Our judges selected 56 finalists from a record 4,100-plus entries from teenagers around the world. Read the winning critical reviews here.
In December, we invited teenagers to play critic and submit an original review about any kind of creative expression covered in The New York Times for our Sixth Annual Student Review Contest. We received over 4,100 entries — nearly double the number from the previous year — and our judges selected 11 winners, 17 runners-up and 28 honorable mentions.
Our finalists critiqued everything from “Bridgerton” to “The Mandalorian”; Rachmaninoff to a new hyperpop album; “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” to a collection of Mary Oliver poems; a pho restaurant to a cooking class; an indispensable set of headphones to Zoom; and much more.
You can read the 11 winning submissions below. All of these reviews are a joy to read and they have a few other things in common: They express strong opinions and support them with interesting and relevant details; they provide readers with background on the work and put it into context; and they stand out for their creative use of language, style and tone.
Congratulations to all of our finalists and thank you to everyone who participated! If you liked this contest, don’t forget our editorial contest, going on now, as well as our upcoming podcast and summer reading contests.
Here’s what you'll find below:
The Winning Reviews
“‘Big Mouth’: A Well-Done Teen Romp with an Unexpected Side of Good Advice”
By Maya Mukherjee, age 15, United Nations International School, New York City
Puberty, a time marked, quite literally, by sweat stains and body hair, is a period most of us would not like to memorialize. Barring the creators of “Big Mouth,” that is. Netflix’s four-season animated sensation centers on adolescent boys Nick and Andrew and their pubescent escapades in an American suburb. It’s nothing short of a loud, colorful love letter to our most gangly, acne-ridden years.
The writers’ vivid recollection of puberty without rose-colored glasses hits home for many teens such as myself. When the show’s female lead, Jesse, uses a tampon for the first time, we are spared the trite blood drop on the spotless white underwear. Instead, the event is the main plotline in an episode whose title speaks for itself: “The Hugest Period Ever.” If these milestones of change aren’t clear enough, each character is given a “Hormone Monster” — the embodiment of many teens’ most murky, indecent and downright disgusting thoughts.
Don’t let the Adult Swim-esque facade fool you, though. While characters make raunchy jokes galore, “Big Mouth” writers don’t fall into the reductive “dark humor” pitfalls of “South Park” and “Family Guy” fame. Instead, the show uses its popularity with teens to tackle serious issues like depression, sexual identity and consent. It even sends positive messages that can’t be easily dismissed with a flick of the finger on the “barf” or “cringe” emojis.
The show’s ability to portray the ups and downs of puberty with admirable accuracy and minimal self-consciousness allows it to take on the role of the “cool counselor.” That is, an adult who understands the sometimes kaleidoscope-vibrant and sometimes silent-film-austere teen perspective. This authenticity doesn’t just make the show relatable, it gives it credibility. Whether it’s the portrayal of the benefits of therapy and meditation or suggestions on how to navigate childhood friendships and first romances, the teen viewer is actually willing to tune in and listen. And yes, it seems silly to pay more heed to Zen, all-knowing toads on an animated show than to education professionals. But teens are more ready to hear “Big Mouth’s” take because it’s like getting the lowdown from a slightly older friend, rather than a lecture from a tired teacher bound by state guidelines.
Though it may have been out-watched by “Bridgerton” and “The Queen’s Gambit,” “Big Mouth’s” mix of foul language, filthy humor and friendly counsel provides the ideal respite for any Zoom-beleaguered teen.
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“‘Mulan’ Remake Won’t Make a Fan Out of You”
By Samantha Liu, age 16, Ridge High School, Basking Ridge, N.J.
It’s about that time where Disney plunders a richer past for newly mediocre content, and, as of late, “Mulan” is the unlucky victim. To market Disney+ in mainland China, director Niki Caro struggled to bring maturity to a cheeky original. Gone are shirtless Li-Shang scenes, wisecracking Mushu, infectiously upbeat songs; in their place, wuxia themes and sweeping landscapes. But underneath the diversity points for the all-Asian cast and the grandeur of a $200 million budget lies an empty story: forgettable at best, problematic at worst, satisfying nobody.
Though the remake’s omissions from the original imply somberness, its jolts of absurdity found me balking. In the climactic battle scene, Mulan flings aside her protective armor — flamboyant, maybe, but a bit too ludicrous for an adult film. The juvenility doesn’t end there: There’s a witch who transforms into a million bats (and still manages to die from an arrow); the sets resemble dollhouses under oversaturated skies; and the gaudy costuming feels plucked from a princess movie counterpart.
