The Heartbreak Bakery

by A. R. Capetta

Overview

Teenage baker Syd sends ripples of heartbreak through Austin’s queer community when a batch of post-being-dumped brownies turns out to be magical—and makes everyone who eats them break up.

“What’s done is done.”
Unless, of course, it was done by my brownies. Then it’s getting undone.

Syd (no pronouns, please) has always dealt with big, hard-to-talk-about things by baking. Being dumped is no different, except now Syd is baking at the Proud Muffin, a queer bakery and community space in Austin. And everyone who eats Syd’s breakup brownies . . . breaks up. Even Vin and Alec, who own the Proud Muffin. And their breakup might take the bakery down with it. Being dumped is one thing; causing ripples of queer heartbreak through the community is another. But the cute bike delivery person, Harley (he or they, check the pronoun pin, it’s probably on the messenger bag), believes Syd about the magic baking. And Harley believes Syd’s magical baking can fix things, too—one recipe at a time.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781536222371
Publisher:	Candlewick Press
Publication date:	10/12/2021
Sold by:	Barnes & Noble
Format:	eBook
Sales rank:	385,016
Lexile:	HL810L (what's this?)
File size:	2 MB
Age Range:	14 Years

About the Author

A. R. Capetta (all pronouns), the author of Echo After Echo and The Lost Coast, has lived in Austin and worked as a professional baker and holds a master of fine arts in writing for children and young adults from Vermont College of Fine Arts. A. R. Capetta is married to author Cory McCarthy, and they live in Vermont with their young baker.

Read an Excerpt

1

The splintered crack of my egg on the counter sounds like an ending. I raise my hand and tip the runny liquid into the bowl, letting the yolk slip out. It’s bright, orange, unbroken. It’s beautiful, and I want to keep it that way.
   Maybe forever.
   But I have to whisk it, and with a few turns of my wrist the batter swallows it up. The yolk disappears like it was never there.
   I dump the dry ingredients in with the wet, then check my recipe card for the fourth time. Red velvet. My hands know how to do this. Snap the bowl into place on the stand mixer. Stir on the lowest setting until everything barely swirls together. Don’t overmix, or the cake comes out stodgy. I flick the switch at the perfect moment, as the last of the dry, crummy bits dissolve into silk. My hands are good at this. Which is helpful, because the rest of me isn’t really here.
   I slap butter-flour paste into four round cake pans, then pour batter into each one. It folds on top of itself like a ribbon. This part usually feels like I’m finishing off a present, and the people who eat the cake later will be able to taste that it’s a gift I made with them in mind. Even if we’re strangers. They’ll taste it, and they’ll know I want them to be happy.
   Baking is magic that way.
   But I don’t feel like giving presents right now. And I’m not really here because I’m still in her bedroom, wrapped in her towel, shivering as she peers at me without her glasses on and says, “Maybe this isn’t working.”
   Like we’re a recipe that isn’t coming together right.
   “Syd, do you have a minute to take muffins to the front?” Marisol calls from across the kitchen.
   She’s being delicate with me. Marisol isn’t delicate with anything, not even meringues. On a normal day she’d let me know how unacceptable it is that I’m four cakes behind when we’re about to open. She’d remind me that I’m so young, too young to be a full-time baker, even though she’s only a few years older than I am. I do the whole routine in my head. Then I throw my red velvet rounds in the oven.
   I grab the muffins, warm and waiting. Drop them in pale wicker baskets, inhaling the comforts of triple ginger, oatmeal and peaches with a brown sugar crumb topping, cherry vanilla strewn with dark chocolate. Each smell hits my nose and burrows into the part of my brain that believes things will be all right. But then I get to the savory breakfast muffins, sharp cheddar and smoky bacon and green onion. Those are W’s favorites.
   I don’t know whether I should put one aside for her. I don’t know what she wants anymore.
   I head to the front, where Vin is standing at the cash register, settling rolls of change into the little nooks. “Hey, Syd darlin’. ” His voice is a dark crackle, his southern accent like a drizzle of honey on top of burnt popcorn. Actually, that sounds good. I start a recipe in my head. Anything to avoid thinking about W.
   “Need to talk?” Vin asks, without looking up from the quarters.
   “What?”
   “Seems like you’re holding something in,” he says. “That’s not good for your constitution.”
   I look around the bakery. The front room is filled with early morning light and nooks where people can have private conversations. Beyond that is the wooden porch painted in thick rainbow stripes, and wrought iron tables set in a lush, wild garden. Upstairs is a wide-open community space lined in vintage couches and bookshelves stuffed with queer literature. Vin and Alec have done everything they could to make this place safe and comfortable for someone like me. Every day since I found it on a lucky wander through South Austin, that’s how I’ve felt. Safe. Comfortable.
   But right now the Proud Muffin’s magic isn’t working. I feel foul.
   And Vin can tell just by looking at me.
   “Don’t worry,” I chirp. This isn’t my normal voice. Did I leave it behind at W’s? How much of me is missing?
   “It’s my job to worry about all of you,” Vin says. He means it, too. He and Alec treat everyone who work for them like the ever-expanding family that seems standard in Texas. I was born in Illinois. I have parents, a sister, a scattering of aunts, and a single awkward cousin. When I told her I was dating W, she said, and I quote, “That’s a bad idea, but okay.”
   “Syd, you still with me?” Vin asks.
   I can’t let him think that my feelings about W are shaking my ability to get through a shift. I could lose the best job in the world. No matter how nice Vin and Alec are, I’m the youngest person they’ve taken on as a baker—and it wasn’t a picnic to convince them.
   Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, every picnic I’ve been on has felt like a high-stakes situation involving me making lots of food with the likelihood that the entire outing will be ruined by some unforeseen factor.
   Convincing them was exactly like a picnic.
   “I think I’m hungry,” I say, and my voice sounds as least halfway mine. “Didn’t get a chance to eat this morning. I’m going to grab a Texas Breakfast if that’s okay.” Those are the peachy oatmeal muffins.
   Vin nods sagely. He does everything sagely. He rides a motorcycle and listens to endless history podcasts and works out constantly. His tanned white skin is heavily tattooed, mostly with poetry running in all directions, and even though he’s as friendly as Alec, he hides it better—which all adds up to a burly dad vibe. “Take the register for a few minutes, will you? Gemma’s coming in, but I need to run to the bank and get change. Y’all keep going through my singles like this is a strip bakery.”
   Marisol would have laughed at that. I just nod at Vin, completely mature and trustworthy.

