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The Masque of VS Naipaul @ The NRI

I have waited nine years to see VS Naipaul. The last time he was in town, he was fresh from his Nobel win, and I was still star-struck from my introduction to his work in a postcolonial lit class. I bought tickets the day they went on sale. Unfortunately for me, Joe took ill (or so he claimed!) about half an hour before the talk, and I didn’t make it. Lucky for me, Naipaul is a prolific author much sought after on tour, so I did get to see him recently. My latest NRI piece reflects on the talk, and the lack of Indians in the audience. Here’s the intro:

V.S. Naipaul is a small man, rounded in the middle and eloquently spoken. His accent is educated and British, his movements sparing, as if all his energy has been spent on interpreting the world, then presenting it in text. Naipaul, at 78, is an archetypal, intellectual NRI: born in Trinidad, he’s a postcolonial novelist, often writing on some level about the sense of belonging, or lack thereof, felt by NRIs; in 2007, he called on his fellow Trinidadians to let go of Indian and African, and instead embrace Trinidad. He’s been criticized for his pro-Western views, his stance on the “Muslim invasion”, and his arguably neo-apologist comments.

P.S. I once stopped Joe from seeing William Gibson. It’s an old argument we fall into pretty easily, and runs much like this:

Joe: You stopped me from seeing William Gibson!

Me: There was a snow storm!

Joe: It was still on! You said they’d cancel, and they didn’t!

Me: We didn’t have a car, there were no buses, and you’d have literally had to walk up a hill knee deep in snow!

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New Post @ PopMatters – Getting Inside the Book Review

We’ve all done it — bought a book based on a good review, passed over another because of a bad review. But why do reviews affect us? And how do they do it?

Once upon a time, only professional reviewers wrote book reviews. The greater the number of publishing credits and letters after your name, the greater your chances of being taken seriously. Of course, it doesn’t take a degree to work out if you like a book (though in the case of Edward Bloor’s Storytime, you might need an MFA to work out why). And a good review is still a good review—whether it’s over at your friend’s blog, or in the Books section of The New York Times.

via Getting Inside the Book Review: How They Work & Why We Read Them < PopMatters.

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Reading YA: 7 Fairy Tale Books You Need To Read Now

Tithe, Holly BlackFairy tale literature, once mostly stock standard retellings of The Brothers Grimm and Charles Perrault, is moving on. Old fairy tales are still being retold (Book of a Thousand Days), but new ones are constantly being written, too (Once Upon a Marigold). Of course, that leaves dedicated fairy tale readers like me in a bit of bind–there’s so much to read that sometimes the best books get lost in the bookshelf shuffle. Here’s a list of some of the great fairy tale lit you may have missed. Some titles listed are younger than a YA audience, but fun reads all the same. (Have something to add to the list? Email me, or leave a note in the comments!)

Want the whole list? Download the PDF here; get the titles-only version here.

1. BOOK OF A THOUSAND DAYS, Shannon Hale
Hale (River Secrets) delivers another winning fantasy, this time inventively fleshing out the obscure Grimm tale, Maid Maleen, through the expressive and earthy voice of Dashti, maid to Lady Saren. A plucky and resourceful orphan, Dashti comes from a nomad tribe in a place resembling the Asian Steppes, and is brought to the Lady’s house in the midst of a crisis. Lady Saren, having refused to marry the powerful but loathsome Lord her father has chosen, faces seven years’ imprisonment in an unlit tower. Initially, Dashti believes her worth is tied to her ability to care for her “tower-addled” lady until she can join Khan Tegus, to whom she is secretly betrothed. When the gentle Tegus comes to the tower, Dashti must step in for her traumatized lady, speaking to him as Saren through the one tiny metal door. Hale exploits the diary form to convey Dashti’s perspective; despite her self-effacing declaration that “?I draw this from memory so it won’t be right,” the entries reflect her genuinely spirited inner life. The tension between her unstinting loyalty and patience and burgeoning realization of her own strength and feelings for Tegus feels especially authentic. Readers will be riveted as Dashti and Saren escape and flee to the Khan’s realm where, through a series of deceptions, contrivances and a riotously triumphant climax, the tale spins out to a thoroughly satisfying ending.–PW

2. BEAUTY: A RETELLING OF THE STORY OF BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, Robin McKinley
Beauty has never liked her nickname. She is thin and awkward; it is her two sisters who are the beautiful ones. But what she lacks in looks, she can perhaps make up for in courage. When her father comes home with the tale of an enchanted castle in the forest and the terrible promise he had to make to the Beast who lives there, Beauty knows she must go to the castle, a prisoner of her own free will. Her father protests that he will not let her go, but she answers, “Cannot a Beast be tamed?” Robin McKinley’s beloved telling illuminates the unusual love story of a most unlikely couple: Beauty and the Beast.–B&N

