Crying laughing

Review by Booklist Review

Winnie is funny, but she's also in high school, where not everyone appreciates true comic genius. Having grown up learning comedy from her dad, Winnie knows she's funny, and that's enough until classmate Evan actually laughs at her jokes and suggests she join the school improv troupe, that is. However, when her attempt at sharing with her parents that she's considering joining a performance group is interrupted by the news that her father might have ALS, Winnie's world starts to crumble. Firmly set in 2019, Rubin's latest (Denton Little duology) is a review of comedy culture sprinkled throughout a hilarious and heart-wrenching tale. With a refreshingly diverse cast of characters, Rubin weaves together high-school drama, improv failures, bad dates, and friendship fights with a family fighting to stay together when its foundation is suddenly shaken. This book is for anyone who's ever attended high school, had a crush, gotten news they weren't prepared to deal with, or learned that someone close to them isn't quite who they thought they were in short, for everyone.--Rebecca Gonner Copyright 2019 Booklist

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

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Winnie Friedman, 15, retired from performing after a disastrous stand-up comedy attempt at her bat mitzvah. But after a flirtatious encounter with junior Evan Miller, "the funniest guy in school," and encouragement from her best friends, identical twin sisters, Leili and Asmaa Kazemi, who are Muslim, Win decides to join Manatawkin High School's improv group. Initially uncomfortable, she finds her comedic footing using several bits she's worked out with her father Russ, a former stand-up comedian/actor who gave it all up to raise Win. But when Russ reveals to Win that the clumsiness he's been exhibiting is likely to be ALS, her life spins out of control. As Evan's flirtation turns into something more serious, Leili withdraws, causing Win even more confusion. Rubin (Denton Little's Death Date) again handles mortality with a light touch and humor, realistically capturing a father-daughter relationship in the face of a serious illness. Charming, heartbreaking, and ultimately life-affirming, Rubin captures Winnie's verve and heart with honesty and wit. Ages 12--up. Agent: Mollie Glick, CAA. (Nov.)

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 7 Up--Winnie is the funniest girl--no, person--in her class. She knows it, along with her two best friends, though a very traumatic bat mitzvah stand-up routine has prevented Winnie from sharing her gift of comedy with the rest of her school. That is until Evan, a cute and funny boy, convinces her to join the school's improv troupe. Winnie is excited to share the news with her father, a former aspiring comedian and her main collaborator on endless inside jokes. Her news is overshadowed when she discovers her father has ALS. As her family struggles with the realities of her father's failing health, Winnie personally struggles with finding her voice in the improv troupe as well as in her first romantic relationship. As suggested by the title, humor balances out the anguish felt by Winnie and her family as they cope with her father's illness. The reality of finding it okay to laugh while crying makes this story as funny as it is poignant. Winnie faces many big issues besides her father's illness. From learning how to know her worth in a romantic relationship to finding strength in her female friendships, Winnie's story is handled with authenticity and heart. While readers will want to know if she can conquer her fear and perform at the big improv show, the real satisfaction is in Winnie's journey. The deft movement between laughter and tears will appeal to fans of John Green. VERDICT Grab a box of tissues and be prepared for the awkward stares when laughing out loud.--Carrie Finberg, South Park High School, PA

