It was the middle of January, likely cold, possibly blustery, and probably a bit overcast outside. Absolutely nothing remarkable happened on that day, but I did end up being born at which point I'm fairly sure I knew how to read. In my family, you see, reading is as much a genetic trait as the size of my nose or the shape of my knees. The written word, it's kind of what we do with ourselves. We love it, create it, critique it, and judge it, but what we do most, and what we do best, is consume it. I honestly cannot remember a time when I couldn't read and I still don't know of any other pursuit that I would rank above lounging out with a good book.
Part of my early obsession probably comes from my mother, who used us kids to shamelessly indulge her own bookaholism. For all of my early life she read aloud to me and my siblings. There are dozens of books that I will never associate with anything but the sound of her voice and the feeling of the carpet under my back as I lay and listened. The fact that our local library was two blocks from my house made it an easy way to tire out the kids and stock up on the literary all at the same time. I'm fairly sure the librarians knew my name before I could properly write it.
It was there, within the brick walls of that tiny library that I met and married the other great love of my life: the SciFi/Fantasy section. It was through this medium that I turned my frenzied consumption of the written word into an equally obsessive production of the same. The first story I ever decided to write, not because I had to, but because I wanted to contribute to the world of words around me, was a horrible little Star Wars fanfiction. I was twelve, you see, and Luke Skywalker was god. He was my first crush and I was so in love. And that love grew, but not through a consumption of YA fiction. I was a big girl by then, at twelve, and I read the big novels. Timothy Zahn’s Thrawn series. The X-wing books. The grown-up stuff. I was living proof of what Chris Crowe said in his article “Young Adult Literature: The Problem with YA Literature.” I was a mature reader, or at least that’s how I thought of myself. I wasn’t remedial. There was no reason for me to read the cheesy, formulaic ‘kids books’.
It wasn’t until I was an adult that I finally stopped caring about the categories assigned to the books and allowed myself to branch out into the YA section. I think this distance allowed me to see YA books through a different lens. As a child and a teenager I defined books by what I liked vs what I didn’t like, with no real substance to those opinions. I didn’t have a good grasp on why I felt that way. I couldn’t quantify my feelings, and I didn’t really try. It wasn’t until I really got some experience with writing that I was able to put those opinions into words. I liked Tamora Pierce’s books for her universe building, but most YA fiction is enthralling due to the strength of the characters. The people in the books, the voice, the personalities, the characterization is usually so strong in good adolescent literature that it becomes interesting and memorable. Despite the shortness of the story. Despite the occasional implausibility in the plot.
It is this slightly backward approach to YA Lit that keeps me interested in the genre. As I try to learn how to write and seek to improve my skills as an author I find myself studying YA lit more and more. The problem is, when adults write for adults, they have a tendency to out think themselves. But when they write ‘simpler’ stories aimed for teenagers, frequently the bare bones of writing can be seen better. You don’t have to try and pick apart two main plots and fourteen subplots, all with layers of foreshadowing and subtext to try to figure out what the author is attempting to do. With a more straight forward structure to the story, a close analysis of the book can reveal not only what the author is trying to do, but how and why they’re making those choices. Analyzing adolescent literature, then, becomes an interesting journey into how books and stories and novels are formed, and how they become the purposeful, impactful commentaries on human nature that so many of them are. It is my hope to improve my own knowledge of this topic, and to share what I learn with my fellow fiction writers as the semester goes along.
Bibliography:
Crowe, Chris. "Young Adult Literature: The Problem With YA Literature." English Journal 90.3 (2001): 146-150. Web. 19 Aug 2010. <http://www.jstor.org/stable/821338>.
