Frankly in Love

By David Yoon

An Instant New York Times Bestseller • A William C. Morris YA Debut Award Finalist • An Asian Pacific American Librarians Association Honor Book

“Extraordinary . . . a beautifully layered novel about first love, tribalism and that brief, magical period when kids have one foot in high school, one foot out the door. . . Yoon explores themes of racism, forgiveness and acceptance without getting earnest or preachy or letting anyone off the hook.” —New York Times

Two friends. One fake dating scheme. What could possibly go wrong?

Frank Li has two names. There's Frank Li, his American name. Then there's Sung-Min Li, his Korean name. No one uses his Korean name, not even his parents. Frank barely speaks any Korean. He was born and raised in Southern California.

Even so, his parents still expect him to end up with a nice Korean girl--which is a problem, since Frank is finally dating the girl of his dreams: Brit Means. Brit, who is funny and nerdy just like him. Brit, who makes him laugh like no one else. Brit . . . who is white.

As Frank falls in love for the very first time, he's forced to confront the fact that while his parents sacrificed everything to raise him in the land of opportunity, their traditional expectations don't leave a lot of room for him to be a regular American teen. Desperate to be with Brit without his parents finding out, Frank turns to family friend Joy Song, who is in a similar bind. Together, they come up with a plan to help each other and keep their parents off their backs. Frank thinks he's found the solution to all his problems, but when life throws him a curveball, he's left wondering whether he ever really knew anything about love—or himself—at all.

In this moving debut novel David Yoon takes on the question of who am I? with a result that is humorous, heartfelt, and ultimately unforgettable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
• Release date: Sep 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781984812216

Book preview

Cover for Frankly in Love

Praise for

FRANKLY IN LOVE

An Instant New York Times Bestseller and #1 Indie Bestseller!

A William C. Morris YA Debut Award Finalist

An Asian/Pacific American Librarians Association Honor Book

An Amazon Best Book of the Year

★★★★★

Five Starred Reviews

A Junior Library Guild Selection

An Indies Introduce Title

An ILA-CBC YA Choices Pick

Extraordinary . . . a beautifully layered novel about first love, tribalism and that brief, magical period when kids have one foot in high school, one foot out the door . . . Yoon explores themes of racism, forgiveness and acceptance without getting earnest or preachy or letting anyone off the hook. And there’s a universality to the story that cuts across cultures.

—New York Times

"With echoes of John Green and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, it’s poised to be the biggest YA debut of the year."

—Entertainment Weekly

Yoon’s fresh and nuanced approach to Frank’s struggle to navigate cultural tensions amplifies both the vulnerabilities and the strengths that can come with being a child of immigrants . . . Yoon underscores the value of honoring both who you are and where you come from.

—Time

Yoon’s stellar debut expertly and authentically tackles racism, privilege, and characters who are trying to navigate their Korean-American identity.

—BuzzFeed

"David Yoon packs all manner of ethnic, class, and family dynamics into the funny, profane and poignant pages of Frankly in Love."

—Wall Street Journal

"Touching on issues of race, identity, and first love, Frankly in Love is the charming, funny, romantic young adult crossover novel that both adults and teens will enjoy in equal measure."

—PopSugar

Yoon examines love in the context of cultural identity, expertly tackling sensitive issues with nuance and a bit of humor.

—Shelf Awareness

A hard-hitting and intersectional look at all the joys and heartbreaks of coming of age.

—Character Media

Yoon makes insightful points in a frank and engaging way that will compel readers to at least think about the complicated issues surrounding race in America.

—International Examiner

★ Completely unique. Frank is a wonderfully self-aware protagonist with a compelling voice. . . . [A] beautifully written exploration of family, identity, and self-discovery.

—Booklist, starred review

★ With its smart, self-analyzing characters, sigh-inducing love story, and witty dialogue, this debut effort should happily occupy the shelf beside books by John Green, Rainbow Rowell, and Jenny Han . . . Readers will frankly fall in love with this hype-worthy, engaging addition to own-voices narratives that simultaneously stimulates both heart and head.

—The Bulletin of the Center for Children’s Books, starred review

★ [A] sparkling debut . . . This is an outstanding novel where the emotions are deeply felt but honestly earned. The characters are complex and nuanced, and all are on their own authentic journeys. The highlight of the book is Frank’s voice—he is a sharp observer who is funny, insecure, and deeply conflicted . . . Full of keen observations about love, family, and race with a winning narrator.

—School Library Journal, starred review

★ Yoon never settles for stereotypes, instead giving his well-defined characters a diversity of experience, identity, sexuality, and ambition. Told in youthful-sounding prose, Frank’s journey reaches beyond Korean-American identity and touches on the common experiences of many children of immigrants, including negotiating language barriers, tradition, and other aspects of what it means to be a ‘hyphenated’ American.

—Publishers Weekly, starred review

★ Spectacular debut . . . Yoon’s light hand with dialogue and deft use of illustrative anecdotes produce a story that illuminates weighty issues by putting a compassionate human face on struggles both universal and particular to certain identities . . . A deeply moving account of love in its many forms.

—Kirkus Reviews, starred review

An outstanding coming-of-age novel about identity, familial obligations, and the power of empathy.

—VOYA

Pure romantic comedy . . . Yoon writes in a lightly funny, self-deprecating, accessible voice; one that sounds like a contemporary teen and reveals a deep understanding of bicultural complexities. As the novel faces issues of race and racism, culture, friendship, relationships, and family, Yoon encourages readers to delve into issues of what it means to belong—and who in the end we would like to belong to, and with.

