Over 1 MILLION COPIES SOLD
A #1 New York Times and International Bestseller
This book will change your life
Clay Jensen returns home from school to find a strange package with his name on it lying on his porch. Inside he discovers several cassette tapes recorded by Hannah Baker - his classmate and crush - who committed suicide two weeks earlier. Hannah's voice tells him that there are thirteen reasons why she decided to end her life. Clay is one of them. If he listens, he'll find out why. Clay spends the night crisscrossing his town with Hannah as his guide. He becomes a firsthand witness to Hannah's pain, and learns the truth about himself-a truth he never wanted to face.
Thirteen Reasons Why is the gripping, addictive international bestseller that has changed lives the world over. It's an unrelenting modern classic.
About the Author
Jay Asher is the author of the young adult novels The Future Of Us and Thirteen Reasons Why. Thirteen Reasons Why, his first novel, was published in hardcover in October 2007, going on to spend 65 weeks on the New York Times children's hardcover bestseller list, with foreign rights into 31 countries and 750,000 copies currently in print in the US alone. Visit his blog at www.jayasher.blogspot.com and follow him on Twitter at www.twitter.com/jayasherguy.
Read an Excerpt
"Sir?" she repeats. "How soon do you want it to get there?"I rub two fingers, hard, over my left eyebrow. The throbbing has become intense. "It doesn't matter," I say. The clerk takes the package. The same shoebox that sat on my porch less than twenty-four hours ago; rewrapped in a brown paper bag, sealed with clear packing tape, exactly as I had received it. But now addressed with a new name. The next name on Hannah Baker's list. "Baker's dozen," I mumble. Then I feel disgusted for even noticing it. "Excuse me?" I shake my head. "How much is it?" She places the box on a rubber pad, then punches a sequence on her keypad. I set my cup of gas-station coffee on the counter and glance at the screen. I pull a few bills from my wallet, dig some coins out of my pocket, and place my money on the counter. "I don't think the coffee's kicked in yet," she says. "You're missing a dollar." I hand over the extra dollar, then rub the sleep from my eyes. The coffee's lukewarm when I take a sip, making it harder to gulp down. But I need to wake up somehow. Or maybe not. Maybe it's best to get through the day half-asleep. Maybe that's the only way to get through today. "It should arrive at this address tomorrow," she says. "Maybe the day after tomorrow." Then she drops the box into a cart behind her. I should have waited till after school. I should have given Jenny one final day of peace. Though she doesn't deserve it. When she gets home tomorrow, or the next day, she'll find a package on her doorstep. Or if her mom or dad or someone else gets there first, maybe she'll find it on her bed. And she'll be excited. I was excited. A package with no return address? Did they forget, or was it intentional? Maybe from a secret admirer? "Do you want your receipt?" the clerk asks. I shake my head. A small printer clicks one out anyway. I watch her tear the slip across the serrated plastic and drop it into a wastebasket. There's only one post office in town. I wonder if the same clerk helped the other people on the list, those who got this package before me. Did they keep their receipts as sick souvenirs? Tuck them in their underwear drawers? Pin them up on corkboards? I almost ask for my receipt back. I almost say, "I'm sorry, can I have it after all?" As a reminder. But if I wanted a reminder, I could've made copies of the tapes or saved the map. But I never want to hear those tapes again, though her voice will never leave my head. And the houses, the streets, and the high school will always be there to remind me. It's out of my control now. The package is on its way. I leave the post office without the receipt. Deep behind my left eyebrow, my head is still pounding. Every swallow tastes sour, and the closer I get to school, the closer I come to collapsing. I want to collapse. I want to fall on the sidewalk right there and drag myself into the ivy. Because just beyond the ivy the sidewalk curves, following the outside of the school parking lot. It cuts through the front lawn and into the main building. It leads through the front doors and turns into a hallway, which meanders between rows of lockers and classrooms on both sides, finally entering the alwaysopen door to first period. At the front of the room, facing the students, will be the desk of Mr. Porter. He'll be the last to receive a package with no return address. And in the middle of the room, one desk to the left, will be the desk of Hannah Baker. Empty.
What People are Saying About This
“Everything affects everything,” declares Hannah Baker, who killed herself two weeks ago. After her death, Clay Jensen—who had a crush on Hannah—finds seven cassette tapes in a brown paper package on his doorstep. Listening to the tapes, Hannah chronicles her downward spiral and the 13 people who led her to make this horrific choice. Evincing the subtle—and not so subtle—cruelties of teen life, from rumors, to reputations, to rape, Hannah explains to her listeners that, “in the end, everything matters.” Most of the novel quite literally takes place in Clay’s head, as he listens to Hannah’s voice pounding in his ears through his headphones, creating a very intimate feel for the reader as Hannah explains herself. Her pain is gut-wrenchingly palpable, and the reader is thrust face-first into a world where everything is related, an intricate yet brutal tapestry of events, people and places. Asher has created an entrancing character study and a riveting look into the psyche of someone who would make this unfortunate choice. A brilliant and mesmerizing debut from a gifted new author.—Kirkus, starred review