This is really a weird little collection. I got it for the Ruby Oliver prequel short story by E. Lockhart. But it has six short stories, four essays, a poem, a tongue-in-cheek quiz, and a few bonus lists of jealousy-related things (music, books, movies, etc.). My favorite extra is the list of names of green Crayola crayons.

It’s weird for several reasons, but one is that although it’s supposed to be a YA title as far as I can gather (since most of the stories deal with the teenage years), the very first story is about a girl’s tenth birthday party. She’s jealous of her richer friends because her family can’t afford a fancy party. What’s a middle grade story doing in a YA book? I have no idea.

The second story is the Ruby Oliver one, and its great if you already love Roo. It’s about her involvement in a bake sale, when she’s paired up with her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend and finds herself maddeningly jealous of her.

There are several more stories: one about a girl whose boyfriend becomes infatuated with someone else; one about a girl who’s so in love with the circumstances surrounding her relationship with her boyfriend that she can’t deal when those circumstances change; one about a girl who ends up being jealous of the attention her little sister gets from the guy she herself likes (and about getting back at a bully principal); and finally one about a girl who’s jealous boyfriend drives her to find a well of courage within herself.

There are a couple of essays from friends Ned Vizzini and Marty Beckerman. Vizzini talks about death and envy, which is sad in retrospect since he committed suicide a few years ago (the essay probably can’t be taken quite at face value). Specifically, he’s jealous of Beckerman for being better at apparently everything. Beckerman’s essay is the second really weird thing about this collection. It’s full of f-bombs and innuendo, which is just odd in a collection with a middle grade story. Otherwise, it’s about being jealous of Vizzini because he’s better at everything. Two additional essays deal with sibling jealousy and overcoming jealousy of practically everything you don’t have.

I’d recommend this book mostly for the Ruby Oliver story, but if you are particularly interested in jealousy, you might find it entertaining overall. The stories and essays are a mix of serious and funny, with a dose of weird thrown in for good measure.

If you’re sick of all the romanticized obsessive love that’s in YA literature today, this is the antidote.

17-year-old Clara Oates goes with her father to a small coastal Washington town from Seattle to escape an obsessive and increasingly dangerous ex-boyfriend, Christian. The plan is to hide out for a while and hope Christian moves on. The book tells the story from that point, but also goes back and gives us the history of the relationship, from the first night they met. The first chapter opens with that very first meeting before bringing us back to present time, where Clara and her dad are getting settled in the Airbnb-type house they’ll be staying in and trying to figure out what the guy who owns it does for a living.

Her dad is a well-known mystery writer so hiding out is a little iffy. Still, they hope it works. While there, Clara gets a job and meets another boy and we see her really starting to move on. All while she goes over the increasingly disturbing history of her relationship with Christian.

Caletti could have been lazy but she gives us numerous subplots in the present-day that keep us intrigued. And something I loved about the book is that although Clara is clearly wiser than she was before Christian, there are still many things she doesn’t know, particularly about her mother and her father. So she still has more to learn, even though at the beginning of the book she already thinks she’s learned everything she needs to.

The voice in the book is wonderful. It’s told in first person and Clara is open and so real. She’s also self-aware at the point she’s narrating the book, but she’s telling the story of herself going from a fairly naïve girl to a much wiser one. It’s unusual in its use of footnotes, which adds something kind of fun, because Clara gives us little facets of the story that aren’t necessarily required but are interesting. For instance:

** Telling people about your dead mother is always delicate. You have to be prepared for them to spill their sympathy as if it happened yesterday. … I deal more with their reaction than they do with mine, and so you have to choose your timing.

Caletti’s writing is beautiful and it’s no fluke that she was a National Book Award finalist. The characters are all well-drawn and distinct through witty and natural dialogue.

I’d recommend this for all teens who are dating or considering it because it provides a very relatable and realistic (but not preachy) cautionary tale about possessive and obsessive love—the kind that leads to long-term domestic violence. And too much of YA features those kinds of relationships as admirable. They’re not, and this book shows why.

The back blurb sets this book up as very comical. Although the book does have funny moments, that’s a little misleading, as it’s not nonstop laughs. It’s clear from the setup at the very beginning that it’s really about a girl losing her virginity and everything leading up to (and following) that, and it’s serious to her. The title therefore sums it up pretty well, although the title does tie into some other losses in the book, as well. There were a couple other storylines, but the romance between Tess and Ben predominates.

Because Tess has already told us in the beginning that she’s lost her virginity, she has every reason to tell her how surprising that was, given where she was just a few months before. Tess is pretty self-aware of everything except how easily what she wants can change. She’s anxious about a lot of things, but especially wild animals. She’s awkward. She’s naïve. She’s been brought up fairly repressed by her religious parents and knows very little about sex, except that she figures she will never have it until after she’s married. But then she sees Ben.