—The Horn Book Magazine

I loved, loved, LOVED this book, which miraculously manages to be a love story, a treatise on racism, a peek into adolescence, and a welcome to Korean-American culture, all at once. Frankly, Frank Li is a character you need to meet.

—Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Small Great Things and A Spark of Light

I fell fast for David Yoon’s masterful debut that’s big-hearted, honest, hilarious, and achingly romantic. I smiled, I laughed, I cried, and I closed this book wiser. Get ready to fall in love with Frank, world!

—Adam Silvera, New York Times bestselling author of They Both Die at the End

"Frankly in Love shines with an incredible voice and a searing, honest, and deeply human story about what it means to love someone. David Yoon isn’t afraid to confront every angle, both the beautiful and the ugly, but he tackles it all with great care. This is a classic in the making."

—Marie Lu, #1 New York Times bestselling author of Warcross

"In the tender and funny Frankly in Love, David Yoon gives us some of the truest and most lovable characters I’ve read in a long time. This book is pure joy."

—Deb Caletti, Printz Honor recipient for A Heart in a Body in the World and National Book Award finalist for Honey, Baby, Sweetheart

This #OwnVoices novel tackles familial issues, being the child of immigrant parents, and what it means to make a name for yourself despite having an ocean of expectations weighing down on your shoulders.

—BookRiot

ALSO BY DAVID YOON

Super Fake Love Song

Book title, Frankly in Love, author, David Yoon, imprint, G.P. Putnam's Sons Books for Young Readers

PENGUIN BOOKS

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

First published in the United States of America by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, 2019

Published by Penguin Books, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2020

Copyright © 2019 by Alloy Entertainment LLC and David Yoon

Excerpt from Super Fake Love Song copyright © 2020 by Alloy Entertainment LLC and David Yoon

Excerpt from Version Zero copyright © 2021 by David Yoon, published by G. P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House, LLC

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

Penguin Books & colophon is a registered trademark of Penguin Books Limited.

Visit us online at penguinrandomhouse.com

the library of congress has cataloged the g. p. putnam’s sons edition as follows:

Names: Yoon, David, author.

Title: Frankly in love / David Yoon.

Description: New York: G. P. Putnam’s Sons, [2019]

Summary: High school senior Frank Li takes a risk to go after a girl his parents would never approve of, but his plans will leave him wondering if he ever really understood love—or himself—at all—Provided by publisher.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018046718 | ISBN 9781984812209 (hardcover) |

ISBN 9781984812216 (ebook)

Subjects: | CYAC: Friendship—Fiction. | Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. | Korean Americans—Fiction. | Racism—Fiction. | High schools—Fiction. | Schools—Fiction. | Family life—California—Fiction. | California—Fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.Y637 Fr 2019 | DDC [Fic]—dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018046718

Penguin Books ISBN 9781984812223

Ebook ISBN 9781984812216

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

btb_ppg_c0_r1

For Nicki & Penny & Mom & Dad, all together

contents

before we begin

the fall season of the senior year of the high school period of early human life

chapter 1: lake girlfriend

chapter 2: metaphor incoming

chapter 3: more better

chapter 4: just bad enough

chapter 5: plane crash

chapter 6: dying

chapter 7: planet frank

chapter 8: i propose to joy

chapter 9: total perfect mind control

frank li in love

chapter 10: old new loves

chapter 11: gem swapping

chapter 12: illuminating

chapter 13: thank you booleet

chapter 14: more true

chapter 15: alone together

shake the world upside down and see what sticks

chapter 16: wait-and-see mode

chapter 17: maybe it’s different

chapter 18: black black sheep

chapter 19: hey internet what are

chapter 20: born stuck

chapter 21: lime-green nebula

chapter 22: fire day

chapter 23: you eating melon

chapter 24: the same school

chapter 25: the best fart

chapter 26: the bad joke

chapter 27: we are okay

you own-your-way you must be going

chapter 28: hi irony

chapter 29: thins & fats

chapter 30: a land called hanna li

chapter 31: oobleck

chapter 32: alpha & omega

chapter 33: asshole light

chapter 34: if you say so

chapter 35: champagne from champagne

chapter 36: life is but a dream

chapter 37: fire hazard low

thanksgiving

after we end

before we begin

Well, I have two names.

That’s what I say when people ask me what my middle name is. I say:

Well, I have two names.

My first name is Frank Li. Mom-n-Dad gave me that name mostly with the character count in mind.

No, really: F+R+A+N+K+L+I contains seven characters, and seven is a lucky number in America.

Frank is my American name, meaning it’s my name-name.

My second name is Sung-Min Li, and it’s my Korean name, and it follows similar numerological cosmology:

S+U+N+G+M+I+N+L+I contains nine characters, and nine is a lucky number in Korea. Nobody calls me Sung-Min, not even Mom-n-Dad. They just call me Frank.

So I don’t have a middle name. Instead, I have two names.

Anyway: I guess having both lucky numbers seven and nine is supposed to make me some kind of bridge between cultures or some shit.

America, this is Korea, Korea, this is America.

Everyone good? Can I go do my thing now?

Good.

the fall season

of the senior year

of the high school period

of early human life

chapter 1

lake girlfriend

Senior year is begun.

Is begun sounds cooler than the more normal has begun, because if you say it right, you sound like a lone surviving knight delivering dire news to a weary king on the brink of defeat, his limp hand raking his face with dread. The final breach is begun, your grace. The downfall of House Li is begun.