Caro’s slapdash historical references fare no better. As an addition to the original, a fortuneteller describes chi, the Asian medicinal force, except it’s degraded into a super juice of which Mulan drinks too much. Now, already jedi-like and chi-supercharged, she is literally incapable of doubting herself. I found myself searching for the stumbling, determined teenager of “I’ll Make a Man Out of You” and received instead a Spiderman without Peter Parker. Without the 1998 protagonist’s endearing blunders, Mulan becomes as wooden as the staffs with which she trains.
But if the film seems childish for a heavy historical drama, it still fails to spark joy as a family movie. Thanks to “authentic cultural representation,” which is to say, a Google Translate take on Chinese, all of the characters are austere and distant, poor caricatures of Oriental values. The soldiers, devoid of camaraderie, crack two jokes before being abandoned by Mulan altogether (in the original version, she taught the hypermasculine bunch to cross-dress to save the emperor), while the repeated ad nauseam slogan “loyal, brave and true” casts doubt on Disney’s mastery of the show-not-tell principle. Most of all, it was cringe-inducing to watch Mulan’s parents parrot honor over happiness, so stiffly and stereotypically Asian that they cannot embrace their own daughter. In her attempt to create traditional legitimacy, Caro succumbs to the impersonal, Western notions about Asia. The result is a movie without heart, laughter or warmth — a movie without Disney’s trademark.
In 1998, the young Hua Mulan gazed introspectively into her mirror and sang, “Who is that girl I see / Staring straight back at me?” If she were glimpsing herself 22 years into the future, doomed by future Disney’s obsession with garbled live-actions, she would be asking the same question.
“Thomas Keller’s MasterClass: A Master Guide on Gourmet Cooking and Living”
By Siyang Lian, age 17, The Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, Conn.
Butter bubbles over medium-low heat, the flames gently kissing the bottom of the pan. “Add water to help with the emulsification.” Jewels of fat swirl around two Maine lobster tails. Just as they turn a delicate red, I plate them with orzo cooked with lobster sauce and a generous piece of Parmesan tuile. Bon appétit.
As someone who previously cooked only eggs and instant ramen, I never imagined that I’d be recreating Michelin-style dishes at home. But Thomas Keller’s comprehensive MasterClass course allowed me to go from kitchen Neanderthal to gourmet home chef in six weeks. His class not only taught me how to cook iconic dishes from his famed restaurant The French Laundry, but also changed the way I think about food, community and life.
The beauty of Thomas Keller’s teaching approach is that he breaks down complex recipes into manageable steps, making this a perfect course for beginners and experts alike. Beginners will appreciate his emphasis on kitchen setup, knife skills and cookware, and ingredient sourcing, while experts can skip ahead to more convoluted dishes like the Salt-Baked Branzino With Fennel and Red Pepper.
The course is broken down into three series, beginning with the fundamentals of vegetables, pasta and eggs; before moving on to meats, stocks and sauces; and ending with the more advanced seafood, sous vide and desserts. Each series builds upon skills learned in the previous one: to make the butter-poached lobster featured in series three, you need the pasta-cooking technique from series one, as well as the poaching technique and chicken stock preparation taught in series two. Keller may be a Michelin-level chef, but his meticulous and patient approach to teaching fundamentals, including both a video demonstration and written recipe, give beginners like me the confidence to try intimidating dishes.
Keller’s course goes beyond traditional cooking — it fundamentally changes how you approach food and community. As Keller explains, the things that make food taste good — freshness, sustainability, and organic and locally-grown ingredients — go hand in hand with caring for the environment. Keller teaches us that cooking isn’t just about following a recipe; it’s about paying attention to where ingredients come from and how to best combine and cook those ingredients in a way that can bring us and our loved ones joy and deliciousness.
This past year, I’ve cooked food more complex and delicious than I previously thought myself capable of. More important, though, I’ve learned to approach food — and life — in a more deliberate and conscientious way, making sure I build a solid foundation before moving on to tackle intricate, dazzling dishes. Thomas Keller’s MasterClass has something to teach each of us on how to cook, eat and live.
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“‘Devotions’: Poems From a ‘Wild and Precious Life’”
By Davin Faris, age 15, home-school, Frederick, Md.
The final book by the late Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Mary Oliver, “Devotions,” is nothing short of an abridged life’s work. Its contents span more than half a century, chosen by Oliver herself from 27 of her collections. Yet that scope is easy to forget; one poem follows the next with such completeness that they hardly feel separate at all, each one simply drawing focus to a different corner of the profound natural world that Oliver inhabits.
“Devotions” centers on the idea of finding answers in ordinary things, the everyday miracles that society has conditioned us to overlook. In truth, nothing Oliver writes about — from the sweetgrass to the wild geese to the dog in the snow — is insignificant. Rather, she renders it meaningful by finding such importance there. The greatest strength of Oliver’s poetry, though, is that she brings the reader into it as well. She doesn’t just recount experiences vividly; she beckons us to walk and wonder beside her. Then she asks of the reader in return, writing: “Did you feel it, in your heart, how it pertained to everything? And have you finally figured out what beauty is for? And have you changed your life?”
