Jes­si­ca Berg­er Gross’s fic­tion debut fol­lows her mem­oir Estranged, a per­son­al account of abuse and heal­ing. She brings that emo­tion­al lin­eage to Hazel Says No—a nov­el that begins as an ami­able fam­i­ly sto­ry before sharp­en­ing into some­thing more jagged and timely. 

The Blums — lit­er­ary teen Hazel, her quirky younger broth­er, Wolf, and their par­ents — have just moved from Brook­lyn to a small col­lege town in Maine, where the father has land­ed a cov­et­ed aca­d­e­m­ic post. The sto­ry moves flu­id­ly among the four fam­i­ly mem­bers’ per­spec­tives, offer­ing warmth, wit, and just enough friction.

When Hazel refus­es the brac­ing­ly unsub­tle sex­u­al advances of her high school prin­ci­pal (“every year I choose one stu­dent …”), the plot snaps into focus. Notably, Gross doesn’t depict an assault, but a denial. That choice shifts the story’s cen­ter to what comes after: the family’s response, the town’s pro­tec­tive­ness of a beloved fig­ure, and Hazel’s real­iza­tion that her right­ful ​“no” has trig­gered some­thing irre­versible — and cost­ly — for every­one involved.

In the novel’s sec­ond half, Hazel goes pub­lic. A viral arti­cle scores her a chance to achieve her biggest dreams, a lot soon­er than she imag­ined. Yet she remains uneasy about how her sto­ry is being pack­aged and sold. That moral ver­ti­go — the dis­com­fort of suc­cess built on per­son­al suf­fer­ing, and not just hers — is skill­ful­ly ren­dered. So is Gross’s por­tray­al of how mem­o­ry and clout oper­ate in a small town, where ​“can­cel­ing” some­one beloved car­ries a steep social cost. 

Yet the nov­el leans hard on top­i­cal, teach­able moments, crowd­ing out deep­er char­ac­ter work. Hazel and Wolf are love­ly — sharp, obser­vant, relat­able — but their par­ents can grate. Claire’s Brook­lyn nos­tal­gia veers toward self-pity, while Gus sim­mers with aca­d­e­m­ic inse­cu­ri­ty that com­pro­mis­es his par­ent­ing. In addi­tion, the mar­i­tal ten­sions between Claire and Gus are under­ex­am­ined, so when res­o­lu­tion arrives for the Blums at large, we’re left squinting.

Still, Hazel Says No has a strong con­science and a light enough touch. It’s the kind of book you’d be glad to see your teenag­er read­ing by the pool, poised to throw at any creep­er who wan­ders too close.