I’m the king in that scenario, by the way, raking my face with dread.

For senior year is begun.

Sometimes I look way back to six months ago, during the halcyon days of junior year. How we pranced in the meadows after taking the PSAT: a practice run of the SAT, which in Playa Mesa, in California, in the United States of America, is widely used to gauge whether an early human is fit for entrance into an institution of higher learning.

But the PSAT?

A mere trial, we juniors sang. What counts not for shit, your grace!

How we lazed in the sunlight, sharing jokes about that one reading comprehension passage about the experiment testing whether dogs found it easier to tip a bin (easier) for food or pull a rope (trickier). Based on the passage and results in Figure 4, were the dogs

A) more likely to solve the rope task than the bin task?

B) more frustrated by the rope task than the bin task?

C) more likely to resent their human caregivers for being presented with such absurd tasks to begin with, I mean, just give us the food in a damn dog bowl like normal people?

Or

D) more likely to rake a paw over their face with dread?

The answer was D.

For come Score Day, I discovered I got a total of 1400 points out of a possible 1520, the 96th percentile. This earned me plenty of robust, spontaneous high fives from my friends, but to me they sounded like palms—ptt ptt ptt—slapping the sealed door of a crypt.

The target was 1500.

When I told Mom-n-Dad, they stared at me with pity and disbelief, like I was a little dead sparrow in the park. And Mom actually said this, for real:

Don’t worry, we still love you.

Mom has said the words I love you exactly two times in my life. Once for the 1400, and another time when she called after her mother’s funeral in Korea when I was ten. Hanna and I didn’t go. Dad was at The Store; he didn’t go either.

In retrospect, it’s weird we didn’t all go.

Secretly, in retrospect: I’m glad I didn’t go. I met my grandma only once, when I was six. She spoke no English, me no Korean.

So in retro-retrospect, maybe it’s not so weird that we didn’t all go.

Dad has said the words I love you exactly zero times in my life.

Let’s go back to that PSAT score.

As a leading indicator, a bellwether, augury, harbinger, and many other words from the now-useless PSAT vocabulary study guide, a score of 1500 would mean I would probably kick the real SAT’s ass high enough to gain the attention of The Harvard, which is the Number One Top School in Whole of United States, according to Mom-n-Dad.

A 1400 means I’ll probably only ess-ay-tee just high enough to get into the University of California at Berkeley, which in Mom-n-Dad’s mind is a sad consolation prize compared with The Harvard. And sometimes, just for a nanosecond, their brainlock actually has me thinking:

Berkeley sucks.

My big sister, Hanna, coined the term brainlock, which is like a headlock but for your mind. Hanna lives in Boston near the other Berkeley, the Berklee College of Music.

Berklee is my real dream school. But Mom-n-Dad have already nixed that notion. Music? How you making money? How you eating?

Hanna’s two names are Hanna Li (character count: seven) and Ji-Young Li (nine). Dad named Hanna Li after Honali, from a popular 1960s marijuana anthem disguised as a children’s song, Puff (The Magic Dragon). The song had found its way into high-school English classes in Seoul in the 1970s. Dad has never smoked pot in his life. He had no idea what he was singing.

Hanna is the oldest; Hanna did everything right. Mom-n-Dad told her to study hard, so she got straight As. They told her to go to The Harvard, so she did, and graduated with honors. She moved on to Harvard Law School, and graduated with a leap big enough to catapult her above assistants her same age at Eastern Edge Consulting downtown, which specializes in negotiating ridiculous patents for billion-dollar tech companies. She’s even dabbling in venture capital now from her home office high atop Beacon Hill. Weekdays, she wears very expensive pantsuits; weekends, sensible (but still very expensive) dresses. Someone should put her on the cover of a business travel magazine or something.

But then Hanna did the one wrong thing. She fell in love.

Falling in love isn’t bad by itself. But when it’s with a black boy, it’s big enough to cancel out everything she did right her whole life. This boy gave Hanna a ring, which Mom-n-Dad have not seen and might never.

In another family perhaps on another planet, this brown boy would be brought home for summer vacation to meet the family, and we would all try out his name in the open air: Miles Lane.

But we’re on this planet, and Mom-n-Dad are Mom-n-Dad, so there will be no Hanna this summer. I miss her. But I understand why she won’t come home. Even though it does mean I’ll be left high and dry without someone to make fun of the world with.

The last time she came home was a Thanksgiving holiday two years ago. She was at a Gathering. It was the Changs’ turn to host. I’m not sure why she did what she did that night. So I have this boy now, she said. And he is The One.

And she held out her phone with a photo of Miles to Mom-n-Dad and everyone. It was like she cast a Silence spell on the room. No one said shit.

After a long minute, the phone turned itself off.

Mom-n-Dad went to the front door, put on their shoes, and waited with eyes averted for us to join them. We left without a word of explanation—none was needed—and the next morning Hanna vanished onto a flight back to Boston, four days early. A year later, after six or seven Hanna-free Gatherings, Ella Chang dared utter the word disowned.

And life went on. Mom-n-Dad no longer talked about Hanna. They acted like she moved to a foreign country with no modern forms of communication. Whenever I brought her up, they would literally—literally—avert their eyes and fall silent until I gave up. After a while, I did.

So did Hanna. Her text message responses fell from every day to every other day, then every week, and so on. This is how disownment happens. It’s not like some final sentence declared during some family tribunal. Disownment is a gradual kind of neglect. Since Mom-n-Dad gave up on Hanna, Hanna decided to give up as well. I get that.

