Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This book was published in the US by Dutton on April 15th, 2025.

Ashley Whitaker’s Bitter Texas Honey is a messy, biting, and darkly funny portrait of a “formerly” bisexual woman crawling through the wreckage of addiction, patriarchy, and self-delusion in search of—well, something. Set against the humid backdrop of Texas politics and family dysfunction, this novel follows Joan West, a would-be writer and former leftist party girl turned legislative intern, as she tries (and fails) to wrangle meaning from her chaotic life and half-finished novel drafts.

Joan is not the kind of protagonist who invites admiration—she’s obsessive, self-sabotaging, and desperate for validation, especially from men who barely earn it. Her hunger for literary greatness, filtered through the lens of male mentorship and artistic masochism, is both cringeworthy and painfully familiar. The novel’s sharpest moments come when Winstead skewers this dynamic, laying bare how patriarchal conservatism infects even the most radical of intentions. Joan is a woman taught to distrust her own interiority, and it shows.

The book teeters between satire and tragedy, and I mean that as a compliment. Winstead’s prose is feral and funny, stitched with wry internal monologue and sudden moments of tenderness that gut you. Joan’s addiction to Adderall is handled with nuance—never romanticized, always uncomfortable—and the threads of generational trauma and mental illness, especially through her cousin Wyatt, pulse throughout the novel like a quiet scream.

That said, the ending left me wanting. There’s something unresolved in the book’s take on artistic transformation—Joan’s recovery arc gestures toward healing without quite landing it. I wasn’t sure if the satire ultimately condemns or indulges Joan’s choices, and while that ambiguity is probably the point, I found myself craving more clarity. What does it mean to write your way out when the world keeps writing over you?

Still, Bitter Texas Honey is a feral little book with a big, confused heart. It’s for the recovering girls, the too-much girls, the girls who highlight their own breakdowns and call it research. Read this if you’re tired of tidy narratives about healing—and ready to wade into the murk instead.

📖 Read this if you love: messy femme narrators, dark humor laced with addiction and ambition, and books that blur the line between satire and sincerity. 

🔑 Key Themes: Addiction and Control, Patriarchy and Artistic Legitimacy, Mental Illness and Family Estrangement, Writing as Obsession.