What light

Review by New York Times Review

In Yoon's second young adult novel (after the best-selling "Everything, Everything"), true love and physics combine. Daniel is a Korean-American teenager en route to a college interview. Though he dreams of becoming a poet, he feels it's his family duty to go to medical school. Natasha is a Jamaican girl who relies on science, and who's about to be deported. Yoon weaves brief narratives from bit players (an immigration lawyer in love with his paralegal, a just-barely-hanging-on security guard, a grieving drunken driver who almost runs down Natasha) and interstitial entries on topics like "Hair: An African-American History" into the overarching love story between Daniel and Natasha. They meet by chance one morning and find their worlds transformed by the end of the day. "The Sun Is Also a Star" is an enormous undertaking: an eclectic dictionary mashed up with "Romeo and Juliet" and the '90s rom-com "One Fine Day." But Yoon grounds everything in Daniel and Natasha's instant, vital connection (throughout the day they spend together they adorably employ the "36 questions to bring about love") and the conundrum that follows when they realize the universe has brought them together only to part them. It's a deep dive into love and chance and self-determination - and the many ways humans affect one another, often without even knowing it. THE FEMALE OF THE SPECIES By Mindy McGinnis 341 pp. Katherine Tegen/HarperCollins, $17.99. (Young adult; ages 14 and up) Your heart may still be pounding after you've finished this book. It is uncannily well timed to our current political situation and the outcry over the culture of normalized sexual violence, perfectly calibrated for letting people know what it's like to walk through society as a woman now - worrying about who might be following you, being careful not to drink something that might have been tainted by someone trying to take advantage. Alex Craft is a killer, but not because she wants to be. The animals she tends to at her local animal shelter would agree; so would her friend Peekay (for "Preacher's Kid"), and so would the popular-jock-with-a-heart Jack, the boy who can't help loving her. It's because in a world that has taken away Alex's older sister - who was raped and murdered by a man in their small town who was never convicted - she had to take matters into her own hands. Friendships and relationships ensue as the three head full-throttle into their adult lives. But a threat hangs over everyone. McGinnis, who dedicates her book to "the victims," examines this dichotomy of hope and violence, love and hate, with dexterity and grace. WHAT LIGHT By Jay Asher 251 pp. Razorbill, $18.99. (Young adult; ages 13 and up) Teenagers often lead divided lives. Some split time between parents and towns, or flit in and out of groups, sharing only the parts of themselves presumed to fit in each. For Sierra, a dual existence is a holiday tradition. Each year after Thanksgiving her family leaves their Christmas tree farm in Oregon, hauling trees to a lot in California to sell. For a month, Sierra's home is a trailer on the lot. She's reunited with a childhood friend, and she tries to ignore her flirtatious male co-workers . At the end of December, the family heads home, and the cycle starts anew. Except this year could be the last, for financial reasons. And then there's Caleb, a guy with a violent past whom, despite warnings from those around her, Sierra falls for. Asher's debut, "Thirteen Reasons Why," was a best seller for nearly a decade. "What Light" has been around just as long in concept, and it harks back to a simpler time of young adult storytelling, with its linear first-person narrative (just one!) and classic themes of forgiveness, hope and the power of true love. Even Caleb's violence feels innocent compared with acts of his peers in recent novels. But as with holiday traditions, there's something beautiful about a novel done the old way, particularly when there's enough heart to make you weep. HOLDING UP THE UNIVERSE By Jennifer Niven 391 pp. Knopf, $17.99. (Young