3. FAIREST, Gail Carson Levine
Levine’s enchanting, intelligent fairy tale, set in a kingdom devoted to singing, lends itself well to full-cast production; this one features 32 voices. Composer Todd Hobin has set Levine’s lyrics to music; Naughton does a terrific job as maid Aza, the narrator, a demanding role that requires near-operatic talents. Homely Aza, abandoned at birth, not only sings like a lark, she can throw her voice and mimic others, a skill she calls illusing. In a chance meeting, the treacherous new queen, whose abrasive voice has a Valley Girlesque quality, discovers Aza’s talent and blackmails the girl into secretly providing her voice for all of the queen’s public singing. Additional background music augments the many perilous predicaments Aza finds herself in, as well as providing a backdrop to the fairy-tale romance that develops between her and Prince Ijori. –PW

4. THE STINKY CHEESEMAN, AND OTHER FAIRLY STUPID TALES, Jon Scieszka, Lane Smith
Scieszka and Smith, the daring duo responsible for revealing The True Story of the Three Little Pigs (Viking, 1989), return here with nine new exposes, all narrated by the ubiquitous Jack (of Beanstalk fame). Unlike the detailed retelling of the pigs’ tale, most of these stories are shortened, one-joke versions that often trade their traditional morals for hilarity. “The Stinky Cheese Man” is an odoriferous cousin to the gingerbread boy; when he runs away, nobody wants to run after him. “The Other Frog Prince” wheedles a kiss only to reveal that he is just a tricky frog (as the princess wipes the frog slime off her lips); the Little Red Hen wanders frantically in and out of the book squawking about her wheat, her bread, her story, until she is finally (and permanently) squelched by Jack’s giant. The broad satire extends even to book design, with a blurb that proclaims “NEW! IMPROVED! FUNNY! GOOD! BUY! NOW!” and a skewed table of contents crashing down on Chicken Licken and company several pages after they proclaim that the sky is falling. The illustrations are similar in style and mood to those in the earlier book, with the addition of more abstraction plus collage in some areas. The typeface, text size, and placement varies to become a vital part of the illustrations for some of the tales. Clearly, it is necessary to be familiar with the original folktales to understand the humor of these versions. Those in the know will laugh out loud. –Susan L. Rogers, Chestnut Hill Academy, PA for School Library Journal

5. TITHE, Holly Black
Kaye is 16 when she finally learns why she’s such a strange young woman: she’s a changeling pixie under a spell. A move home to the New Jersey shore brings her back in touch with her childhood friends, the solitary fey, who want to end their servitude to the higher-born faeries by foiling the sacrifice of human blood known as the Tithe. Kaye offers to masquerade as a human for the Tithe and is swept into a complicated net of politics and treason between two rival courts of faeries. Grim scenes from Kaye’s life in the human world pile up at the beginning of the story in what initially seems a gratuitous manner (her mother is almost stabbed by her current boyfriend, Kaye steals for thrills, a new acquaintance tries to rape her), but the details all have explanations later on in the equally grim world of the faeries. The plot moves quickly, and the secondary characters are appealing, if not always entirely believable. Occasional awkward changes in point of view won’t discourage readers who enjoy dark, edgy fantasy. However, the excessive use of obscenities adds little to character development. Thegreatest strength of the story lies in the settings, particularly the descriptions of the debased Unseelie Court.-Beth Wright, Fletcher Free Library, Burlington, VT for School Library Journal

6. ONCE UPON A MARIGOLD, Jean Ferris
In a gratifying fantasy that contains elements of classic fairy tales, Ferris (Love Among the Walnuts) breathes new life into archetypal characters by adding unexpected and often humorous dimensions to their personalities. The protagonist, Christian, has been raised in the forest by a troll named Edric. As he nears manhood, Christian decides it is time to see the world-or at least the section across the river, where the lovely Princess Marigold resides. Having spent many hours gazing at Marigold through a telescope and corresponding with her by “p-mail” (letters sent by carrier pigeon), he has already felt the sting of Cupid’s arrow by the time he lands a job in court. Marigold readily returns his affections, but unfortunately, she is about to become betrothed to Sir Magnus. Meanwhile, Marigold’s evil mother, Queen Olympia, is plotting to murder both Marigold and her kindly, doting father, King Swithbert. Readers swept into the lighthearted spirit of this novel will likely not be bothered by the predictability of outcomes. As in fairy tales of old, jabs are made at social values and norms, and concepts of nobility and ignobility are painted in very broad strokes. Nonetheless, heroes and heroines emerge as convincing, well-rounded characters embodying flaws as well as virtues. Their foibles-Edric’s tendency to mix up adages, Christian’s stubborn streak and Marigold’s penchant for “awful” jokes-make the good guys all the more endearing.–PW

7. HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE, Dianna Wynne Jones

Sophie Hatter reads a great deal and soon realizes that as the eldest of three daughters she is doomed to an uninteresting future. She resigns herself to making a living as a hatter and helping her younger sisters prepare to make their fortunes. But adventure seeks her out in the shop where she sits alone, dreaming over her hats. The wicked Witch of the Waste, angered by “competition” in the area, turns her into a old woman, so she seeks refuge inside the strange moving castle of the wizard Howl. Howl, advertised by his apprentice as an eater of souls, lives a mad, frantic life trying to escape the curse the witch has placed on him, find the perfect girl of his dreams and end the contract he and his fire demon have entered. Sophie, against her best instincts and at first unaware of her own powers, falls in love. So goes this intricate, humorous and puzzling tale of fantasy and adventure which should both challenge and involve readers. Jones has created an engaging set of characters and found a new use for many of the appurtenances of fairy talesseven league boots and invisible cloaks, among others. At times, the action becomes so complex that readers may have to go back to see what actually happened, and at the end so many loose ends have to be tied up at once that it’s dizzying. Yet Jones’ inventiveness never fails, and her conclusion is infinitely satisfying. Sara Miller, White Plains Public Library, N.Y. for School Library Journal

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Reading: Frightening Fairy Tales or Sanitized Stories?

