Memahami Duka Lewat Matematika | AfterMath by Emily Barth Isler Book Review

"Something about infinity, about never actually getting anywhere, never reaching your destination, makes me feel incredibly sad."

March 14 is the International Day of Mathematics, so I thought it would be the perfect time to talk about AfterMath by Emily Barth Isler. This middle-grade novel does something really interesting by blending math into a story about grief, healing, and finding connection. This book follows Lucy, a twelve-year-old girl who moves to a new town after losing her younger brother, Theo. She’s already struggling with her own grief, but when she arrives at her new school, she realizes her classmates are dealing with a different kind of trauma, a school shooting that happened years before. While they have each other to lean on, Lucy feels completely alone in her loss. Math becomes her safe space, something logical and reliable when everything else in her life feels uncertain. Through math, she slowly starts to connect with others and find a way forward.

(Tanggal 14 Maret itu ternyata Hari Matematika Internasional! Nah, aku jadi kepikiran buat bahas buku AfterMath oleh Emily Barth Isler. Jadi, ini novel middle-grade yang beneran keren karena menggabungkan matematika ke dalam cerita tentang kesedihan, penyembuhan, dan menemukan koneksi sama orang lain. Ceritanya tentang Lucy, anak perempuan berusia 12 tahun yang pindah ke kota baru setelah kehilangan adik laki-lakinya, Theo. Dia lagi mengalami kesulitan dalam menghadapi kesedihannya sendiri, pas masuk sekolah baru, ternyata teman-teman sekelasnya juga punya trauma sendiri karena mereka pernah mengalami insiden penembakan di sekolah beberapa tahun sebelumnya. Berbanding terbalik dengan teman-temannya yang punya satu sama lain buat saling support, Lucy merasa sendiri dalam menghadapi kehilangannya. Nah, di tengah semua kegalauan itu, matematika jadi semacam pelarian buat Lucy. Bagi dia, matematika itu sesuatu yang logis dan bisa diandalkan, beda banget sama hidupnya yang serba nggak pasti. Lewat matematika juga, Lucy pelan-pelan mulai bisa berhubungan sama orang lain dan nemuin cara buat move on.)

⚠️ WARNING:

This book will not give you tidy life lessons wrapped in a bow. Instead, it’s like that one deep 2AM conversation that leaves you emotionally winded but weirdly comforted. May cause:

🔺Sudden urges to rethink how you view grief

🔺Awkward tears in public (blame the math metaphors)

🔺A strong need to text your friends "hey, you good?"

TL;DR (TOO DEEP; READ ANYWAY): A girl uses math to cope with her brother’s death, while her new classmates grapple with a school shooting’s aftermath. No toxic positivity here, just raw, relatable grief that proves healing isn’t linear (and that numbers can be unexpectedly poetic). Also features:

✔️ Found family via math and mime classes

✔️ Zero villainizing (just messy humans)

✔️ A+ emotional realism

✨ PERFECT FOR READERS WHO:

🔺Want trauma rep that doesn’t glamorize suffering

🔺Love "show, don’t tell" storytelling (aka no cheesy life lectures)

🔺Appreciate books that treat teens like complex humans

🔺Stan stories where healing looks like showing up, not "getting over it"

🔺Secretly think math is low-key philosophical (or hate math but are open to a glow-up)

Not for you if: You prefer books where trauma = a plot device instead of a real experience.

BOOK REVIEW 

Grief isn’t a group project, and AfterMath gets that. Emily Barth Isler’s book follows Lucy, a girl who’s lost her little brother, Theo. She starts at a new school where everyone’s still traumatized by a past shooting. The difference is their pain is a shared trauma, while hers is a solo mission. This book is a meditation on how loneliness makes grief even heavier, like when your friends are grieving together but your grief feels like a DM no one’s opened, even though both of them reshape lives in irreversible ways. Healing isn’t some viral trend with a tutorial because it’s messy, personal, and definitely not one-size-fits-all.

Lucy’s classmates wrestle with survivor's guilt after the shooting. Like, why am I here when they’re not? While she deals with a quieter agony of losing someone who was supposed to grow old with her. This book doesn’t offer you a tidy resolution or a fake "it gets better" montage, it’s more like those days when you’re functional in math class but crying in the bathroom by lunch, it's the messy, nonlinear reality of grief. Truth is grief isn’t something you "solve", it’s baggage you learn to carry, some days lighter than others. In a world that often demands closure, this book bravely insists that some wounds don’t heal neatly, they scar, and that’s okay..