Oliver’s book is founded on such questions, almost accusations, that defy dismissal — after all, not answering is an answer in itself. Each pointed remark is a call for us to simply pay attention. God (or gods) may be invisible, Oliver contends, “but holiness is visible, entirely,” if only we seek it out. While the delicate imagery and starkly accurate metaphors of this collection make it a pleasure to read, it has far more substance to it. “Devotions” is a set of lessons on how to attend to the world, how to “keep some room in your heart for the unimaginable.” Its pages escort us through “the willows and the honey locust, […] the beech, the oaks and the pines,” past the thrush singing at twilight and to water that wakes our bones. It rejects all notions of separateness, superiority or rigidity. It encounters the divine in innumerable unlikely places, marked not by grandeur but by simplicity.
While her poems occasionally strain under their own whimsy and specificity, following the formula of her other works but lacking the same depth, “Devotions” remains, at its heart, a poignant meditation on experiencing “mysteries too marvelous to be understood.” By coupling the unanswerable with an astounding existential Gnosticism, Oliver reveals how the bare acts of living and noticing can embody prayers more powerfully than words. She urges us, with each verse, to mend the rift between ourselves and everything greater: “Love yourself,” she writes. “Then forget it. Then, love the world.”
“‘About Time’: The Fashion Emergency”
By Sophia Blythe, age 16, Wheeler School, Providence, R.I.
French philosopher Henri Bergson’s concept of la durée, that time is best understood through intuition and imagination, is the inspiration for the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s latest exhibition, “About Time: Fashion and Duration.”
In two adjacent galleries, a disruptive timeline is presented in the form of a giant clock face: 60 illuminated marks represent 60 minutes of fashion, each tick revealing paired ensembles, demonstrating how past and present coexist. One pairing that stood out was the iconic little black dress designed by Gabrielle Chanel in 1926, juxtaposed by Off-White’s 2018 riff on the original with the words “Little Black Dress” stamped on its front. Although these two dresses appear to be from different worlds — one belonging to the cobblestone streets of Paris, the other on today’s fashion week runway — they are forever united in time.
The longevity of the little black dress demonstrates how past and present seamlessly coexist, sewn together, in a timeless state of shape, motif, material and decoration, posing the questions: What is old? What is new? Organized to celebrate the 150th anniversary of the Met, the clothes in the show date from 1870, the year the museum was founded, to the present.
Virginia Woolf’s ghost narrates the exhibition, her written passages about clocks and time align with the pieces, generating additional meaning. The virtual experience of “About Time” during this topsy-turvy year of Covid, economic downturn, political turmoil and racial injustice makes the ideas of continuity and disjuncture contained in the show all the more relevant.
“About Time” concludes with Viktor & Rolf’s white dress from the 2020 spring/summer haute couture collection, made from upcycled swatches in a patchwork composition. This final piece serves as a symbol for the future of fashion with the significance of sustainability embedded in its design.
For far too long, fashion has censured discussions on the acceleration, consumption and production of clothing to meet the demands of the buyer. This constant demand for fast fashion has a negative impact on the environment. The fashion industry is responsible for 10 percent of annual global carbon emissions, more than international flights and maritime shipping combined. While a white dress made of upcycled materials might seem like a minor gesture, given the scope of this crisis, it made me reconsider how I consume fashion as well as its impact on the environment. Fashion, too, is a way of telling time; and without significant changes, what milestone will the Met be marking when it celebrates its 200th anniversary in 2070?
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“‘Liminal Space’: Refocusing Our Lens on Queer Americans”
By Chloe Chang, age 16, Herricks Senior High School, New Hyde Park, N.Y.
Garish, loud and radiantly bright are words one might expect to describe a photojournalistic chronicling of life in the L.G.B.T.Q. community, however, Mengwen Cao’s latest project, “Liminal Space,” eschews popular stereotypes, offering queer portraits that are unapologetically ordinary and painstakingly in-the-box — and that’s the point.
With blaring headlines and outrageous glamorized magazine covers of self-expression — the queer community has garnered increased visibility in today’s cultural scene. Unfortunately, this step forward has catalyzed a largely spectacularized and glitzy-glam view of what it really means to be queer. This media trend comes from an industry that has largely shunned diversity in gender and sexual identity in the past. The result: an apologetic and overproduced portrayal of queer identity that neglects to detail the authenticity and vulnerability of their lived humanity.
In contrast, Cao, an up-and-coming Chinese queer photographer, is exactly what the photography scene needs. Choosing to explore the communal space between race, gender and cultural identity, Cao’s newest photo series reveals the seemingly-mundane privacies of queer life and redefines the sensationalized modern media image of the L.G.B.T.Q. community. In a culture that frequently transfigures the image of queer individuals into grandiose visions of violence and glamour — to see young queer adults fixed into a casual and authentic frame is enlivening.
