Emotionally beleaguered teen and adult readers who overlook the book’s juvenile packaging will find both clarity and...
Words, emotions, and two irreverent senses of humor collide in Sher and Wertz’s (Drinking at the Movies, 2015, etc.) debut book for teens.
For all those whose frustration at being unable to name a particular emotion has ever overtaken the emotion they are unable to name, this clever lexicon is here to provide relief. In a witty if occasionally inelegant alignment of form and function, the author’s collection of imaginative portmanteaus (and one acronym), such as “irredependent” (irrational + independent) and “castrapolate” (catastrophe + extrapolate), pay homage to the complexity of feelings. Meanwhile, with humor just this side of ribald, Wertz’s comic-strip illustrations demonstrate that, while emotional complexity can elude definition, it is just as universal to the human condition as birth, death, and forgetting people’s names as soon as they’ve introduced themselves (“namenesia”). Situated somewhere between Urban Dictionary and a beginner’s guide to anxiety and introversion, the book highlights the importance of emotional literacy but stops short of addressing emotional competence, relying instead on the audience’s developed sense of irony to understand the validity of the newly named feelings while also managing to recognize any unhealthy emotional practices.
Emotionally beleaguered teen and adult readers who overlook the book’s juvenile packaging will find both clarity and camaraderie in its definitions. (Nonfiction. 15 & up)Pub Date: Oct. 18, 2016
ISBN: 978-1-59514-838-4
Page Count: 176
Publisher: Razorbill/Penguin
Review Posted Online: July 19, 2016
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Aug. 1, 2016
Green seamlessly bridges the gap between the present and the existential, and readers will need more than one box of tissues...
He’s in remission from the osteosarcoma that took one of his legs. She’s fighting the brown fluid in her lungs caused by tumors. Both know that their time is limited.
Sparks fly when Hazel Grace Lancaster spies Augustus “Gus” Waters checking her out across the room in a group-therapy session for teens living with cancer. He’s a gorgeous, confident, intelligent amputee who always loses video games because he tries to save everyone. She’s smart, snarky and 16; she goes to community college and jokingly calls Peter Van Houten, the author of her favorite book, An Imperial Affliction, her only friend besides her parents. He asks her over, and they swap novels. He agrees to read the Van Houten and she agrees to read his—based on his favorite bloodbath-filled video game. The two become connected at the hip, and what follows is a smartly crafted intellectual explosion of a romance. From their trip to Amsterdam to meet the reclusive Van Houten to their hilariously flirty repartee, readers will swoon on nearly every page. Green’s signature style shines: His carefully structured dialogue and razor-sharp characters brim with genuine intellect, humor and desire. He takes on Big Questions that might feel heavy-handed in the words of any other author: What do oblivion and living mean? Then he deftly parries them with humor: “My nostalgia is so extreme that I am capable of missing a swing my butt never actually touched.” Dog-earing of pages will no doubt ensue.
Green seamlessly bridges the gap between the present and the existential, and readers will need more than one box of tissues to make it through Hazel and Gus’ poignant journey. (Fiction. 15 & up)Pub Date: Jan. 10, 2012
ISBN: 978-0-525-47881-2
Page Count: 272
Publisher: Dutton
Review Posted Online: Jan. 9, 2012
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 15, 2012
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
Gruesomely violent with a disheartening take on the future.
A troubled teen in a zombie-infested landscape finds energy and purpose in killing.
Sixteen-year-old Quinn Wallace, surrendered by her adoptive parents at age 6 after just four years with them, is marking the time until she turns 18 and can leave the Pegasus Center, a residential treatment facility in Peoria, Illinois. She cynically chases the compliance points given for good behavior. Manipulative and in love with control, Quinn, who has ADHD (and, possibly, antisocial personality disorder), experiences “emotions differently than most people” and has had to learn to interpret others’ emotions; she gleans information about her fellow residents by secretly reading their charts. Reports of riots in Chicago feel remote until one day the chaos reaches their locked ward: A custodian reanimates following a violent death—she’s a carrier, someone infected with a “new and terrifying virus.” Quinn, 17-year-old Keisha, and a ragtag band from Pegasus flee the facility and head south. People underestimate petite, blond, pale-skinned, and sweet-faced Quinn, who’s protective of her Black-presenting crush, Keisha, who taught her how to turn on the charm and play people. First-person narrator Quinn feels “the warmth of excitement” when she kills. Many of her victims are one-note secondary characters whom she views as disposable. Salazar’s series opener, which was originally self-published in 2024 as The Dead Weight, explores mental health issues and neurodivergence in ways that unfortunately feel one-dimensional and offers little redemption for its protagonist.
Gruesomely violent with a disheartening take on the future. (Horror. 15-18)Pub Date: Aug. 25, 2026
ISBN: 9781464299292
Page Count: 352
Publisher: Sourcebooks Fire
Review Posted Online: June 1, 2026
Kirkus Reviews Issue: July 1, 2026
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