Editorial Reviews

08/30/2021

In the wake of being dumped by their girlfriend, 17-year-old agender baker Syd—who works at the Proud Muffin, South Austin’s best queer bakery—accidentally infuses a batch of brownies with their heartbreak and confusion, causing every couple who tries them to break up soon after. Determined to fix their mistakes, Syd teams up with Harley, a transmasculine, demisexual bike delivery person, to find the brownies’ victims, starting with the Proud Muffin’s owners, and cure them with more baked goods. But as Syd and Harley navigate the intricacies of Austin’s queer community in their quest to save relationships, they unexpectedly start one of their own and must figure out what they want from each other. Capetta’s (The Storm of Life) recipe for the story involves equal parts romantic comedy, heartfelt explorations of queer identity, and mouthwatering descriptions of baked goods, as well as interstitial recipes for treats such as Breakup Brownies and Very Sorry Cake. A natural chemistry between Syd and Harley and an intersectionally inclusive supporting cast help to fuel the narrative. The final product is a tasty romance with subtle hints of culinary magic. Ages 14–up. Agent: Sara Crowe, Pippin Properties. (Oct.)

Publishers Weekly

Capetta’s groundbreaking romance makes magic by centering queer and trans characters and relationships. . . . LGBTQ+ characters are allowed to experience joy, fall in love, and break up. Between all that, a groundbreaking agender protagonist, a love interest who uses both he/him and they/them pronouns, and a cast of complex queer and trans characters, this book proves a necessary addition to the young adult romance genre. Every scene involving magic baking is pure perfection, and the romance is as mouthwatering as Syd’s recipes, all of which will make readers want to pull out a bowl, a baking sheet, and a sprinkle of their own magic.
—Booklist (starred review)

A.R. Capetta describes both baking and the excitement of first love in luscious, sensuous detail. . . . Syd, who is agender, is an expertly constructed protagonist and a notable step forward in representing the full spectrum of gender identities in YA fiction. Syd’s earnest musings about gender, bodies, performance and identity are likely to resonate deeply with teens who’ve shared those thoughts and experiences.