Even within Lucy’s family, grief becomes a wedge, pushing them apart just when they need each other most. Lucy’s parents are falling apart too, but in totally different ways, her mom’s in toxic positivity mode, her dad’s ghosting his own emotions, and Lucy’s left feeling like the only one still sitting in the sadness. It’s that awkward moment when you realize even your own family doesn’t speak your grief language. But this book reminds us that even when connections feel shaky, reaching out (or just existing near someone who gets it) can be the first step toward finding solid ground again.

What makes this book truly unique is its unexpected anchor: mathematics. For Lucy, numbers are her emotional safe space, a world of logic and order where everything has a solution, unlike the chaos of grief. Equations follow rules, emotions do not. The one place where 2+2 always equals 4, unlike grief which is all over the place. Infinity isn’t just a math concept, it’s how her brother’s absence feels, endless and impossible to solve. Yet math isn’t just a coping mechanism, it’s Lucy's Google Translate, a language she uses to translate her pain and abstract sorrow into something she can dissect and, slowly, understand.  This book is low-key genius, because it structures itself like a math problem, with patterns and repeats that show healing isn’t linear.

Math also becomes an unlikely bridge between Lucy and her classmates. At first, Lucy’s like "my grief doesn’t belong in this group chat", her loss is different from her classmates’ shooting trauma. But then mathematics class become their shared language. Here, this book subtly challenges the idea that grief must be similar to be valid. Trauma isn’t some standardized test with one right answer, it’s more like those "show your work" problems where everyone’s process looks different. A quadratic equation has only one correct answer, but trauma, the novel argues, has infinite permutations, and sometimes, the act of solving a problem together matters more than the solution itself. The real solution is showing up, even when you’re all working from different formulas.

Perhaps this book’s boldest move is humanizing a character linked to the shooter, a perspective most books omitted from stories about school violence. This book doesn’t do easy villains or perfect victims, it lives in the messy gray area. This book proves that pain isn’t some competition for who’s suffered most, and no one is defined by a single moment. It refuses to villainize or sanctify, instead, it asks readers to sit with discomfort and consider how healing begins when we stop assuming we know others’ stories. In a world where people are quick to cancel and categorize, this is some radical emotional intelligence.

"My life is a lot like mime. The most important things don't get said, and you're really not supposed to touch most people."

(Grief bukanlah kerja kelompok, dan AfterMath paham banget soal ini. Buku Emily Barth Isler ini bercerita tentang Lucy, anak perempuan yang baru kehilangan adiknya, Theo. Pas pindah sekolah, ternyata temen-temen sekelasnya mengalami trauma pasca insiden penembakan. Bedanya? Mereka punya shared trauma, sementara kesedihan Lucy kayak misi solo. Buku ini menunjukkan betapa kesepian bikin grief semakin berat, kayak ketika temen-temenmu berduka bersama, tapi kesedihanmu rasanya kayak DM yang gak dibalas. Padahal dua-duanya sama-sama mengubah hidup kita selamanya. Healing bukanlah trend yang lagi viral beserta tutorialnya karena ini proses yang berantakan, personal, dan gak ada rumus pasti.

Temen-temen sekelas Lucy bergulat dengan survivor's guilt: "Kenapa aku yang selamat, sementara mereka enggak?" Sementara Lucy berjuang dengan kesedihan yang lebih sunyi, kehilangan seseorang yang seharusnya bisa tumbuh bersamanya. Buku ini gak memberikan solusi instan atau ending "semua jadi baik-baik aja". Ini lebih kayak hari-hari ketika kamu pura-pura waras di kelas matematika, tapi nangis di kamar mandi pas jam istirahat. Karena sebenernya grief bukan soal "menyelesaikan" duka, tapi belajar membawanya, kadang ringan, kadang berat. Di dunia yang selalu menginginkan closure untuk segala hal, buku ini berani bilang: beberapa luka gak akan sembuh dengan rapi. Mereka bisa jadi bekas luka, dan itu gapapa.

Bahkan di keluarga Lucy sendiri, grief malah jadi tembok. Orang tua Lucy hancur juga, tapi dengan cara yang sangat berbeda: ibunya bersikap positive terus, bapaknya malah menutup diri. Alhasil Lucy merasa kayak satu-satunya yang masih tenggelam dalam kesedihan. Mirip kayak kita sadar bahwa bahkan keluarga sendiri gak memahami bahasa duka kita. Tapi buku ini memberikan secercah harapan: ketika kita berani membuka diri (atau sekedar berada di sekitar orang yang memahaminya), itu bisa jadi langkah pertama buat menemukan solid ground lagi.