adult; ages 13 and up) What happens when a boy who can't recognize faces sees one he can't ignore? What happens when that face belongs to a girl formerly known as "America's Fattest Teen," a girl who had to be cut out of her home when, after her mother's death, she became too fat to leave it? Libby Strout weighs 351 pounds, down from 653. Returning to high school as a junior, she meets Jack, a master at fitting in, who has a secret: He has prosopagnosia, which means that every time he sees a face (including his girlfriend's and his mom's), it's new to him. He uses identifiers like ears that stick out to keep track of whom he's supposed to know. In the wake of a cruel prank, Jack reveals his face blindness to Libby. They end up in school counseling together, slowly connecting. Niven ("All the Bright Places") alternates between Jack's perspective and Libby's, ricocheting forward and backward in time. Whether the pair can be together is the question propelling the book - pretty standard fare, but Niven is adept at creating characters, and at saving the book's sight-and-blindness messaging from being cloying. Libby has survived not only her mother's death but also ridicule that would fell most adults, and her courage and body-positivity make for a joyful reading experience. Jack, a boy who desperately wants to see and finds himself able to do so in ways he didn't expect, provides a worthy counterpart. GIRL MANS UP By M-E Girard 373 pp. HarperTeen/HarperCollins, $17.99. (Young adult; ages 14 and up) "There are four of us dudes sitting here right now, and I kick all of their butts when it comes to video games - and I'm not even a dude," says Pen (for Penelope) Oliveira in Girard's debut novel. Her status as one of the guys means she's expected to help reel in hot girls for her best friend, Colby, an act she justifies because "maybe someday, when I finally man up, one of these girls could end up liking me instead." Pen knows who she is - the problem is other people. "I don't feel wrong inside myself," she explains. But her traditional Portuguese mom and dad criticize her for dressing like a "punk druggie" and lament that she has cut off her long hair. Strangers mock or menace her. Colby and the guys use and abuse her. Only her older brother, Johnny, truly gets her. Then she meets Blake, who is as interested in Pen as Pen is in her, and Olivia, Colby's ex-girlfriend, who listens without judgment and needs Pen's help. In them, Pen finds firmer ground to be herself. Girard's novel is compulsively readable, by turns wrenching and euphoric. Pen is an inspiration to anyone who's struggled to be understood, and a vital addition to the growing world of genderqueer protagonists. RANI PATEL IN FULL EFFECT By Sonia Patel 314 pp. Cinco Puntos, $11.95. (Young adult; ages 14 and up) One evening in 1991, 16-year-old Rani Patel, the only Gujarati Indian teenager on the Hawaiian island of Molokai, catches her father and a "barely out-of-adolescence home wrecker, making out." Her reaction is a gesture of mourning: She shaves off the hair that "flowed down my back like the river Styx." Not only has her father left her mother, he's left the daughter he's sexually abused for years. Rani pours herself into rap, finding heroes like LL Cool J and Queen Latifah, inspirations for her own slam poems. She joins a hip-hop crew, rapping as MC Sutra. The novel is punctuated by her raps, which express "the large and in charge person / I want the world to see." (These lyrics work for her character arc, but also have the effect of making you feel you're reading, well, someone's slam poetry.) Though suffering is at the core of this debut novel, it's also about living through pain by harnessing what brings happiness. And the dip into '90s nostalgia, not to mention the awesome Rani persevering and conquering as MC Sutra - but more important, as herself - makes reading all the slam poetry well worth it. JEN DOLL is the author of "Save the Date: The Occasional Mortifications of a Serial Wedding Guest." Her first young adult book, "Unclaimed Baggage," will be published next year.

Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [November 13, 2016]

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Review by Booklist Review

Asher's latest is a surprising change of direction from the best-selling Thirteen Reasons Why (2007): a frothy, peppermint-in-hot-cocoa romance. Ever since she was little, Sierra's lived a dual life, split between her family's Christmas tree farm in Oregon and the California town where they run a tree lot for one month out of the year. But with tree sales not what they used to be, this winter may be her last in California. Enter Caleb, the social pariah better known for a sole act of aggression years ago than his current gig providing Christmas trees to needy families. Sierra's friends and family try to steer her away from Caleb, but all she sees is who he is today. Can she convince him he's forgiven? Though the plot is solidly in the Hallmark vein, Asher gives it the gentle romance treatment many younger teens crave. Sierra's story provides an interesting window into alternative schooling and living arrangements facing some teens whose families work in agriculture. Certain to please readers seeking an escapist, feel-good holiday read. HIGH-DEMAND BACKSTORY: With an author tour and a hefty marketing campaign behind it, Asher's follow-up to his best-selling debut is destined for lots of attention.--Barnes, Jennifer Copyright 2016 Booklist

From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Every year after Thanksgiving, Sierra leaves her home on an Oregon Christmas tree farm to accompany her family to California to sell their trees. Conflict arises this year, when Sierra meets the boy of her dreams but finds he has a troubled past. Actor Siegfried nails the breathless and giggly way high school girls sometimes talk to each other, especially when Sierra is talking with her three best friends. The problem is the girls all tend to sound the same, even Heather, Sierra's take-charge friend in California, who is a more prominent character than Sierra's other two sidekicks. The novel's young male characters are likewise vocally indistinguishable from one another, including Caleb, the tortured love interest; his former best friend; and a jealous, angry hired hand at the tree lot. Ages 12-up. A Razorbill hardcover. (Oct.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up-Asher delivers a light contemporary romance here, changing course from his best-selling Thirteen Reasons Why. Sixteen-year-old Sierra lives 11 months of the year on her family's Christmas tree farm in Oregon. Once Thanksgiving arrives every year, she and her family relocate to California to sell Christmas trees at a lot owned by their family for generations. For a month, Sierra sells trees, attends school online, and hangs out with her California best friend, Heather. This year she falls hard for Caleb, a good-looking guy with a troubled past. Everyone, from Heather to one of Caleb's classmates to her overprotective father, warns Sierra about Caleb, but the two are drawn together despite knowing their time together is limited. Will their relationship survive? Mandy Siegfried narrates and is spot on for Sierra's voice. Sierra's happiness and youthful enthusiasm are apparent in Siegfried's rendering and reflect the feel-good tone the book projects. While the girls' voices are done well, Siegfried performs Caleb in a husky whisper, which can be disconcerting at times. VERDICT Fans of Sarah Dessen, Stephanie Perkins, and Jenny Han as well as those looking for a cozy wintertime love story will enjoy this audiobook.-Julie Paladino, formerly at East Chapel Hill High School, NC © Copyright 2017. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

Every winter, Sierra's family leaves their Oregon Christmas tree farm for six weeks to sell trees in California. Though Sierra will only be on the lot for a few weeks, employee Caleb works his way into her heart, despite his troubled past. While the dynamics in each family don't really ring true, the relationship between the two young protagonists is spot on. (c) Copyright 2017. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Love, hope, and forgiveness are under the tree this Christmas.From Thanksgiving through Christmas, Sierra and her parents move from their Oregon tree farm to their sale lot in California. Though Sierra usually eschews involvement with local boys, this year, Heather, her California pal, is determined that Sierra indulge in a holiday love affair. Enter Caleb of the adorable dimple, and its blush at first sight. However, Caleb has a back story: years ago, he went after his sister with a knife. Troublingly, the revelation doesnt scare Sierra; she thinks Caleb must be good nowafter all, he buys Christmas trees for people who cant afford them. Sierras decision to skip a best friends holiday play in order to be with Caleb may also have readers grinding their teeth. A subplot reveals that Heather doesnt want to break up with her boyfriend because she needs to feel that he wants her. The sexism runs both ways: the novels main theme is that of boy-needs-girl-to-make-him-see-hes-worthy-of-forgiveness. Neither characters nor book seem to question the retrograde nature of these relationships and assumptions. While most ethnicities are unnamed, leaving readers to infer that characters are probably white, there are two secondary characters of color: Mrs. Trujillo, a recipient of Calebs Christmas trees, and local mean girl Christy Wang. Though apparently titled for the line from Romeo and Juliet, this second solo outing for the author of Thirteen Reasons Why is not a love story for the ages. (Fiction. 