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Funny Story Hardcover – April 23, 2024

by Emily Henry (Author)

4.6 13,985 ratings

#2 this week

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Named a Most Anticipated book of 2024 by TIME ∙ The New York Times ∙ Goodreads ∙ Entertainment Weekly ∙ Today.com ∙ Paste ∙ SheReads ∙ BookPage ∙ Woman's World ∙ The Nerd Daily and more!

A shimmering, joyful new novel about a pair of opposites with the wrong thing in common, from #1 New York Times bestselling author Emily Henry.

Daphne always loved the way her fiancé Peter told their story. How they met (on a blustery day), fell in love (over an errant hat), and moved back to his lakeside hometown to begin their life together. He really was good at telling it…right up until the moment he realized he was actually in love with his childhood best friend Petra.

Which is how Daphne begins her new story: Stranded in beautiful Waning Bay, Michigan, without friends or family but with a dream job as a children’s librarian (that barely pays the bills), and proposing to be roommates with the only person who could possibly understand her predicament: Petra’s ex, Miles Nowak.

Scruffy and chaotic—with a penchant for taking solace in the sounds of heart break love ballads—Miles is exactly the opposite of practical, buttoned up Daphne, whose coworkers know so little about her they have a running bet that she’s either FBI or in witness protection. The roommates mainly avoid one another, until one day, while drowning their sorrows, they form a tenuous friendship and a plan. If said plan also involves posting deliberately misleading photos of their summer adventures together, well, who could blame them?

But it’s all just for show, of course, because there’s no way Daphne would actually start her new chapter by falling in love with her ex-fiancé’s new fiancée’s ex…right?

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From the Publisher

Banner with two people at a table with drinks and text that reads: FIRST THEY WERE STRANGERS

The rest of the first image, with two people sitting with drinks and text: THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES

FIRST THEY WERE STRANGERS, THEN THEY WERE ROOMMATES, THEN... WELL, IT'S A FUNNY STORY.

Editorial Reviews

Review

“When romance novelist Emily Henry releases a new book, it’s nothing short of a literary event. And this spring’s Funny Story — which has already been named one of the most anticipated books of 2024 by everyone from the New York Times to the Today show — is sure to be no exception... this sumptuous novel is Henry at her very best.”
—Bustle

“Bestseller Henry takes on fake-dating in this equally poignant and charming tale of love after loss… Henry perfectly balances sorrow and discord with love and humor, and romance fans will appreciate watching the growth of the characters’ relationships and of Daphne as a person. This is a heartwarming take on summer love.”
—Publishers Weekly

About the Author

Emily Henry is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Happy Place, Book Lovers, People We Meet on Vacation, and Beach Read. She studied creative writing at Hope College, and now spends most of her time in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the part of Kentucky just beneath it. Find her on Instagram @emilyhenrywrites.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

1

Wednesday, May 1

108 Days Until I Can Leave

Some people are natural storytellers. They know how to set the scene, find the right angle, when to pause for dramatic effect or breeze past inconvenient details.

I wouldn't have become a librarian if I didn't love stories, but I've never been great at telling my own.

If I had a penny for every time I interrupted my own anecdote to debate whether this actually had happened on a Tuesday, or if it had in fact been Thursday, then I'd have at least forty cents, and that's way too big a chunk of my life wasted for way too small of a payout.

Peter, on the other hand, would have zero cents and a rapt audience.

I especially loved the way he told our story, about the day we met.

It was late spring, three years ago. We lived in Richmond at the time, a mere five blocks separating his sleek apartment in a renovated Italianate from my shabby-not-quite-chic version of the same kind of place.

On my way home from work, I detoured through the park, which I never did, but the weather was perfect. And I was wearing a floppy-brimmed hat, which I never had, but Mom mailed it to me the week before, and I felt like I owed it to her to at least try it out. I was reading as I walked-which I'd vowed to stop doing because I'd nearly caused a bike accident doing so weeks earlier-when suddenly, a warm breeze caught the hat's brim. It lifted off my head and swooped over an azalea bush. Right to a tall, handsome blond man's feet.

