Review by New York Times Review
Told in verse interspersed with prose, their stories illuminate an Arizona town divided by political and racial tensions, and at times "People Kill People" reads eerily more like nonfiction than fiction, particularly after the first anniversary of the Charlottesville riots: Ominously, there's an upcoming pro-immigration rally, and protesters are planning to be there too. Hopkins weaves in other contemporary political battlegrounds as well, including homelessness, racism and sexual assault, even mentioning recent acts of violence like the 2016 Pulse nightclub mass shooting. The mystery of which character will be killed propels the book forward, but it becomes increasingly uncertain as the plot develops. Hopkins, the author of several best-selling Y.A. novels in verse, including "Smoke" and "Crank," makes all too clear that any of them could fall victim, as well as be motivated to pull the trigger. Yet her essential message - guns make the killing all too easy - will reverberate with readers long after they put the book down. IN UNCLAIMED BAGGAGE (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 379 pp., $18.99; ages 12 and up), Jen Doll's big-hearted YA. debut, 16-year-old Doris is a buoyant, outspoken feminist who yearns to break out of her Alabama town's conservative bubble. Nell has grudgingly moved there with her family from Chicago, where her boyfriend still lives. Grant is a former high school football star with an alcohol problem. What brings them together is a summer job at Unclaimed Baggage, a store that sells items found in lost airport luggage. The story unfolds at the start of a sweaty summer, with temperatures and unsolicited opinions running high (particularly those of the busybody Mrs. Stokes, a church youth group director who admonishes Doris, "We women must behave as God intended"). At work, Doris, Nell and Grant have to sort other people's baggage, keeping the good stuff to sell (a vintage "Titanic" movie poster) and discarding the rest (including, humorously, a sex toy). Doll breezily alternates among the voices of her likable characters as they move toward new discoveries, new romance and unexpected adventure. There are more serious threads as well, as challenges like racism, mental illness, sexual assault and substance abuse enter the plot. Though what brings these characters together is a job that seems like the height of randomness, they soon realize its deeper meaning - they each carry their own baggage, after all, and by beginning to share it, they solidify a friendship. "JUST BE YOURSELF. Yeah. Sure. OK." Evan Hansen, an anxious loner who feels invisible walking his high school's hallways, knows these words are easier said than put into action. But that changes when a letter he writes to himself, intended for no one to read, ends up in the hands of a family faced with the suicide of their son, Evan's anguished classmate Connor MurphyThat's the setup for DEAR EVAN HANSEN: The Novel (Little, Brown, 389 pp., $18.99; ages 12 and up), by Val Emmich with Steven Levenson, Benj Pasek and Justin Paul, which flips the usual formula by adapting the wildly acclaimed musical of the same name into a book. The authors - Emmich is an actor and novelist ("The Reminders"), and Levenson, Pasek and Paul are the team behind the musical - use a first-person narration that inserts readers directly into the psyche of Evan, who struggles to decide how best to handle the escalating misunderstanding caused by his letter. It may be impossible not to find pieces of yourself reflected in Evan's loneliness and yearning to be accepted. As the Murphys come to believe Connor and Evan were secret best friends, what at first seemed like a harmless fib quickly spirals into a complicated lie Evan can't escape. Yet it's not all bad: Evan goes from being an outcast to finally being noticed - by the Murphys, his peers and even his crush, Connor's sister, Zoe. His anxiety only deepens with the pressure of social media, which further forces Evan and his fabrication into the spotlight. The book, of course, can't offer the glamour and theatrics (or the music!) of Broadway, but it still captures the heartbreaking experience of searching for connection. Evan's character may have been born for the stage, but his earnestness and relatability sing through the book's pages. A WINDOWS-DOWN, feet-on-the-dashboard summer road trip is as American as softserve vanilla ice cream. But in Patrick Flores-Scott's debut, american road trip (Holt, 323 pp., $17; ages 12 and up), Teodoro "T" Avila, a Latino high school student whose family has been hit by the 2008 housing crash, is sure it's a less than ideal way to spend the summer. His audacious sister, Xóchitl, tricks him onto the road in an attempt to save their older brother, Manny, an Iraq vet struggling with PTSD. Their drive down the West Coast toward New Mexico is fueled by sacrifice and fierce, unconditional sibling love. Above all, T says of his siblings, "I want them to be safe." Written in T's vulnerable, observant voice, "American Road Trip" holds true to classic road-trip themes like the emotional power of singalongs and unexpected detours, but it also wades into the darker waters of mental illness with both realism and sensitivity. Along the way, Flores-Scott provides rich slices of Latinx culture - like making tortillas with cheese and a green chile that "stings so sweet I jump out of my seat" - that pave paths for T's self-discovery. Striking a balance between heavy subject matter and lighthearted humor, Flores-Scott isn't afraid to dive into the deep end, then come up for a blissful gulp of air. LIKE MANY TEENAGERS, Darius Kellern, the protagonist of Adib Khorram's darius THE GREAT IS NOT OKAY (Dial, 314 pp., $17.99; ages 12 and up), feels as if he doesn't belong. The self-described "fractional Persian" (on his mother's side) is bullied by jocks, struggles with his weight and has little in common with his father other than a shared depression diagnosis and a love of "Star Trek." But when his grandfather's illness prompts a family trip to Iran, Darius begins to see himself differently. Though Darius's relationship with his father is still strained in Iran and his grandparents (judgingly) question why he needs medication, things start to look up when Darius meets Sohrab, a boy who lives next door. They play soccer and hang out, confiding in each other about their "father issues." Darius even embraces being called Darioush, the Persian version of his name. For the first time, he has a true friend - one who knows "what it was like to be stuck on the outside because of one little thing that set you apart." Yet the more at ease he feels, the more apparent it is that he eventually must go back to his life in Portland, Ore. As a teenage outcast story, "Darius the Great Is Not Okay" may seem familiar, but it's layered with complexities of identity, body image and mental illness that are so rarely articulated in the voice of a teenage boy of color. Khorram writes tenderly and humorously about his protagonist's journey of self-acceptance, making it hard not to want to reach through the pages, squeeze his hand and reassure Darius that he is, in fact, going to be O.K. TAYLOR TRUDON is a former editor at MTV News and The Huffington Post.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [August 23, 2019]