13-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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CHAPTER ONE   " I hate this time of year ," Rachel says. "I'm sorry, Sierra. I'm sure I say that a lot, but it's true." Morning mist blurs the entrance of our school at the far end of the lawn. We stay on the cement pathway to avoid damp spots in the grass, but Rachel's not complaining about the weather. "Please don't do this," I say. "You'll make me cry again. I just want to get through this week without--" "But it's not a week!" she says. "It's two days. Two days until Thanksgiving break, and then you leave for a whole month again. More than a month!" I hug Rachel's arm as we continue walking. Even though I'm the one leaving for another holiday season far from home, Rachel pretends like it's her world that gets turned upside-down each year. Her pouty face and slumped shoulders are entirely for my benefit, to let me know I'll be missed, and every year I'm grateful for her melodrama. Even though I love where I'm going, it's still hard to say goodbye. Knowing my best friends are counting the days until I return does make it easier. I point to the tear in the corner of my eye. "Do you see what you did? They're starting." This morning, when Mom drove us away from our Christmas tree farm, the sky was mostly clear. The workers were in the fields, their distant chainsaws buzzing like mosquitoes, cutting down this year's crop of trees. The fog came in as we drove lower. It stretched across the small farms, over the interstate, and into town, carrying within it the traditional scent of the season. This time of year our entire little Oregon town smells like fresh-cut Christmas trees. At other times, it might smell like sweet corn or sugar beets. Rachel holds open one of the glass double doors and then follows me to my locker. There, she jiggles her glittery red watch in front of me. "We've got fifteen minutes," she says. "I'm cranky and I'm cold. Let's grab some coffee before the first bell." The school's theater director, Miss Livingston, not-so-subtly encourages her students to drink as much caffeine as needed to get their shows together on time. Backstage, a pot of coffee is always on. As the lead set designer, Rachel gets unrestricted access to the auditorium. Over the weekend, the theater department finished their performances of Little Shop of Horrors . The set won't be broken down until after Thanksgiving break, so it's still up when Rachel and I turn on the lights at the back of the theater. Sitting on the stage, between the flower shop counter and the big, green, man-eating plant, is Elizabeth. She sits up straight and waves when she sees us. Rachel walks ahead of me down the aisle. "This year, we wanted to give you something to take with you to California." I follow her past the empty rows of red cushioned seats. They obviously don't care if I'm a blubbering mess during my last few days of school. I climb the steps to the stage. Elizabeth pushes herself up, runs over, and hugs me. "I was right," she tells Rachel over my shoulder. "I told you she'd cry." "I hate you both," I tell them. Elizabeth hands me two presents wrapped in shiny silver Christmas paper, but I already kind of know what they're giving me. Last week, we were all in a gift shop downtown and I saw them looking at picture frames the same size as these boxes. I sit down to open them and lean against the counter under the old-fashioned metal cash register. Rachel sits cross-legged in front of me, our knees almost touching. "You're breaking the rules," I say. I slide a finger beneath a fold in the wrapping of the first gift. "We're not supposed to do this until after I get back." "We wanted you to have something that will make you think of us every day," Elizabeth says. "We're kind of embarrassed we didn't do this when you first started leaving," Rachel adds. "What, back when we were babies?" During my very first Christmas, Mom stayed home with me on the farm while Dad operated our family Christmas tree lot down in California. The next year, Mom thought we should stay home one more season, but Dad didn't want to be without us again. He would rather skip the lot for a year, he said, and rely solely on shipping the trees to vendors across the country. Mom felt bad, though, for the families who made a holiday tradition out of coming to us to buy their trees. And