Maika and Maritza Moulite’s The Summer I Ate the Rich is a bold, genre-defying triumph that blends horror, fantasy, satire, and social commentary with the finesse of a gourmet dish. Drawing from Haitian folklore and infusing it with sharp critiques of capitalism, racism, and intergenerational sacrifice, this novel is not your average YA fantasy. It’s a modern-day fable—cooked to perfection, plated with heartache, and served with a side of seething rebellion.
Brielle Petitfour, the Haitian-American teenage protagonist, is not just a girl navigating high school and family obligations—she’s a zombie with a palate for brains and a hunger for justice. And while the premise might sound outrageous, the execution is anything but frivolous. The Moulite sisters write with flair, grace, and wit, dishing out a story that is deeply personal, darkly humorous, and emotionally rich.
Plot: Blood, Bones, and the American Dream
The narrative opens with Brielle preparing breakfast—her favorite dish of brain and eggs, sprinkled with lemon and folded into pita. It’s visceral and almost grotesque, but it’s also strangely meditative. This is where the book begins its magic: challenging the reader to digest discomfort and re-examine social norms through Brielle’s unusual cravings.
Brielle is not a mindless monster. She is introspective, meticulous, and loyal—especially to her chronically ill mother who is caught in the merciless web of America’s broken healthcare system. Her zombie traits—strength, enhanced smell, a need for flesh—are not metaphors but inherited truths. Her family’s Haitian roots give her power, and that power, in a world rigged against them, comes at a price.
After a hit-and-run incident injures the patriarch of the wealthy Banks family—ironically the same family responsible for Brielle’s mother’s suffering—the story shifts from culinary ambition to calculated retribution. Brielle starts a secret supper club that becomes more than just a way to showcase her culinary talents. It becomes her battleground, her altar, and her stage. What starts as a hunger for justice evolves into a rebellion against systemic exploitation, gentrification, and generational trauma.
In this meticulously plotted novel, each chapter escalates the stakes. From intimate ferry rides to upscale kitchens, the world of Hunter Island (a barely fictionalized version of elite enclaves like Palm Beach) becomes a microcosm of the American class divide. The plot doesn’t rush; it simmers. It marinates in tension. And when it serves its final twist—well, let’s just say you’ll never look at foie gras or filet mignon the same way again.
Brielle Petitfour: A New Kind of Heroine
Brielle is one of the most memorable YA protagonists in recent memory. Reserved, precise, and often misunderstood, she is layered with complexity. Her internal monologue, often steeped in culinary metaphors, reveals a deep well of pain and resilience. She is not an idealist but a realist. Her love for food is both a coping mechanism and an assertion of identity—especially in a world that wants to categorize her as a threat.
Despite her supernatural condition, Brielle’s struggles are profoundly human:
- Caregiving for a parent with chronic illness
- Navigating diasporic expectations as a Haitian-American teen
- Finding autonomy and purpose in a society that dismisses both
What makes Brielle’s journey so compelling is her refusal to accept the narrative that’s been handed to her. She does not merely resist oppression—she rewrites the rules. And that, in itself, is revolutionary.
Writing Style: Witty, Sharp, and Deliciously Macabre
Maika and Maritza Moulite write with a voice that is distinct, clever, and deeply infused with cultural consciousness. The tone effortlessly oscillates between satirical and soulful, often within the same paragraph. There’s a culinary poetry to the way the sisters write—from the sensual detailing of cooking brain matter to the political seasoning of Brielle’s social observations.
Their prose is:
- Vividly descriptive, with sensory detail that makes the grotesque strangely appetizing
- Sardonic and witty, especially in Brielle’s inner thoughts
- Lyrically introspective, offering profound commentary on labor, immigration, and class
The authors’ background in journalism and social advocacy bleeds into every line, making this not just a book to be read, but to be savored and studied.
Themes: Hunger, Power, and the Politics of Consumption
At its core, The Summer I Ate the Rich is a book about appetites—not just for food, but for agency, dignity, and justice. Through Brielle’s journey, the Moulite sisters interrogate:
- Capitalism and Exploitation: The divide between Hunter Island’s wealthy elite and the laborers who sustain it is brutal and unflinching.
- Diasporic Pressure and Identity: Brielle’s role as a first-generation Haitian-American daughter is rife with tension. Her dreams of becoming a chef clash with expectations of economic utility.
- Colonialism and Cultural Inheritance: Haitian zombie mythology, often misunderstood or appropriated, is reclaimed here as a symbol of power, resistance, and ancestral connection.
- Mortality and Moral Ambiguity: By literally consuming the rich, Brielle asks the question—what’s worse, cannibalism or unchecked privilege?
The novel dares to explore these themes without being heavy-handed. It invites readers to question their complicity in systems of oppression. And it does so with a dark sense of humor that is both disarming and effective.
What Works Brilliantly
- Unapologetic social critique that doesn’t sacrifice narrative for message
- Rich Haitian folklore used authentically and powerfully
- Multidimensional characters, including the standout Marcello, who provides levity and genuine friendship
- Gastronomic metaphors that bring a fresh flavor to dystopian storytelling
- Emotional depth, especially in Brielle’s relationship with her mother
What Could Have Been Stronger
Given its ambitious scope, the novel occasionally juggles too many threads. Some subplots—like the mysterious ferry passengers or the Muses-style inner voices of Brielle’s sisters—are inventive but underexplored. Additionally, the tonal shifts between horror, satire, and coming-of-age drama, while mostly effective, may jar some readers expecting a traditional YA format.
And though the ending is satisfying, it could have benefitted from more resolution around the consequences of Brielle’s revenge. The symbolic power of her actions is immense, but the practical aftermath is somewhat glossed over.
Previous Works and Similar Reads
Maika and Maritza Moulite are also the authors of:
- Dear Haiti, Love Alaine – A semi-epistolary novel that also mixes humor, magic, and family legacy
- One of the Good Ones – A gripping contemporary tale that interrogates media narratives and racial justice
If you enjoyed The Summer I Ate the Rich, you might also like:
- The Taking of Jake Livingston by Ryan Douglass – Supernatural horror rooted in racial trauma
- White Smoke by Tiffany D. Jackson – A haunted-house thriller with commentary on gentrification
- My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite – A sharp, darkly funny tale of murder and familial duty
Final Thoughts: A Bold Bite into the Genre
The Summer I Ate the Rich isn’t just a horror-fantasy novel. It’s a manifesto disguised as a feast. Maika and Maritza Moulite deliver a story that is visceral, unapologetic, and necessary—a chilling parable for our times, wrapped in the trappings of teen fiction but layered with the bitter truth of lived experience.
This is not a book that asks for permission. It takes space. It devours expectations.
And like Brielle’s cooking, it will haunt your palate—and your conscience—long after the last bite. For readers with an appetite for justice, folklore, and finely crafted prose, this is a must-read.
