Clementine

by Ann Hood

Overview

New York Times best-selling author Ann Hood pens a poignant story of grief and adolescent despair in this follow-up to Jude Banks, Superhero.

Meet Clementine. She's quippy, sarcastic, and dramatic. And the overwhelming guilt of her sister's death weighs on her so heavily that she no longer feels like living.

As Clementine and her mother attempt to continue their lives after Halley's death, the world around them changes. Clementine's best friend now feels like a stranger. Her new school is full of spoiled, carefree kids. She kisses boys just to feel something. She tries to live in the moment. But ultimately, Clementine feels trapped in a snow globe: the real world is out there, while she's stuck in a world where tears like gallons fall all around her.

In her signature lyrical prose, Hood crafts an extraordinary story of grief and guilt, asking the important question: How can you find the will to live again in the face of overwhelming despair?

Praise for Jude Banks, Superhero:
"Hood is brilliant at showing the ordinary moments of a family’s heartbreak… There are many readers who are navigating guilt and sorrow right now — for them, this book is a must. And for those lucky enough to take the journey only in their imaginations, this is a story of resilience in the face of devastating pain.”—New York Times Book Review

"A tender story of grief and joy... a remarkable read."—School Library Connection (Starred Review)

"Hood’s careful gardening of emotions makes this a striking read... Fans of Ali Benjamin's The Thing about Jellyfish will appreciate Jude’s search for meaning and reason as he learns to live around the hole his sister has left."—Booklist (Starred Review)

“Ann Hood tells Jude’s story of grief without coating it in too much sugar; it’s real, and therein lies its power. Jude Banks is a mirror for anyone who’s experienced loss, and a testament to the power of human connection.”—Jack Cheng, award-winning author of See You in the Cosmos

"Jude Banks is warm and inviting, even as it balances the difficult topics of loss and healing—a powerful and compelling story for anyone who has known loss."—Rex Ogle, award winning author of Free Lunch

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780593094105
Publisher:	Penguin Young Readers Group
Publication date:	05/23/2023
Pages:	320
Product dimensions:	5.81(w) x 8.56(h) x 1.01(d)
Lexile:	760L (what's this?)
Age Range:	10 - 12 Years

About the Author

Ann Hood is the author of the best-selling novels The Book That Matters Most, The Obituary Writer, Somewhere Off the Coast of Maine, The Red Thread, and The Knitting Circle, as well as the memoir Comfort: A Journey Through Grief, a New York Times Editor's Choice and an Entertainment Weekly top ten nonfiction book of 2008. She has won two Pushcart Prizes and a Best American Spiritual Writing Award, two Best American Food Writing Awards, and a Best American Travel Writing award. She is the editor of the anthologies Knitting Yarns: Writers Writing About Knitting, Knitting Pearls: More Writers Writing About Knitting, and Providence Noir. Hood is also the author of books for children, including She Loves You (Yeah, Yeah, Yeah) and How I Saved My Father (And Ruined Everything Else). She lives in Providence, Rhode Island, and New York City, and is married to the writer Michael Ruhlman.