But I never gave up on her. I still haven’t.

It’s a scary thing to watch someone you love vanish from sight.

I talk a lot about Hanna with Q. Q is what I call my top chap, and I am his.

I’m forever grateful for Q’s patience with me, because I can’t imagine it makes Q feel all that good to hear how Mom-n-Dad rejected a boy with the same skin color as his.

Q’s full name is Q Lee. He Lee and me Li. Like two brothers from Korean and African-American mothers. His parents, Mr. and Ms. Lee, are normal people who seem forever astonished that they gave birth to such a meganerd of a son. Q has a twin sister named Evon who is so smoking hot I can barely look at her. You say Evon Lee like heavenly.

Q’s Q doesn’t stand for anything; it’s just Q. Q decided to rename himself a couple months ago on his eighteenth birthday. He was originally born as Will. Will Lee.

Show us your willy, Will Lee, they would say.

Good choice on the name change, Q.

Like most nerds, Q and I spend our time watching obscure movies, playing video games, deconstructing the various absurdities of reality, and so on. We hardly ever talk about girls, for lack of material. Neither of us has dated anyone. The farthest I have ventured out into girl waters is when I accidentally kissed Gina Iforget during a game of spin-the-ballpoint-pen in junior high. It was supposed to be on the cheek, and both Gina and I missed and touched each other’s lips instead. Ooo-ooo-ooo.

The only time and place we even obliquely approach the subject of girl is when we happen to find ourselves sitting on the shore of Lake Girlfriend.

Lake Girlfriend is at Westchester Mall. Westchester Mall is the biggest mall in Orange County. For some reason, they leave all their doors open well past midnight, long after the stores have all shut. The mall becomes a beautifully empty, serenely apocalyptic space that no one in all of Southern California seems to know about.

Only two security guards patrol all seventy gleaming acres of the deserted mall. Their names are Camille and Oscar. They know me and Q and understand that no, we are not dating; we are just two guys with strange ideas of how to pass the time.

Lake Girlfriend is a fountain in Westchester Mall’s Crystal Atrium by the Nordstrom anchor store. It is a low polished structure formed from simple modernist angles. It bears a fancy brass plaque that says DO NOT DRINK—RECLAIMED WATER. Above, nameless jazz infuses the cavernous faceted space with echoey arpeggios.

I call it Lake Girlfriend because maybe if I give it enough confessions and offerings, a girl will rise from its shimmering surface and offer me her hand.

Q and I sit tailor-style on a stone ledge the color of chocolate by this fountain. We watch the water bubble up from an octagonal top pool, push through a stone comb, and descend staggered steps to a pool floor sequined throughout with glimmering coins.

I reach into my army-surplus rucksack and take out my Tascam, a sweet little device no bigger than a TV remote, and record the sound: low, rich syrup layered with pink noise and the occasional pwip of large bubbles. Practically a complete riff unto itself. I click the recorder off and stash it away so that Q and I can begin.

Ideal traits in a woman, I say. You go first.

Q rests his chin atop his fists. Speaks at least two other languages.

And? I say.

Can play the oboe at a professional level, says Q.

Q, I say.

Ivy League professor by day, ballet renegade by night.

I’m assuming this list isn’t based in reality, I say.

A guy can dream, right? says Q.

It’s a little hard to hear him over the white noise of Lake Girlfriend, and I think that’s the thing about this place that makes it easy to talk about things like ideal girls. It’s like talking out loud to ourselves, but in front of each other.

Your turn, says Q.

I think. A hundred faces scroll through my mind, all pretty in their own way. A thousand combinations of possibilities. Everyone has loveliness inside if you look carefully. Lots of the world is like this. One time I halved an onion and discovered its rings had squashed one by one to form a perfect heart shape at the core. One time—

Frank? says Q. You gotta move your mouth to speak.

Wull, I say. I mean.

Q looks at me, waiting.

Basically I guess she has to be kind, is most important.

Q raises his eyebrows. So no meanies. Got it.

And she should make me laugh, I say.

Any other vital criteria? says Q.

I think. Anything else—hobbies, musical tastes, fashion sense—doesn’t seem to matter that much. So I just shake my head no.

Q gives the fountain a shrug. That’s super romantic, like in the most basic sense.

Basically, I say.

We both stare at the fountain for a moment. Then I mark the end of our visit to Lake Girlfriend with the ritual digging into my front jeans pocket for sacred coins, one for me, one for Q. Q tosses his in with a fart sound. I give mine a squeeze and flip it into the water, ploop. The coins are added to the submerged pile of random wishes: good grades, job promotions, lottery dreams, and, above all, love.

No one comes rising out of the shimmering water.

Q doesn’t know it, but I’ve secretly left out one criterion for my ideal woman. It’s one I’d rather not say aloud, even though it’s the one I worry about the most.

My ideal woman should probably be Korean-American.

It’s not strictly necessary. I could care less. But it would make things easier.

I’ve toed the dating waters only twice before, and each time something has held me back from diving in. A paralysis. I think it comes from not knowing which would be worse: dating a girl my parents hated or dating a girl my parents loved. Being ostracized or being micromanaged.

Then I consider how Korean-Americans make up only 1 percent of everyone in the Republic of California, out of which 12 percent are girls my age, which would result in a dating pool with only one girl every three square miles. Filter out the ones who are taken, the ones I wouldn’t get along with, and—worse—add in the Ideal Woman criteria, and the pool gets even smaller. Lake Girlfriend shrinks down to a thimble.

