It only happens in the movies

Review by Booklist Review

Her parents get a nasty divorce, her boyfriend dumps her after an awkward first sexual experience, and boom: Audrey's over love. So over it, in fact, that she swears off not only romance but also romance films, even beginning a media studies project where she deconstructs all their tropes. When she begins a job at the local indie movie theater, everyone, from her brother to the other employees, warns her about Harry, her magnetic flirt of a coworker, but Audrey reassures them that she's the last person who's going to fall for a charmer. Except in the midst of her downward spiral, Audrey's abandoned all of the activities she used to love, including drama, where she was a star--and Harry's a film buff who's making a zombie movie, and he's short a lead actress. As Harry treats her less like a conquest and more like a person, Audrey begins to fall for him despite her best intentions. But his reputation and her wounds are at odds, and whether or not their relationship is doomed to burn out remains to be seen. It's enough that this well-cast British import cleverly elevates and deconstructs genre tropes without ever belittling them, but it goes beyond even that, candidly addressing the weight of expectation behind a first sexual experience and the misconceptions that women especially often have about theirs. A substantial romance for even the most skeptical teens.

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

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Review by Publisher's Weekly Review

Audrey Winters is off romance. Her mother is still suffering from her father's abrupt departure, and Audrey's not entirely over having "bought the I-lost-my-virginity-to-an-attractive-but-morally-bankrupt-asshole T-shirt." When she starts a new job at a fancy movie theater in Bridgely-upon-Thames, she recognizes coworker Harry as a charming flirt who hits on everyone. This doesn't make her immune to his charms, however, especially once she's starring in his zombie movie, a return to acting after her post-breakup retirement from high school theater. Seventeen-year-old Audrey is also working on a school project about romance movies, which she thinks encourage unsustainable relationship expectations. Alongside snippets of Audrey's rom-com essay, British author Bourne draws her protagonist as a believable mix of self-awareness and inexperience as she does her best to cope with her selfish father and hurting mother, her largely absent brother, and Harry's omnipresent ex. Audrey's struggles with whether to trust Harry and whether love is worth the pain it can cause are plausible, and though the book does fall prey to an old trope, with Audrey pitted against Harry's ex, it's a smart, funny, and emotionally satisfying rom-com. Ages 14--up. Agent: Madeleine Milburn, Madeleine Milburn Literary. (Dec.)

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Review by School Library Journal Review

Gr 9 Up--Audrey took the job working in the cinema to escape her mother who is going through a divorce and, to put it mildly, not taking it well. Her father has abandoned the family and created a new one with his new wife and their two children. Her older brother is at university and leaves caring for their mother up to Audrey. To make matters worse, Audrey is trying to get over a break-up with her boyfriend, who dumped her right after they slept together for the first time. Needless to say, she is not in the best state of mind. Her coworker Harry, an aspiring filmmaker, provides a much-needed distraction. Audrey, a lover of acting, jumps at the chance to be the leading lady in Harry's zombie movie. It doesn't hurt that this dark-haired bad boy takes an interest in her. This British novel pokes fun at traditional rom-coms by illustrating the differences between a movie and real life. Bourne describes the love between the characters but also the bickering and nagging that occurs in any relationship. She shows that it's not always sunshine and rainbows, but work. Audrey's appearance and ethnicity isn't described, and Harry is white. VERDICT YA readers will relate to the struggles Audrey faces and be pleased by the refreshing conclusion to this love story.--Jessica Perovich, US Court of Appeals, Federal Circuit Lib.

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Review by Kirkus Book Review

Reeling from her parents' traumatic divorce and her own recent breakup, English teen Audrey vows not to let incorrigible romantic Harry woo her. Audrey Winters needs an escape from both home and high school. Two years ago, her father left to be with his pregnant girlfriend, and her mother remains shattered and unstable. Audrey quit drama, her favorite class, after her actor boyfriend abruptly dumped her. Enter Flicker Cinema: Audrey takes a job at the upscale theater, and soon her nights are filled with difficult customers, a demanding manager, and unrepentant flirt Harry Lipton. To Harry's bewilderment, Audrey refuses to be won over by his charm. She's through with the notion of romance; she's even focusing her media studies research on why real love is never like in the movies. But the more time they spend together, whether it be vacuuming the movie theater or working on Harry's zombie movie, the more she finds herself warming to him. The pair fall into a whirlwind romance fit for the silver screen--but just like in the movies, there's no story without high-stakes drama crashing the party. Audrey and Harry's relationship sings with witty banter, electric heat, and feverish emotion, but Audrey's journey to self-discovery reaps even more rewards, leaving readers with a fresh, realistic look at first love. All major characters are White. A wild ride that's high on drama and deep in self-reflection. (movie list) (Fiction. 14-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