Hal yang bikin buku ini unik banget adalah matematika jadi emotional safe space-nya Lucy. Angka-angka itu dunia yang teratur buatnya, semua ada solusinya, beda banget dengan grief yang berantakan. Kalau di matematika 2+2 selalu 4, tapi kesedihan nggak pernah sesimpel itu. Konsep infinity nggak cuma teori doang, tapi jadi gambaran betapa kepergian adiknya rasanya nggak ada ujungnya. Tapi matematika buat Lucy bukan cuma pelarian, ini kayak Google Translate-nya buat menerjemahkan rasa sakit yang abstrak jadi sesuatu yang bisa dipelajari pelan-pelan. Jenius banget sih cara buku ini memberikan struktur pada ceritanya kayak soal matematika, dengan pola dan pengulangan yang menunjukkan kalau healing itu nggak pernah linear.

Kita bakal nggak nyangka juga matematika malah jadi jembatan antara Lucy dan temen-temen sekelasnya. Awalnya Lucy berpikir "duka aku nggak relate sama trauma mereka", tapi ternyata kelas matematika jadi bahasa pemersatu mereka. Buku ini merombak mindset bahwa kesedihan harus mirip biar dianggap valid. Trauma bukan ujian pilihan ganda yang ada jawaban benarnya, tapi lebih kayak soal uraian dimana cara setiap orang ngerjainnya beda-beda. Persamaan kuadrat mungkin cuma ada satu jawaban, tapi trauma punya jumlah permutasi tak terhingga yang berbeda-beda. Dan seringkali, proses berjuang bareng lebih penting daripada hasil akhirnya. Intinya? Yang penting kita show up, meskipun caranya beda-beda.

Move paling berani dari buku ini adalah dia berani kasih sudut pandang karakter yang punya hubungan sama pelaku penembakan, sesuatu yang jarang banget dibahas di buku-buku lain. Nggak ada hitam-putih di sini, yang ada cuma area abu-abu yang messy. Buku ini membuktikan bahwa penderitaan bukan ajang lomba "siapa yang paling menderita", dan nggak ada orang yang bisa didefinisikan dari satu momen terburuknya. Daripada mencari kambing hitam atau pahlawan, buku ini malah mengajak kita untuk nggak buru-buru nge-judge orang lain. Di era yang serba cepat nge-cancel dan nge-label, buku ini adalah emotional intelligence level dewa.)

TEACHER’S CORNER

Shoutout to the MVP: Lucy’s Math Teacher. The adult who actually gets it (rare in books). Gives homework and emotional support. He deserves:

☕ Unlimited coffee

🏆 "Best Metaphor Translator" award

🚀 A rocket to escape school bureaucracy

THINGS I LOVE

■One of the things I like about this book is how it handles grief and trauma in such a real and honest way. It doesn’t try to rush the healing process or give simple solutions, which makes it feel so much more genuine. Everyone in this book deals with loss differently, and there’s no right way to cope. That’s what makes thid story so powerful by showing how personal and complicated grief can be.  

■My most favorite aspect of this book is how math is woven into the story. It’s not just there because Lucy likes it, but because it actually helps her process her emotions and make sense of everything happening around her. It’s not used to force the story forward or feel like a boring school subject, because it’s just a natural part of her life. Without it, she wouldn’t be able to understand her own feelings. Then, the math jokes and facts sprinkled throughout this book were a fun touch!

■The title is also really clever! AfterMath works in two ways: first, because Lucy loves math, and second, because it’s about what happens after a huge, life-changing event. Both Lucy and her classmates are dealing with their own "aftermath," and I love how the title ties everything together so well.  

■The characters in this book also felt incredibly real to me. None of them are exaggerated or overly dramatic like their struggles, emotions, and reactions all feel natural. I especially love Lucy’s math teacher. He’s so supportive, kind, and actually cares about his students. I also think it's so cool that he is passionate about theater. It’s nice to see a teacher in a book who is more than just "the person who gives homework." I also like how the author included characters from different backgrounds in a way that felt respectful and real.  