Peter said this felt like an invitation. Laughed, almost self-deprecatingly, as he added, "I'd never believed in fate before that."

If it was fate, then it's reasonable to assume fate a little bit hates me, because when he bent to retrieve the hat, another gust swept it into the air, and I chased after it right into a trash can.

The metal kind, bolted to the ground.

My hat landed atop a pile of discarded lo mein, the lip of the can smashed into my rib cage, and I did a wheezing pratfall into the grass. Peter described this as "adorably clumsy."

He left out the part where I screamed a string of expletives.

"I fell in love with Daphne the moment I looked up from her hat," he'd say, no mention of the trash-noodles in my hair.

When he asked if I was okay, I said, "Did I kill a bicyclist?"

He thought I'd hit my head. (Nope, just bad at first impressions.)

Over the last three years, Peter dusted off Our Story every chance he got. I was sure he'd work it into both our vows and his wedding reception speech.

But then his bachelor party happened, and everything changed.

The story tipped onto its side. Found a fresh point of view. And in this new telling of it, I was no longer the leading lady, but instead the teensy complication that would forever be used to jazz up their story.

Daphne Vincent, the librarian that Peter plucked out of the trash, nearly married, then dumped the morning after his bachelor party for his "platonic" "best" "friend," Petra Comer.

Then again, when would he even need to tell their story?

Everyone around Peter Collins and Petra Comer knew their history: How they'd met in third grade when forced into alphabetical seating, bonding over a shared love of Pokémon. How, soon after, their mothers became friends while chaperoning an aquarium field trip, with their fathers to follow suit.

For the last quarter of a century, the Collinses and the Comers vacationed together. They celebrated birthdays, ate Christmas brunches, decorated their homes with handmade picture frames from which Peter's and Petra's faces beamed out beneath some iteration of the phrase BEST FRIENDS FOREVER.

This, Peter told me, made him and the most gorgeous woman I'd ever met more like cousins than friends.

As a librarian, I really should've taken a moment to think about Mansfield Park or Wuthering Heights, all those love stories and twisted Gothics wherein two protagonists, raised side by side, reach adulthood and proclaim their undying love for each other.

But I didn't.

So now here I am, sitting in a tiny apartment, scrolling through Petra's public social media, seeing every detail of her new courtship with my ex-fiancé.

From the next room, Jamie O'Neal's rendition of "All By Myself" plays loudly enough to make the coffee table shiver. My next-door neighbor, Mr. Dorner, pounds on the wall.

I barely hear it, because I've just reached a picture of Peter and Petra, sandwiched between both sets of their parents, on the shore of Lake Michigan-six abnormally attractive people smiling abnormally white smiles over the caption, The best things in life are worth waiting for.

As if on cue, the music ratchets up.

I slam my computer shut and peel myself off the sofa. This apartment was built pre-global warming, when Northern Michiganders had no need for air-conditioning, but it's only May first and already the apartment turns into a brick oven around midday.

I cross to the bedroom hallway and knock on Miles's door. He doesn't hear me over Jamie. I escalate to pounding.

The music stops.

Footsteps shuffle closer. The door swings open, and a weed fog wafts out.

My roommate's dark brown eyes are ringed in pink, and he's in nothing but a pair of boxers and a funky knitted afghan wrapped around his shoulders like a very sad cape. Considering the overall climate of our hotbox apartment, I can only assume this is for modesty's sake. Seems like overkill for a man who, just last night, forgot I lived with him long enough to take a whole-ass shower with the door wide open.

His chocolate-brown hair sticks up in every direction. His matching beard is pure chaos. He clears his throat. "What's up."

"Everything okay?" I ask, because while I'm used to a disheveled Miles, I'm less used to hearing him blast the saddest song in the world.

"Yep," he says. "All good."

"Could you turn the music down," I say.

"I'm not listening to music," he says, dead serious.

"Well, you paused it," I say, in case he really is simply too high to remember more than three seconds back. "But it's really loud."

He scratches one eyebrow with the back of his knuckle, frowning. "I'm watching a movie," he says. "But I can turn it down. Sorry."

Without even meaning to, I'm peering over his shoulder to get a better look.