RapunzelFairy tales are a familiar part of most childhoods. All over the world, parents tell their children about Cinderella or Cendrillon or Yeh-Hsien or even the Egyptian Cinderella, Rhodopis. At least, they used to. According to a January 2009 article in The Telegraph, parents are skipping the once popular tales in favor of simpler, safer stories such as Eric Carle’s 1969 classic The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

Why?

Because fairy tales are scary, not PC, and outdated.

Too Frightening for Children

It’s not surprising that some parents find fairy tales frightening. Children are abandoned in forests (Hansel and Gretel), sent away to be killed (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs), kidnapped and/or sold (Rapunzel), even married early to creepy old widowers (Bluebeard). Hans Christian Andersen’s little match girl dies on the street, forgotten and unloved, clinging to a memory of her dead grandmother and her dream of a real home.

Who’s avoiding fairy tales:

  • 3000 parents polled
  • Almost 20% won’t read Hansel & Gretel
  • 20% don’t like reading The Gingerbread Man
  • 33% refuse to read Little Red Riding Hood
  • 66% say fairy tales have stronger morality messages than modern kidlit
  • 75% try to avoid scary stories before bedtime
  • 50% will not consider reading a fairy tale to their child until they reached the age of five

Fairy tales were not always the province of children, though children weren’t shielded from them, either. As Maria Tatar, John L. Loeb Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, and Chair of Folklore & Mythology at Harvard University 2005 wrote in an article for Slate

“[Fairy tales] started out as adult entertainment—violent, bawdy, melodramatic improvisations that emerged in the evening hours, when ordinary chores engaged the labor of hands, leaving minds free to wander and wonder. Fairy tales, John Updike has proposed, were the television and pornography of an earlier age—part of a fund of popular culture (including jokes, gossip, news, advice, and folklore) that were told to the rhythms of spinning, weaving, repairing tools, and mending clothes. The hearth, where all generations were present, including children, became the site at which miniature myths were stitched together, tales that took up in symbolic terms anxieties about death, loss, and the perils of daily life but also staged the triumph of the underdog.”

We Love Fairy Tales

There are no original fairy tales–not really. There are earliest recorded versions, and literary versions, and retellings, but fairy tales are fluid. Details, like names and places and even supporting characters change, though central themes usually stay the same from telling to telling, because said themes are part of what makes up any given fairy tale.

Although we can’t trace the origin of a specific fairy tale, we can use fairy tales to illustrate the common origins of humanity. Why? Because many popular fairy tales exist, in some form, all over the world. The commonalities in many tales are so widespread that folklorists use a kind of catalogue, the Aarne-Thompson classification system, for keeping track of tales by their common elements. (Cinderella stories are AT-510 (with sub-types A and B) while Beauty and the Beast stories are AT-425.)

Folklorists aren’t the only ones who love fairy tales. Retellings, such as Shannon Hale’s The Goose Girl and Donna Jo Napoli’s Bound are still popular with the teen set; The Three Billy Goats Gruff and Caps for Sale, two softer tales, do brisk trade as picture books. Neil Gaiman’s Stardust and Coraline, original fairy tales with strong ties to fairy tale themes and tropes, are bestsellers amongst YA and adult readers alike.

The vast reach of fairy tales isn’t limited the written word, either. Many popular films and television shows owe large chunks of their plot to fairy tales. Pretty Woman is a clear modern Cinderella; almost every bad-guy-changed-for-love-of-the-girl flick out there has roots in Beauty and the Beast.

The Telegraph’s list of top 10 fairy tales we no longer read:

1. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
2. Hansel and Gretel
3. Cinderella
4. Little Red Riding Hood
5. The Gingerbread Man
6. Jack and the Beanstalk
7. Sleeping Beauty
8. Beauty and the Beast
9. Goldilocks and the Three Bears
10. The Emperor’s New Clothes

The Dark Space Inside Our Heads

Fairy tales are dark. In the Grimm’s version of Cinderella, the ugly stepsisters cut off parts of their feet in an eddort to fit the slipper and fool the prince. In Bluebeard, a girl finds a room full of the hacked up remains of her husbands previous wives, her sisters included. In some older versions of Sleeping Beauty, it’s not the prince’s kiss that awakes the fair maiden but rather his, er, lust.

Are all fairy tales appropriate for all children and teens? No. But nothing is appropriate for everyone–not even chocolate. Even if authors and publishing houses did give way to the pressure from some parents to sanitize reissues and retellings, it’s likely the older, darker versions of the stories would stick around. As Jack Zipes, a professor of German studies and folklorist, puts it, “There’s a very important reason why these tales stick. “It’s because they raise questions that we have not resolved.”