Read an Excerpt

I know how it goes in the movies because we are . . . were . . . a movie-watching family. Every Saturday night. All the Disney classics, of course, and both Parent Traps—-the original and the remake—-and Toy Story 1, 2, and 3 and any movies with horses or dogs in them. Mom usually slipped in one of her favorites for the second movie because she knew Halley almost always fell asleep by then, anyway. There would always be pizza during the first movie and popcorn during the second movie. We only got up from the couch to put the bag of popcorn in the microwave or get more drinks. It was the only night of the week that we were allowed soda, so even more special.
In the movies, the person—-the main character, usually—-wakes up from her coma and there are loving faces staring down at her. A nurse scurries out of the room to find a doctor. There are tears from the grateful family. You’re alive! You made it!
Real life is very different from the movies. I should know this by now. In the movies, tragedy is averted, lives are saved, people get better and happier. In real life,
when the main character—-that would be me, Clementine Marsh, age fourteen and a half—-opens her eyes, one of them kind of sticks halfway shut because there is some medical goop on them. Her throat is on fire from the tube they stuck down there in the OR and her leg aches from the big toe to the knee, like there’s a tiny drummer in there banging away, hard.
“Thirsty,” is the first thing I manage to say. It comes out like sandpaper.
There is no scurrying nurse, no grateful family. There is just Mom, looking exhausted.
“Oh, Clementine,” she says in the saddest voice ever. “Why?”
Even if I could talk, I wouldn’t be able to answer the question. How can I ever explain what happened last night? What I was thinking and why I did what I did?
“Water,” I croak instead.
Mom gets up and pours me some water from the mauve plastic pitcher by the bed. She sticks a straw in a cup and holds it to my lips while I sip, managing to stroke my hair with her free hand.
“I wish I knew what you were thinking,” she says when I flop my head back down on the pillow.
I close my eyes again. They’re scratchy, too. I try to imagine my whole body slowly turning into sandpaper, but Mom interrupts.
“You’re in the psych ward,” she whispers, like she’s embarrassed.
My eyes fly open. “What? Why?”
“They’re trying to find a place for you that’s . . . nicer,” Mom says. “I called Strawberry Fields, so maybe you can go back there.”
I can’t talk and I can’t think straight. Psych ward? Strawberry Fields? What am I missing? I look at Mom’s pretty, tired face for clues. But I only see worry and sadness. Her eyes are red from crying or not sleeping or both. She’s got her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail and not a drop of makeup on.
Mom sighs and says, again, “Oh, Clementine. Why?”
Where do I even begin?

Editorial Reviews

03/20/2023

Since her younger sister Halley died from an allergic reaction to peanuts two years prior to this book’s start, now-14-year-old Clementine Marsh, who cues as white, has experienced depression and grief that led to a suicide attempt. Now, she’s transitioned out of her beloved Montessori and started ninth grade at a chaotic new school where she experiences bullying, slaps a smirking classmate, and believes she’s seen as “the one who has lost her mind.” Meanwhile, she also feels as if she’s stuck in a snow globe where tears fall instead of snow. Clementine’s widowed mother provides support via a residential program and therapy, a support group, a trip to see old friends, and, finally, what Clementine—whose snarky first-person narration is candid and sometimes funny—calls a “low-rent Outward Bound.” The program emphasizes activity, community, and routine, but nothing really helps, especially when Clementine’s mother starts dating. Balancing each of Clementine’s steps forward with one back, Hood’s follow-up to Jude Banks, Superhero offers a difficult, emotionally keyed portrayal of grief, depression, and suicidal ideation in which healing comes slowly, and in fits and starts. Ages 10–up. Agent: Gail Hochman, Brandt & Hochman. (May)

Publishers Weekly

2023-02-08
A teen struggles to cope with her younger sister’s death in the follow-up to Jude Banks, Superhero (2021).

Ever since her younger sister, Halley, died from a peanut allergy two years ago, 14-year-old Clementine Marsh has felt like the world outside is overwhelming and that she’s trapped in a snow globe. Her new high school is chaotic, and gossip has made her a target of bullying. Her best friend moved to Vermont and feels like a stranger. Worst of all, her widowed mother has fallen in love. How can Clementine cope with losing Halley when it feels like she’s losing her mom too? Clementine’s narrative, which drifts between past and present, candidly explores depression and grief. Unfortunately, some scenes, such as Clementine’s vividly recounted suicide attempt, risk triggering readers with similar struggles, and there are no mental health resources included. Realistically, Clementine’s path toward healing is not linear; hopeful moments alternate with physical and verbal outbursts and periods of inertia. Readers will root for Clementine as she learns to manage her emotions with help from a support group, though Hood’s dashing of potentially positive developments becomes emotionally taxing. Most secondary characters are lightly developed, but Clementine’s relationship with her mother—who remains steadily supportive amid her own grief, worry, and exhaustion—is touchingly three-dimensional. Clementine reads White; secondary characters bring some diversity.

An unvarnished portrait of grief and healing; approach with care. (Fiction. 12-14)

Kirkus Reviews