In Sloane’s world, suicide is an epidemic among teenagers. No one knows why, but the adults have found a way to combat it: The Program. Teens who are suspected of succumbing to depression are forcibly taken by The Program and have any and all unpleasant memories wiped from their brains. They’re sent back weeks later, supposedly cured, but they’re not the same. They’ve lost the things that makes them who they are.

Sloane fears The Program every minute of every day. Her older brother committed suicide, and she knows she’s being watched for signs of depression. Luckily, she has her boyfriend, James, and they’ve pledged to help each other through these last few months until they turn 18 and The Program can’t touch them.

And then a friend of theirs kills himself, and James cracks. He’s taken by The Program. Sloane is despondent, and she knows when James returns, he won’t remember her at all. She has to concentrate on convincing the adults around her that she’s fine. She can’t show any emotion. She can’t express her grief. If she does, they’ll call for The Program. But it’s already too late – her parents have noticed she’s faking happiness and they’ve called The Program to take her away. Sloane is determined to find a way to maintain her identity while undergoing treatment, to not forget James and her brother and her friends, but what chance does she really stand?

Kimberly’s Thoughts

Young presents us with an intriguing premise, but I’m of two minds about it. I like that she tackles a real issue that teens struggle with daily. I like that it’s not sensationalized, and that the teens’ thoughts and feelings about the Program and their own depression are taken seriously and not trivialized. At the same time, I’m frustrated that there’s no explanation for the suicide “epidemic.” I wonder if treating depression like a communicable disease can come across as insensitive to teens who suffer from this very complex condition.

The book itself doesn’t really dig into the real causes of depression, which is part of the point. The Program is a band-aid, if that. But the fact that the causes aren’t investigated in any other way, that people refer to the suicides as an epidemic and treat it as “catching,” still does give me pause.

I also think the book suffers a little from an identity crisis. It could have been a thoughtful examination of the causes of suicide in teens and legitimate treatment plans, but it’s more about what shouldn’t be done than what should. It could have been a thrilling dystopian romp, but it doesn’t quite get there either. It’s a bit of a strange book, but for many readers, that will be a positive.

I did really like Young’s writing. The book held my attention (though the last third is a bit tedious for spoilery reasons) and I felt deeply for Sloane and her friends. Young writes their depression and fear very realistically. I think it reads a lot like a dystopia with a contemporary/realistic feel, and Young succeeds in writing about a really hard, issue-laden topic without making this an “issue book.”

Kelly’s Thoughts


I like to peruse reviews after I’ve given a book a good deal of thought, and one of the most interesting things I saw a few times about Young’s book was that it made light of issues like depression and suicide. I wonder how many people read the book too fast to pick up the fact that it actually aims to do the precise opposite of this. Which is why I liked this book.

Sloane lives in a world where those who are at risk of suicide — those who are too “emotional” about anything — are sent to The Program. The Program wipes the memories and emotionally-traumatic aspects of a person’s mind in order for them to return to the world with a different perspective. It thereby removes the threat that they’ll choose to kill themselves. In a world where suicide is an epidemic, it seems like a workable solution.

But what Young gets at in the book through Sloane is that a person is a person because of those things that are part of their lives. The good stuff as much as the bad stuff. So Sloane’s brother had committed suicide and the fear was that she’d become too emotional about it and thereby become a threat to herself. It’s a valid fear in this world, but it reduces feelings to a thing to “deal with,” rather than experience and work with. In other words, depression, anger, frustration — what the message is is that these things are exceptionally tough and they are exceptionally personal and they are what shapes and guides a person through making decisions and through understanding the world around them. By removing them in order to “better” someone, they’re removing those aspects that make a persona an individual. There’s no belittling depression at all. Instead, I think this book does a pretty good job of making it clear that depression is something to listen to and take seriously. It’s individual. There’s no one-size-fits-all treatment.

The Program succeeds on a take away for readers, and it succeeds in leaving me wanting to know what happens next. I’m eager to know what happens after. But the book doesn’t just succeed on the story telling level. I felt like the dialog, the romance, and the pacing were strong, and they made the book readable and engaging. Sloane and James are close to one another, and they look out for one another. The romance is sweet without being cloying or over the top. It’s very teen.