Raising Questions & Relatability

As most authors and dedicated readers know, all good stories raise questions–and fairy tales are up there with the best. Fairy tales present stories and situations riddled with questions for the discerning reader. Just a few–

  • Why doesn’t Cinderella leave home?
  • Why is the princess so drawn to the spindle? Why didn’t her parents simply warn her?
  • Why does Jack believe the magic beans are magic?
  • Why does Bluebeard’s wife open the door, even when she’s been told not to? And why is the story named for him and not her?
  • Do only princesses have happily ever afters?

Some argue, though, that fairy tales serve an even deeper purpose, giving readers–particularly children and teens–a framework within which to understand their problems, and themselves. Fairy tales are dark, Tatar admits, but “beneath the horror was always the promise of revenge and restitution, the exquisite reassurance of a happily-ever-after.”

Zipes agrees, going so far as to read some of his own translations at elementary schools around Minneapolis. He “says he has seen young kids latch onto the classic, dark versions of the tales. Some of the most disadvantaged students, he told the Boston Globe’s Joanna Weiss, “really relate to us, because we’re telling tales that they experience in their homes.””

Does this mean you should rush home and read an illustrated copy of Bluebeard to your two year old? Of course not. And it’s every parent’s choice, picking books for their child. But while some fairy tales may not be appropriate at all ages, that doesn’t mean we should pick up sanitized copies to fill the gaps. Skipping over the darkness in fairy tales does readers–all readers, not just children–a disservice. We can’t skip over the darkness in real life, but we can give children and teens a way to put it in perspective, and learn about themselves in the process. As Weiss so eloquently writes,

“Fairy tale” may be our shorthand for castles and happy endings, but these classic stories have villains, too – nefarious witches, bloodthirsty wolves, stepmothers up to no good. And scholars have come to see the stories’ dark elements as the source of their power, not to mention their persistence over the centuries. Rich in allegory, endlessly adaptable, fairy tales emerged as a framework for talking about social issues. When we remove the difficult parts – and effectively do away with the stories themselves – we’re losing a surprisingly useful common language.

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Reading: What Makes a Book Satisfying?

The Thief, Megan Whalen TurnerLast week, I posted about what makes a book unsatisfying (it’s all about a poor resolution–sorry, Eve). But pinning down what makes a book satisfying isn’t as simple as writing out a list of opposites. Sure, a book with a great wrap up might be a good read, but there’s more to a satisfying book than that.

Reading–moreover, enjoying–a book is a very subjective thing. So far this month, I’ve read just one completely satisfying book – Megan Whalen Turner’s The Thief – which hit on all my favorite things. But the parts of a book I like (a lot of sensory detail, historical inclusions, world myths, dalek fight scenes, some tangents) may be quite different to the parts you like. Harder still, our patience and thresholds for enjoyment may be different. (I’m often willing to give a book at least one hundred pages before deeming it slow, but only call about 10% of what I read truly enjoyable.) Despite this, though, there are three easy ways to figure out if a book was satisfying or not:

  • You think about the book for a while after you’ve finished it
  • You talk about the book with friends, without using negative adjectives
  • You look for a sequel/other books by the same author

Trusting the Reader

An inherent part of reading is trust. As I mentioned last week, readers trust that an author will reward their efforts, and provide a story worth reading all the way to the end. But, as my mother likes to say, trust is a two-way street.

It’s easy to pile everything on an author–after all, in Book Land, authors create, giveth, and taketh away. But a large part of writing is giving the reader credit, and assuming that he/she is neither dense nor stupid, and doesn’t require a summary or info dump every few pages. (This is especially true in YA.) But striking a balance between giving just enough information rather than too little or too much is difficult, even for the best authors (Rebecca Stead’s When You Reach Me is a great example of getting it right).

Although it’s not the only reason a book might be satisfying, having an author’s trust is definitely an important factor in a satisfying read. Much like a keystone, authorial trust holds everything in place. Why? Because readers are people–people who want (and deserve) to be respected not just for their intellect, but for putting in the effort to read a good book. When an author takes the leap–and it is a leap, because one of the greatest parts of being an author is being able to share our stories in the way we think they should be shared–and trusts the reader, three important things happen:

  • Redundancy disappears
  • Backstory becomes less of a focus/chore
  • The story becomes more compelling because we have to work through it

And when an author doesn’t trust the reader to pick up hints and clues? Generally speaking, the writing becomes redundant, with not-so-obvious hints repeated every few pages, and characters taking turns spewing backstory and “necessary” info. Most of the time, this turns a potentially good book into a frustrating read because:

  • The characters spend too long talking, and not enough time acting
  • The writing is full of telling rather than showing
  • Dialogue is stilted, or filled with forced reveals and backstory
  • Adjectives are over-used in an attempt to draw attention to important information (usually information that was revealed earlier)
  • It takes too long to slog past the history and get to where the story starts

Sometimes, though, these aren’t satisfaction-killers–it all depends on what the reader wants from a book. Danielle Steele, Queen of Redundancy, has a large dedicated following, possibly because the amount of redundancy in her books means a reader can pick them up and put them down willy-nilly, yet still keep up with the story.