Unlike the rest of our apartment, which was perfectly tidy when I arrived and is still perfectly tidy, his room is disastrous. Half of his records are stacked atop the milk crates they ostensibly belong inside. His bed is unmade, a rumpled comforter and the sheet untucked all the way around. Two tattered flannel shirts hang out of his mostly closed dresser drawers, like little ghosts he's pinned there, midescape.

In direct opposition to the creams and taupes of my room, his is a messy, cozy mix of rusts, mustards, seventies greens. Where my books are neatly organized along my bookcase and the shelf I installed above my window, his (very few) are face down, spines cracked, on the floor. Electronics manuals, loose tools, and an open bag of Sour Patch Kids are scattered across his desk, and on his windowsill, a stick of incense burns between a few surprisingly vivacious houseplants.

His TV, though, is what catches my eye. Onscreen is the image of a thirty-year-old Renée Zellweger, sporting red pajamas and belting a song into a rolled-up magazine.

"Oh my god, Miles," I say.

"What?" he says.

"You're watching Bridget Jones's Diary?"

"It's a good movie!" he cries, a little defensive.

"It's a great movie," I say, "but this scene is, like, one minute long."

He sniffs. "So?"

"So why has it been playing for at least"-I check my phone-"the last eight minutes?"

His dark brows knit together. "Did you need something, Daphne?"

"Could you just turn it down?" I say. "All the plates are rattling in the cabinets and Mr. Dorner's trying to bust down the living room wall."

Another sniff. "You want to watch?" he offers.

In there?

Too big of a tetanus risk. An ungenerous thought, sure, but I have recently tapped out my supply of generosity. That's what happens when your life partner leaves you for the nicest, sunniest, prettiest woman in the state of Michigan.

"I'm good," I tell Miles.

We both just stand there. This is as much as we ever interact. I'm about to break the record. My throat tickles. My eyes burn. I add, "And could you please not smoke inside?"

I would've asked sooner, except that, technically, the apartment is his. He did me a huge favor letting me move in.

Then again, it's not like he had many options. His girlfriend had just moved out.

Into my apartment.

With my fiancé.

He needed to replace Petra's half of their shared rent. I needed a place to sleep. Did I say sleep? I meant weep.

But I've been here three weeks now, and I'm tired of showing up to work smelling like I came straight from the least famous of the Grateful Dead's spin-off bands' concerts.

"I stick my head out the window," Miles says.

"What," I say.

Immediately I picture a chocolate Labrador riding in a car, its mouth open and eyes squinting into the wind. The few times Miles and I met before all this, on awkward double dates with our now-partnered partners, that's what he'd reminded me of. Friendly and wiry with an upturned nose that made him look a bit impish, and teeth that were somehow too perfect in contrast to his scruffy face.

The toll of the last three weeks has given him a slightly feral edge-a Labrador bitten by a werewolf and dumped back at the pound. Relatable, honestly.

"I stick my head out the window when I smoke," he clarifies.

"Okay," I say. That's all I've got. I turn to go.

"You sure you don't want to watch the movie?" he says.

Oh, god.

The truth is, Miles seems like a nice guy. A really nice guy! And I imagine that what he's feeling right now must be comparable to my own total emotional decimation. I could take him up on his offer, go sit in his room on an unmade bed and watch a romantic comedy while absorbing fifteen hundred grams of weed smoke via my pores. Maybe it would be nice even, to pretend for a bit that we're friends rather than strangers trapped together in this nightmare of a breakup.

But there are better uses of my Wednesday night.

"Maybe some other time," I say, and go back to my computer to continue looking for new jobs, far away from Peter and Petra, and far away from Waning Bay, Michigan.

I wonder if Antarctica is in need of a children's librarian.

One hundred and eight days, and then I'm out of here.

2

Back in April

Before I Knew I Needed to Leave

Here's how the rest of the story goes, when I'm the one telling it: Peter Collins and I fell in love one day in the park, when the wind swept my hat from my head.

I am arguably the world's worst small-talker, but he didn't want to small-talk.