Vitalized by intrinsically subdued hues and dreamy textures, the photographs in this series illuminate the “liminal space” of queer life by capturing its models during the prosaic and diurnal junctures of everyday life that are often neglected by the camera. By snapping friends during intimate and fleeting instances of privacy, Cao — the artist-turned-social-activist — preserves the delicate essence of human vitality with a click of the shutter — capturing the silence that frames queer life behind the exterior noise.
Featuring photographs softened by natural golden rays, Cao captures the intricate streaks and shades that highlight the vivid landscapes of their portraits: In “Suzy & Cristine,” a sun-kissed Sapphic couple lovingly embracing atop ruffled bedsheets. In “Grace Preparing for Hot Pot,” soy sauce and fish balls scattered across a wooden table, with warm, cozy light and tantalizing smoke rising from the heated pot. Grace, clad in a casual muscle tee, focuses on the traditional Chinese dish in front of them with a candor that reveals a slice of daily life without any of the camera’s performative elements.
A stark contrast to the eye-catching ostentatious displays of queer models in modern photography, Cao designs these quotidian moments to the familiar and authentic backdrops of everyday life. Through capturing nondescript instances of queer beauty in bluntly vulnerable moments, Cao brings to life a candidly realistic image of queer individuals that broadens the span of society’s camera lens.
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“‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid’: A Perpetual Nightmare”
By Andrew Lin, age 13, Upper Canada College, Toronto
Greg Heffley, everyone’s favorite wimpy kid, has burned through years worth of diaries — sorry, journals — yet has never shown growth or change. His life, in the form of this series, is a perpetual nightmare, propelling itself forward with sequel after sequel, repeating itself over and over, but progressively getting less worth reading. When Greg complained about being “stuck in middle school,” maybe he was talking about “Diary of a Wimpy Kid.”
Since its 2007 release, the “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” series has churned out 15 books, four movies and several spinoff books, standing out for being written in the form of Greg’s journal and containing his (mostly negative) remarks on school, family, friends and everything else that Jeff Kinney, the author, throws at him. The books don’t follow clear-cut story lines — as expected from a middle schooler’s journal — but end with climactic scenes, be it confrontation with bullies or narrowly escaping an angry mob by drifting a camper an into a bridge, “Fast and Furious”-style. The latter, however, is an example of “Diary of a Wimpy Kid’s” problem.
The first few books were successes, spinning jokes, commentaries and illustrations together in a way that was relatable to their audience, leaving kids asking for more. Kinney tried to give them more, but he had lost his spark; to keep the series going, he resorted to ridiculous over-exaggerations, to absurd jokes, to repetition, repetition, repetition.
“Diary of a Wimpy Kid” relies on Greg being selfish and having a flawed view of his world; as he said in the first book, “I’ll be famous one day, but for now I’m stuck in middle school with a bunch of morons.” This started out humorous and sometimes even relatable — but, 14 sequels later, Greg is still the same cynical, socially clueless wimp. The other characters haven’t changed either — and neither have the ideas. The only difference is that the characters have now been simplified, losing their relatability, and that the jokes and stories have been inflated to ridiculous proportions. Even the youngest kids will notice this and grow tired of Greg’s suffering and complaints. Someone needs to confiscate Kinney’s air pump before another sequel arrives.
Yet “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” still sells. Every year, a new audience enters the target age group and discovers Greg’s journal for the first time, then begs their parents to buy them a copy. Unlike other series, which search for longtime fans, “Diary of a Wimpy Kid” is being kept alive by the very thing it discarded: growth.
Maybe I’m being too harsh; maybe the series just isn’t right for me. Or maybe I inevitably did what our wimpy kid doesn’t. Grow up.
“‘After Hours’ by The Weeknd: A Genre-Bending Reinvention”
By Aadit Manyem, age 16, West Windsor-Plainsboro High School South, West Windsor, N.J.
When the world reflects on the tumultuous year that was 2020, music will function as a light in the darkness. The bearer of this light revealed himself to be Abel Tesfaye, also known as The Weeknd, who released his glistening fourth studio album “After Hours.” Despite the Recording Academy’s failure to recognize the glory of “After Hours,” — apparent after it received zero Grammy nominations last November — The Weeknd’s latest project is a testament to his unparalleled artistry, brilliantly blurring the lines between pop, R&B and hip-hop.
The Weeknd’s genre-bending abilities are put into full force on “Blinding Lights,” a record-breaking retro sensation. Traces of ’80s influence are heard throughout the album, primarily due to producer Max Martin’s heavy use of synthesizer keyboards and kick drums. Despite these vintage elements, The Weeknd maintains a fresh, contemporary sound via hip-hop-influenced instrumentals in tracks such as “Heartless” and “Escape From LA,” courtesy of producer Metro Boomin.