Reasons we love a book

Of course, working through a story–like having an author’s trust–is just one part (albeit a very important part like, say the Mona Lisa’s smile) of the big picture. And not every satisfying book hits every one of the reasons listed below–which is okay, because every book, every story, and every author is different.

Reasons a book may stay with you after that last page turn:

  • The clues lead up to a big–not obvious–aha! moment
  • Characters act like themselves all the way up to the end, even when a situation is difficult
  • The story ties into our humanity, playing on emotions (romantic subplots) or sense of justice (villains get comeuppance) &c.
  • Plotlines come together in an unexpected way
  • Everything resolves, but without a forced ending
  • The story/characters challenge the way the reader thinks
  • Subplots are resolved
  • The story ties into familiar settings/uses the reader’s knowledge in some way
  • The story wasn’t obvious/had to be worked through for the pay off

Working through the Story

Reading is fun, but, like most things, it’s actually more fun if everything is not handed to us on a silver platter. Most readers are drawn to stories with a puzzle to solve, or a kind of mystery. This doesn’t mean that mysteries are the only good fiction (though I do love a bit of Poirot on a rainy day), because almost all stories–or rather, almost all good stories–are mysteries, regardless of their genre.

No, not all stories involve murder or theft or pet abduction. But the majority of good, worthwhile stories do involve an element of discovery, some question or event we, as the reader, is drawn to solve. Sometimes, it’s an obvious, almost physical question (Whatever Happened to Cass McBride?) layered with other questions. Sometimes it’s less concrete than that (why does Holden think everyone else is a phony?), an exploration of the whys and hows of an author’s characters/world. But working through a story is compelling because we have to use our intelligence–and often because we learn something new along the way (Megan Whalen Turner’s The Thief is a great example).

What have you read lately? Was it a satisfying read? Why?

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Download a PDF of William Hazlitt’s “On Familiar Style”

William Hazlitt, a self portrait from 1802My recent post about familiar style was quite popular, so I started looking around for somewhere I could direct people who wanted to read Hazlitt’s essay, On Familiar Style. Unfortunately, I could only find small excerpts online–until I remembered Project Gutenberg. Thanks to the marvelous folk over there, I was able to find a ready-to-go copy of Hazlitt’s book of essays, Table Talk: On Men and Manners. So here’s Hazlitt’s original in all its glory.

Funny thing: because this was written in the nineteenth century, the style is no longer all that familiar. It’s a worthwhile read, though, and helps show just how variable familiar style can be.

Because the essay is almost three thousand words, I’m not putting up the whole thing, but I am linking a pdf, here.

Happy reading!

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Writing YA: What Familiar Style is & Why You Should Use It

Young adult fiction is full of phonies. It’s not surprising–after all, the majority of YA is written by authors in their twenties, at the least. And teen vernacular is always changing. Words that were popular a few years ago (“wicked” comes to mind) are dated now, pushed aside as a new crop of words creeps in. But forced coolness and past-their-teen authors are just the tip of the phony iceberg. The true issue, lurking like only a giant, submerged slab of ice can, is style.

In terms of writing (in terms of anything, really), style is hard to explain. Everyone has a writing style, because it’s not so much about what we write as how we write it, a mingling of word choice, personal voice, experience, and grammar. Even things as basic as using/avoiding cliches and writing in first, second, or third person are a matter of style. Sometimes, shared experiences (such as an MFA program or time spent on the road as a dalek hunter) lead writers to develop similar styles, though no two people write, without intention, the same way.

What’s this got to do with phoniness? Everything. Writing, more than pretty much any other discipline, has a lot of “unbreakable” rules–rules we learn almost as early as we learn to write. Here are a few I’ve collected from English teachers over the years:

  • don’t start a sentence with a conjuction (and, but, because, etc.)
  • don’t use a conjunction with a comma
  • always start sentences with a capital letter
  • always put the comma inside the quotation marks (this is an American one I still can’t quite get me head around)
  • always complete sentences; don’t use fragments
  • don’t use “I” or personal style in essays and other formal writing

So far, I’ve broken all but “start sentences with a capital letter”. Does this mean I’m illiterate? A poor writer? Will you stop reading this post because I’m a rule-breaker of the worst kind?

Probably not, because the way I’m writing isn’t unusual–it’s familiar.

YA: when to use familiar style, when to skip it

YA readers aren’t stupid. Using big words won’t stop them from understanding your book. But it probably will keep them from reading it.

Why? Big words are phony. When was the last time you heard a teen talk about a soporific sussurus or a grove of arboreal trees? Formal writing has its place–journal papers and Proust and politics are full of it. It’s even well-used in some literary fiction (thank you, Annie Proulx). But formal language does not a good YA make.

Like anything, it’s possible to take familiar style too far–a problem in a lot of YA, published and unpublished alike. Cliches might make it easier to get a certain point across, but they’re cliches, aka the lazy writer’s shortcut. YA is about originality, discovery, and individualism (to name just a few). It’s about saying something in a new way, a way that speaks to your reader, makes them think about an idea from a different perspective. Unless you’re a secret Nigerian scammer, you can’t say anything new with a cliche, which is boring, and boring is what lands books in that magical circular filing bin in the sky.