So I shelve the notion of an ideal girl for now. I realize I’ve been shelving the idea for years.

A guy can dream, says Q.

A guy can dream, I say.

chapter 2

metaphor incoming

Mom-n-Dad’s store also has two names, like me and Hanna.

Its official name is Fiesta Hoy Market, which I won’t even bother to translate because goddamn, what a stupid name. Its second name is simply The Store. The Store is its name-name.

Mom-n-Dad work at The Store every day, from morning to evening, on weekends, holidays, New Year’s Day, 365 days out of every year without a single vacation for as long as me and Hanna have been alive.

Mom-n-Dad inherited The Store from an older Korean couple of that first wave who came over in the sixties. No written contracts or anything. Just an introduction from a good friend, then tea, then dinners, and finally many deep bows, culminating in warm, two-handed handshakes. They wanted to make sure The Store was kept in good hands. Good, Korean hands.

The Store is an hour-long drive from the dystopian perfection of my suburban home of Playa Mesa. It’s in a poor, sun-crumbled part of Southern California largely populated by Mexican- and African-Americans. A world away.

The poor customers give Mom-n-Dad food stamps, which become money, which becomes college tuition for me.

It’s the latest version of the American dream.

I hope the next version of the American dream doesn’t involve gouging people for food stamps.

I’m at The Store now. I’m leaning against the counter. Its varnish is worn in the middle like a tree ring, showing the history of every transaction that’s ever been slid across its surface: candy and beer and diapers and milk and beer and ice cream and beer and beer.

At the airport, I once explained to Q, they hand out title deeds by ethnicity. So the Greeks get diners, the Chinese get laundromats, and the Koreans get liquor stores.

"So that’s how America works," said Q, taking a deeply ironic bite of his burrito.

It’s hot in The Store. I’m wearing a Hardfloor tee shirt perforated with moth holes in cool black, to match my cool-black utility shorts. Not all blacks are the same. There is warm black and brown black and purple black. My wristbands are a rainbow of blacks. All garments above the ankles must be black. Shoes can be anything, however. Like my caution-yellow sneakers.

Dad refuses to turn on the air-conditioning, because the only things affected by the heat are the chocolate-based candies, and he’s already stashed those in the walk-in cooler.

Meanwhile, I’m sweating. I watch a trio of flies trace an endless series of right angles in midair with a nonstop zimzim sound. I snap a photo and post it with the caption: Flies are the only creature named after their main mode of mobility.

It makes no sense that I’m helping Mom-n-Dad at The Store. My whole life they’ve never let me have a job.

Study hard, become doctor maybe, Dad would say.

Or a famous newscaster, Mom would say.

I still don’t get that last one.

Anyway: I’m at The Store only one day a week, on Sundays, and only to work the register—no lifting, sorting, cleaning, tagging, or dealing with vendors. Mom’s home resting from her morning shift, leaving me and Dad alone for his turn. I suspect all this is Mom’s ploy to get me to bond with Dad in my last year before I head off to college. Spend father-n-son time. Engage in deep conversation.

Dad straps on a weight belt and muscles a hand truck loaded with boxes of malt liquor. He looks a bit like a Hobbit, stocky and strong and thick legged, with a box cutter on his belt instead of a velvet sachet of precious coins. He has all his hair still, even in his late forties. To think, he earned a bachelor’s degree in Seoul and wound up here. I wonder how many immigrants there are like him, working a blue-collar job while secretly owning a white-collar degree.

He slams his way out of the dark howling maw of the walk-in cooler.

You eat, he says.

Okay, Dad, I say.

You go taco. Next door. Money, here.

He hands me a twenty.

Okay, Dad.

I say Okay, Dad a

Reviews for Frankly in Love

[daumari · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I feel like I say this about every other YA romance, but this was really cute! The entire thing being in present tense felt a little odd at first, but it really sets the reader right in Frank's head. There's a ton of specific cultural notes for second generation Korean-Americans (am reminded of the Viet Thanh Nguyen quote about writing as if you're the majority, do not pause to explain, etc. The romance also has a bit of that universal teen feeling of wondering whether this is a for now romance, with college looming at some point but "then what?" after that ends.

There's what I felt was a clever use of language about ~290 pages in, when two adults have an argument. As a second generation kid, Frank isn't necessarily fluent in Korean, so the text actually changes to Hangul and most readers will be right there with Frank, not comprehending why two friends are suddenly mad at each other. I used a phone translation app and while I know that wasn't perfect, it got across the point (and another adult later gives their version of what happened in the next chapter). That REALLY felt like an unapologetic existence, and I thought it was neat.

Also oh man I did not need to remember the stress around college admissions and then knowing that your friends will be farflung after graduation. :(

[untitled841 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Review:
This book had a bit of hype around it and I passed at the time. When the audiobook was available from my library I took a shot, still having not read much about it.
I loved this story and world that David Yoon presents in Frankly in Love. Touching on topics of being a youth today, being a nerd, falling in love and being first generation or other ethnicities and races within the community.