Moreover, The Weeknd strays from industrywide crutches such as partying and sex, previously explored in his past albums “Beauty Behind the Madness” and “Starboy.” He instead reminisces on past relationships and heartbreak, crooning over an atmospheric instrumental: “Where are you now when I need you most? / I’d give it all just to hold you close,” on the album’s title track. The Weeknd delves deeper into heavier subject matter on “Faith,” a personal favorite, singing: “I’m losing my religion every day / Time hasn’t been kind to me I pray.”
The Weeknd has undoubtedly made stylistic and auditory changes from his previous albums. However, were all of these changes beneficial? “After Hours” is The Weeknd’s first full-length album without a single feature. Although the project is not particularly long, hearing one voice for nearly an hour could have created a tedious listening experience, leaving the listener longing for variety. Instead, I found intimacy in this simplicity, by the end feeling as if I knew The Weeknd on a first-name basis.
Since his 2011 debut, The Weeknd’s discography has had many ups and downs, but “After Hours” reaches an unprecedented high. The overlap of seemingly incompatible genres is a testament to The Weeknd’s versatility as a musician. Nevertheless, I cannot say I am surprised — what else do you expect from an artist who can bring Metro Boomin and Tame Impala to the same record?
This album is a cohesive blend of fragility, vanity and bravado all in one. Only The Weeknd can bring you to tears on one track and make you get up and dance on the next. “After Hours” is undoubtedly a blinding light in the pitch-black shadow cast by 2020.
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“‘Kimi Ni Todoke’: An Evocative Portrait of Teenage Emotion”
By Patricia Estrada, age 16, Charles Wright Academy, Tacoma, Wash.
Remember your first crush? Remember feeling the heat of the blush spreading across your cheeks, the exhilaration of the stolen glances, the butterflies flitting around your gut? In case you forgot, allow “Kimi Ni Todoke” to take you on a trip down memory lane.
With pastel-laden animation reminiscent of Studio Ghibli’s iconic artistry, “Kimi Ni Todoke” (“From Me to You” in English) dives into the world of unassuming social outcast Sawako Kuronuma, whose unfortunate resemblance to the Japanese horror icon Sadako foils her valiant attempts at friendship. However, upon arriving at high school, a series of fortunate events — beginning with a meet cute with golden boy Shota Kazehaya — brings new opportunities. It’s an unconventional take on unrequited love: As the two navigate the turmoil of teenage drama, their feelings for one another deepen, each mistakenly believing their feelings are unreciprocated. Sawako’s comical innocence and lack of social know-how, coupled with Kazehaya’s charisma and stubborn resolve, make for a captivating story of love, misunderstanding and growth. However, don’t expect to be bored by predictable schoolgirl romance clichés — “Kimi Ni Todoke” is deceptively complex, with an emotional intensity capable of reducing the most resolute cynic to tears.
Unlike its peers, “Kimi Ni Todoke” doesn’t cut corners. Discarding the standard “kiss first, talk later” principle that reduces shows like “My Love Story” and “Maid Sama” to absurd romantic fantasies, “Kimi Ni Todoke” hooks viewers with authenticity. The show delicately peels through layer after layer of intricate back stories, using this slow burn to develop an undeniable affinity between viewer and character. This careful pace gives the story a vivid quality, allowing viewers to savor the depth of each moment.
Watching this show takes patience, but patience will be rewarded: heart-beating confessions, tear-ridden reconciliations and heart-wrenching confrontations — all amplified by the intimate candor of Sawako’s internal dialogue — are the culmination of the gradual emotional crescendo. By illustrating each character — from the protagonist to (seemingly) trivial side-characters — in unparalleled depth, “Kimi Ni Todoke” makes emotions palpable, the atmosphere tangible. Yet the show doesn’t rely on ostentation for its emotional gravity. In this world, a mundane classroom harbors a breathless atmosphere when Kazehaya greets Sawako, the girls’ bathroom becomes a battleground between romantic rivals, the school lawn emanates dejection and despair.
With its intricacy and enduring emotional appeal, “Kimi Ni Todoke” leaves a lasting impression. The duality of its impact is a triumph: While its wholesome love story satisfies the inner teenage girl (assuredly within everyone), its profound exploration of individual growth, emotional maturity and the power of singular moments leaves one feeling enlightened, lingering long after the end of the last episode.
“No, Really … You Don’t Know ‘The Half of It’”
By Olivia Jonokuchi, age 18, Greenwich Academy, Greenwich, Conn.
I thought I’d seen the peak of Asian-American representation in cinema after watching “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before” (2018) and “Crazy Rich Asians” (2018) in the same year. Turns out, I was egregiously mistaken.
