An absolutely remarkable thing A novel

Review by Booklist Review

*Starred Review* Popular vlogger and science teacher Green makes an entertaining book debut in this fast-paced, witty first-contact novel. Late one night, April May, an unassuming but self-absorbed graphic designer, discovers a 10-foot-tall statue of a Transformer in samurai armor on a Manhattan sidewalk. She calls her friend to make a YouTube video of what she thinks is a spectacular piece of art, then becomes an instant internet celebrity when it is discovered there are 64 such statues in major cities all over the world. Social media explodes with support and conspiracy theories about the origins of the strange alien statues, and April finds herself at the vortex of their mystery. Where Ernest Cline used 1980s pop culture as a plot vehicle in Ready Player One (2011), Green uses mathematics, science, and classic rock references to energize April's journey of self-­discovery as she navigates her own relationships, fear-mongering enemies, and a press that feeds off endless speculation. At once funny, exciting, and a tad terrifying, this exploration of aliens and social-media culture is bound to have wide appeal to readers interested in either theme.--Craig Clark Copyright 2018 Booklist

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

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

The younger Vlogbrother (John Green is the other) draws on his passion for science and his experience as a "Tier 3" celebrity ("You'll probably trend on Twitter if you die") for a comic debut that combines science fiction and mystery with philosophical musings about the perils of internet fame. His main character, the unfortunately named April May, is a recent art-school grad who happens upon a 10-foot-tall robotic sculpture in the darkened streets of Lower Manhattan. Entranced, she summons Andy, a classmate with a video camera, and the two introduce the figure they dub Carl to the world via YouTube. April May becomes a celebrity but soon discovers that dozens of Carls have appeared in cities across the globe. As she and her friends search for an explanation, she struggles with her newfound addiction to fame and the damage it causes to her most important relationships. April May's narration, which doesn't fully work, is both self-effacing and contradictory: she bemoans how much she enjoys fame while cynically crafting a message stressing community, which she determines will best resonate with her fans, thus growing her fame. Though the ending is disappointing (it appears to be setting up a sequel), fans of Green's YouTube channel will find his humor and perceptiveness intact in this novel. (Sept.) © Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.

(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved

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Review by Library Journal Review

DEBUT This widely anticipated debut from vlogger Green (Vlogbrothers), the brother of best-selling YA author John Green, lands in our midst much as one of its central characters, the Carls, do. Coming home from work late one evening, April May nearly crashes into a massive robot (is it street art? a statue?) in New York City. Chastising herself for nearly walking away without taking time to appreciate the wonder of artistic expression, she returns, calls her friend Andy, and together they film a video of the object, which they name Carl. The next day the video has gone viral and there are Carls in cities around the world. April is rocketed into social media stardom and has to decide what to do with her newfound fame. Caught between people trying to manage her and those who know her best, April tries to find her way through to fight for the Carls and for humanity. Is it so terrible if she makes some money along the way? VERDICT Led by an earnestly flawed, bisexual heroine with direction and commitment issues, coupled with an abundant generosity of spirit, this read is timely and sorely needed. Highly recommended. [See Prepub Alert, 4/9/18.]-Julie Kane, Washington & Lee Lib., Lexington, VA © 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.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