Addressing the reader is another YA familiar style no-no. But wait–aren’t I doing that right now? Yes. But I’m writing a non-fiction blog post/essay/ramble, which doesn’t require you to suspend disbelief. Any time a narrator says “you know”, “you’ll see”, or some other variation on the you-theme, it pulls readers out of the story because you’re reminding them that narrator is a fictional construct.

Using dialogue tags other than “said” or “asked”, writing in dialect, using easily-dated words (groovy, rad)–there are many, many ways to abuse familiar style. If there are so many ways to screw it up, why use it in the first place?

Because it works.

Familiar Style: what, when, and where

Familiar style is exactly what it sounds like: a way of writing that’s easy to read and easy to understand because it uses common language and expressions. As far as anyone can guess, familiar style was first used sometime around the 16th century–Shakespeare was an early adopter, as was Montaigne. Today, it’s a fairly common way of writing, and part of what makes blogs such popular reading.

The problem with familiar style, though, is that it’s too darned well familiar. Writers (and teachers) love big words (onychogryphosis, a nail condition, was my favorite big word from ages 8-12). We like to sound smart; we love it when someone compliments us on a nice turn of phrase. And writing in a familiar style isn’t easy. The simplest way to get inside a reader’s head is to talk the way they do–except that writing the way we talk is messy, and usually full of “um”s. Familiar style usually ends up falling somewhere in between, using a cliche, then building on it, much like my iceberg line above (and yes, I did put that in just so I could reference it).

Nineteenth century essayist and critic William Hazlitt was a big proponent supporter of familiar style, writing:

I hate anything that occupies more space than it is worth. I hate to see a load of band-boxes go along the street, and I hate to see a parcel of big words without anything in them. A person who does not deliberately dispose of all his thoughts alike in cumbrous draperies and flimsy disguises, may strike out twenty varieties of familiar every-day language, each coming somewhat nearer to the feeling he wants to convey, and at last not hit upon that particular and only one which may be said to be identical with the exact impression in his mind. . . .

Familiar style is most used in general audience writing–advertisers, journalists (newspaper and magazine), and bloggers use it. Some book reviewers (the Boston Globe’s George Scialabba in particular) also use familiar style, though it’s still not common in print reviews (the last bastion of the would-be literary academic set).

Sound Smart? Or be Smart?

In 2006, an igNobel prize was awared to Daniel M. Oppenheimer, an associate professor of Psychology at Princeton, for his paper Consequences of erudite vernacular utilized irrespective of necessity: problems with using long words needlessly. Here’s a section of the abstract:

Most texts on writing style encourage authors to avoid overly-complex words. However, a majority of undergraduates admit to deliberately increasing the complexity of their vocabulary so as to give the impression of intelligence. This paper explores the extent to which this strategy is effective…When obvious causes for low fluency exist that are not relevant to the judgement at hand, people reduce their reliance on fluency as a cue; in fact, in an effort not to be influenced by the irrelevant source of fluency, they over-compensate and are biased in the opposite direction. Implications and applications are discussed.

Oppenheimer’s research was specific to non-fiction writing, such as journal papers and textbooks. But the idea that smart people use big words is a pretty common one–and with good reason. A lot of popular literary authors use big words (Margaret Atwood and Cormac McCarthy come to mind.) And while big words do make us sound smart, clear simple language makes us sound smarter.

A few years ago, I actually put down a novel because the author wrote about “the soft, soporific sussurus that whispered through the grove of arboreal trees”. I’m a patient reader, and I know what every word in that sentence means. The author didn’t. “Sussuruss” is fancy Latin way of saying “whisper”; “arboreal” means living in trees, and while there are a few trees, like strangler figs, that actually do live inside other trees, it’s a stretch to imagine a whole grove of the darned things. Why write a sentence with words you don’t fully understand? As far as I can tell, said author (and I really can’t remember who/which book it was) wanted to create a sleepy atmosphere, so they used soft “sh”-like sounds for effect. Rewriting the line in simpler language would probably kill the author’s lovingly crafted literary atmosphere–but it would also make more sense. And sense is good.

Do you write in a familiar style? Do you prefer familiar or formal books? Did you keep track of my over-the-top cliche use in this post?

Image Credit: tomswift46

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YA Fiction: 11 Cyberpunk Novels You Need to Read

Snow Crash, Neal Stephenson

Never heard of cyberpunk? It’s a subgenre of science fiction, a blending of “high tech” and “low life”. Although it’s not hot right now, cyberpunk and dystopias have a lot in common (think The Hunger Games, or Kaimira: Sky Village). But where dystopias are more general (what if the government took control? what if a plague wiped out half the population?), cyberpunk plays with scientific what-ifs in the context of a greater dystopic world. And although not specifically geared toward YA readers, many cyberpunk novels–like Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash–speak to the teen in all of us.

Some of these titles are marketed as straight out YA (marked with a *); the rest are considered adult lit, but are easily crossover.

