Is 'Define "Normal"' Appropriate For Middle School Readers?

I’ve recommended 'Define "Normal"' to so many parents and educators, and the feedback is always mixed—which honestly makes it perfect for middle school. This age group thrives on stories that don’t talk down to them. The book’s strength lies in its authenticity. Antonia’s pressure to be the ‘good kid’ while dealing with her mother’s depression mirrors real adolescent anxieties, and Jazz’s defiance masking her pain is relatable to anyone who’s felt like an outsider. The raw dialogue and lack of sugarcoating might unsettle some adults, but that’s precisely why kids connect with it.

Critics who say it’s too dark overlook how it balances heaviness with hope. The self-harm scene is brief and presented as a problem, not a spectacle, and the focus shifts to healing. Middle schoolers encounter these issues in real life—through peers or media—and the book gives them a framework to process them. The writing style is straightforward, avoiding dense metaphors that might lose younger readers. It’s also short enough to hold their attention spans. What clinches its appropriateness is the ending: no easy fixes, but progress. Antonia learns perfection isn’t required, and Jazz accepts help without losing her edge. That nuance teaches resilience better than any after-school special. Plus, the humor sprinkled in—like Jazz’s sarcastic quips—keeps it from feeling like a lecture. It’s a gateway to tougher YA lit, easing readers into complex themes without traumatizing them.

I remember picking up 'Define "Normal"' when I was younger, and it left a lasting impression. The book tackles heavy themes like mental health, family struggles, and societal expectations, but it does so in a way that’s accessible without being overwhelming. Middle school readers are at an age where they’re starting to question norms and form their own identities, and this novel’s exploration of friendship between two seemingly opposite girls—Antonia, the straight-A student, and Jazz, the punk outcast—resonates deeply. The way it challenges stereotypes is refreshing. It doesn’t preach but instead shows how empathy can bridge gaps. Some might argue the depictions of depression and self-harm are too mature, but the handling is tactful, focusing on recovery and understanding rather than glorification.

The pacing keeps younger readers engaged, and the alternating perspectives make it easy to connect with both protagonists. I’ve seen kids as young as twelve discuss it passionately in book clubs, dissecting how Antonia’s ‘perfect’ life isn’t what it seems or how Jazz’s rebellious exterior hides vulnerability. It’s a conversation starter about what ‘normal’ really means—something middle schoolers grapple with daily. The lack of graphic content makes it classroom-friendly, though teachers might want to provide context for sensitive topics. It’s not just appropriate; it’s necessary. Books like this validate kids’ feelings and remind them they’re not alone in their struggles. The emotional payoff—especially Jazz’s growth—is earned and uplifting, making the tougher moments worth it. If anything, I wish I’d read it sooner.