A young graphic artist inspires worldwide hysteria when she accidentally makes first contact with an alien.Famous multimedia wunderkind Green is brother to that John Green, so no pressure or anything on his debut novel. Luckily, he applies wit, affection, and cultural intelligence to a comic sci-fi novel suitable for adults and mature teens. It's endearing how fully he occupies his narrator, a 20-something bi artist named April May who is wasting her youth slaving at a Manhattan startup. On her way home late one night, April encounters an armored humanoid figure, which turns out to be alien in nature"And I don't mean alien like weird,' " she says. She phones her videographer friend Andy Skampt, who posts on YouTube a funny introduction to the robot she dubs Carl. April's life is turned upside down when the video goes massively viral and immovable Carls appear in cities around the world. After they discover a complex riddle involving the Queen song "Don't Stop Me Now," the mystery becomes a quest for April; Andy; April's roommate/kind-of-sort-of girlfriend, Maya; a scientist named Miranda; and April's new assistant, Robin, to figure out what the Carls are doing here. "None of us older than twenty-five years old, cruising down Santa Monica Boulevard, planning our press strategy for the announcement of First Contact with a space alien," says April. April and her friends are amiable goofballs and drawn genuinely for their age and time. Meanwhile, the story bobs along on adolescent humor and otherworldly phenomena seeded with very real threats, not least among them a professional hater named Peter Petrawicki and his feral followers. Green is clearly interested in how social media moves the needle on our culture, and he uses April's fame, choices, and moral quandaries to reflect on the rending of social fabric. Fortunately, this entertaining ride isn't over yet, as a cliffhanger ending makes clear.A fun, contemporary adventure that cares about who we are as humans, especially when faced with remarkable events. Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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CHAPTER ONE Look, I am aware that you're here for an epic tale of intrigue and mystery and adventure and near death and actual death, but in order to get to that (unless you want to skip to chapter 13--I'm not your boss), you're going to have to deal with the fact that I, April May, in addition to being one of the most important things that has ever happened to the human race, am also a woman in her twenties who has made some mistakes. I am in the wonderful position of having you by the short hairs. I have the story, and so I get to tell it to you the way I want. That means you get to understand me, not just my story, so don't be surprised if there's some drama. I'm going to attempt to come at this account honestly, but I'll also admit to a significant pro-me bias. If you get anything out of this, ideally it won't be you being more or less on one side or the other, but simply understanding that I am (or at least was) human. And I was very much feeling only human as I dragged my tired ass down 23rd Street at 2:45 a.m. after working a sixteen-hour day at a start-up that (thanks to an aggressively shitty contract I signed) will remain nameless. Going to art school might seem like a terrible financial decision, but really that's only true if you have to take out gobs and gobs of student loans to fund your hoity-toity education. Of course, I had done exactly that. My parents were successful, running a business providing equipment to small and medium-sized dairy farms. Like, the little things you hook up to cows to get the milk out, they sold and distributed them. It was good business, good enough that I wouldn't have had a lot of debt if I'd gone to a state school. But I did not do that. I had loans. Lots. So, after jumping from major to major (advertising, fine art, photography, illustration) and finally settling on the mundane (but at least useful) BFA in design, I took the first job that would keep me in New York and out of my old bedroom in my parents' house in Northern California. And that was a job at a doomed start-up funded by the endless well of rich people who can only dream the most boring dream a rich person can dream: being even more rich. Of course, working at a start-up means that you're part of the "family," and so when things go wrong, or when deadlines fly past, or when an investor has a hissy fit, or just because , you don't get out of work until three in the morning. Which, honestly, I hated. I hated it because the company's time- management app was a dumb idea and didn't actually help people, I hated it because I knew I was just doing it for money, and I hated it because they asked the staff to treat it like their whole life rather than like a day job, which meant I didn't have any time to spare to work on personal projects. BUT! I was actually using my degree doing actual graphic design and getting paid enough to afford rent less than one year out of school. My work environment was close to technically criminal and I paid half of my income to sleep in the living room of a one-bedroom apartment, but I was making it work. I fibbed just now. My bed was in the living room, but I mostly slept in the bedroom--Maya's room. We weren't living together, we were roommates, and April-from-the-past would want me to be very clear about that. What's the difference between those two things? Well, mostly that we weren't dating before we moved in together. Hooking up with your roommate is convenient, but it is also a little confusing when you lived together through much of college. Before finally hooking up and have now been a couple for more than a year. If you happen to already live together, when does the "Should we move in together?" question come up? Well, for Maya and me, the question was "Can we please move that secondhand mattress out of the living room so that we can sit on a couch when we watch Netflix?" and thus far my answer had been "Absolutely not, we are just roommates who are dating." Which is why our living room still had a bed in it. I told you there would be drama. Anyway, back to the middle of the night that fateful January evening. This shitty app had to get a new release into the App Store by the next week and I had been waiting for final approvals on some user interface changes, and whatever, you don't care--it was boring work BS. Instead of coming in early, I stayed late, which has always been my preference. My brain was sucked entirely dry from trying to interpret cryptic guidance from bosses who couldn't tell a raster from a vector. I checked out of the building (it was a coworking space, not even actual leased offices) and walked the three minutes to the subway station. And then my MetroCard got rejected FOR NO REASON. I had another one sitting on my desk at work, and I wasn't precisely sure how much money I had in my checking account, so it seemed like I should walk the three blocks back to the office just to be safe. Excerpted from An Absolutely Remarkable Thing: A Novel by Hank Green 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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