As an Asian-American with an inclination for art and philosophy, I’ve never felt a movie shake me to my core so much as Alice Wu’s stunning cinematic achievement “The Half of It” (2020). A romantic comedy drama starring any Asian character is rare, but one that’s also set in an insular, religious hometown starring a queer immigrant high school student? OK, now I’m definitely watching.
Interspersed with quotes from Plato, Camus, Sartre and Oscar Wilde, this deceptively weighty and clever movie will manage to make you laugh, cry and contemplate your identity all at once. Centered on the friendship between Ellie Chu (Leah Lewis), a Chinese-American, queer, essay-writing entrepreneur, and Paul Munsky (Daniel Diemer), a lovable buffoon of a football player who struggles to string his words into coherent sentences, “The Half of It” exudes an undeniably unique charm.
When Paul asks Ellie to ghostwrite a love letter for his crush Aster Flores (Alexxis Lemire), Ellie finds herself in a Cyrano-like situation, falling hard and fast for Aster herself.
Hopeless romantics be warned — this story is about friendship. As Ellie makes abundantly clear from the outset, “This is not a love story. Or not one where anyone gets what they want.” Yet each character ends the movie a better version of themselves — braver, bolder and more open-minded. Perhaps it’s not what they wanted, but rather, what they (and the viewer) actually needed.
Wu’s Asian-American perspective is evident in the carefully devised character of Ellie’s father (Collin Chou), who only wears his flannel pajamas for the majority of the movie and is clearly depressed. Unable to get a promotion in America, Mr. Chu seems to have resigned himself to a life of stagnation. When Paul asks Ellie why she and her father haven’t left their hometown, she notes how “speaking good English trumps having a Ph.D.” Through her depiction of Ellie’s father, Wu acknowledges the struggles of the immigrant whose economic situation mirrors that of many Asian-Americans; we may have job accessibility, but we still lack upward mobility.
With Asian-American, immigrant and L.G.B.T.Q. representation, and no generic happy ending, “The Half of It” stands alone in the teen romantic comedy genre. It’s a story about finding yourself, navigating the trials and tribulations of love in high school, and, above all, forging relationships with the most unlikely of friends. If you haven’t heard the name Alice Wu, you haven’t seen “The Half of It.”
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“‘Conversations with Friends’: On the Discursive Act of Loving and Being Loved”
By Raeanne Ong, age 17, Raffles Institution, Singapore
Startlingly illuminating, and unapologetically honest, Sally Rooney’s debut novel, “Conversations with Friends,” surfaces the nuanced complexities of human relationships, and the way in which they construct and define us. Set in Dublin, the novel follows 21-year-old college student and aspiring writer, Frances, and her beautiful, intelligent best friend and ex-girlfriend, Bobbi, with whom she performs spoken-word poetry. After a chance encounter at one of their performances, they become acquainted with Melissa, a journalist, and her husband, a handsome, semifamous actor named Nick. Suddenly, and inexplicably, the pair of friends find themselves indelibly drawn into the couple’s world as Bobbi befriends the ceaselessly fascinating Melissa, and Frances finds herself unwittingly enthralled by Nick. As the story progresses, so too does the complexity of Frances’s relationships, as they slowly begin to spiral out of her control.
Although arguably not as acclaimed as her 2018 breakout hit “Normal People,” Rooney’s debut novel is certainly not to be overlooked. “Conversations with Friends” combines Rooney’s deadly precision and clarity of prose with characters that are real, relatable and as charming as they are intellectual, creating a breathtaking story that is insightful, miserable and wonderful all at once. As its title might suggest, the novel certainly does revolve largely around conversations among friends, and Rooney skilfully makes use of a multitude of different mediums through which to convey these conversations. Through phone calls, emails, instant messenger and, of course, Rooney’s signature dialogue that is purposefully characterized by a lack of quotation marks, the novel never once fails to deliver on dialogue that is both astutely introspective and jarringly relatable. While Rooney’s particular writing style is admittedly fairly polarizing, on the contrary, I believe that it confers her works a distinctive and idiosyncratic kind of charm that is not only effortless and efficacious, but also very much stylized as uniquely Sally Rooney’s.
Most significantly, “Conversations with Friends” informs us that there are no perfect relationships to be found in life. That loving unconditionally implies not a blindness to the flaws of others, but an acceptance of them; that in order to truly love, one must be able to love in spite of them; and to be truly loved, one cannot be afraid of the vulnerability that accompanies intimacy. Only in submitting oneself to the mortifying ordeal of being known, can one truly experience the rewards of being loved. At the end of the day, what Rooney offers in “Conversations with Friends” is not so much a directive on how we should go about experiencing and conducting our relationships, but rather, an ode to the complexities and absurdities that characterize humans and their connections with one another.
