Bitter Honey by Lola Akinmade Åkerström: A Heartfelt Multigenerational Epic
When I first came across Bitter Honey, the name Lola Akinmade Åkerström was already buzzing in my literary circles. Her debut, In Every Mirror She’s Black, left a mark on many readers, and I found myself eagerly anticipating her return to fiction. What I discovered in Bitter Honey was an intricate tapestry of dreams and disillusionments spanning decades, connecting the lives of mothers and daughters caught in a whirlwind of cultural expectations and personal sacrifices. The opening scenes alone drew me into a world filled with vivid emotions, pushing me to reflect on my own experiences with identity and legacy.
At its heart, Bitter Honey unfolds through the lives of two captivating women: Nancy Ndow and her daughter, Tina Wikström. Nancy’s journey begins in 1978 when she steps off a plane in Sweden, fueled by ambition and her family’s dreams of her becoming “Madame President.” Åkerström paints her aspirations and subsequent disillusionments with a skill that brings to life the complexities of cultural collision. Throughout Nancy’s struggles, especially her fraught relationship with her anthropology professor Lars, I felt an aching familiarity with the themes of manipulation and lost potential. The slow erosion of her dreams—caught between cultural expectations and heartbreak—had me reflecting on how our circumstances often reshape our paths in unexpected and sometimes devastating ways.
Tina’s narrative, set nearly three decades later, offers a sharp contrast to her mother’s. At her Eurovision moment, she grapples with the weight of her mixed-race identity in a music industry that commodifies and objectifies. Her emotional transformation at the pinnacle of fame resonates deeply, especially in her struggle to redefine her voice amidst countless expectations. I found myself rooting for Tina, not just as a performer, but as a woman trying to reclaim her story and identity.
Åkerström’s prose is an elegant dance of lyrical beauty and raw honesty. The dual timelines are crafted with such finesse; each character’s perspective illuminates the stark truths of their experiences. The reoccurring metaphor of "bitter honey" resonates throughout the narrative, encapsulating the sweetness and pain of the characters’ lives—their dreams, their sacrifices, and the often harsh legacy passed down from one generation to the next.
One memorable quote that struck me was when Åkerström writes about Nancy’s “emotional distance,” which serves as a painful reminder of the trauma that shapes her relationships. These moments of clarity led me to reflect on my own familial connections and the experiences that bind us to one another.
With all its layers of complexity, Bitter Honey is as much about the cost of dreams deferred as it is about the intergenerational challenges women face. Åkerström deftly navigates these themes without offering easy resolutions, ensuring a powerful, authentic experience for readers. Minor critiques of pacing or subplot resolutions seemed insignificant against the backdrop of such emotional depth and character growth.
I can wholeheartedly recommend Bitter Honey to those who appreciate stories rich in emotional nuance and cultural identity. It’s a book that captivates and invites readers to sit with their feelings, to ponder the burdens of dreams and the legacies we inherit. Reflecting on my own journey while reading this book, I found both solace and connection—an experience that resonates far beyond the pages. Åkerström’s work reminds us that our stories, though often layered with complexity, are worth telling and sharing.