Quotes:
Part one
It would make things easier....I think it comes from not knowing which would be worse: dating a girl my parents hated, or dating a girl my parents loved. Being ostracised or being micromanaged.
Part four
I realize this gap is my problem. Brit does not have this gap, it is easier for her to love. Simpler, less complicated. My love is slightly misshapen, my love is non-standard my love requires work arounds.
Part five
-Mom and dad's work ethic doesn't feel all that special to me. tht probably makes me a spoiled second gen brat who doesn't know how good he has it.
-I'm still expected to be Korean first, then plain old generic American second. That damned hyphen in Korean-American just won't go away.
-This is news to me. I fold it up and put it away.
Part six
-.....and finally waffles, because WAFFLES

[managedbybooks · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

"High school senior Frank Li is a Limbo–his term for Korean-American kids who find themselves caught between their parents’ traditional expectations and their own Southern California upbringing. His parents have one rule when it comes to romance–“Date Korean”–which proves complicated when Frank falls for Brit Means, who is smart, beautiful–and white. Fellow Limbo Joy Song is in a similar predicament, and so they make a pact: they’ll pretend to date each other in order to gain their freedom. Frank thinks it’s the perfect plan, but in the end, Frank and Joy’s fake-dating maneuver leaves him wondering if he ever really understood love–or himself–at all."
This is the synopsis that drew me in but it's not really what I got out of the book. I really didn't like how the 'fake-dating' was handled and I especially didn't like that cheating was such a big part of this.

[maneekuhi · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is my 700 LibraryThing review.

The Amazon ratings for this 412 page book, released in 2019, are spot on, 5 stars with over 600 reviews. Though labeled a Young Adult (YA) romance, "Frankly in Love" (FL) is much more than that. In terms of its plot, prose and assimilation issues addressed it reminded me a good bit of Rainbow Rowell's hit of "Eleanor and Park" cited as a NYT "notable" a few years back. The protagonist here is Frank Li, hence some cute "frankly" jokes. Actually Frank has a second name, his official Korean one, a name rarely used. Frank is a high school senior, a brainiac, and all his friends, mostly also 1st generation Korean, are also brains. Frank and parents live in a beach town in southern call; Mom and Dad run a liquor store and are very Korean. Frank knows enough words to meet and greet and to order in a Korean restaurant but that's it... Frank's focus is to get into Stanford and calculus classmate Brit. But Frank's parents are in sync only with the former goal . Since Brit is not of Korean heritage she is a non-qualifier, as is the husband of Frank's older sister, Hanna, and therefore Hanna and spouse are disowned.

But Frank is in love, and so pursues some rather devious yet amusing plots to spend time with his beloved. Meanwhile Mom and Dad have found a beautiful and smart Korean girl who is just perfect for Frank. And Joy is the daughter of long time friends and fellow immigrants of years ago. Joy, of course has her own romantic issues.

Despite the brief overview above, this is not some frothy 190 page sit-com. Author Yoon pulls few punches in his deep seated characters' biases about Korean and American cultures. The plot and characters are very well developed and the prose is excellent. I have observed much Asian-American cultural interfacing over the years and there isn't one false note in FL. It is very enjoyable and for some it will be eye-opening.

[reader1009-863136 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

diverse teen fiction (Korean-American 12th-grader with immigrant parents falls in love, deals with racist family, goes off to college with the support of black best friend Q and disowned older sister who is living in Boston with her black husband)
*reviewed from uncorrected ARC*
This was so REAL and every page brimmed over with David Yoon's (husband to Nicola Yoon) heartfelt feelings. A lot of the characters and story seem to have been drawn from personal experience and I feel honored to have been able to read it and know a small part of this talented writer. Thank you.

[acargile-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I didn't know what to expect with Frankly in Love by David Yoon. I finally listened to it after having it for a long time!

Frank lives in two worlds with two names. His family is Korean, so he has a Korean name and an American name because he was raised in the United States. He doesn't understand his parents' devotion to all things Korean. They regularly meet with other Korean families. The kids all get along although they don't socialize together at school. This novel is about Frank's senior year where pretty much everything can happen. He's bombarded with emotional challenges throughout the year and into his freshman year.

Frank crushes on Brit Means, and he's excited to learn, she's crushing on him. They begin dating, but Frank knows that his parents won't approve because she's not Korean. She's white. He doesn't want to tell her, so there are awkward moments avoiding his family while she openly dates him in front of her family. His sister has already been admonished and sort of kicked out of the family for dating and ultimately marrying a black man. Frank knows he can't bring Brit home. One of the other limbos (Korean kids at the Korean gatherings) also dates a non-Korean secretly. They devise a plan that they will fake date. The Korean parents will think Frank and Joy are dating when in reality, they split and go out with their respective boy/girl friend.

Of course, life can't be this easy to manipulate. As the year progresses, Frank learns about love and about family. Yoon throws in lots of learning lessons for Frank beyond merely dating and dealing with leaving friends and family behind for college. Not wanting to spoil the many twists and turns of the novel, I will stop there. Perhaps being female and not being Korean influences my feelings about the novel. I felt that Frank was a bit emotionally distant. He doesn't seem that affected by what happens to his family. Another quirk about Frank is his attitude. It's a good attitude although a bit unrealistic. He'll say that he chooses to interpret (whatever situation) in a positive light instead of being offended. Great way to be, but I wonder how realistic this attitude is in a teenager. Overall, I liked the book for the most part. To an extent, I thought, it was too much. Life can feel that way, however, so I can let that go.

[bell7_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

When Frank Li, the son of Korean immigrants working and living in California, starts going out with a white girl at school, he and his friends cook up a plan to pretend that he's actually dating Joy Song. Joy is the daughter of his parents' Korean friends, and he knows that his parents would rather see them together. It's a win-win, because Joy is also going out with a boy that her parents would never approve of. What could go wrong?