All Finalists
In alphabetical order by the writer’s last name.
Winners
Sophia Blythe, age 16, Wheeler School, Providence, R.I.: “‘About Time’: The Fashion Emergency”
Chloe Chang, age 16, Herricks Senior High School, New Hyde Park, N.Y.: “‘Liminal Space’: Refocusing Our Lens on Queer Americans”
Patricia Estrada, age 16, Charles Wright Academy, Tacoma, Wash.: “‘Kimi Ni Todoke’: An Evocative Portrait of Teenage Emotion”
Davin Faris, age 15, home-school, Frederick, Md.: “‘Devotions’: Poems From a ‘Wild and Precious Life’”
Olivia Jonokuchi, age 18, Greenwich Academy, Greenwich, Conn.: “No, Really … You Don’t Know ‘The Half of It’”
Siyang Lian, age 17, The Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, Conn.: “Thomas Keller’s MasterClass: A Master Guide on Gourmet Cooking and Living”
Andrew Lin, age 13, Upper Canada College, Toronto: “‘Diary of a Wimpy Kid’: A Perpetual Nightmare”
Samantha Liu, age 16, Ridge High School, Basking Ridge, N.J.: “‘Mulan’ Remake Won’t Make a Fan Out of You”
Aadit Manyem, age 16, West Windsor-Plainsboro High School South, West Windsor, N.J.: “‘After Hours’ by The Weeknd: A Genre-Bending Reinvention”
Maya Mukherjee, age 15, United Nations International School, New York City: “‘Big Mouth’: A Well-Done Teen Romp with an Unexpected Side of Good Advice”
Raeanne Ong, age 17, Raffles Institution, Singapore: “‘Conversations with Friends’: On the Discursive Act of Loving and Being Loved”
_________
Runners-up
Brian Chen, age 15, The Harker School, San Jose, Calif.: “Pho Ha Noi: Beyond the Bowl”
Amanda Cheng, age 16, Castilleja School, Palo Alto, Calif.: “An Average Gen Zer’s Comprehensive Zoom Review”
Iris Cheng, age 15, Seven Lakes High School, Katy, Texas: “Let’s Play”
Ajel Cho, age 17, John Marshall High School, Los Angeles: “‘Lolita’: A Test of Control”
Kate Hawley, age 16, Corbett High School, Corbett, Ore.: “‘Hades’: You’re Going to Die”
Ashley Hoguet, age 17, Marblehead High School, Marblehead, Mass.: “‘The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes’: An Intriguing Return to Panem”
Erin Kim, age 16, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass.: “‘Wanderer’: The Ship Model Sailing to the Past, Present and Future”
Lyra Kois, age 15, Yorktown High School, Arlington, Va.: “‘Omori’: Up-and-Coming Indie Video Game Darling”
Abigail Lee, age 18, Hershey High School, Hershey, Penn.: “‘In the Mood for Love’: A Singular Romance”
Feier Ma, age 16, Shanghai World Foreign Language Academy, Shanghai: “An Old, Refreshing Taste”
Shreya Mehta, age 16, Hanford High School, Richland, Wash.: “Exoticism in Pointe Shoes: ‘La Bayadère’”
Andrew Shigetomi, age 17, Poolesville High School, Poolesville, Md.: “‘SAWAYAMA’: A Messy, Genre-Blending Masterpiece”
Kei Smith, age 19, James B. Conant High School, Schaumburg, Ill.: “‘Sky’: An Unexpected Allegory”
Tanisha Srivatsa, age 17, Mission San Jose High School, Fremont, Calif.: “‘Bridgerton’: A Lovable but Lacking Drama”
Amy Wang, age 15, Westview High School, San Diego, Calif.: “‘The Blue Castle’: A Picturesque Subversion of Societal Expectations”
Kaiden Yu, age 16, Georgetown Day School, Washington, D.C.: “An Immigrant’s Arrival in an Abstract Land”
Aaron Zhao, age 16, Archbishop Carney Regional Secondary School, Port Coquitlam, British Columbia: “‘1000 gecs’: The Most Unorthodox, Yet Representative Album of the 21st Century So Far”
_________
Honorable Mentions
Sumaya Abdel-Motagaly, age 16, Atholton High School, Columbia, Md.: “The Global Face of Muslim Women Falls Under One Fictitious Character: Hala”
Alexandra Agosta-Lyon, age 16, Crystal Springs Uplands School, Hillsborough, Calif.: “A Documentary Sounds the Alarm on Social Media”
Sophia Brandt, age 17, Poolesville High School, Poolesville, Md.: “The Daevabad Trilogy: When Fantasy Reflects Reality”
Claire Chen, age 14, The Peddie School, Hightstown, N.J.: “‘Soul’: A Simple Explanation of the Meaning of Life”
