A young death as a hymn to life

Teenage Fiction:The world of publishing, like most areas of life, is prone to hype. There has been a bit of fuss about this first novel by Jenny Downham. She has, possibly to her chagrin, been compared a lot with JK Rowling - like that writer, she was a single mother living on social welfare when she wrote it.

There has also been some fuss about the fact that it deals with teenage sex and drug-taking in a frank way. I remember as a teenager reading a book called Go Ask Alice, about a teenage junkie. It too raised eyebrows despite the fact that, as far as I remember, it painted a lurid picture of the horrors of heroin addiction.

I can't recall too much about Go Ask Alice, but thoughtful teenagers who read it will remember Before I Die. This is a sad and beautiful book about a 16-year-old girl with leukaemia, who makes a list of things she wants to do in the time left to her.

The girl, Tessa, who narrates her own story, recounts painful treatments - a lumbar puncture, blood transfusions - but the book is much, much more than that. Mostly the descriptions are plain and all the more poignant for it. "Today my hips are sharp and my ribs shine through my skin. I am retreating, ghost-like, away from myself."

What elevates this way above tragedy-movie-of-the-week level is Downham's gift for observation and her sensual descriptions of everyday situations. Because her time is short, Tessa's perceptions are heightened - everything seems precious and deserving of attention. She doesn't believe in God, but her illness has put her in a Zen-like state of mindfulness. The first thing on Tessa's list is: "Have sex." To this end she inveigles her more worldly best friend Zoey into taking her clubbing, and they duly pick up two slightly older guys. Going out with the intention of sleeping with someone, anyone, just for the sake of it, is rarely a good idea, even if in this case completely understandable. Somewhere Tessa knows this - she wears Zoey's dress and when doing the deed, pretends to be her. Not that she is stupid. "I don't want a druggie," she insists, when they get to the club. "If he's out of his head he won't remember me. And I don't want anyone pissed either." It is not an unqualified success, but she is pretty much unscathed and much better is to come. Not so Zoey, who soon finds herself pregnant by the guy she linked up with. The death/life juxtaposition is a bit obvious, but again Downham handles it so well that it works. "I'm not having it [ the baby] because of you!" Zoey shouts when Tessa tries to talk her out of having an abortion.

LATER ON, THE sexual descriptions are more explicit but are shot through not just with a youthful, erotic charge (which may make older readers feel a bit nostalgic), but with a naive, romantic intensity. And why not? Sex - and love - matter to teenagers.

Second on the list is: "Take drugs." This involves her and Zoey smoking a few joints and drinking tea made from magic mushrooms supplied by the boy next door, Adam. The very real dangers of taking mushrooms have been highlighted lately, but again the issue is dealt with thoughtfully. Adam, who is a caring sort, deliberately stays straight in order to look after the girls while they are high, and, it transpires, it's just as well.

Tessa's world will seem familiar to most teenagers. There is a good deal of texting. Another thing on Tessa's list is "Fame". "What about Big Brother?" says Zoey. But Tessa may not have the time.

"Cal says that humans are made from the nuclear ash of dead stars. He says that when I die, I'll return to dust, glitter, rain. If that's true, I want to be buried right here under this tree. Its roots will reach into the soft mess of my body and suck me dry. I'll be reformed as apple blossom. I'll drift down in the spring like confetti and cling to my family's shoes. They'll carry me in their pockets, scatter the subtle silk of me across their pillows to help them sleep. What dreams will they have then?"

This poetic engagement with the cosmic sometimes threatens to undermine the convincing naturalism of Tessa's voice, but just as you begin to wonder if she is a tad too mature and prone to lyricism to be believable the day is saved by something convincingly youthful: eating a hot dog, with onion rings, with Adam outside a motorway caff - "How did he know that would be my idea of a perfect lunch?"; or earlier, at home, her dad in silhouette in her bedroom doorway "looked like a Power Ranger".

Despite her being the main character and narrator, we don't know that much about Tessa, or even how she looked before her illness made her thin and the chemo meant she had to shave her head. We know that she is bright and brave, and has a good, dry sense of humour. Her weakened immune system means she is prone to infections. "I hope it's TB," she says of the latest one. "All poets of sensibility get TB. Cancer's just humiliating."

She writes explicit instructions for her funeral. It will be eco-friendly, a burial - cremation is too polluting. And "Don't under any circumstances read that poem by Auden. It's been done to death (ha, ha) and is too sad. Get someone to read Sonnet 12 by Shakespeare."

Good choice of music too. No Celine Dion horrors for her; she chooses The Cure and Sufjan Stevens.

It may have come much, much too early, but Tessa's death is fitting and dignified. This is because she is at home and surrounded by people who love her - but that's only possible because she is allotted a visiting nurse who can administer treatment and pain relief in her home. Her father was able to give up his job to look after her (her parents are separated) and is, presumably, living on social welfare.

It makes you wonder how a teenage girl facing a similar situation would fare under our own health system.

Despite its sadness, this is an oddly uplifting novel. It's about love and friendship and family. It deals with death, but it's a hymn to life.

Cathy Dillon is an Irish Times journalist

Before I Die By Jenny Downham David Fickling, 326pp. £10.99