This is just the beginning of a story that had me sometimes scratching my head at the characters' choices, cringing at all the f-bombs, and wondering where on earth the story is going. But as a coming-of-age story, it won me over in the end. After all, teenagers really do act like that and talk like that, and real life isn't a neat story that you can wrap up in a neat bow. In the end, it was about not just "Frank Li in love," but navigating all sorts of relationships, including friendship, accepting himself, and growing to understand his parents during his senior year.

[buzzinglibrary · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I just couldn't get past the fact that I was reading it during a pandemic, and the timeline was the same, but no pandemic. Not Yoon's fault, but I hope in a reprint he pushes the story back to 2019. It was jarring. There were one or two other factual mistakes too that the editor should have picked up on.

[dknight0918 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I really enjoyed this book and can’t wait to read more by both him and books written by his wife, as well. I would love for them to write a book together. I know I am in my thirties but I still love reading young adult fiction. It took me a while to read it but that is because I wasn’t ready for the book to end. Frank is such a fun and interesting character. I wish I could hang out with him and the rest of his friends. I want to go eat all kinds of different foods with him. I liked Q, too. I would love to read a sequel and see what happens to all of them in college and beyond.

[annawaffles · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Oh, Frankly. I've been delaying this review because I loved this book so much that I can't put it into words. I've been telling everyone I know about how great this book was, so hopefully that makes up for submitting a NetGalley review after the book was published. More to come!

[electrascaife · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Frank Li is finishing up high school in California, feeling the pressure to do well on the SAT and to get into Stanford, navigating the rollercoaster of feelings brought on by teen love, all while trying to figure out his place in the world as a Korean-American who feels neither fully Korean nor American.
I enjoyed this Morris Honor Book a great deal. The characters feel accurate and real (the teenagers aren't overly precocious, even as head-of-the-class types), the dialogue is a clever hoot, and the story moves along as a good pace. Happily recommended.

[herenya_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Frank Li has watched his parents react to his older sister’s choices and he knows they will never accept him dating anyone who isn’t Korean. So he and a family friend, Joy Song, pretend to date.

Fake-dating is one of my most favourite romance tropes but I’m not a fan when it’s a cover for actually dating someone else -- I don’t like others getting hurt by the deception.

Despite that, I found this YA novel engaging and unexpectedly moving. And an absolutely fascinating look at being the child of immigrants. Frank’s parents live in a Korean bubble, and while Frank is shaped by that -- his parents' values and prejudices, regular gatherings with Korean family friends -- he is also influenced by an American education, Western media and his own friends. Especially when it comes to topics that his parents won't discuss with him. Communication with them isn’t only complicated because his parents’ English is limited and he only understands a little Korean, but because they have different cultural ideas about parent-child relationships and what things should be up for discussion.

There are too many worlds in my head -- Palomino High School, The Store, the Gathering -- all with their own confusing laws of nature, gravitational strengths, and speeds of light, and really all I want to do is reach escape velocity, bust out into space, and form my own planet tweaked just how I want it.
Planet Frank. Invitation only.

[slevyr26 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Another book that’s made me weep in 2020. Oh Frank. Frankly. What a gorgeous, beautiful story of...life. Of love. Of everything. It took me right back to my own senior year of high school. What a trip. What a treat this story was. I laughed, I had my heart broken, stomped on, ripped apart again for good measure. I also confronted and examined my own white privilege. I got a look into a remarkable culture. Culture within a culture. Sub-cultures. I’ve now removed all meaning from the word culture. Is culture even a word? Lmk. Anyway. I loved this book. Five of the easiest stars I’ve ever given.

[cakesniffer-62265 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

This is a story that explores Frank's complications with love. The romantic love he develops his senior year of high school as well as the complicated love story he has with his family, friends, and his culture. From Frank's language barrier with his parents to the cultural expectations that he works hard to find his own way to embrace, his internal struggle is one that I think many people can either relate to or gain insight from. As an Asian American adult that didn't have these types of books in their teens, I found it resonated with many of my experiences and wish that this was written and made available to me then.

[bookczuk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Glad know that Nicole Yoon married a man who writes almost as good as she does.

[hccpsk · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Frankly in Love by David Yoon manages to be the stereotypical YA book wrapped up in a tasty and original coating. Yoon’s crisp and funny writing gives readers a smart but relatable main character (Frank), a troupe of diverse, witty and nerdy friends, multiple romantic possibilities, SATs, college stress and a mix of understanding and domineering parents. Throw in some life-altering drama and a YA book is born--but Frankly in Love does it better than most. Yoon handles his Korean American characters and their very Korean parents with honesty and clearly some unique first-hand knowledge (#ownvoices). Don’t worry though, this isn’t a book about being Korean American; it’s about being a teenager, a friend and coming of age in a difficult time. Some online comments knock on his excessive use of profanity but I think he captures how teens talk amongst themselves pretty well. Frankly in Love is a perfect book for readers of his wife (Nicola Yoon), Randy Ribay, Mary H.K. Choi and other YA authors.

[mjspear_1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Frank Li falls in love with a white girl, Britt, but he's afraid his racist newly-immigrated Korean parents wouldn't understand. One of his fellow Korean-American friends, Joy Song, is in the same predicament *her beau is Chinese American) so they decide to "fake date." Trouble ensues. This is a nuanced, sensitive look at first love, the immigrant experience, and fitting in. Besides being a well crafted character sketch (Frank is unforgettable) and beautifully written, the book serves up a few good plot twists, too. This reader's only minor criticism is the protracted ending... as if Yoon did not want to say goodbye to his characters. With such superb rendering, who can blame him?! Sexual activity is alluded to but not graphic.