When I told him the hat was a gift from my mother, he wanted to know if we were close, where she lived now, what the gift was for, and by the way, Happy birthday, are you a birthday person? And when I told him, Thank you, and yes, yes, I am, he volunteered that he was too, that his family always treated birthdays like huge personal successes rather than markers of time. And when I told him that sounded beautiful, the birthdays and his family, he said, They're the reason I've always wanted a big family of my own someday, and at that point, I already would've been a goner, even if he hadn't asked me right then, as if there wasn't garbage sticking to my chestnut-brown hair, What about you? Do you want a big family?

Dating in my late twenties had been hell. This was the kind of question I'd usually ask right before the guy on the other end of the phone ghosted me. As if it had been a formal proposition: Should we skip grabbing a drink and maybe freeze some embryos, just in case?

Peter was different. Stable, steady, practical. The kind of person I could imagine trusting, which didn't come naturally to me.

Within five weeks, we'd moved in together, synced our lives, friend groups, and schedules. At the first over-the-top birthday party I ever threw him, Peter's and my respective best friends in Richmond, Cooper and Sadie, hit it off and started dating too.

Within a year, Peter proposed. I said yes.

A year later, while wedding planning, we started looking for a house to buy. His parents, two of the loveliest people I've ever met, sent him the listing for a gorgeous old house not far from them in the lakeside Michigan town he'd grown up in.

He'd always wanted to get back there, and now that his software development job had gone remote, nothing was stopping him.

My mom lived in Maryland by then. My dad, a title that really deserves to have scare quotes around it, was out in Southern California. Sadie and Cooper were toying with the possibility of moving to Denver.

And as much as I loved my job in Richmond, what I really wanted-what I'd always wanted-was to be a children's librarian, and lo and behold, the Waning Bay Public Library was looking to fill that exact position.

So we bought the house in Michigan.

Well, he bought it. I had terrible credit and slim savings. He covered the down payment and insisted on paying the mortgage.

He'd always been so generous, but it felt like too much. Sadie didn't understand my hang-ups-I let Cooper pay for literally everything, she'd say, he makes a shit-ton more than me-but Sadie hadn't been raised by Holly Vincent.

There was no way my badass, hyperindependent mother would approve of me relying on Peter so heavily, and so I didn't approve either.

He came up with a compromise: I'd furnish the place, add piecemeal to the assortment of furniture we'd brought from Richmond, while he covered the bills.

Most of his far-flung friends had cushy white-collar jobs and could afford to take a separate trip for his bachelor party. Whereas Sadie and the rest of my friends were mostly other librarians-or booksellers, or aspiring writers-who couldn't afford two separate trips. Thus, she and Cooper would fly in a few days before the summer ceremony instead, and we'd do my bachelorette then.

Product details

Publisher ‏ : ‎ Berkley (April 23, 2024)
Language ‏ : ‎ English
Hardcover ‏ : ‎ 400 pages
ISBN-10 ‏ : ‎ 0593441281
ISBN-13 ‏ : ‎ 978-0593441282
Item Weight ‏ : ‎ 1.32 pounds
Dimensions ‏ : ‎ 6.34 x 1.38 x 9.31 inches

Best Sellers Rank: #16 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
- #3 in Contemporary Women Fiction
- #9 in Romantic Comedy (Books)
- #15 in Contemporary Romance (Books)

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4.6 13,985 ratings

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Emily Henry

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Emily Henry is the #1 New York Times and #1 Sunday Times bestselling author of Happy Place, Book Lovers, People We Meet on Vacation, and Beach Read. She studied creative writing at Hope College, and now spends most of her time in Cincinnati, Ohio, and the part of Kentucky just beneath it. Find her on Instagram @EmilyHenryWrites.

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Jeeves Reads Romance

Loved it

Reviewed in the United States on April 25, 2024

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My love for this one grew with every page, as these roommates shed their depressive fogs and started to truly see the potential of what was right in front of them. They go from acquaintances to companions in heartache to roommates to friends to lovers, slowly shifting the dynamics of their relationship with every interaction. It's such an interesting concept, one that's full of complex feelings, forbidden vibes, sexual tension, and these gorgeous moments of connection. I loved that both characters were flawed, and that they were able to open up to each other in a way that they'd never done in their previous relationships. These opposites attract in the best of ways, and it was easy to see that they were so GOOD for each other. The slow build while they mended their hearts was so angsty - my eyes were absolutely glued to the page once this hit its stride, and I found myself unconsciously rubbing my chest on more than one occasion. It's another powerhouse of a read from this talented author, and I really did love it.

