ISBN: 9781335090591
Publication Date: October 6, 2020
Publisher: Inkyard Press
In this contemporary romcom retelling of Jane Austen’s Emma by USA TODAY bestselling author Jillian Cantor, there’s nothing more complex—or unpredictable—than love.
When math genius Emma and her coding club co-president, George, are tasked with brainstorming a new project, The Code for Love is born.
George disapproves of Emma’s idea of creating a matchmaking app, accusing her of meddling in people’s lives. But all the happy new couples at school are proof that the app works. At least at first.
Emma’s code is flawless. So why is it that perfectly matched couples start breaking up, the wrong people keep falling for each other, and Emma’s own feelings defy any algorithm?
My thoughts:
This ended up being a just OK read for me. Emma is one of my favorite Jane Austen books, so I thought I would love this one. I think had I read this in high school, I probably would have liked it more. I couldn't connect with the main character much at all. I found it kind of predictable and a bit slow. I wasn't invested in the story for about half of it. The ending was cute though so that was a plus. This is probably a case of just not for me.
Here's a sneak peek:
PROLOGUE
I’ve always loved numbers a whole lot more than I love
people. For one thing, I can make numbers behave any way I want them to. No
arguments, no questions. I write a line of code, and my computer performs a
specific and very regulated task. Numbers don’t play games or hide behind some
nuance I’ve missed. I write an equation, then formulate a definitive and
absolutely correct answer.
And maybe most importantly, numbers never leave me. I tell
this to Izzy as she’s sitting on her suitcase, trying to force it closed,
having just packed the last of her closet before leaving for her freshman year
at UCLA, which is exactly 2,764 miles from our house in Highbury, New Jersey. A
number which seems insurmountable, and which makes me think that after this
day, Izzy’s last one at home until Christmas break, we’ll be more like two
strangers floating across a continent from one another than sisters.
“Numbers,” I say to Izzy now, “are much better than
people.”
“You’re such a nerd, Em,” Izzy says, but she stops
what she’s doing and squeezes my arm affectionately, before finally getting the
suitcase to zip. She’s a nerd, too, but not for numbers like me—for books. Izzy
is running 2,764 miles away from New Jersey to read, to major in
English at UCLA. Which is ridiculous, given she could’ve done the same at
Rutgers, or the College of New Jersey, or almost any one of the other sixty-two
colleges in our state, any of which would’ve been within driving distance so we
could’ve seen each other on weekends. Izzy says she’s going to California for
the sunshine, but Dad and I both know the real reason is that her boyfriend,
John, decided to go to UCLA to study film. Izzy chose John over me, and that
part stings the most.
“I can’t believe you’re actually going,” I say, and not for
the first time. I’ve been saying this to Izzy all summer, hoping she might
change her mind. But now that her suitcase is zipped, it feels like she’s
really leaving, and my eyes start to well up. I do love numbers more than
people. Most people.
Izzy and I are only seventeen months apart, and our
mom died when we were both toddlers. Dad works a lot, and Izzy and I have
barely been apart for more than a night in as long as I can remember, much less
months.
She stops messing with her suitcase now, walks over to
where I’m sitting on her bed and puts her arm around me. I lean my head on her
shoulder, and breathe in the comforting scent of her strawberry shampoo, one
last time. “I’m going to miss you, too, Em,” she says. “But you’re going to
have a great senior year.” She says it emphatically, her voice filled with
enthusiasm that I don’t believe or even understand.
“You really could stay,” I say. “You got into two colleges
in New Jersey.” This has been my argument to her all summer. I keep thinking if
I say it enough she really will change her mind. But even as I say it, I know
it’s probably too late for her to change anything for fall semester now, no
matter how much I might want her to. And she just looks back at me with worry
all over her face.
“Em, you know I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?” I wipe my nose with the back of my hand,
pulling away from her.
She leaves me on her bed, and goes back to her suitcase. She
shifts it around, props it upright and then looks back at me. “You know what
you need?” she says, breathing hard from managing the weight of her entire
life, crammed inside this giant suitcase. “To get out there this year. Be more
social. Get some friends. Maybe even a boyfriend.”
“A boyfriend?” I half laugh, half sniffle at the
ridiculousness of it.
“If you keep busy, you won’t even notice I’m gone.” She
speaks quickly, excitedly. There’s nothing Izzy likes more than a good plan,
but this sounds terrible to me. “Christmas will be here before you know it—”
she’s still talking “—then next year, you’ll be off to college, too.”
Maybe that would be true for her, if I were the one
leaving, and if she were staying here. If I were the older one, leaving for
California first, Izzy would stay here, spend the year with John and barely
even notice my absence. Which is what I guess she’s about to do at UCLA. But
I’ve always needed Izzy much more than she’s needed me.
“I hate being social. And I don’t want a boyfriend,” I say.
“And anyway, you know what the boys are like at our high school. No thanks.”
Mostly, they’re intimidated by me and my penchant for math, and I find their
intimidation so annoying that I can barely even stand to have a conversation
with them, much less a date. And the few that aren’t? Well, the one that
isn’t—George—is my equal and co-president of coding club. He also happens to be
John’s younger brother. We’re something like friends, George and I. Or maybe
not, because we don’t really hang out outside of family stuff, school or coding
club, and I guess in a way we’re supposed to be rivals. One of us will for
certain be valedictorian of our class this year. The other will be salutatorian.
And knowing George, he’s going to be more than a little bit annoyed when he’s
staring at my back during graduation.
“You love numbers so much and you’re so good at coding,”
Izzy says now with a flip of her blond curls over her shoulder. She wheels the
suitcase toward her bedroom door and stops and looks back at me. “You could
always code yourself a boyfriend.” She shrugs, then laughs a little, trying to
make this moment lighter.
I don’t even crack a smile. “That’s a really ridiculous
thing to say,” I tell her. “Thank God you’re going to be an English major.”
But later, after it all fell apart, I would blame her.
I’d say that it was all Izzy’s fault, that she started the unraveling of
everything with her one stupid offhand comment on the morning that she left me.
Excerpted from The Code For Love and Heartbreak by
Jillian Cantor Copyright © Jillian Cantor. Published by Inkyard Press.
About the author:
Jillian Cantor is the author of award-winning and
bestselling novels for adults and teens, including In Another Time, The
Hours Count, Margot, and The Lost Letter, which was
a USA Today bestseller. She has a BA in English from Penn
State University and an MFA from the University of Arizona. Cantor lives in
Arizona with her husband and two sons.
SOCIAL:
Author Website: https://www.jilliancantor.com/
TWITTER: @JillianCantor
Facebook: @AuthorJillianCantor
Insta: @JillianCantor
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1651861.Jillian_Cantor
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