(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Horn Book Review

High school sophomore Winnie shares a love of comedy with her dad but has avoided any sort of performing ever since an unimpressive stand-up set at her bat mitzvah. When she's persuaded to join her high school's improv troupe, it leads to both an evolution in her confidence and a romantic relationship with fellow comedian Evan, who eventually resents her success, while other friends feel neglected. Dad, meanwhile, is diagnosed with ALS; the disease's difficult realities and his reluctance to accept them lead to family tension and bring up past resentments. Rubin (Denton Little's Deathdate, rev. 3/15, and sequel) realistically portrays the balancing act between seriousness and humor for a family more comfortable with the latter; and if explanations of comedy are a bit awkward by nature, delivering them through a first-person narrator who's awkward herself is an effective choice. Similarly believable is Winnie's bouncing back and forth between big-picture family concerns and day-to-day ones about performing, dating, and friendship. Shoshana Flax November/December 2019 p.98(c) Copyright 2019. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Winnie Friedman is navigating her sophomore year of high school, evolving friendships, and family worries.After a stand-up comedy fail at her bat mitzvah, 15-year-old Winnie swore off public performances. However, when she is asked by Evan Miller, a popular junior, to join the school's Improv Troupe, she decides to take the risk. Her best friends, Muslim, hijabi identical twins Leili and Asmaa, are very supportive. However, just when Winnie believes she really will do comedy again, she finds out her father may have amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. A girlfriend for Asmaa and friendship troubles with Leili add to the changes and turmoil. Winnie just wants to make people laugh and find humor in the world around herbut can she, with her father's health problems, complications with Evan, and the falling out with Leili? Rubin's (Denton Little's Still Not Dead, 2017, etc.) writing realistically brings to life teens struggling to find their paths and be happy, lending the story a feeling of authenticity. Small, telling details of the girls' interactions in their interfaith friendship and pop-culture references add to this reality. This is a touching look into one girl's high school experience as she seeks the funny moments even in the midst of tragedy and challenging relationships. Winnie is white and Jewish, Leili and Asmaa are Iranian American, and there is diversity in secondary characters.Charming and affecting. (Fiction. 13-18) Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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No one knows how funny I am.   Well, that's not entirely true. My dad, and sometimes my mom, and my best friends, Leili and Azadeh, know.   And I know.   But no one else.   Definitely no one in school, where successful humor tends to involve farts.   I'm not knocking fart humor, but I recognize it is but one color in the comedy rainbow. For many people at my school, however, it is one of just three primary comedy colors, the other two being sex humor (e.g., pretend-­humping in the hallway) and mean humor (e.g., pulling away someone's chair as they sit down), which isn't even humor so much as an excuse to be an asshole.   Anyway, if a joke falls in the forest and no one's there to hear it, it does not make a sound, so sometime in the middle of last year, I stopped saying my funny thoughts aloud. It's like giving your finest, most expensive jewelry to your hamster. Guess what? That hamster does not give a flying eff about carats.   (He might, however, care a great deal about carrots.)   (Ha-­cha!)   (I'm sorry. I am aware puns are, in many ways, no better than fart jokes, but there's a long tradition of really smart comedy writers appreciating puns in a manner that is half ironic, half sincere--­and that is the way I appreciate them.)   So, yeah, when it comes to my sense of humor, most of the people in school are hamsters, which is why it's incredibly surprising that just now, on the second day of my sophomore year, I seem to have made Evan Miller laugh.   "Ha, that's hilarious," he says, standing next to me, our lunch trays balanced on the metal rack of the cafeteria line, as his less sophisticated friend Tim Stabisch looks on like Wait, seriously? Was it?   I should mention: Evan Miller is, by many accounts (not mine), the funniest guy in school. He's a junior, and though our interactions have been minimal, I've had quite a bit of time to become familiar with his comedic stylings, as I assistant-­directed last year's production of Arsenic and Old Lace, in which Evan played the brother who believes he's Teddy Roosevelt and is always maniacally charging up the stairs of the house. And yes, Evan was truly hilarious in that play, mainly because he was so confident and committed to the role. As my dad has said, "The secret to being successful in comedy is confidence. That's, like, ninety percent of it right there." And Evan Miller has that, so I understand why his comedic reputation has soared.   Now, does he possess the other ten percent of the formula, which includes having a smart, interesting perspective on the world around him? Not so much.   Though it's possible I've underestimated him, because he did just laugh at the thing I said moments ago (which was not a pun or a fart joke). I was standing in the lunch line by myself when this happened:   EVAN (next to me in line the whole time, though I hadn't acknowledged him because I assumed he had no idea who I was): Hey, you worked on the play last year, right?   ME: I did.   EVAN: Winnie, right?   ME (surprised he knows my name): Oh. Yeah. And you're . . . (I pretend I don't know his name, I have no idea why.)   EVAN (slightly disappointed): Evan.   ME: Right! Evan, yeah. You were really funny in the play. (I felt bad that I'd pretended not to know his name, which is why I gave him a compliment.)   EVAN (perking up again): Oh, thanks! (Inexplicably going into stereotypical California girl voice) That's, like, totally cool of you to say.   ME (unconvincingly): Ha.   PEARL THE LUNCH LADY (to me): Chicken or vegetable?   ME: Wait, what is it?   PEARL: Stir-­fry. Chicken or vegetable.   ME: Oh. Chicken, please.   (PEARL slops stir-­fry onto my tray.)   ME: Thanks. (Looking to Evan) She and I go way back, that's why she hooks me up with the good stuff.   EVAN (laughing): Ha, that's hilarious.   TIM: Huh?   And there you have it. Evan is laughing at something I said. I don't even know why I said it.   Tim, trying his best to keep up, asks, "Wait, did she just give you extra chicken?"   "Yes," I say, even though she obviously gave me the same amount she gives everyone. "But don't feel bad, that's only because we were platoon mates in Vietnam. I saved her life. Twice."   Evan laughs harder, and Tim is more confused. "I want extra chicken too," he says. "They never give enough."   "You're really funny," Evan tells me. "You should join Improv Troupe. We always need new funny people."   This catches me off guard. I mean, he's right--­I saw the improv troupe perform a couple of times last year and they could probably use my help--­but it's a foreign and delightful feeling to have someone who isn't me recognize that. Unfortunately, I retired from performing two and a half years ago after a traumatic incident at my bat mitzvah. Nevertheless, I'm flattered.   "Oh yeah," I say. "Maybe."   "First meeting of the year is tomorrow. After school."   Pearl, back from replacing an empty serving dish, asks Evan, "Chicken or vegetable?" He opts for vegetable, which surprises me, then turns back to me as I'm grabbing a rice pudding and walking away. "Seriously, think about it. You'll have even more fun than you did in Nam!"   "That's not possible," I say. "Nam was a blast."   Evan cracks up harder, and I try to hide my smile.   Maybe I should join Improv Troupe. Excerpted from Crying Laughing by Lance Rubin 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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