while it was a business, Dad being the second generation to run it, it was also a cherished tradition for both of them. They met, in fact, because Mom and her parents were annual customers. So every year now, that's where I spend my days from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Rachel reclines, setting her hands on the stage to prop herself up. "Are your parents still deciding about this being the last Christmas in California?" I scratch at a piece of tape that holds down another fold. "Did the store wrap this?" Rachel whispers to Elizabeth loud enough for me to hear, "She's changing the subject." "I'm sorry," I say, "I just hate thinking about this being our last year. As much as I love you, I would miss going down there. Besides, all I know is what I've overheard--they still haven't mentioned it to me--but they seem pretty stressed about finances. Until they make up their minds, I don't want to get my heart set either way." If we hang on to the lot for three more seasons, our family will have run that spot for thirty years. When my grandparents first bought the lot, the little town was in a growth spurt. Cities much closer to our farm in Oregon already had established lots, if not an abundance of them. Now everything from supermarkets to hardware stores sells trees, or people sell them for fund-raisers. Tree lots like ours aren't as common anymore. If we let it go, we'd be doing all of our business selling to those supermarkets and fund-raisers, or supplying other lots with our trees. Elizabeth puts a hand on my knee. "Part of me wants you to go back next year because I know you love it, but if you do stay we'd all get to spend Christmas together for the first time." I can't help smiling at the thought. I love these girls, but Heather is also one of my best friends, and I only see her one month out of the year when I'm in California. "We've been going down there forever," I say. "I can't imagine what it would be like to suddenly . . . not." "I can tell you what it would be like," Rachel says. "It'll be senior year. Skiing. Hot tubbing. In the snow!" But I love our snowless California town, right on the coast, just three hours south of San Francisco. I also love selling trees, seeing the same families come to us year after year. It wouldn't feel right to spend so long growing the trees only to ship them all off for other people to sell. "Sounds fun, right?" Rachel asks. She leans close to me and wiggles her eyebrows. "Now, imagine it with boys." I snort-laugh and then cover my mouth. "Or not," Elizabeth says, pulling back Rachel's shoulder. "It could be nice to have it just us, a time without any boys." "That's pretty much me every Christmas," I say. "Remember, last year I got dumped the night before we drove to California." "That was horrible," Elizabeth says, though she does laugh a little. "Then he brings that homeschool girl with the big boobs to winter formal and--" Rachel presses a finger to Elizabeth's lips. "I think she remembers." I look down at my first present, still mostly wrapped. "Not that I blame him. Who wants to be in a long-distance relationship over the holidays? I wouldn't." "Although," Rachel says, "you did say there are some good-looking guys who work on the tree lot." "Right." I shake my head. "Like Dad will let that happen." "Okay, no more talking about this," Elizabeth says. "Open your gifts." I pull up a piece of tape, but my mind is now on California. Heather and I have been friends literally since we can remember. My grandparents on Mom's side used to live next door to her family. When my grandparents passed away, her family took me in for a couple of hours each day to give my parents a break. In exchange, their house got a beautiful Christmas tree, a few wreaths, and two or three workers to hang lights on their roof. Elizabeth sighs. "Your presents. Please?" I tear open one side of the wrapping. They're right, of course. I would love to spend at least one winter here before we all graduate and move off to wherever. I've had dreams of being with them for the ice-sculpting contest and all the other things they tell me about that go on around here. But my holidays in California are the only time I get to see my other best friend. I stopped referring to Heather simply as my winter friend years ago. She's one of my best friends, period. I used to also see her a few weeks every summer when visiting my grandparents, but those visits stopped when they passed away. I worry I may not be able to enjoy this season with her, knowing it might be my last. Rachel stands up and walks away across the stage. "I need to get some coffee." Elizabeth yells after her, "She's opening our presents!" "She's opening your present," Rachel says. "Mine has the red ribbon." The first frame I open, with the green ribbon, contains a selfie of Elizabeth. Her tongue sticks out sideways while her eyes look in the opposite direction. It's like almost every other photo she takes of herself, which is why I love it. I press the frame