CW: racism, homophobia

The first time I saw this cover, I fell in love. Then I read the blurb and knew I had to have it.

Check it out:

Liz Lighty has always believed she’s too black, too poor, too awkward to shine in her small, rich, prom-obsessed midwestern town. But it’s okay — Liz has a plan that will get her out of Campbell, Indiana, forever: attend the uber-elite Pennington College, play in their world-famous orchestra, and become a doctor.

But when the financial aid she was counting on unexpectedly falls through, Liz’s plans come crashing down… until she’s reminded of her school’s scholarship for prom king and queen. There’s nothing Liz wants to do less than endure a gauntlet of social media trolls, catty competitors, and humiliating public events, but despite her devastating fear of the spotlight she’s willing to do whatever it takes to get to Pennington.

The only thing that makes it halfway bearable is the new girl in school, Mack. She’s smart, funny, and just as much of an outsider as Liz. But Mack is also in the running for queen. Will falling for the competition keep Liz from her dreams . . . or make them come true?

Awkward, Black, queer girl finding love while trying to become prom queen? Oh yes, please. This book totally delivered because I adore Liz Lighty, her journey, and how everything turns out for her.

As the blurb says, You Should See Me in a Crown is about Liz going outside of her comfort zone to run for prom queen so she can win a scholarship. Liz and her brother live with their grandparents, and while they’re all getting by just fine, there’s no way her grandparents can cover the gap in funding for college without selling their house. Of course, if she tells them she didn’t get financial aid, they WILL sell the house, so the prom scholarship is the answer to her prayers.

Prom is a gigantic deal in their town. Liz compares the level of fanaticism to football in Texas. Some of the boys in her school make elaborate ceremonies of their promposals (my new favourite portmanteau, for prom + proposal), even going so far as to include a musical number. If Liz is going to make it from invisible to part of the prom court within three weeks, she’s going to need some major help. Luckily her friends are there for her, with style advice, parents that own a print shop, and an algorithm to stay on top of Liz’s standing in the race.

My heart often hurt for Liz, because she’s so good at expressing how she feels like an outsider. She’s not out to anyone but her friends and family, and she’s one of the few Black kids at school. In the first chapter, witnessing one of the promposals, she says:

When you already feel like everything about you makes you stand out, it just makes more sense to find as many ways to blend in as you can. But still, there’s something about the way Derek is looking at Rachel that makes my heart sink. People like Rachel and Derek get the perfect high school sweetheart love story to tell their kids about one day, but tall, black, broke Liz Lighty doesn’t stand a chance. Not in a place like this, anyway.

I don’t resent my classmates — I really don’t. But sometimes (okay, most of the time) it’s just that I don’t feel like one of them.

I especially love this passage because it:

1. Shows how isolated Liz feels, even though she has a solid group of friends and loving relationships with her brother and grandparents.
2. Lays out exactly what we’re going to get from this book, contrary to what Liz might think at this point.

Running for prom court means being thrust into high social visibility and into a group of people she typically avoids. One of these people is Rachel, the overprivileged frontrunner for prom Queen who’s also a racist, homophobic asshole. Rachel is a total jerk to Liz throughout the story and does something that’s on a whole other level when it looks like Liz’s campaign is gaining traction.

As much as I hate the way Rachel treats Liz, it feels very real, since they live in a small town. I almost dropped my Kindle at one point when someone refers to Rachel as “Racist Regina George,” because it was unexpectedly hilarious.

With all of the volunteering and other events related to running for prom court, Liz is also brought face to face with Jordan Jennings, one of the other Black students at school. Jordan was Liz’s best friend when they were growing up, and he’d dropped her right when they started high school. His rejection was also the catalyst for Liz trying to stay unnoticed at school, as he went a different way and became a popular football player. One of my favourite aspects of You Should See Me in a Crown is seeing Liz and Jordan work through their past and the problems they had. There’s something magical about their friendship even when it isn’t quite resolved, because they’re like two halves of the same whole. My heart is still happy just thinking about them.

Mack, Liz’s love interest, is also running for prom court. Mack is the new girl in school and she and Liz click right away. Early on, after Mack tells Liz something embarrassing about herself, Liz says, “This girl is weird. Like really weird. But I laugh anyway, because it’s a weird that I understand.” Mack is White, loves the same indie music as Liz, rides a skateboard, and is out and proud. They have an imperfect first kiss, which might be the cutest thing I’ve read all year.

Liz and Mack have to navigate their feelings in the context of a rigidly heteronormative prom. That means same sex couples aren’t allowed to attend as dates, only girls can run for Queen and only boys can run for King (it’s not outright stated that they have to show up matching the gender they were assigned at birth, but it’s implied). They’re not on the same page at first about being out, which presents challenges for Liz and Mack and ultimately drives the conflict between them.

Anxiety representation is another massive plus for me with this book. Liz lives with anxiety and it shows up through fidgeting and stomach problems, among others. As a person with anxiety who didn’t have the ability to even understand it until adulthood, I appreciated seeing a teenager who’s been given the help she needed. We see her using behavioural techniques to manage it in the moment, which will hopefully help some kids who read this book.

My absolute favourite element is Liz’s voice, because that drives my love for the overall writing style in You Should See Me in a Crown. She’s funny, tender, and smart, and I ended up highlighting more passages than I care to admit. Some of them were hilarious, like when Rachel and Derek are recreating the iconic overhead hold from Dirty Dancing, and Liz says “She looks less like Baby and more like Simba looking over the Pride Land if you ask me, but whatever.”

Other passages are adorable, like when Mack laughs and Liz says “it’s not what I expect. The rest of her is so bold, but her laugh is a small thing, a little twinkle of a sound she tries to contain behind her hand.” Other moments show that Liz is wise beyond her years, like when she says “Silence and shame aren’t the same thing — not by a long shot. But sometimes silence is simpler.”

My favourite passage comes almost three-quarters of the way through.

“Did you know you have the chance to be the first black queen in Campbell history?”

I swallow. I did know that. Of course I know that. But I don’t like it being held against me. I don’t like the implication in her tone.

You could make history if you just follow our rules.

You could be a real credit to your people if you just straighten up and fly right.

You could actually be worth something if you would shut up and take what we give you.

And I know then what I’ve always known: Campbell is never going to make a space for me to fit. I’m going to have to demand it.

I love this because it does a few things. The first is that it shows how much stronger and more confident Liz is than the girl we first met. The second is that it reminds us how much higher the standards are for Black girls. They have to work so much harder to get a fraction of what White girls get just for existing. And the third, tying the first two together, is that I love that Liz is saying fuck all of that noise.

For me, You Should See Me in a Crown is a perfect book, verging on a Squee. The people I wanted to thrive do so and the worst people have their comeuppances. It showcases how friendships and romantic relationships can be messy and exhilarating all at the same time. The writing is beautifully done and it made me teary not once, but twice, since it caught me again when the prom court is chosen (I need someone at Netflix to turn this into a movie, because that scene NEEDS to be made). Much like with The Mermaid, the Witch, and the Sea, I can’t wait for my daughters to be old enough to read it. If you have any kids in your lives who are the right age for a YA romance, please pick up this book. You Should See Me in a Crown is an incredible book and can all use some Liz Lighty energy in our lives.