** spoiler alert ** I hesitated over the first few pages of The DUFF, unsure as to whether what I was reading could conceivably live up to the hype. I found those opening chapters a little overwritten and maybe kind of . . . voicey? I realize that's not a word, but it's the first phrase that comes to mind for me when I read something that's sort of IN YOUR FACE. TEENAGED! Usually, this is only a problem with older writers who really don't know how to sound genuinely adolescent and so they throw in slang and get kind of sloppy with their diction. The problem is, I never spoke like that, even as a teen (as my husband will tell you, Phoebe is, and always has been, Serious Business), and so I often find that kind of voice sort of condescending.

But Kody Keplinger, author of The DUFF was seventeen when she wrote it--so I decided to keep reading and to overlook passages like this one, no matter how they rattled me: "Wesley Rush was the most disgusting womanizing playboy to ever darken the doorstep of Hamilton High . . . but he was kind of hot. Maybe if you could put him on mute . . . and cut off his hands . . . maybe--just maybe--he'd be tolerable then. Otherwise he was a real piece of shit. Horndog shit."

I mean, ugh. But I figured that Keplinger might be able to speak honestly about the emotional situation of high school, and so I gave The DUFF the benefit of the doubt, and kept reading.

I'm so glad I did.

I was surprised to find that The DUFF is actually a very, very dark story. Although it would seem, from the hype, to be purely a story about labels, self esteem and, ill-advised sex, it's actually about much more than that.

Bianca Piper, the eponymous DUFF, is that rare creature in YA fiction: a working class kid in a stunningly well-realized working class home. Her father works at an electronics big box store. Her mom's been gone for awhile. Her house is a mess, no matter how many times she refolds her laundry as a sort of calming ritual. Her relationship with her friends--a pair of gorgeous cheerleaders who have problems of their own--is sometimes strained, and she dreams about running away to New York and having the sort of privileged life that she hasn't experienced in her small suburban town.

So when her mom files for divorce, and her sleazy ex pops into town, Bianca hops into bed with the first guy who would have her (and, wonderfully, she's not a virgin! I mean, Holy Christ, how rare is that in YA?), we totally understand.

Luckily, sex with Wesley is not a panacea. Bianca spends most of the book avoiding conflict--the conflict of her home life, her father's mounting alcoholism, her friends' anger, her growing feelings toward Wesley. In less capable hands, this plot would have felt stretched-thin, but Keplinger's story remains incredibly true to life and, therefore, engaging.

There are a few hiccups here, though. Though the prose gets better and better as we get deeper into the novel, as Keplinger finds her rhythm, there were a few odd parentheticals (twice, she weirdly ruminates over whether or not different women are, or should be, wearing pantyhose) and bizarre instances of lapsed word choice (specifically, "wangled," twice in a dozen pages) that pulled me out of the action. And while the ending was satisfying, it was also saccharine and overly neat. Not only does Bianca get the guy despite other romantic entanglements, but alcohol issues, friend issues, and absent parent issues (in fact, two instances of absent parent issues!) all get tied up with a pretty little bow. For me, this was a shame--it was the first time in the story when I felt like it wasn't realistic, or honest. Now keep in mind that I'm not a fan of tragedy porn endings (see my review of >Mockingjay), but a little more thorniness here would have been nice.

I'm not worried, though. On Keplinger's blog, she discusses how Judy Blume is one of her literary heroes. I can see their similarities--they both deal with issues of suburban life that are often ignored by YA writers, and often fearlessly. If Keplinger can keep Blume's endings in mind as an appropriate model (the end of Forever . . . is, for me, much more emotionally accurate than the ending of The DUFF), she'll be doing her own stories a great favor. I'm glad that she's aware of the ways in which she has room to grow--because we, as her audience, can only benefit from that growth.

All in all, this is an incredible debut.