Publishers Weekly
★ 06/27/2022
Using insightful prose, Kuehn’s (When I Am Through with You) haunting novel follows two teens struggling to connect while recovering from individual mental health challenges. Mexican and Colombian Camila Ortiz and Black Danielle Washington are roommates at rural Georgia’s Peach Tree Hills, a mental health treatment facility for adolescent girls. After a recent suicide attempt left her hospitalized and subsequently admitted to PTH for treatment, withdrawn Cami, a dancer, is resigned. Dani, a frequent partier from Dallas political royalty who was admitted for drug dependency, doesn’t believe she belongs at the facility, and her festering resentment for her mother impacts her substance use rehabilitation. The girls feel as if they have nothing in common, but when they discover letters inside a music box from a former resident and decide to investigate the writer’s identity, their search prompts them to share personal stories from their pasts. And as they grow closer, the teens realize that the road to recovery doesn’t look the same for everyone. The girls’ sincere alternating perspectives, and the compassionate health professionals that facilitate their treatments, provide hope to Cami and Dani’s respective journeys. A beginning note contextualizes instances of suicide, substance dependency, and self-harm. Ages 14–up. Agent: Michael Bourret, Dystel, Goderich & Bourret. (June)
From the Publisher
"A compelling and thoughtful exploration of mental health by way of an unexpectedand beautifulfriendship forged during the darkest of times. Stephanie Kuehn writes fearlessly, honestly, and tenderly about the challenges of recovery and We Weren't Looking to Be Found is a hopeful, affecting, and important book."—Courtney Summers, New York Times best-selling author of Sadie and The Project
"We Weren't Looking to Be Found tells a story of mental health and girlhood with tenderness, nuance, and above all, raw honesty. Nobody hurts, heals, and surprises like Stephanie Kuehn."—Dahlia Adler, author of Cool for the Summer
An insightful, grounded, and compassionately messy meditation on adolescence, institutional support, and helping oneself.—Kirkus, starred review
Both teens narrate in the first person, giving an intimacy and immediacy to their struggles with depression and addiction that feel authentic. This may be triggering for some teens but a lifesaver for others, as the bittersweet ending is hopeful while acknowledging that recovery is rarely straightforward.—Booklist
Kirkus Reviews
★ 2022-04-13
Two teenage girls’ paths intersect at a low point in their lives, but where they go from there is anything but certain.
Danielle Washington and Camila Ortiz meet at Peach Tree Hills, a suburban residential treatment facility for adolescent girls outside Atlanta, where they’re roommates as well as the only brown-skinned girls. Originally from a well-off Black political family in Dallas, Dani’s relationship to addiction and dependency is the primary focus of her recovery, but her resentment toward her mother and how that impacts her sense of self is complicated even further by learning to be honest with herself. Similarly, Cams has self-harm tendencies that her Latin American parents—one a Colombian immigrant and one Mexican American—in small-town Georgia have struggled with for some time. Kuehn is careful not to offer easy answers for why both girls find themselves in overlapping and distinct moments of despair and desperation, self-harm and self-sabotage, but the connections among family, race, and the widespread societal harm inflicted upon young girls in particular are presented thoughtfully in the dueling narrations of these two deeply intelligent and expressive teens. Dani and Cams complement each other well as earnest storytellers and, eventually, reluctant friends, but their experiences are as raw as their struggles may feel futile. Still, the professionals in the novel provide a tremendous and optimistic amount of care.
An insightful, grounded, and compassionately messy meditation on adolescence, institutional support, and helping oneself. (content warning, resource list) (Fiction. 13-19)