[foggidawn · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Frank Li is in love with Brit Means. She's nerdy, cute, smart, funny, and kind. There's just one problem: she's not Korean, and Frank's parents would flip if he ever started dating outside of his culture. Joy Song, daughter of his parents' best friends, has a similar problem: her secret boyfriend is Chinese-American, and her parents would similarly lose their cool if it was revealed that she's dating him. So, Frank and Joy hatch a plot: they will fake-date, in order to keep their parents happy and still be able to spend time with their chosen dates. What could go wrong?

The first half of this book is the lighthearted rom-com that I expected, given that summary, but the later half of the book delves into deeper issues. The writing is delightful, and you can't help but like Frank, despite the fact that his failure to let Brit in on the deception is obviously going to come back and bite him. The secondary characters are great, especially Frank's best friend Q. If you enjoy realistic young adult lit, don't miss this one!

[ethel55_1 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

It's been quite a while since I have read a book with a teenage boy protagonist. His internal thoughts and outward statements were often clever, on topic and timely. Frank Li (lucky 7 letters) is a Korean American, whose parents have worked hard so he and his sister can have their share of the American educational and job dream. They meet monthly with a few other families, jockeying for position among themselves, while knowing they are better than others. Naturally Frank's parents want him to date a Korean girl, while white Brit Means is all that fills Frank's mind. The subterfuge begins when he and long time family friend Joy Song (dating a black youth), decide to fake date to see who they want. The rom-com style is breezy, the high school back drop of AP classes, SAT scores and college admissions fill in much of the background. Further into the book, I found it took a more solemn tone, as Frank learns how to accept and communicate with his parents.

[sandsing7 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is a very interesting story on many levels, but the profanity is over the top, even to a person that doesn't mid a bit of profanity.

[kiaya40 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Thanks to Libro.fm and Penguin Random House Audio for letting me listen and review this book. I was curious about this book since everyone was talking about it so I decided to check it out and I'm glad I listened to the audio because I don't think I would have done as well reading it. It was a little challenging for me to finish it even with the audio as it was.
I liked the story idea and premise to the story with the fake dating trope and the insight into Korean culture and family and culture issues and differences. It was a good portrayal of YA/teen years and crushes and romances and other things. There were a few things that caught me off guard, but for the most part, it seemed to be pretty straight forward.
This isn't my usual reading genre, but I thought it was alright although my biggest things were 1-it seemed a bit long, which is one of the reasons why audio helped and 2 - the language - there was so much profanity and language that I didn't enjoy, so that's my two cents on that.
If you like romance, fake dating tropes and such then you'll probably like this.

[catkin026 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This... This is one that I don't know how to explain. It's a love story, a teen romance but at the same time it is so much more. I knew from about 1/3rd of the way through what characters it would shift too, but at the same time it didn't lower itself to becoming just another romance where the two can't be together. It's a greatly expanded world, where characters that you don't like very much have a background to themselves to still make them sympathetic. The twists and turns make sense, and even if it it's not the ending the reader would like... When you turn that last page, it ends beautifully.

[oddandbookish · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I received an ARC of this book for free from the publisher. Since I received an ARC, my quotes from the book are tentative.

This book was so good! It’s a romance but it goes so much deeper than just that. At the core, it’s a story about first love, racism, identity, and family.

I absolutely loved that this book did not shy away from talking about racism, especially the racism of Koreans towards African Americans and other Asian communities. I haven’t really seen that in a book before.

I liked that this book explored the struggles of being Korean-American and having immigrant parents. Frank is often conflicted over his identity. At one point he states, “I call myself Korean-American, always leading first with Korean or Asian, then the silent hyphen, then ending with American. Never just American” (pg. 133).

I also loved the end of the book. It was a bit sad but still realistic.

My one critique is that the romances seemed a bit instalove-y, especially Frank’s romance with Brit. Frank fell in love with Brit so fast. It kind of came out of nowhere.

Lastly, as a Filipino American I’m always looking for representation and this book has a tiny bit of Filipino rep. One of Frank’s friends, Paul, is Filipino. His character doesn’t do much, but the book does incorporate Isang Bagsak. Isang Bagsak is a Filipino unity clap, whcich I never even heard of prior to reading this book.

Overall, I really enjoyed this #OwnVoices exploration of love and identity.

[m.belljackson · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This fictionalized account of the life of author David Yoon works, with its humor and short chapters,
as a great start for a brave new talent!

The introductory name lucky numbers will have readers checking their own to make adjustments
while the coverage of immigration and racism from so many conflicting perspectives is both smooth and original.

ODDITIES:

1. With the obvious connotation, the choosing of Q as a new name goes strangely uncommented on
either by high school classmates, sister, or any of the Limbos.
2. Similarly, with all the Q initiated touching and holding, his secret love is a secret only to the intended
and not to the readers.

3. FRANKLY IN LOVE was a totally exceptional 5 stars until Page 54.
'Lasers into live monkey brains' completely contradicts the mostly Be Kind message of the rest of the book. and, worse still,
there is no redemption by either Q or Frank Li. Very sad.

Is this what the newest YA generation still wants for humanity?
To kill animals for no reason when computers have already proven to be superior and cruelty free...?

4. None of the characters have pets. Is this why eating any kind of animal is seen as an adventure?
5. There's no mention of North and South Korea.

6. Enough with the fartphone. It was borderline funny the first time, then became increasingly tiresome:
just plain "phone" is just fine.