—BookPage (starred review)

LGBTQ+ characters take center stage in this work, led by agender narrator Syd (who does not care for pronouns) and demisexual Harley. . . While outright bigotry is not shown, Syd’s life demonstrates the difficulties of having to explain one’s orientation and gender and the burden of feeling unheard. . . . This sweet story shows that relationships don’t follow a recipe.
—Kirkus Reviews

Capetta’s (The Storm of Life) recipe for the story involves equal parts romantic comedy, heartfelt explorations of queer identity, and mouthwatering descriptions of baked goods, as well as interstitial recipes for treats such as Breakup Brownies and Very Sorry Cake. . . a tasty romance with subtle hints of culinary magic.
—Publishers Weekly

An irresistible story of love and found family. . . We don’t recommend reading it if you are even the slightest bit hungry.
—BookPage

The best books come with a sprinkling of magic and a whole lot of heart baked in, which is precisely the case with this new A. R. Capetta novel.
—Buzzfeed

This sweet-as-sugar speculative romance about love, identity, and the pursuit of happiness stars agender (a first for traditionally published mainstream YA fiction) baker Syd, who's staring down the breakup of a four-year relationship and feeling a lot of feelings.
—Buzzfeed

Few books made me feel as truly seen as The Heartbreak Bakery by A.R. Capetta did. Syd’s journey to figure out what pronouns fit, if any, and Harley’s ever-shifting pronouns reflected through what pronoun pin they’re wearing. The way A.R. explores gender and queerness and the intersections therein. How communities and found families can be just as important, or even more so, as the family you were born into. This is a YA fantasy novel I’ll be thinking about for a long time to come.
—Tor.com

This cozy magical realist story is a delightful love letter to queer love and community.
—Autostraddle

From the Publisher

Narrator Krystal Hammond brings listeners an incredible love note to the queer community. After an abrupt breakup, Syd, a teenage baker at the Proud Muffin, pours heartbreak into the brownies. But the "breakup brownies" cause havoc throughout Austin, so Syd and bicycle delivery person Harley attempt to make things right. The inclusivity and representation in this audiobook are outstanding. Agender persons, POCs, deaf people, LGBTQIAs, and so many more are part of the story. There is an unexpectedly slow and breathy quality to the narration that listeners may find either soothing or distracting, but Hammond captures the characters' emotions and growth in exquisite detail. Listeners will want to pay attention as one character changes their pronouns frequently. E.P. © AudioFile 2022, Portland, Maine

MARCH 2022 - AudioFile

2021-07-13
Syd navigates relationships and discovers a magical power.

After a rough breakup, 17-year-old Syd, who works at the Proud Muffin in Austin, Texas, bakes all the negative feelings into a batch of brownies. Unfortunately, Syd has also just unlocked a magical power, and the customers who buy the brownies start to go through breakups of their own—including the gay couple who own the bakery, putting its very survival at risk. Aided by genderfluid delivery person Harley, Syd is determined to repair these broken relationships. This may seem simple at first, but Syd soon discovers that no relationship is entirely cookie cutter. LGBTQ+ characters take center stage in this work, led by agender narrator Syd (who does not care for pronouns) and demisexual Harley; there’s a polyamorous triad among the supporting cast, and at one event, a nonbinary elderly person serves as a reminder that queer people come in all ages. While outright bigotry is not shown, Syd’s life demonstrates the difficulties of having to explain one’s orientation and gender and the burden of feeling unheard. Syd’s love of baking shines throughout the text, with actual recipes that Syd uses interspersed throughout. Over the course of the narrative, Syd examines different types of romantic feelings, from infatuation to love, and considers what precisely is key to a healthy relationship. Syd and Harley are White; the supporting cast is racially diverse.

This sweet story shows that relationships don’t follow a recipe. (Fiction. 14-18)

Kirkus Reviews