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1 The Great Class Divide A rich girl meets a poor boy. They come from different worlds. She's heading toward amazing things but feels suffocated by them. He's from the wrong side of the tracks. He was in a gang once. He's not anymore. But he looks rough enough around the edges for her parents to disapprove once the two of them fall madly in love, despite having literally no life experiences in common. "Here's where we keep the pulled pork."       Marianna--"everyone just calls me Ma"--pulled up a metal hatch, blasting my face with the stench of dead pig.       "The what?"       "The pulled pork," she repeated. "For the pulled pork hot dogs."       "Cinemas serve pulled pork hot dogs?"       I jumped as Ma slammed the hatch closed. "Flicker is not just any cinema. We're not like CineUniverse. At Flicker, we pride ourselves on a unique, artisan cinema experience." She smoothed down her black silk shirt. "Now, if you just follow me into the kitchen, I'll train you on how to make the fresh guacamole." Two hours later and I hadn't learned any of the skills I'd thought I would during my first day working in a small independent cinema. Ma had not once mentioned films or shown me where a projector was. Instead, I learned how to work the till, smush guacamole, shred pulled pork, pour the exact amount of balsamic vinegar into virgin olive oil to make a dipping pot for the "sourdough fingers," oh, and mix "cinnamon dust" for the popcorn. It took an hour for Ma to admit that, yes, they did still have popcorn.       "When do you train me on taking ticket stubs and showing people to their seats?" I asked Ma midway through washing the avocado out from under my fingernails. The cinema opened in less than thirty minutes, and I hadn't even been inside the screening rooms.       Ma smiled. "Oh, we don't want you to run before you can walk."       The smile made parts of my tummy hurt, like someone was about to jump out in a horror film. She didn't look older than thirty, but she behaved like an android. Her hair was pulled back into a stiff bun, and she clopped around in ridiculous heels. "You can just be in charge of food tonight. That's all I've put you down for on the schedule."       I'd seen the color-coded schedule in the tiny staffroom upstairs. It had every hour split into ten-minute intervals.       "Great," I tried to chirp.       "Harry will be here in a second to do tickets. The new Dick Curtisfield is out, so it's going to be busy."       Dick Curtisfield. I used to adore his fuzzy, lovey films . . .       "Is that okay?" Ma gave me a look like I'd be murdered if I dared say anything other than yes. But busy was good. Busy was why I'd taken the job. I didn't care what lies people were happy to watch as long as I was busy enough to not think about the message I had received when I walked in. Mom: Your father wants to sell the house.        He wants us to sell the house. Our house. Our home.       I smiled back at Ma because smiling is sometimes the only way to stop yourself from crying. "Sounds good to me. Now, can you explain cinnamon dust one more time?" Busy was an understatement. The cinema only had two screens, separated by a purple velvet carpeted area with a ticket booth and a teeny bar. By high tide, it was so packed you couldn't see all the intricate black-and-white paintings of Hollywood stars on the wall.       Harry turned up two minutes before we opened, stinking of cigarettes and bringing the cold autumn air in on his clothes.       "I know, I know," he said as Ma tapped her watch. Then, before she could tell him off, he pulled her into a hug and lifted her up.       "Oi, Harry, put me down!"       When he did, she was bright red and smiling.       "There's a queue outside," he told her.       "That's why it's unacceptable for you to be late. Again. The schedule says you should've been here thirty minutes ago."       "I'm always late, Ma. Can't you just accept that and factor it into the schedule?"       And she giggled. She actually giggled .       I stood behind the bar, nervously polishing the counter over and over.       Harry noticed me, waved and walked over. "Hello, new person."       "This is Audrey." Ma spoke for me, clopping behind him on her heels. "She's a high school student, so she's only doing one school night a week and weekends."       Harry scooched behind the bar and came up right in my face, like personal space wasn't an issue. "I know you." He had dark hair that stood on end. Every part of him was a bit too long and thin, like he'd been wrung out too harshly when wet.       I shook my head. "I don't think you do."       "No, I do . . ."       He was about to say something else when Ma hissed, "Harry? The queue?" and he leaped back over the counter and opened the door to let the stampede in. Well, stampede is something Bridgely-upon-Thames doesn't do, thank you kindly. It does Chanel No. 5 and Kate Spade purses and detached houses and the Daily Mail and oboe lessons until you reach grade eight with distinction. The line descended on the bar like a really posh zombie apocalypse, and I dropped my washcloth, stuttering as I asked the first couple what they wanted.       "Can we get two Chilean merlots, two popcorns with cinnamon dust, the garlic olives . . . oh . . . shall we just get a bottle? A bottle of merlot . . ."       And I was too busy to think again. Which was fine by me. Excerpted from It Only Happens in the Movies by Holly Bourne 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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