In her debut novel, Samantha Crewson delivers a searing exploration of family trauma, vengeance, and the possibility of redemption. Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter follows Providence Byrd, a woman who, at seventeen, made the catastrophic decision to run over her mother with a car. Though her mother survived, this single act of violence irrevocably altered Providence’s life, leading to her incarceration and estrangement from her family. Thirteen years later, when her mother goes missing in their small Nebraska hometown, Providence returns, convinced her abusive father is responsible—and determined to make him pay.
What unfolds is a gripping, unflinching examination of generational trauma, the corrosive effects of abuse, and the difficult path toward healing. Crewson writes with unflinching candor about violence, addiction, and mental illness while still managing to infuse her narrative with moments of unexpected tenderness and even humor.
A Visceral Portrait of Small-Town Purgatory
Crewson excels at creating a vivid sense of place. Annesville, Nebraska, with its three liquor stores, abandoned post office, and single church, emerges as a character in its own right—a decaying limbo where people are born, suffer, and die without ever truly escaping. When Providence describes the town as one that “begs you to forget it before you arrive,” we feel the suffocating weight of this environment where “God himself has salted this earth.”
The author’s descriptions of the desolate prairie landscapes, the chokecherry trees, and the run-down buildings are rendered with poetic precision. This atmospheric backdrop serves as the perfect setting for a story about people trapped by circumstances and their own destructive patterns.
Complex Characters Navigating Impossible Situations
The heart of this novel lies in its deeply flawed, painfully human characters. Providence is a masterclass in complicated protagonists—a woman who defies easy categorization. Covered in tattoos, her body bearing the scars of self-harm, she carries a gun with the intention of murdering her father. Yet beneath her hardened exterior lies tremendous vulnerability and a desperate desire to be loved.
Crewson’s portrayal of Providence’s relationships with her younger sisters is particularly nuanced:
- Harmony: The middle sister who cannot forgive Providence for what she did to their mother, yet ultimately makes an extraordinary sacrifice
- Grace: The youngest, caught between loyalty to her remaining family members and her own desperate desire to escape
Each sister represents a different response to the same traumatic upbringing, and their interactions crackle with tension, resentment, and the faintest glimmer of hope.
The supporting cast is equally well-drawn, from Sara Walking Elk, Providence’s former cellmate and closest friend, to Gil Crawford, a father figure whose kindness toward Providence was life-saving but ultimately insufficient. Even Tom Byrd, the monstrous father at the center of the narrative, is portrayed with enough complexity to make him terrifyingly believable.
A Fearless Exploration of Difficult Themes
Crewson doesn’t shy away from exploring profoundly uncomfortable questions:
- Can violence ever be justified as an act of protection?
- Is forgiveness possible—or even desirable—in the face of extreme trauma?
- How do we break free from cycles of abuse without becoming perpetrators ourselves?
- What obligations do we have to family members who have caused us harm?
The novel offers no easy answers to these questions. Instead, it immerses us in the messy reality of Providence’s moral dilemma: her desire to protect her sister Grace, her rage toward her father, and her struggle to reconcile her capacity for violence with her hope for redemption.
Bold, Unflinching Prose
One of the novel’s greatest strengths is Crewson’s prose—at once lyrical and brutally direct. Her sentences can be stunningly beautiful, as when Providence describes her mother: “The girl in the pink dress smoothing the fabric over her modest baby bump… vows that they will share a lifetime of unquenchable love, but this promise, like all her promises, is too easily broken.”
Yet Crewson isn’t afraid to shock with raw, unfiltered descriptions of violence and self-harm. This juxtaposition creates a reading experience that mirrors Providence’s internal state—moments of tenderness constantly threatened by eruptions of violence.
The dialogue rings true throughout, with each character speaking in a distinct voice that reveals their background and psychology. Particularly effective is the way Crewson uses biblical references, woven naturally into the characters’ speech patterns, reflecting the religious environment that has shaped their worldviews.
The Narrative’s Rhythm and Revelations
The novel’s pacing is expertly handled, alternating between tense confrontations and quieter moments of reflection. As Providence investigates her mother’s disappearance, Crewson skillfully drops breadcrumbs of information that keep readers guessing. The ultimate revelations about what happened to Elissa Byrd and the various acts of protection, sacrifice, and betrayal among the sisters hit with genuine emotional force.
The structure—particularly the way information is revealed about the central mystery—occasionally leads to confusion. Some readers might find themselves flipping back to earlier chapters to confirm their understanding of the timeline and interconnected secrets. This complexity, however, reflects the tangled web of lies and half-truths the characters have constructed to protect themselves and each other.
Areas Where the Novel Falls Short
Despite its considerable strengths, Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter isn’t without flaws:
- Some secondary characters, particularly Zoe Markham, feel underdeveloped given their importance to Providence’s emotional journey
- The numerous biblical references occasionally feel heavy-handed, making their symbolic purpose too obvious
- A few plot points strain credibility, particularly the speed with which certain legal matters are resolved
- The ending, while powerful, leaves several threads somewhat ambiguously resolved
These critiques, however, don’t significantly detract from the novel’s overall impact and may even be intentional choices reflecting the messy reality of trauma and its aftermath.
A Queer Protagonist Beyond Stereotypes
Crewson’s portrayal of Providence as a queer woman deserves special mention. Her sexuality is integrated naturally into her character rather than serving as a plot point or defining characteristic. Her past relationship with Zoe and their complicated reconnection is handled with sensitivity and authenticity. In a literary landscape where LGBTQ characters are often still defined primarily by their identities, this matter-of-fact representation feels refreshingly honest.
In the Tradition of Literary Suspense
Fans of Lisa Taddeo’s Animal and Tiffany McDaniel’s Betty will find much to appreciate in Crewson’s unflinching examination of trauma and resilience. The novel also calls to mind Gillian Flynn’s exploration of damaged female protagonists, though Crewson’s prose has a more literary quality. Like these works, Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter defies easy categorization, blurring the lines between psychological thriller, family drama, and literary fiction.
Verdict: A Remarkable, Unsettling Debut
Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter announces Samantha Crewson as a formidable new voice in literary fiction. Her debut is not an easy read—it will make you flinch, it will break your heart, and it will force you to confront uncomfortable truths about the costs of surviving trauma. But it also offers moments of profound connection and the tentative possibility of healing.
The novel’s final image—Providence and Grace driving away from Annesville with Grace’s cat, Bucket—encapsulates what makes this story so powerful. There is no neat resolution, no guarantee that the sisters have broken the cycle of violence for good. But there is movement, there is possibility, and there is the profound truth that Providence articulates: “Home is not what you run from. It’s what you run toward.”
For readers willing to venture into difficult emotional terrain, Every Sweet Thing Is Bitter offers a reading experience that is as rewarding as it is challenging. It’s a novel that gets under your skin and stays there, asking questions that linger long after the final page.
Note: This novel contains graphic depictions of violence, self-harm, references to sexual abuse, and substance abuse that may be triggering for some readers.