After she admires his butt, he impresses her in general with his response to something she says:

’I didn’t mean to suggest that you did,’ he answered.

I thought his reply was very adult. He seemed much more mature than the rest of the high school baboons.

After this encounter, she starts imagining a relationship with him. When she actually more properly meets him, it’s a funny moment and really shows us her voice. Right after Ben introduces himself:

I nodded. He waited. I nodded again. Then he nodded back. I kept nodding. He slammed his locker and walked off.

Yes, it was going to be very difficult for us to start dating each other exclusively considering I hadn’t even told Ben Easter my name.

After they start dating, Ben isn’t pushy or anything, but she starts to want more herself. Then something dramatic happens that makes things more intense for both of them, and they decide to take the leap. The only potential problem in their relationship is a lie Tess told very early on, for no good reason except her own awkwardness, which Ben doesn’t know about. This lie did its job of making me nervous throughout the book.

One of the book’s subplots centers around her best friend, Zena, who has gone a little wacko and is threatening to make a bomb to blow up a poodle. It’s a little hard to know whether this is funny or serious, which makes it interesting. Tess is stressed about it but is unsure what to do. When that storyline finally culminates (not the way I expected), I found it a little funny but also sad. The whole thing has strained their relationship and the book works through that.

I enjoyed the book because Tess is honest and awkward and has to learn to take risks every now and again. This theme comes out in the very end, and resonates with other parts of the book. It makes the fact that she doesn’t come clean about her lie make sense. Readers should enjoy this book, which is also a fairly short, quick read.

This story is really about the generational after effects of the restrictions and expectations placed on women in the mid-20^th century. It’s definitely YA, though it’s a little unusual in that it contains an adult’s point of view as well as Katie’s, a 17-year-old English girl. Katie’s overbearing mom, Caroline, drives her crazy, although she doesn’t have the nerve to do anything about it. And Katie’s got her own secret that she’s struggling to come to terms with. When her mom’s own mother, Mary, is abruptly thrust into their lives, Katie becomes fascinated by her. She doesn’t know why Mary’s estranged and she doesn’t know why her mom’s the way she is, nor why she’s so bitter about Mary.

As the book progresses, Katie starts to unravel many family secrets and also begins to come to terms with her own identity as a lesbian. Along the way, she deals with the breakdown of her own long-term friendship and begins cataloging Mary’s stories. Through that and an eventual extra find, she pieces together what happened with her mom’s aunt, Pat, who Mary surrendered Katie’s mom to when she was a baby. Pat’s story isn’t a happy one, either, but her story goes a long way in explaining why Katie’s mom is the way she is.

Then, Katie fights her mom about what to do with Mary. Her mom wants to get her into a home as soon as possible, but is stymied by bureaucracy. Katie doesn’t see the need and thinks it’s heartless to send her away. And in starting to see what needs to happen with Mary, she learns to see what she should do in her own life. That includes learning to speak up for herself, accepting who she is, and trying to truly live. Like in real life, this doesn’t mean everything works out perfectly, but it does mean it’s the right thing to do.

Downham’s writing isn’t overly ornate, but everything she writes is so real. There are nice descriptions that perfectly tie into how the characters are feeling. Here’s Katie just after her last exam—and getting a party invitation she didn’t expect:

Birds twittered overhead and it was so hot it looked as if water beamed at her from the walls of the main school buildings across the playground. They actually looked rather beautiful, as if waterfalls swept their sides.

One of the interesting things about the book was also frustrating at times, and that was that Downham was absolutely true to her characters. Katie isn’t an extremely open girl, and although we’re definitely in her head, she’s clearly in denial about some things and almost avoids thinking about them. Also, with Mary suffering from her Alzheimer’s we are never going to get her full story, especially on the current boyfriend who died just before the book starts (for some reason, I really wanted this). She’s stuck largely in the past, with only fleeting moments of more solid lucidity. We do get insight into those lucid moments, which is the only way we would have gotten Mary’s story, to be realistic.

I ended up loving this book, despite the fact that it was a little slow to get into. It’s told in third person, which I generally like, but the psychic distance was a little greater than I’m used to, so it took a while to start to really feel for the characters. But once I did, I was engrossed. The overall story is nicely layered and will easily appeal to adults as well as teens.

A lot of people have someone in their life who has had cancer. This book explores the impact a cancer diagnosis has on an entire family. It focuses on Tess, who’s a studious, artistic, shy, and slightly fashion-averse freshman. She’s constantly in the shadow of her older sister, Kristina, a social butterfly who’s also a star volleyball player. At school, no one knows who Tess is, except for her one friend. Even her mom seems to prefer Kristina.

