Gr 9 Up--Aaron and Tillie don't know each other, but on the same day, at the same time, they both find themselves on the edge of the George Washington Bridge, with the same intentions. Aaron, who is white and Jewish, is comfortable being gay, but he struggles with depression and loneliness. Tillie, who is Korean American, doesn't feel like she can ever be good enough, and it doesn't help when people remind her. The day at the bridge has four possible outcomes: Tillie jumps and Aaron doesn't, Aaron jumps but not Tillie, they both jump, or they both decide to get down from that ledge and walk away. An intriguing book that captures not just different possible outcomes of a situation but also how it affects others. Told in the third person, this book moves among multiple character's perspectives, not just Tillie and Aaron's. The book is divided into four parts that explore each of the outcomes and how the characters handle what happened. While three of the sections are done well, the section in which they both jump is lacking--Konigsberg spends just a couple pages directly following their deaths and the narrative makes multiple awkward and confusing time jumps. In the end, though, this book handles mental health and suicide well and offers readers a realistic look at how one's choices impact others. VERDICT While not for every reader, those who need this book will find value in it.--Amanda Borgia, Uniondale P.L., NY

Multiple realities explore the butterfly effects of two attempted teen suicides. Each of the narrative's alternate timelines starts the same way: Aaron Boroff and Tillie Stanley meet by coincidence at the George Washington Bridge. Both contemplate leaping into the Hudson River to end their lives--"facing each other like they're playing a deadly game of dare." Aaron, a White gay boy with a Christian mom and a Jewish dad who dreams of viral internet success as a singer/songwriter, feels he is a failure both musically and romantically. Tillie, a fat, adopted, Korean girl, has had enough of feeling out of place in her White family and being bullied at school. From there, the four linear timelines (presented one after the other) diverge into four possible outcomes: only Tillie jumps, only Aaron jumps, they both jump, or neither jumps. No outcome is presented as the true story, leaving readers to come to their own conclusions. Drawing from personal experience, Konigsberg's portrayal of depression is raw, honest, and nuanced. The deftly navigated third-person--omniscient narration powerfully evokes spiraling, obsessive thoughts and manic episodes. In addition to the focal teens' inner monologues, secondary characters--from family members to classmates--are sharply drawn and complicated. Though some plot points only happen in certain timelines, the text's careful construction hints that the best possible outcome is the teens' survival. A heartbreaking bridge into depression supported by a strong foundation of hope. (author's note, resources) (Fiction. 14-18) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

Two teens--Tillie and Aaron--are standing on the George Washington Bridge, ready to jump and end it all. Tillie is adopted, a chubby Korean in a slim white family, feeling like she just isn't good enough at anything to truly matter. Aaron is Caucasian, gay, depressed, and lonely, living with his father while his mother pursues her own dreams far away. When the two see each other on the bridge, four possibilities unfold before them: Either Aaron or Tillie jumps, leaving the other behind; they both jump; neither of them jumps. This thought-provoking examination of depression, loneliness, suicide, family, friendship, and hope is both uplifting and terrifying. Aaron's journey from depression to mania can be hard to read at times, as can the events that lead Tillie to the bridge, but at the same time, none of what is included is done so for sensationalism or shock value. With each narrative thread focusing on Aaron or Tillie, along with brief vignettes highlighting the lives of those they are close to, Konigsberg (The Music of What Happens, 2019) constructs an intricate tale brimming with questions and possibilities. Messy, complicated, and sometimes alarmingly candid, this is a poignant, sincere look at the many ways mental illness affects young people, as well as those they know and love.

Konigsberg (The Music of What Happens), a suicide survivor aiming for "a complete discussion of suicide," per an author's note, tells this iterative story of 17-year-olds crossing paths on the George Washington Bridge, where both are considering jumping. Depressed Aaron Boroff, who is white, dreams of music fame and having a boyfriend; he is "deeply sick of himself and his stupid brain" and can't imagine that changing. Korean-born adoptee Tillie Stanley's convinced that she's weak and unlovable; she's been ghosted by the guy she was seeing, bullied by an ex-friend, and her father's basically pretending she doesn't exist. Alternatingly following Aaron, Tillie, and the people affected by their deaths--including those who never got to know them--the story is told several ways: with each, both, and neither jumping. Ending on a hopeful note, the book depicts Aaron and Tillie bonding and trying to keep each other going. Konigsberg's approach underscores depression's coercive power and the gifts of human connection, and he sharpens a universal story by populating it with distinctly individual characters. An author's note and resources for people experiencing suicidal ideation conclude. Ages 14--up. Agent: Linda Epstein, Emerald City Literary. (Sept.)

Aaron Boroff and Tillie Stanley are both suffering from depression, but different life experiences lead them to the George Washington Bridge at the same moment for their respective suicide attempts. Sequentially, four distinct possibilities play out: Tillie jumps, Aaron doesn't; Aaron jumps, Tillie doesn't; they both jump; neither jumps. Aaron is an introspective loner, a skinny gay kid who's interested in writing and performing music. He's plagued by self-doubt, however, exacerbated by severe depression. Tillie, adopted from Korea, struggles to earn the love of her emotionally unavailable father and feels like her family's "plan B," supplanted by the biological daughter they had years later. The intriguing narrative structure allows Konigsberg to develop Aaron and Tillie with nuance and depth, showing how their absence from this world would affect their families and peers immediately and far into the future. In the last alternative narrative strand, Aaron and Tillie become friends and support each other in a way that their parents, friends, and therapists could not. Mental health and suicide ideation are difficult topics, and Konigsberg handles them with great skill, care, and sensitivity. An author's note addresses depression and suicide, particularly among LGBTQIA+ youth, and provides resources. Jonathan Hunt November/December 2020 p.103(c) Copyright 2020. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.