What didn’t quite work for me was how Sloane was treated at The Program, and I felt it didn’t work because I wanted more. There is an older “worker” at The Program who attempts to take advantage of Sloane, and I felt he was a little bit too much of a sketch, rather than a truly sketchy character. There was a ripe opportunity to delve into the world of authority and the messages of power and control, but it didn’t quite come to fruition. I also found the end to be a bit of a let down. Leila talks about it a little bit more in her review at Kirkus — it definitely let me down, despite the fact I am eager for the sequel.

This isn’t my first book by Young but I think it is by far her strongest, and it makes me excited to see where she’s going to go next. She writes real teens as real teens. These kids aren’t superheroes. They don’t have all of the answers. They make dumb choices. But in the end, they come away knowing more about themselves and have a desire to make things better not only for their future, but for the future of other teens like them. That’s what makes The Program the kind of book that so many teens will relate to. It’s one, too, that I think tackles the issues of depression and suicide very well and in a way that makes these very serious issues easier to grasp for readers who may have never experienced them first-hand. Because what happens when you aren’t allowed to experience what it is you need to feel? Or worse, what happens when you’re not allowed to experience what it is you feel just because you feel it, without necessarily having a logical reason for your response?

Have you ever finished a book, set it down, and thought to yourself “I liked that way more than it deserved?” Neptune’s Tears by Susan Waggoner is one of those books for me. It’s thin in all ways – not just page count – but it doesn’t stop the concept from being cool, and sometimes that’s enough for an enjoyable read.

Seventeen-year-old Zee lives in London in 2218. She’s training at a hospital to be an empath, a career choice that is still relatively new for her time. She has to be careful not to form any close emotional relationships herself, as it would interfere with the work she does helping patients repair their own emotional well-being.

But then. (You knew this was coming, right?) She meets a boy.

He’s not just any boy. He’s an alien – a very human-looking alien, but an alien nonetheless, one of a race who landed several years before and have managed to assimilate rather well. Actually, the first encounter was a bit of a letdown for most people, as the aliens themselves didn’t seem to have much of a plan other than studying Earth. Zee’s father remains convinced that the aliens have other intentions, and it’s made him obsessive and distant.

While the aliens didn’t bring much strife, Zee’s future world is far from utopian (though this is emphatically not a dystopia). It’s plagued by anarchist terrorists who set off shock bombs without warning and kill swaths of people at a time – without even realizing they’ve been hit. And the world is divided on the aliens, of course. Zee herself is resentful of them due to the way her father reacted to them, so her attraction to handsome alien David is very unwelcome.

And yet, she can’t help but seek out his company, and the two fall in love. Then it becomes clear that David has a few secrets, and Zee’s empathic powers begin to grow stronger and morph into something newer and rarer. Everything culminates in a deadly anarchist attack, when Zee learns the secrets David has been hiding and her world is upended.

There’s a twist at the end, and it’s abrupt and unexpected, barely telegraphed at all. It also leaves the book on a bit of a cliffhanger, though many readers probably won’t care (that it’s unresolved or enough to read a sequel, to be honest). It also makes the book about something completely different than initially expected (in much the same way that the twist in R. J. Anderson’s Ultraviolet did. Readers may have the same feelings about it, too – either very excited or very betrayed).

This is a short book, and it suffers for it, I think. Characterization is pretty thin, and the plot doesn’t go much of anywhere (until the very end, of course). I wouldn’t call it a frothy, fun read either, though. It’s just a bit dull, despite the intriguing premise.

That said, I certainly enjoyed it. The short length helped, as I didn’t have much time to get bored before I had finished it. And I really dug Waggoner’s ideas, though they weren’t executed particularly well. I like the idea of empaths as healers in a science fiction rather than a fantasy setting. There are also a few intriguing details of this future world sprinkled throughout, including a lovely background story that explains the title. Even the anarchist terrorists seem a bit different from the usual fare with their choice of weapon. Little bits like this hint at real creativity and a story that never really comes into its own.

Review copy received from the publisher. Neptune’s Tears will be published June 25.