■The friendships and relationships in this book were another favorite of mine. It explores things like jealousy, forgiveness, and how grief doesn’t just affect one person because it impacts everyone around them. I think a lot of people, especially middle-graders and teenagers, will relate to Lucy’s relationship with her parents and that weird, quiet sadness that lingers after a loss. These characters have flaws, and that’s what makes them feel real. And that’s what I love most about this book.

■Lucy’s struggles with grief, friendships, and fitting in at a new school feel so real. The way she reacts, like her frustration, loneliness, and awkward moments, makes her easy to relate to. If you’ve ever felt out of place or dealt with loss, you might see parts of yourself in her story.  

■Even though this book talks about heavy topics, it leaves us with a sense of hope. It shows that healing is possible, even if it takes time, and that support, whether from friends, family, or teachers, can make a huge difference. It doesn’t pretend that everything will magically be okay, but it reassures you that you won’t always feel alone.  

■I love how easy the writing is to understand. Even though it talks about heavy topics like grief, loss, and a school shooting, it’s written in a way that young readers can grasp while still being deep enough for older readers.

"Suddenly not knowing the shape of equation feels like freedom instead of uncertainty."

(■Aku suka banget gimana buku ini mengangkat tema kesedihan dan trauma dengan cara yang jujur dan realistis. Dia nggak memaksa proses penyembuhan atau memberikan solusi instan, yang bikin ceritanya terasa lebih genuine. Setiap karakter di sini menghadapi kehilangan dengan caranya sendiri, dan nggak ada cara yang "benar" buat itu. Nah, itu yang bikin ceritanya kuat, karena menunjukkan betapa personal dan rumitnya rasa kehilangan itu.  

■Yang paling aku suka dari buku ini adalah gimana matematika dimasukkan ke dalam cerita. Nggak cuma sekadar hobi Lucy, tapi matematika membantunya mengolah emosi dan memahami apa yang terjadi di sekitarnya. Matematika di sini nggak dipaksa untuk menggerakkan cerita atau jadi kayak pelajaran sekolah yang membosankan, tapi emang jadi bagian alami dari hidup Lucy. Tanpa matematika, dia mungkin nggak bakal bisa mengerti perasaannya sendiri. Terus, jokes-jokes dan fakta matematika yang diselipin di cerita ini bikin tambah seru!  

■Judulnya juga beneran smart banget! AfterMath punya dua makna: pertama, karena Lucy suka matematika, dan kedua, karena ini tentang apa yang terjadi setelah sebuah kejadian besar yang mengubah hidup. Baik Lucy maupun teman-temannya sama-sama menghadapi "aftermath" mereka sendiri, dan aku suka banget gimana judulnya menghubungkan semuanya dengan apik.  

■Karakter-karakternya juga terasa realistis. Nggak ada yang berlebihan atau dramatis termasuk perjuangan, emosi, dan reaksi mereka semua terasa natural. Aku especially suka sama guru matematika Lucy. Dia supportive, baik hati, dan beneran peduli sama murid-muridnya. Terus, aku suka banget gimana dia juga punya passion di teater. Seneng deh liat guru di buku yang nggak cuma sekadar "orang yang ngasih PR." Aku juga apresiasi gimana penulisnya mengemas karakter-karakter dari latar belakang yang berbeda dengan cara yang respectful dan nggak dipaksain.  

■Persahabatan dan hubungan di buku ini juga jadi salah satu favoritku. Buku ini mengangkat hal-hal kayak kecemburuan, maaf, dan gimana kesedihan nggak cuma ngefek ke satu orang, tapi ke semua orang di sekitarnya. Aku rasa banyak orang, terutama pembaca middle-grade dan remaja, bakal relate sama hubungan Lucy dan orang tuanya, juga rasa sedih yang terus menempel setelah kehilangan. Karakter-karakternya punya kekurangan, dan itu yang bikin mereka terasa nyata. Dan itu yang paling aku suka dari buku ini, rasanya kayak ngobrol sama temen yang lagi ceritain hidupnya.

■Perjuangan Lucy yang mengalami kesedihan, persahabatan, dan menemukan tempat di sekolah baru ini terasa sangat realistis. Reaksinya, kayak frustrasi, rasa kesepian, atau momen-momen canggung, bikin karakternya sangat relatable. Kalau kamu pernah merasa nggak nyaman di tempat baru atau mengalami kehilangan, mungkin kamu bakal menemukan sebagian dirimu di cerita Lucy.  