The story follows Daphne, a woman who was unceremoniously dumped by her fiancé right before their wedding. Turns out, her fiancé's feelings for his best friend weren't so platonic after all, and that's got Daphne questioning their entire relationship. Heartbroken and without a place to live, Daphne moves in with an unexpected roommate - the ex-boyfriend of her ex-fiancé's new girlfriend. Miles is as heartbroken as Daphne, so the two are happy to give each other space as they process their emotions at their own pace. Though Daphne's ex never liked Miles, she soon realizes that he's not quite the disaster everyone made him out to be. Sure, he's a mess - who isn't - but there's a genuinely good guy hidden in there too. As the new roommates grow closer, they connect in a way that neither anticipated. But they're both dealing with broken hearts, so starting up something is a recipe for disaster.

Since Happy Place ripped my heart out with its angst, I was a little worried about what a book called "Funny Story" was going to do to me, and there was definitely cause for concern, lol. Both Miles and Daphne are in a very bad place emotionally when the book begins, and it takes awhile before either one is even open to the idea of moving on. I loved how original the concept felt, and I loved keeping an eye out for the subtle shifts in their interactions. I wasn't convinced that I was going to like Miles at first, but he grew to be this adorable, tender-hearted man. I loved him. I also thought Daphne and Miles were great together, the kind of opposites who bring out the best in each other. It's clear that was missing from both of their previous relationships, and Henry does a fantastic job of exploring some heavier concepts while still keeping the story entertaining. The forced proximity was so good, and I loved that Daphne and Max were able to come out the other side even stronger. It's a nuanced, complex read, and the kind that will leave a lasting impact on me.

Audio note: The audio was so, so good. Not that I'm surprised - Julia Whelan always gives phenomenal performances, and the hearty dose of angst in the story made her narration even stronger. She truly does perform the story, infusing so much emotion into her voice. The runtime (11 hours) made this a full day binge, and the longer I listened, the more I was hooked. It's not super spicy at all, but there is a bit of heat - more than Henry's usual. The topics are also heavier than I usually like for a workday listen, so not sure I can recommend it as that. But the audio absolutely enhances an already-excellent story, so I highly recommend it in the format.

9 people found this helpful

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Amazon Customer

Sweet romance

Reviewed in the United States on May 6, 2024

Verified Purchase

Fun, sweet romance. Well structured with enjoyable dialogue and plot. I liked it and would definitely recommend it for a light, easy read.
There were a few themes in this book that I'm finding more commonly used by contemporary authors that I didn't love. First, the assumption that self-discovery requires irresponsible, rebellious, and self harming behavior. (smoking cigars, smoking weed, excessive drinking, gambling, one night stands, etc. Etc). Maybe for some people that's what it looks like (and that's OK) I just don't like the implication that that's the route for everyone and that those that don't at least at some point in their lives try those things are repressed and stunted. That is simply not true and should not be hocked as if it is
Second, can we stop blaming our parents for everything? This theme is taking over in contemporary literature, and it's annoying. Grow up people and take responsibility for your own actions and stop acting like your whole life is a victim to your parents. Parents are people, and they screw up their kids. Be an adult and get over it. I'm not saying there aren't some very traumatizing things that create lifelong hurt, but to blame every relationship issue and personal flaw on your parents is childish and a trope way too often used these days. End of rant.
And to leave on a positive note, lol. While those themes are frustrating and gaining way too much traction, I don't think they ruin the book. So if you are looking for something to binge read and not feel like it was a total waste of time, give this book a try.
Happy reading!

One person found this helpful

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Dani M.

Sweet, hilarious romcom with depth and spice. Highly recommend!

