Hate List by Jennifer Brown

“As I rebuild the WLS archive with books I've read from 2011 through to 2025, I want to build a fully-fledged ecosystem of books I've read and recommend. I'd like to be able to reference and speak to any I've finished. For books I haven't reviewed (or can't entirely remember), please enjoy this brief questionnaire that can help you decide whether it's a read you'd like to pursue. Some of these are favorites I just haven't gotten around to fully reviewing yet—I'll explain in each description, but I hope this Q&A can be illuminating to you in the meantime.”

For readers of Marieke Nijkamp's This Is Where It Ends, a powerful and timely contemporary classic about the aftermath of a school shooting.

Five months ago, Valerie Leftman's boyfriend, Nick, opened fire on their school cafeteria. Shot trying to stop him, Valerie inadvertently saved the life of a classmate, but was implicated in the shootings because of the list she helped create. A list of people and things she and Nick hated. The list he used to pick his targets.

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Now, after a summer of seclusion, Val is forced to confront her guilt as she returns to school to complete her senior year. Haunted by the memory of the boyfriend she still loves and navigating rocky relationships with her family, former friends, and the girl whose life she saved, Val must come to grips with the tragedy that took place and her role in it, in order to make amends and move on with her life.

Jennifer Brown's critically acclaimed novel now includes the bonus novella Say Something, another arresting Hate List story.

Hate List is a hard book to read. It will most likely make you cry because of the subject matter, which is deeply sad and awful. It doesn't hesitate to prod the wounds and messiness of such an apocalyptic event within the community, and for that reason, feels like a very important read for many dealing with complicated grief, news fatigue, and just the general atmosphere of, "Oh God, is this still happening?"

The main character is so irrevocably wrecked by the events that occur before the beginning of the plot.

What It's About & What I Remember

Essentially, Valerie's boyfriend shot up the school. He even shot her—her one scrap of innocence—before turning the gun on himself.

Still, the ramifications are obviously staggering. The school's lost many, and it remembers. It turns out that he was working off a list the two of them created—a "hate list" of those who had wronged them. It was more of a mental structure (catharsis) but did solidify her perceived guilt among the community. (A reverse: I create happy lists frequently, and it's proven that operating in a framework of either optimism or pessimism changes the brain to seek out the bad / the good.) But her intention or relief didn't matter, because he ultimately used the list to pinpoint his targets.

The story begins with Valerie starting school again. You can viscerally feel the dread and grief coiling within her, the absolute impossibility of walking through those doors; Brown does an impressive job creating such a heavy, downtrodden atmosphere. She's in therapy, and has supportive figures doing their best to wrap their head around what's happened and where she fits into the broader picture, but overall: everyone is of course furious with her. They blame her. And they need a scapegoat.

The book speaks a lot to the buried rage of these kinds of events, and how easily it ignites. The disbelief of "How could you possibly not know? as well as the sheer force of language regardless of how you mean it. Enmeshed within Hate List is also the cruelty of high school bullies, the unyielding power of a mob mentality, etc,. All very real and complex. It's a book about those moments—or in this case, years—when all you can do is tell yourself that this isn't happening. Not like this.

Valerie, at this point, is absolutely just trying to survive each day, and that's such a tough mindset to enter for the duration of the book.

Brown does a phenomenal job capturing the realism of an awful event: in that sometimes, the people who need it most don't really change. Some people really are insulated from consequences, with others unfairly carrying their weight. Some of the characters affected do change, but others who tormented Nick and Valerie will carry on as usual: c'est la vie.

For that reason, the book sparks such intense emotion and empathy for so many of the people involved. It really just does provoke this wild rage and frustration that allows you a small peek into Nick's world, to illuminate why the Hate List was even created in the first place. Valerie's not blameless either, but I really do think intention is worth weighing even after evaluating the impact of various consequences. You can only punish a person—who meant well—so much. The book does a stunning job showing how cycles of violence perpetuate generationally or culturally among victims—helplessness and desperation and anger. Not everyone Nick shot is blameless, although they were all undeserving of their outcomes.

I cannot imagine the difficulty of being in Valerie's situation. It's heartbreaking how her parents look at her differently, how they don't even recognize their daughter. She is stained by someone else's crossed line, despite her terrible (mistaken) outlet was misconstrued so intensely. It goes a long way in showing the shock of Nick's actions; obviously, she had no idea, which is always so hard for some of us to wrap our heads around. How do you not see violence in the person you love?

Hate List has a very positive representation of therapy, and how Valerie is coached through the worst moments of crisis. There are hidden glimmers of beauty and kindness that add levity to the narrative at just the right times—although the overall feel is still somber and upsetting. Not every book exists to make you feel good or right or whatever, and Hate List is a tribute to the power of a story that can make you want to chuck your copy against the wall even while recognizing its significant value.

To make matters worse, Valerie is also mourning—in a forbidden way. On one hand, her devastation over an ex's passing would have been real no matter how it happened; on the other, she's now grappling with the confusion and betrayal of knowing she didn't fully see him, or vice versa. The person she loved is a stranger and gone forever, and she isn't even allowed to grieve. She sees others celebrating his demise, perpetuating the exact cycles that led them there, and she bears the burden of their scrutiny alone. The anger of this stage of grief is so real too. How could he do this to her? What a stunning, terrible, upsetting depiction.

The shooting has infinite rifts and ripple effects. Grief is made ever more complicated by the humans involved in it. How do you grieve people who were terrible to you? What about how we deify some people after their death—is that fair to put them on a pedestal? What about grieving the life you've lost when something significant happens, when you have a distinct before self and an after self?

Hate List gives you a lot to chew on, and doesn't apologize for it.

Overall, the book is weighty. It's dark. You'll get mad and you'll hate some people in it (probably) and you'll feel for Valerie while also blaming her for some things. Considering the subject matter's (unfortunate) relevance in contemporary America, I'm sure many would connect to Hate List and how off-balance it makes you feel. It would also be an excellent book club pick. Just be sure to schedule yourself a happy read, or some self-care after putting it down.

For fans of:

This Song Will Save Your Life by Leila Sales; This Is Where It Ends by Marieke Nijkamp; The Way I Used to Be by Amber Smith; Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly; Fault Lines by Christa Desir; Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson.