and abuse (domestic, child, and sexual) will find satisfaction in its conclusion.
“My father is a raincloud blotting out the sun, the ocean receding from the shore to portend a tsunami.”
The characters are the best part of the novel due to their grey morality. They’re interesting because they have either played a role in injustice or turned a blind eye to it. You will become infuriated with their incompetence, which, in my opinion, is a sign of successful storytelling.
Providence nearly murdered her mother as a teenager, but she cares deeply for her sisters and the people in her post-prison life. She’s a walking contradiction because she believes that people don’t change, despite the fact that she herself has become a better person. Her former lover, Zoe, is deeply ashamed of her romantic past and unwilling to face the truth about her sexuality. Daniel, a tribal police officer on the nearby Lakota reservation, is protective, loyal, and respectable but also hiding a harmful secret. One of Providence’s sisters, Harmony, is a mentally-ill alcoholic but makes an entirely selfless choice in an important turning point of the novel. Some readers may hate all of the characters, and I certainly didn’t love any of them, but I was fascinated by all of their flaws.
“You can try and try and try, but in the end, you can’t brute-force your way into a normal life.”
The preeminent theme in Every Sweet Thing is Bitter is the drastic harm caused by willing ignorance. Neighbors and even the police knew of the horrific abuse occurring in Providence’s home, but they chose to avert their eyes. It is far easier to pretend that you don’t see the bruises and broken bones, which allows for a continued cycle of violence. Another related theme is the dangers of a system failing to protect the vulnerable. If justice had prevailed, the police would’ve arrested Providence’s father at the first sign of abuse. Instead, he remained free to enact terror. Without anyone to protect them, his wife and kids were completely at his mercy, leading to a lifetime of mental and physical scars. It’s an important reminder to look out for your family members, neighbors, friends, and coworkers, as the abuse written in Crewson’s fictional book is very much present in the real world.
“What has she done to earn this perfectly ordinary existence? The only thing separating me from her are shades of circumstance.”
Every Sweet Thing is Bitter offers an important message. It’s far too easy to ignore the suffering of others, but the outcome is incredibly harmful – the most innocent or vulnerable are left with lifetimes of trauma. Reading from Providence’s POV can become tiring and the plot is not fast paced, but Crewson created a perfectly grim atmosphere and interesting, morally-grey characters. Pick up the novel if you want an in-depth exploration of fractured relationships and trauma. I feel neutral about the book as a whole (neither hated nor loved it), but I know its themes will stay with me for a long time.
You might enjoy Every Sweet Thing is Bitter if you like:
- Novels exploring generational trauma, dysfunctional families, and physical and mental abuse
- Slow-burn suspense
- Complex, flawed characters
- Themes of revenge versus redemption
- Books with queer representation
Buy a copy of Every Sweet Thing is Bitter at the following links:
Check out the synopsis and reviews on Goodreads
Follow the author, Samantha Crewson, on Instagram
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