The Big Crunch

November 29, 2010
Showing his range, Hautman (How to Steal a Car) writes a love story that's affecting despite, or perhaps because of, its ordinariness. Wes and June know each other, vaguely, from high school, but become better acquainted when he accidentally gives her a black eye. Both teens are prone to introspection. June is constantly on guard because her father's job requires the family to move often; Wes cleans out the garage when too much thinking leads to insomnia. When the two overcome obstacles to become a couple, they fall hard. Hautman's depiction of this is both sensitive and realistic—"I can't breathe when I look at you," Wes tells June—and the use of scientific imagery adds metaphorical heft to an otherwise run-of-the-mill romance (to everybody but Wes and June, of course). As she expected, June's father pulls up stakes again, and the lovers try to carry on with texting and telephone calls, leading to frustration and bad decisions. Readers who need nonstop action must look elsewhere, but those who make it to June's final declaration will arrive with a lump firmly lodged in their throats. Ages 13–up.

November 15, 2010

Wes Andrews has just ended a suffocating relationship with Izzy. June is new to the school—her sixth in the last four years. Like Wes, she's not looking to get entangled; she'll just be moving on in no time anyway, wherever her father's business takes the family next. And it doesn't seem likely that Wes and June will get together. He wonders about her thick lips, her wide mouth and greenish-blue eyes set too far apart, making her look like "a sea creature pretending to be human." And to her he's just "another guy with a case of arrested development." But in the high-school world of "users, posers, geeks, skanks, preps, gangstas, macho-morons, punks, burnouts, and so forth," the two relatively normal, nice kids do find each other...eventually. Hautman uses a third-person point of view to weave a humorous and bittersweet tale of romance and the convoluted, uncertain paths that bring two people together. A poignant and quiet tale in which the only special effect is love—refreshing. (author's note) (Fiction. 13 & up)

(COPYRIGHT (2010) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)

February 1, 2011

Gr 8 Up-June has attended six schools in the last four years and is once again the new kid, this time at a Minnesota high school. First on her agenda: find some friends and a boyfriend. Wes broke up with Izzy just before school started and he doesn't want another girlfriend, but after seeing June, he can't get her out of his mind. June meanwhile starts dating Wes's best friend. Wes is in a fog. A chance encounter with her sparks a romance between the two. But before it even has a chance to get started, it's time for June to move again. Told from June's and Wes's alternating points of view, this book follows their romance through the four seasons. With rapid-fire dialogue and plenty of sappy language, the author nails the confused, self-absorbed teen characters obsessed with first love. However, the plot falls flat by focusing too closely on what love feels like instead of building a story.-Shawna Sherman, Hayward Public Library, CA

Copyright 2011 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.

Starred review from January 1, 2011
Grades 8-11 *Starred Review* When June starts her junior year of high school in Minneapolis, she isnt looking for love. Thanks to her management-consultant dads constantly shifting positions, this is Junes sixth new school in four years, and shes learned to guard against getting attached. Then she literally crashes into classmate Wes at a convenience store, and what begins with a black eye for June and a head bump for Wes turns into a true, deep romance that the teens try to sustain after Junes dad moves the family once again. As in Lynne Rae Perkins novels, this storys delight lies in the details. National Book Awardwinning Hautman writes with wry humor and a comics sense of juxtaposed phrases and timing. From guys lunchroom conversations (How come you didnt just go online for your porn, says Wes to a friend who excavates an old Penthouse from his neighbors recycling bin) to Junes fathers corporate mantras of self-control and forward thinking, the dialogue is refreshingly honest, particularly in the bewilderingly urgent, awkward exchanges that fuel the attraction between June and Wes. Hautman skillfully subverts clich's in this subtle, authentic, heart-tugging exploration of first love, but his sharp-eyed view of high-school social dynamics and the loving friction between parents and teens on the edge of independence is just as memorable.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2011, American Library Association.)

January 1, 2011
The title of this smart, funny teen romance refers to a scientific theory that says the universe will one day stop expanding and start to contract. It's an ideal metaphor for the developing relationship between Wes and June, high school juniors who, after a series of charged encounters, find themselves drawn to each other with all the force of a black hole. June has little intention of getting close to anyone after her family moves to Minneapolis. Her father's job doesn't allow her to stay in one place long. 'What she hoped for was a guy who was reasonably intelligent but not too geekysomebody she could have fun with, but not miss too much when her folks pulled up stakes and moved her to Butthole, Missouri, or Armpit, Tennessee.' Wes's best friend Jerry fits this description. Yet there's something about Wes that, though June barely knows him, keeps him stuck in her head. Alternating perspectives between Wes and June, Hautman's narrative sizzles. There's no explicit sex; no descriptions of body parts more titillating than eyes or hair or mouths. Still, the chemistry practically burns holes through the page. June explains the inevitability of their attraction like this: 'Some things just had to happen, like two trains heading toward each other on the same track. It wasn't like you could swerve to avoid the collision. It wasn't like you could stop.' CHRISTINE M. HEPPERMANN

(Copyright 2011 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)