against my chest. "Thank you." Elizabeth blushes. "You're welcome." "I'm opening yours now!" I shout across the stage. Walking slowly toward us, Rachel carries three paper cups of steaming coffee. We each take one. I set mine to the side as Rachel sits back down in front of me, and then I begin to open her present. Even though it's only one month, I am going to miss her so much. In Rachel's photo, her beautiful face is sideways, partially blocked by her hand as if she didn't want the picture taken. "It's supposed to look like I'm being stalked by the paparazzi," she says. "Like I'm a big-time actress coming out of a fancy restaurant. In real life, though, there would probably be a huge bodyguard behind me, but--" "But you're not an actress," Elizabeth says. "You want to do set design." "That's part of the plan," Rachel says. "Do you know how many actresses there are in the world? Millions. And all of them are trying so hard to get noticed, which is a total turnoff. One day, while I'm designing sets for some famous producer, he'll take one look at me and just know it's a waste to keep me behind the camera. I should be in front of it. And he'll take full credit for discovering me, but I actually made him discover me." "What concerns me," I say, "is that I know you believe it's going to happen just like that." Rachel takes a sip from her coffee. "Because it is." The first bell rings. I gather the silver wrapping paper and crumple it into a ball. Rachel carries that and our empty coffee cups to a trash can backstage. Elizabeth puts my frames into a paper grocery bag and then rolls down the top before handing it back to me. "I assume we can't stop by before you leave?" Elizabeth asks. "Probably not," I say. I follow them down the steps, and we take our time walking up the aisle to the back of the theater. "I'll be in bed early tonight so I can work a couple of hours before school tomorrow. And then we leave first thing Wednesday morning." "What time?" Rachel asks. "Maybe we--" "Three a.m.," I say, laughing. From our farm in Oregon to our lot in California, it's about a seventeen-hour drive, depending on bathroom breaks and holiday traffic. "Of course, if you want to get up that early . . ." "That's okay," Elizabeth says. "We'll send you good thoughts in our dreams." "Do you have all your assignments?" Rachel asks. "I believe so." Two winters ago, there were maybe a dozen of us migrating tree-lot kids at school. This year, we're down to three. Thankfully, with so many farms in the area, teachers are used to accommodating different harvest times. "Monsieur Cappeau is worried about my ability to pratique mon français while I'm gone, so he's making me call in once a week for a chat." Rachel winks at me. "Is that the only reason he wants you to call?" "Don't be gross," I say. "Remember," Elizabeth says, "Sierra doesn't like older men." I'm laughing now. "You're talking about Paul, right? We only went out once, but then he got caught with an open can of beer in his friend's car." "In his defense, he wasn't driving," Rachel points out. Before I can respond, she holds up her hand. "But I get it. You saw that as a sign of impending alcoholism. Or bad decision making. Or . . . something." Elizabeth shakes her head. "You are way too fussy, Sierra." Rachel and Elizabeth always give me a hard time about my standards with guys. I've just watched too many girls end up with guys who bring them down. Maybe not at first, but eventually. Why waste years or months, or even days, on someone like that? Before we reach the double doors that lead back into the halls, Elizabeth takes a step ahead and spins toward us. "I'm going to be late for English, but let's meet up for lunch, okay?" I smile because we always meet up for lunch. We push our way into the halls and Elizabeth disappears into the bustle of students. "Two more lunches," Rachel says. She pretends to wipe tears from the corners of her eyes as we walk. "That's all we get. It almost makes me want to--" "Stop!" I say. "Don't say it." "Oh, don't worry about me." Rachel waves her hand dismissively. "I've got plenty to keep me busy while you party it up in California. Let's see, next Monday we'll start tearing down the set. That should take a week or so. Then I'll help the dance committee finish designing the winter formal. It's not theater, but I like to use my talents where they're needed." "Do they have a theme for this year yet?" I ask. "Snow Globe of Love," she says. "It sounds cheesy, I know, but I've got some great ideas. I want to decorate the whole gym to look like you're dancing in the middle of a snow globe. So I'll be plenty busy until you get back." "See? You'll hardly miss me," I say. "That's right," Rachel says. She nudges me as we continue to walk. "But you'd better miss me." And I will. For my entire life, missing my friends has been a Christmas tradition.   Excerpted from What Light by Jay Asher All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.

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