Dominique Dang, age 16, North Quincy High School, Quincy, Mass.: “The Year of ‘Lo-fi — beats to study/relax to’”
Nina L. Elvin, age 16, Camelot Academy, Durham, N.C.: “BFFs”
Mariana Garduno, age 15, International School of the Sacred Heart, Tokyo: “Japanese Craftsmanship Made Tempura”
Kendrick Groman, age 17, Poolesville High School, Poolesville, Md.: “‘Man on the Moon III’: An Intimate Journey of Growth and Amelioration”
Seh Yun (Shiny) Han, age 17, Shanghai American School Puxi, Shanghai: “‘You Are Not Dead’: A Manual for Survival”
David Holloway, age 18, Montgomery High School, Skillman, N.J.: “Kirill Petrenko Brings New Life to a Classic Work”
Corine Huang, age 17, Stevenson School, Pebble Beach, Calif.: “Coming of Age — IU and the Permeability of ‘Forever’”
Spencer Jung, age 17, Palisades Charter High School, Pacific Palisades, Calif.: “‘The Mandalorian’ Season 2: A Galactic Triumph”
Martin Kaloshi, age 12, Forest Hill Junior and Senior Public School, Toronto: “The Centre Pompidou: A Distinct Glory in the Midst of Uniformity”
Helen Katz, age 16, East Chapel Hill High School, Chapel Hill, N.C.: “‘Songs of Comfort and Hope’: A Journey to Tomorrow”
Sonia Kharbanda, age 13, St. Paul Academy and Summit School, St. Paul, Minn.: “‘Never Have I Ever’ … Watched a Show That Got Representation Right — and Is Funny, Too”
Josephine Lang, age 18, Glen Ridge High School, Glen Ridge, N.J.: “10 Things I Love About ‘10 Things I Hate About You’”
Kirsten Law, age 17, John L. Miller Great Neck North High School, Great Neck, N.Y.: “Off Broadway and Onto Disney: ‘Hamilton’ Is More Relevant Now Than Ever”
Angelina Lee, age 18, Cerritos High School, Cerritos, Calif.: “‘Animal Crossing: New Horizons’ Restores 2020’s Heartbeat”
Junsung Lee, age 18, Kent School, Kent, Conn.: “Is Language Being Grimed? Big Shaq’s Sociolinguistic Subversion”
Kathryn Lee, age 17, Great Neck South High School, Great Neck, N.Y.: “‘The Bluest Eye’: The Book We Need Right Now”
Seo Yoon Lee, age 15, Daegu International School, Daegu, South Korea: “Motomura Gyukatsu: Minka of Self-Sufficient Tonkatsu”
Manchang Luo, age 15, Georgetown Preparatory School, North Bethesda, Md.: “Boston Pianos: The Perfect Blend of Value, Quality and Performance”
Mingqian: “Sony WH-1000XM3: The Headphones That Get Me Through Life”
Ryan Park, age 13, La Cañada High School, La Cañada, Calif.: “Make Love Not War: ‘Crash Landing on You’ as Hope for an Allied Future”
Lizzie Robert, age 17, Isidore Newman School, New Orleans: “Taylor Swift’s ‘Folklore’ and ‘Evermore’: Two Gifts From 2020”
Arthi Venkatakrishnan, age 16, West Windsor-Plainsboro High School North, Plainsboro, N.J.: “Life Within Death: Adam Silvera’s ‘Dark Bright Side’ to Mortality”
Max Wang, age 16, West Windsor-Plainsboro High School South, West Windsor, N.J.: “Rachmaninoff’s Prelude Op. 23, No. 4: Realizing the Virtues Forgotten”
Ashley Wong, age 17, Ngee Ann Polytechnic — School of Film & Media Studies, Singapore: “What ‘The New Abnormal’ Means to an Aspirant New Yorker”
Thank you to our contest judges!
Erica Ayisi, Amanda Christy Brown, Julia Carmel, Nancy Coleman, Caroline Crosson Gilpin, Nicole Daniels, Shannon Doyne, Jeremy Engle, Vivian Giang, Michael Gonchar, Lovia Gyarkye, Annissa Hambouz, Kari Haskell, Callie Holtermann, Jeremy Hyler, Susan Josephs, Sophia June, Shira Katz, Megan Leder, Kathleen Massara, Keith Meatto, Sue Mermelstein, Amelia Nierenberg, John Otis, Ken Paul, Anna Pendleton, Natalie Proulx, Katherine Schulten, Ana Sosa, Lauryn Stallings, Matt Twomey, Tanya Wadhwani and Kim Wiedmeyer.
"Review" - Google News
March 25, 2021 at 04:35AM
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The Winners of Our Sixth Annual Review Contest - The New York Times
"Review" - Google News
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