Death isn't much of a mystery for 17-year-old Dino DeLuca, whose family owns a funeral home. Although he's a dab hand at preparing bodies for burial, he'd rather be doing anything else, especially now that the newest body waiting for prep is his former best friend, July Cooper, who died of a brain aneurism. Dino regrets that their last words were harsh, but then July comes back to life, or unlife (she has no heartbeat and doesn't breathe). Together, the teens scramble to find the reason for July's return while keeping her under wraps, which isn't easy: she smells of decomposition. Additionally, people all over the world aren't dying after incidents that should be fatal. Dual narratives and a tight timeline, set over a few days, help to keep the pace brisk. Hutchinson (The Apocalypse of Elena Mendoza) has his trademark humor on display, but messages about the necessity of death and letting go feel overly emphasized, while Dino and July never completely emerge into fully rounded characters. Dino's tentative romance with kind-hearted trans teen Rafi is sweet, but caustic July's shabby treatment of Dino makes it hard to fathom why their friendship lasted so long. The conceit is arresting, but this mostly surface-level exploration of friendship and grief fails to emotionally connect. Ages 14–up. (Feb.)

Gr 8 Up—A brain aneurysm killed July Cooper, but it can't destroy her bond with Dino DeLuca. July rises from the dead at the funeral home owned by Dino's family, and though the two teens had been on the outs for the past year, they are drawn together as they attempt to conceal July's reanimation. What ensues is messy. July's body is slowly rotting, and the two trade barbed words while untangling why their friendship ended after Dino met his boyfriend, Rafi. Once again, Hutchinson defies genres. This isn't a ghost story, and July isn't a zombie, as she frequently points out. But she can't eat, she has no heartbeat, and until she's finally laid to rest, nobody else can die. This inventive take on the life-after-death narrative ponders profound truths. It's the ones who love us the most who can inflict the deepest wounds and hold us back, but even bitter fights can't extinguish some connections. Like typical adolescents, uncertain Dino and snarky July seem wise beyond their years one moment and maddeningly immature the next, and their journeys to self-discovery will resonate with readers. VERDICT A grotesque, mordantly funny, and tender look at friendship, for fans of Aaron Starmer's Spontaneous and Adam Silvera's They Both Die at the End.—Mahnaz Dar, School Library Journal