Review by Booklist Review
The perennially popular Hopkins returns with another timely novel about an urgent issue; this time it's the violence that threatens the lives of her ensemble cast of six young adults. Indeed, it is Violence itself that tells their stories in a combination of Hopkins' signature verse and straightforward, unornamented prose. There is Rand, filled with rage at the man who abused him as a child; Cami, his wife, a small-time drug dealer; Silas, a white supremacist; Noelle, brain damaged in a car accident and secretly in love with beautiful Grace; Daniel, a homeless boy who also loves Grace; and Ashlyn, whose father stabbed her mother to death. The lives of all of the teens are interconnected, sharing the common potential that violence might change or even end their lives. Hopkins does a fine job of avoiding the didactic while creating a compelling, page-turning story. Yes, there are guns, but it is made obvious that death can come in other ways, for violence never takes a vacation. Librarians should expect a large demand for this one.--Cart, Michael Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
Writing via an omniscient narrator called Violence, which also slips into the minds of characters, Hopkins (The You I've Never Known) tackles issues of immigration policy, racism, gun control, and the idea that "Given the right circumstances,/ any person could kill someone." The book introduces a network of teens and shows how "each possesses an incentive/ to pick up a gun, pull the trigger." There's new father Rand, itching for revenge on his former scoutmaster, who was recently released from prison; Rand's wife, Cami, also a new parent, who's secretly dealing drugs to make extra cash; Ashlyn, who wants power on her own terms, and her boyfriend, white nationalist Silas; and Daniel, a homeless teen whose love for a girl is growing desperate. Tempers simmer and suspense builds as the characters make plans to attend or protest a pro-immigration rally. Someone will die on the day of the rally, and the explosive and highly ironic event asks questions about the phrase "Guns don't kill people. People kill people." Set in Arizona, a state with an open-carry gun policy, this powerful story will spark controversy and prompt passionate debate. Ages 14-up. Agent: Laura Rennert, Andrea Brown Literary. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
Gr 10 Up-This novel-in-verse illuminates the potentially powerful and dangerous allure of guns but ultimately lets the message overpower the story. Set in Tucson, AZ, Hopkins's latest follows six teens who have all been witness to or victim of violence in their lives. Over the course of several days, their relationships are tested and ideologies clash. Readers are warned that someone will shoot a gun and someone will die, and as tensions build, it becomes clearer that each character has an incentive for pulling the trigger. Although this novel's themes are timely, the story often comes off as sensationalized, and its characters' traumatic experiences seem forced rather than organic. The alternating verse and second person prose narrative, which switches focus among the six protagonists, makes connecting with each individual especially challenging. Were it not for direct references to age, readers might assume they were in their 20s or 30s by the way they act and speak. This characterization, combined with the story's difficult subject matter-including physical and sexual violence, explicit language, drug use, and racially motivated hatred-makes this novel best suited for a new adult audience. Hopkins has a talent for creating tension and apprehension, and the dramatic ending will no doubt leave readers talking. VERDICT Sure to be a divisive novel, both for its storytelling and themes, this offering spotlights critical social issues but misses the mark on its delivery.-Lauren Hathaway, University of British Columbia © Copyright 2018. 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.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Violence narrates a tale of intersecting lives.A gun used in an accidental domestic shooting ends up in the hands of one of six Tucson teens whose feelings about guns and violence, immigration and racial superiority, love and sex are explored. Their urges for powerover their own lives or others'tempt them to consider violent acts. As the day of a pro-immigration rally and counterprotest nears, readers are left guessing which character will kill and which will die, as Violence promises. Violence alternates between free verse omniscient third-person narration and switching to second-person present tense to invite readers into the mind of each major character. Silas finds a sense of belonging in a white supremacist group and is disgusted by his mother's Jewish boyfriend and father's Mexican girlfriend; Daniel is left feeling bitter when his Honduran mother is deported and his white father dies, leaving him to live with the white wife and son who were not aware of his existence; and Noelle is a depressed, white, closeted teen, suffering seizures following a tragic brush with gun violence. This structure effectively illustrates how otherwise normal people can become killers. The book avoids glamorizing gun violence and bigotry as the characters are difficult to empathize with. The final revelation, though surprising on a plot level, lacks the emotional impact that the subject matter deserves.An interesting thought experiment. (Prose/fiction hybrid. 16-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