The book opens with Tess at a party her sister has dragged her to. She’s desperate to leave but can’t convince Kristina. Kristina come across very effectively as a specific kind of girl at the party:

Kristina continues to grind and sake to the music in her skinny jeans and tank top seriously helped along by a push-up bra. She gets off on crowd approval, like I get off on watching the guys on MythBusters blow up things.

I’m with Tess on that. I’m also with her on this:

… all Kristina’s friends do is giggle a lot and screech OHMYGOD and talk about boys. And take pictures of each other, usually in skimpy clothes. And then post the pictures online.

So I’m sort of predisposed to not particularly sympathize with Kristina, but man, does the book put her through the wringer. Besides, I’m also sort of with Tess when she says, “Kristina doesn’t know what I would give to be like her. So outgoing and likable. Not to mention beautiful.” Not everyone can become that way, even if they try.

Anyway, the day after the party, Kristina gets diagnosed with cancer in her knee. And it shakes everything up. Because Kristina stops going to school, suddenly everyone knows who Tess is because they want to ask her about her sister. Where is she? When will she be back? etc. Tess’s only friend, Melissa, reacts weirdly—she’s not remotely sympathetic and instead seems almost glad that something bad has happened to Kristina. It seems that she and Tess had a mutual dislike of people like Kristina. Seeing her sister vulnerable changes things for Tess, but not Melissa.

Then, Tess’s parents both stop functioning well—her dad detaches and might be having an affair; her mom checks out a bit too, though she at least is around some. Still, Tess has to be the reasonable one, and she finds a new closeness with her sister, providing more support than either of their parents does.

On top of being her sister’s rock and dealing with her newfound visibility to the It people at school, Tess is working on entering a prestigious art contest, the one thing she does to try to keep herself sane. Although she’d been entirely focused on making it into the honor society, she all but gives up on that by missing school and tests to be with Kristina during treatments.

The book does a good job of showing the havoc that a cancer diagnosis can wreak, and it’s nice to see Tess grow. She doesn’t become her sister, but instead changes in ways that are distinctly her, which I appreciated. The secondary characters were pretty good, though at times I did feel some were a little stereotypical. But Tess and Kristina were both very well-drawn.

This book has been out a few years but I only just now discovered (thanks, Amazon recommendations). I’m glad I found it because it’s really good. Ockler writes beautifully, with description that really sets the scene and really gives you a sense of the emotions at play here. Most of the book takes place at the beach and the atmosphere is really powerful. When the characters discuss the majesty of the sea, I could really see and feel it, for instance.

This book is about dealing with the death of a loved one, but for Anna, it’s more complicated than that. Because the loved one who died (Matt) was both one of her two best friends, but also her brand new, secret boyfriend (or something). And, he was the older brother of the other best friend, Frankie. Before he died, he promised to tell Frankie about him and Anna himself and made Anna promise not to tell her. So Anna’s kept the secret all to herself and suffered basically alone because nobody else knows what she’s mourning. But one thing that is incredibly important to her is not forgetting Matt and what kissing him felt like.

In the year since his death, Frankie has changed a lot. She’s become a bit boy and appearance crazy and is trying to get Anna on board with her. And now Anna is going to go with Frankie and her parents on their first vacation since Matt died, to their regular summer stomping grounds on the California coast. Anna wants to see all the things Matt always told her about in order to maybe feel closer to him. But Frankie’s main goal is for the two of them to meet twenty boys so they can have fun and Anna can have her first romance.

And it goes sort of as planned. They don’t get to twenty, but instead stall out on two guys, Jack and Sam. And soon Anna and Sam are getting close and she’s struggling with her feelings for him versus her memories of Matt. There’s a lovely passage that really sums up the emotions she’s dealing with:

I can’t stop thinking about what [Sam] felt like against my body, against my lips. I can’t remember anything else, anything before that. And I realize in this moment that I’ve finally done it. That horrible, awful thing I swore I would never do.

The frosting. The cigarettes. The blue glass triangle. The shooting stars. The taste of [Matt’s] mouth on mine in the hall closet.

Gone.

All I can think about is Sam. Matt is—erased.

My whole body is warm and buzzing.

Sam is smiling next to me, because of me.

And I’ve never felt so lonely in all my life.

It’s rather heartbreaking.

Even though Anna does often feel a little older and wiser than an average sixteen-year-old, Ockler really captures her emotional journey. And what she ultimately realizes is that the reason she struggled so much to move beyond Matt’s death is that she didn’t know what she lost, exactly. A friend, yes. A boyfriend? Maybe.