■Meskipun buku ini membahas tema-tema berat, tapi akhirnya tetap terasa hopeful. Buku ini menunjukkan bahwa penyembuhan itu mungkin, meskipun butuh waktu, dan dukungan, entah dari teman, keluarga, atau guru, bisa menciptakan perbedaan besar. Buku ini tidak mengatakan kalau semuanya bakal beres secara ajaib, tapi memberikan pesan yang meyakinkan kamu nggak akan selamanya merasa sendirian.  

■Aku juga suka banget sama gaya penulisannya yang gampang dimengerti. Meskipun bahas topik-topik serius kayak kesedihan, kehilangan, atau penembakan di sekolah, tapi ditulis dengan cara yang bisa dipahami sama pembaca yang lebih muda, tapi tetap terasa dalam buat pembaca yang lebih dewasa.)

RATING

🔺"Solve for X" Moments (where X = tears, epiphanies, and highlighting entire pages): 5/5

🔺Emotional Equations: 4.5/5 (Almost perfect, minus half a point because grief isn’t tidy)

🔺Cry-O-Meter: 4/5 tear drops (Not a full sob-fest, but that one infinity metaphor? Brutal)

🔺Hug-A-Character Score: 5/5 (Lucy’s classmates need group hugs, her math teacher deserves a raise)

WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT AFTERMATH

🔺The Little Prince: "Ah, so your ‘infinity’ is like my rose, absent but everywhere. And these ‘shooting survivors’ they are like my baobabs, no? Roots too deep to remove, but not their fault they grew."

🔺Samwise Gamgee: "Now that’s proper courage, Lucy facing grief like it’s Mount Doom, but with algebra! And her classmates? Reminds me of me and Mr. Frodo. Sometimes the only way out is through, preferably with second breakfast and a chalkboard."

🔺Anna (When Marnie Was There): "She gets it, how loneliness makes grief louder, and how numbers can be like Marnie’s house: a secret place to hide and heal. Also, that shooter’s-family subplot? Oof. Pain isn’t a contest, wish someone’d told me that sooner."

CONCLUSION 

AfterMath is that one friend who never hits you with the 'everything happens for a reason' BS, but instead sits with you in the mess and goes, 'Damn, this hurts. I got you though.' Grief in this book isn’t some simple algebra problem, it’s like advanced calculus, where pain multiplies when you keep it bottled up, subtracts from who you think you are, and maybe, just maybe, lets you find some shaky equilibrium. The author isn’t out here handing out cliché life hacks for healing, but she gives us something more valuable: an honest portrayal of loss that honors its complexity. Lucy’s story proves trauma might bend your life’s trajectory, but it doesn’t have to be your whole personality. And healing doesn’t always happen in big, dramatic speeches, sometimes it’s in the quiet moments: a shared math problem, a look that says "I get it," or just someone choosing to stay when things get heavy. This book is that one memorable book, not because it’s trying to make you cry, but because it’s like that late-night text from a friend that’s weirdly comforting: "Hey, you’re not okay right now, and that’s okay. There’s still space to figure it out."

(AfterMath adalah temen yang gak bilang 'semua terjadi karena ada alasannya', tapi lebih 'ini sakit banget ya? Aku di sini kok'. Duka di buku ini bukan kayak soal aljabar sederhana, tapi lebih mirip kalkulus tingkat tinggi, di mana sakit hati makin bertambah kalau dipendam, mengikis jati dirimu pelan-pelan, dan mungkin, hanya mungkin, membantumu menemukan keseimbangan yang goyah. Penulisnya gak bagi-bagi resep instan buat sembuh, tapi kasih sesuatu yang lebih berharga: gambaran jujur tentang kehilangan yang mengakui kompleksitasnya. Kisah Lucy membuktikan bahwa trauma mungkin membelokkan jalan hidupmu, tapi itu gak harus jadi seluruh kepribadianmu. Penyembuhan gak selalu terjadi lewat kata-kata dramatis, kadang justru muncul di momen-momen sunyi: saat mengerjakan soal matematika bareng, tatapan yang bilang "aku ngerti", atau sekadar ada orang yang memilih bertahan saat semuanya berat. Buku ini bakal memorable banget, bukan karena memaksa kamu untuk nangis, tapi karena rasanya kayak dapat chat tengah malam dari temen yang somehow comforting: "Hey, kamu memang gak baik-baik aja sekarang, dan gapapa kok. Masih ada waktu buat pelan-pelan memahaminya.")