It might be dangerous to pick up a book by an author one has known since her girlhood, but in the case of Hazel Says No by my former student, Jessica Berger Gross, the only danger was that I didn’t want to do anything else until I’d finished this wonderful, fast-paced story! Published a year ago (the paperback debuts on June 2), the novel begins with Hazel declining a high school principal’s proposition. As an educator who has spent much of my life in girls’ schools, I applauded Hazel’s instant rejection of his inappropriate advances. I was proud of the character and also empathized with how she second-guessed herself as soon as she escaped from his office. Hazel–nobody’s fool–anticipates at least part of the ugliness that will ensue.
What happens after Hazel says no is the substance of the plot. The Blum family–whose Jewishness is significant because of the anti-semitism they encounter–has recently relocated from Brooklyn to a small liberal arts college in Maine, where Hazel’s father, Gus, has been appointed a full professor and department chair. Hazel will graduate from high school with hopes of attending Vassar; Hazel’s mother, Claire, will try to figure out what to do with her life; and Wolf, the younger brother, will finally have a backyard. Each chapter, written in third person, is told from the point of view of a family member.
Because I knew her as a “theatre kid,” it’s no surprise to me that Berger Gross’s dialogue is quick, believable, and often hilarious. She has a great ear for language, and her understanding of motive and conflict is sure and confident. Berger is economical and specific in evoking characters, offering details that allow us to recognize the people in the world she creates. Consider Wolf’s first day in the junior high cafeteria:
“Wolf stood frozen in the center of the lunchroom with his brownie bar and weather bottle, trying to figure out where to sit in this land of strangers and exile. This was the official worst moment of his life, more painful and terrifying than when he tripped on blocks and bit through his lip in first grade and had to get stitches…Again, tears clogged his eyeballs, threatening to make the journey down his cheeks. God, why did he have to be such a baby. Sometimes he really hated himself.”
The novel balances an ugly reality–a young woman preyed upon by an adult charged with keeping children safe–with a family’s deep love for and loyalty to one another as they navigate a new community–one that feels very foreign to them–and explores the anguished aftermath. We recognize the complexities of marriage and parenting; we feel the awkwardness of inhabiting an unfamiliar community full of unwritten rules. What should happen versus what does happen is a reminder that black and white situations are rarely that.
Hazel is a 21st-century adolescent, excruciatingly aware, even as the incident occurs, that it will divide her life into before and after. Early in the story, Hazel, furious that her father has sent an email to the college president about her experience with the principal, thinks,”Also, the idea that now there were sides to take. Which meant some people would be taking his side, the principal’s side.”
What is the cost of speaking up? Of staying silent? How do stressful circumstances affect different members of this family? What’s the fallout in terms of Hazel’s hopes for college and Gus’ career? What happens when people are canceled and social media spins stories? When ugliness in a community spills over in cruel ways? I will, of course, not answer any of these questions, but I will note that I often laughed aloud as I read because Berger Gross illuminates moments so believable that it felt as if the Blums were people I’d known all my life, and there’s an immediacy to the writing that is deeply satisfying. I wept a little, too, because, especially as we learn more about Jeffrey Epstein and his cronies and their sexual abuse of children, this novel feels relevant and resonant.
As I read, I glimpsed flashes of Berger Gross in Hazel, Wolf, and Claire. For two summers several decades ago when she was a teenager, Jessica studied theatre with me and my husband. In one play, she wore a turquoise poodle skirt in a Renaissance comedy the director had set in the 1950’s. She tossed her ponytail and twirled with confidence. She was ebullient and curious about all aspects of theatre, and we loved her.
I like to think that the Blums are Jessica’s fictional family–one that feels both real and flawed, certainly–but a family that loves one another with ferocity. Terrible things happen: men abuse girls; fathers abuse daughters. Sometimes, women and girls stay silent for fear of the very backlash, meanness, and prejudice the Blums experience. But in this satisfying novel, Hazel’s courage, her refusal to back down (supported by her family and, ultimately, by others), and her willingness to use her voice, help her to forge the happy ending she deserves.