I have to say, I never really cared for Frankie. I wouldn’t have been interested in being friends with her if we’d been in school together. When it turns out she’s been lying about something major and tricks Anna, I liked her less. Despite this, she’s a good character—real and even relatable, to a degree. Additionally, throughout the book, she clearly grows and we come to understand her a bit more. I loved Anna and both Matt and Sam were good guys who were still believable and fairly deep secondary characters.

Frankie’s such a great character. She’s so 15—new to many things and trying to navigate a world with changing expectations. And she’s smart and notices things (regarding a party she was excited to be invited to, and frustrated to be ignored at: “The party was boring. It was people standing around in the cold.”), even though she doesn’t generally over-analyze. She is going into her sophomore year at an elite boarding school with a new, woman-ified body after spending her freshman year as an awkward girl (over the summer, she “gained four inches and twenty pounds, all in the right places”). And a feminism-inspired sense of right and wrong is blossoming within her, as well, partially because of her Berkeley-bound feminist sister and partially because it’s just who she really is. The last point is the best part to me. She’s not willing to accept the status quo when it’s not fair.

She is ecstatic when she manages to bag a popular and very good-looking boyfriend (Matthew) she’d lusted after all freshman year. She is genuinely happy and really does like him. But things aren’t perfect.

Frankie remembered how Matthew had called her a ‘pretty package,’ how he’d called her mind little, how he’d told her not to change—as if he had some power over her.

She was annoyed by this, but:

most of her simply felt happy that he had put his arm around her and told her he thought she was pretty.

Everyone can get that—the desire to be appealing and loved is so strong in all of us, and women and girls are used to having to sacrifice something to get it. But there is a niggling doubt in Frankie’s mind, which makes her different from most girls, according to the author:

Lots of girls … are so focused on their boyfriends that they don’t remember they had a life at all before their romances, so they don’t necessarily become upset that the boyfriend isn’t interested [in their lives].

Frankie’s sister is the voice of wisdom who calls out the reservations Frankie’s feeling. When Matthew gives her his old Superman t-shirt, Frankie’s touched. But according to her sister, Zada, “‘Nah, it’s like a dog peeing on a hydrant. He’s marking you with his scent.” Frankie doesn’t accept this, but the sentiment stays with her. Later, it becomes clearer what bothers her:

Matthew had called her harmless. Harmless. And being with him made Frankie feel squashed into a box—a box where she was expected to be sweet and sensitive (but not oversensitive); a box for young and pretty girls who were not as bright and powerful as their boyfriends. A box for people who were not forces to be reckoned with.

All this doubt and frustration manifests in Frankie as a desire for a little power of her own. She comes up with an ingenious plan to undermine some of the “old boy” power that Matthew and his friends yield. Her sister doesn’t think it’s necessary. She says:

‘Are you seriously going to tell me you buy into the patriarchal notion that power is localized in institutions created years and years ago by people who were overly proud of themselves for having the male set of genitalia, and most of whom are either dead or drooling over themselves in nursing homes by this point?’

And then she continues when Frankie doesn’t have a good answer:

‘Please, that is so antiquated. The institutions of male supremacy only have real power over you if you buy into that notion. Go found your own club and tell them they can’t join. Or better yet, drop the idea of clubs altogether because they’re exclusionary, and embrace some other, more flexible way of connecting with people.’

I love Zada, though I don’t necessarily agree with her. Still, it’s what drove Frankie to undertake a campaign to earn the respect of Matthew and others. I won’t go into what she does, but it is clever and entertaining.

The voice of this novel is wonderful. It’s a little snarkier than Frankie herself is but somehow it absolutely fits her story. It’s quite funny at times and I was really curious about where Frankie’s antics would take the club once she wielded her power over them. And Frankie’s whole idea of “neglected positives” and “inpeas” is awesome and it’s so funny when she uses them throughout. Take prefixes off words that feel like they’re negating something, and assume it’s a positive instead of a negative. Sometimes these are real words that just aren’t used as much as the negative form (“gruntled” from “disgruntled” (a back-formation)), or they’re really words that mean something other than the positive (“criminate” from “incriminate”, which mean the same thing), or they’re just not words at all (inpeas).  and so on.

This is a solidly feminist book that really delves deep into the ideas without feeling preachy. Everything is expressed as real feelings Frankie’s having in response to real events. It’s really about a girl choosing to navigate her own path while staying true to herself and learning who she really is, without defining herself by the people she associates with. After all, as one of the characters asks,

‘Who wants to be the guy on the path?’

The author says:

Frankie didn’t—but she didn’t want to be the guy whose idea of off-roading was an SUV purchase or a shortcut across the grass, either.

That really sums up the novel.