Download the list here; get a titles only version here. Looking for more lists? Mosey on over here to browse.

1. SNOW CRASH, Neal Stephenson
In California of the near future, when the U.S. is only a “Burbclave” (city-state), the Mafia is just another franchise chain (CosaNostrastet Pizza, Incorporated) and there are no laws to speak of, Hiro Protagonist follows clues from the Bible, ancient Sumer and high technology to help thwart an attempt to take control of civilization–such as it is. When he logs on to Metaverse, an imaginary place entered via computer, Hiro encounters Juanita Marquez, a “radical” Catholic and computer whiz. She warns him off Snow Crash (a street drug named for computer failure) and gives him a file labeled Babel (as in Tower of Babel). Another friend, sp ok/pk Da5id, who ignores Juanita’s warning, computer crashes out of Metaverse into the real world, where he physically collapses. Hiro, Juanita, Y.T. (a freewheeling, skateboard-riding courier) and sundry other Burbclave and franchise power figures see some action on the way to finding out who is behind this bizarre “drug” with ancient roots. Although Stephenson ( Zodiac ) provides more Sumerian culture than the story strictly needs (alternating intense activity with scholarship breaks), his imaginative juxtaposition of ancient and futuristic detail could make this a cult favorite.–PW

2. HALTING STATE, Charles Stross
Starred Review. This brilliantly conceived techno-crime thriller spreads a black humor frosting over the grim prospect of the year 2012, when China, India and the European System are struggling for world economic domination in an infowar, and the U.S. faces bankruptcy over its failing infrastructure. Sgt. Sue Smith of Edinburgh’s finest, London insurance accountant Elaine Barnaby and hapless secret-ridden programmer Jack Reed peel back layer after layer of a scheme to siphon vast assets from Hayek Associates, a firm whose tentacles spread into international economies. The theft is routed through Avalon Four, a virtual reality world complete with supposedly robbery-proof banks. As an electronic intelligence agency trains innocent gamers to do its dirty work, Elaine sets Jack to catch the poacher. Hugo-winner Stross (Glasshouse) creates a deeply immersive story, writing all three perspectives in the authoritative second-person style of video game instructions and gleefully spiking the intrigue with virtual Orcs, dragons and swordplay. The effortless transformation of today’s technological frustrations into tomorrow’s nightmare realities is all too real for comfort.–PW

3. NEUROMANCER, William Gibson
Here is the novel that started it all, launching the cyberpunk generation, and the first novel to win the holy trinity of science fiction: the Hugo Award, the Nebula Award and the Philip K. Dick Award. With Neuromancer, William Gibson introduced the world to cyberspace–and science fiction has never been the same. Case was the hottest computer cowboy cruising the information superhighway–jacking his consciousness into cyberspace, soaring through tactile lattices of data and logic, rustling encoded secrets for anyone with the money to buy his skills. Then he double-crossed the wrong people, who caught up with him in a big way–and burned the talent out of his brain, micron by micron. Banished from cyberspace, trapped in the meat of his physical body, Case courted death in the high-tech underworld. Until a shadowy conspiracy offered him a second chance–and a cure–for a price…. –Amazon

4. DIASPORA, Greg Egan
By the year 2975, humanity has wandered down several widely divergent evolutionary paths. “Flesher” life is that which resides in a basically human body, though genetically engineered mutations have created communication problems throughout the species. In the “polises,” meanwhile, disembodied but self-aware artificial intelligences procreate, interact, make art and attempt to solve life’s mathematical mysteries. Then there are the “gleisners,” which are conscious, flesher-shaped robots run by self-aware software that is linked directly to the physical world through hardware. Throughout, Egan (Distress) follows the progress of Yatima, an orphan spontaneously generated by the non-sentient software of the Konishi polis. Yatima gains self-awareness, meets with Earthly fleshers and, when tragedy strikes, becomes personally involved in the greatest search for species survival ever undertaken. Though the novel often reads like a series of tenuously connected graduate theses and lacks the robust drama and characterizations of good fiction, fans of hard SF that incorporates higher mathematics and provocative hypotheses about future evolution are sure to be fascinated by Egan’s speculations.–PW

5. THE SOFTWIRE SERIES, PJ Haarsma *
Johnny Turnbull has spent all of his 12 years aboard the seed-ship Renaissance en route to the Rings of Orbis. Due to a mechanical problem, the adults on the spaceship perished long before Johnny and the other young passengers were born (they were stored as embryos and raised by the ship’s computer). When they arrive on Orbis 1, the orphans quickly learn that they will be forced to work for the Guarantors (alien businessmen) in order to pay off their dead parents’ debt for their passage. Johnny is immediately identified as the first human softwire, someone with the ability to enter and manipulate a computer with his mind. Because of his gift, he is a prime suspect when the central computer of Orbis 1 begins to malfunction. He must prove his innocence and solve the mystery of the mechanical failures before time runs out. The author deftly introduces the futuristic setting without getting bogged down in long and detailed descriptive passages, and the brisk plot will keep the interest of reluctant readers. Although a few of the secondary characters are not fully developed, Johnny and his sister are well drawn, and the scenes between the two are skillfully crafted. The first in a planned quartet, this book is a good selection for science-fiction fans.–Melissa Christy Buron, Epps Island Elementary, Houston, TX for School Library Journal

