Five Feet Apart

Two teenagers with cystic fibrosis meet while confined to the same hospital, and because their disease means that any physical contact between two patients risks a deadly cross-infection, they are forbidden from ever coming within six feet of each other, so their romance blooms across an enforced distance, until the cruelty of a rule that keeps them apart pushes one of them to reclaim a single foot of that space as a small act of defiance and control. Lippincott writes an emotionally direct young adult romance about love constrained by illness, alternating between the two perspectives as a rule-following girl determined to manage her disease and a fatalistic boy resigned to his draw close despite the danger, confronting mortality, control, and the ache of wanting what could kill them. The tone is tender and bittersweet, aimed at strong feeling. This suits readers who want an emotional young adult romance about first love against the constraints of serious illness, and anyone who enjoys a heartfelt tearjerker. It fits less well anyone wanting realism about the condition or a light read, since the book simplifies medically and moves toward heartbreak. The detail that the couple steal back one foot of the mandated distance between them, choosing to live five feet apart as a small rebellion, gives the book its title and its poignant central image. Tender, bittersweet, and moving, it rewards readers seeking emotion. Content note: it centers on serious illness and loss, so sensitive readers should be aware, but the yearning across an unbridgeable gap is exactly what gives it its pull.

Best for readers who want to feel something deeply, books that stay with you long after the last page. The prose is accessible: you can read this quickly and it never asks too much of you. It moves quickly: once you're in, it's hard to stop. If you prefer to read at arm's length, this one may get too close.