Reviewed in the United States on May 7, 2024

Verified Purchase

I had to take a few days and gather my thoughts after reading this book. This was my 2nd Emily Henry book and I really loved it. From the very first chapter I was completely enthralled in her characters and storytelling. Being told solely from the FMC Daphne’s perspective made me feel like I was her and her struggles were so relatable to me.

The insecurities she felt, and the difficulty she had feeling like she “fit in”, her buttoned up persona that desired to be more spontaneous but found it hard to make that leap, her relationship troubles with her family and her “almost” in laws, and of course her love of libraries and books.

The ache she felt for a place to belong and to feel wanted and chosen was so beautifully written and made it even more special to watch her “found family” come together.

Ok mushy deep feelings aside… this book was so funny. The snarky internal monologue she had about the terrible situation she found herself in by no fault of her own was so perfect.

And then there’s Miles… oh my goodness. This guy is her polar opposite and exactly what she didn’t know she needed. He SEES her in a way that no man ever has and the chemistry between them is so undeniable that it never felt like a rebound and you couldn’t help but cheer them on! He’s the eternal optimist to her pessimistic self and the guy that can make a friend anytime anywhere without even trying while she is the girl that watches with awe from the sidelines. I absolutely love couples like this who are opposite but bring out the best in each other.

The setting was perfect for a spring or summer read with the adorable small town full of sweet side characters. Scenes at the beach, library, wine bar, and farm stand. Delicious food and wine…It made the story so cozy.

This book was one that I did not want to put down. I laughed. I cried. I was smiling at the very last line which wrapped the whole book up so perfectly and brought everything full circle.

I highlighted so much of this book… here are a few favorites:

“For someone with the innate social charm of a mounted fish (me), watching Miles befriend this stranger felt like seeing Michelangelo paint the Sistine Chapel: impressive, but also dizzying. Like any second, he might fall off his ladder and splatter on the marble below.”

“I remember loving a story. Feeling like I was living it. Being, even as a child, bowled over by how something imaginary could become real, could wring every emotion from me or make me homesick for places I’d never been.”

“Things were allowed to be complicated. They were allowed to be messy. We were allowed to disagree and argue and even hurt each other, on occasion, and it didn’t mean it was time to let the revolving door of life carry us away from each other. Sometimes things are hard. They just are.”

ARC was provided by the publisher via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.

CW:
F words, multiple open door scenes, recreational drug use

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Top reviews from other countries

Nicole Holloway

Just what I needed

Reviewed in Canada on April 28, 2024

Verified Purchase

Emily Henry has a way of writing characters that are likeable, flawed, and actually develop throughout the text. This one may be my new favourite. Nobody builds romantic tension between characters quite like she does. I’m only sad that I’ll need to wait so long for her next book.

Alexandra

Was not disappointed

Reviewed in Germany on May 6, 2024

Verified Purchase

I loved this book! I was thrilled to find that Emily Henry published a new book and read this one in two days. I loved the characters and the plot and everything about this book!

Books and Compassion

Engaging story, unnecessarily woke

Reviewed in India on May 2, 2024

Verified Purchase

Engaging story and relatable characters, as always.

The glorification of drugs and alcohol felt forced and unnecessary. Which stoner goes sober from Chapter 2? The attempt to include so many LGBTQ+ characters only mentioned in passing also felt forced. The writer is too talented to try to be woke; her craft does not require gimmicks.

But, as always, insightfully written to appeal to even a cynical romance reader like me. I read the whole book in a single seating. Henry drew a cast of flawed, introspective, communicative, positive characters but felt a bit film-oriented to me this time.

Obsessed Fan

Emily’s done it again… *slow clap*

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on April 30, 2024

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What a wonderful, heartfelt and funny read. I’ve read all of Emily’s books and been a big fan from her debut. She has not disappointed with this new release.
Miles is an absolute cracker of a character, and Daphne a passionate, driven and intelligent main protagonist. The dialogue throughout the book is hilarious, and the plot quick to move. I’m sure I’ll be re-reading this in years to come - I only wish I didn’t devour the book so quickly.

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Brittany Fisher

I think this one might be the best!

Reviewed in Australia on May 8, 2024

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Dare I say it, do I love this more than Beach Read or is it recency bias?! Emily Henry is my favourite rom com author for sure.

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