6. KAIMIRA: THE SKY VILLAGE, Monk Ashland & Nigel Ashland *
In a future world devastated by the Trinary Wars, human beings battle for supremacy with beasts and intelligent machines called meks. Though they have never met and live half a world apart, 12-year-old Mei and 13-year-old Rom communicate through their respective copies of the fabulous, interactive Tree Book, inhabited (or possessed?) by something calling itself Animus. The kids’ body chemistry also contains something odd—the Kaimira Gene, which means that their human genes are intermixed with mek and beast elements. Talk about multiple-personality disorder! The first volume of a planned five-book series, this title is short on characterization and long on plot complications. It’s also as much a hybrid as Mei and Rom, part book, part online opportunity; the title contains a mini-packet of appended matter that guides readers to a companion Web site, where they’ll find fun and games, including an interactive online community and behind-the-scenes glimpses. Kids will be tantalized, but adults will probably throw up their hands. Move over, Brave New World. –Michael Cart for Booklist

7. THE DIFFERENCE ENGINE, William Gibson and Bruce Sterling
In a surprising departure from the traditional view of cyberpunk’s bleak future, Gibson ( Mona Lisa Overdrive ) and Sterling ( Islands in the Net ) render with elan and colorful detail a scientifically advanced London, circa 1855, where computers (“Engines”) have been developed. Fierce summer heat and pollution have driven out the ruling class, and ensuing anarchy allows the subversive, technology-hating Luddites to surface and battle the intellectual elite. Much of the problem centers on a set of perforated cards, once in the possession of an executed Luddite leader’s daughter, later in the hands of “Queen of Engines” Ada Byron (daughter of prime minister Lord Byron), finally given to Edward Mallory, a scientist. Mallory, who knows the cards are a gambling device that can be read with a specialized Engine, is soon threatened and libeled by the Luddites, and he and his associates confront the scoundrels in a violent showdown. A sometimes listless pace and limp conclusions that defy the plot’s complexity flaw an otherwise visionary, handsomely written, unsentimental tale that convincingly revises the 19th-century Western world.–PW

8. KILN PEOPLE, David Brin
Bestselling novelist Brin (Startide Rising; The Postman; etc.) restricts the action to planet Earth, but still allows his imagination to roam the cosmos in this ambitious SF/mystery hybrid whose grasp occasionally exceeds its reach. Thanks to the new technology of imprinting, people in a near-future America can copy their personalities into animated clay bodies (called “dittos” or “golems”), which last a single day. Albert Morris, private investigator, is his own sidekick as he attempts to uncover the murderer of a prominent imprinting research scientist, capture a criminal mastermind specializing in ditto the major ditto manufacturer and pinning the blame on several Alberts. Brin deftly explores the issues of identity, privacy and work in a world where everyone is supported with a living wage and has ready access to duplication technology. The book features the author’s usual style, with a lighter touch and punnish humor abounding amid the hard SF speculation. The duplication of the “ditective” makes for a challenging twist on the standard private eye narrative, allowing Morris to simultaneously lead the reader through three separate (and interacting) plot lines. The hardboiled framework and the humor mix a bit uneasily, as does the social background of a libertarian/socialist U.S.A. The book’s major fault lies in the diffusion of most of the tension as expendable dittos replace vulnerable humans for much of the action. Still, the work is brightened by Brin’s trademark hardheaded optimism.–PW

9. SOFTWARE, Rudy Rucker
It was Cobb Anderson who built the “boppers”—the first robots with real brains. Now, in 2020, Cobb is just another aged “pheezer” with a bad heart, drinking and grooving an the old tunes in Florida retirement hell. His “bops” have came a long way, though, rebelling against their subjugation to set up their own society an the moon. And now they’re offering creator Cobb immortality but at a stiff price: his body his soul … and his world.It was Cobb Anderson who built the “boppers”—the first robots with real brains. Now, in 2020, Cobb is just another aged pheezer with a bad heart, drinking and grooving on the old tunes in Florida retirement hell. His “bops” have come a long way, though, rebelling against their subjugation to set up their own society on the moon. And now they re offering creator Cobb immortality, but at a stiff price: his body, his soul. . .and his world.–Back cover

10. DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP? Philip K. Dick *
Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? was published in 1968. Grim and foreboding, even today it is a masterpiece ahead of its time. By 2021, the World War had killed millions, driving entire species into extinction and sending mankind off-planet. Those who remained coveted any living creature, and for people who couldn’t afford one, companies built incredibly realistic simulacrae: horses, birds, cats, sheep. . . They even built humans. Emigrees to Mars received androids so sophisticated it was impossible to tell them from true men or women. Fearful of the havoc these artificial humans could wreak, the government banned them from Earth. But when androids didn’t want to be identified, they just blended in. Rick Deckard was an officially sanctioned bounty hunter whose job was to find rogue androids, and to retire them. But cornered, androids tended to fight back, with deadly results. –Paul Williams for Rolling Stone

11. THE HUNGER GAMES, Suzanne Collins
In a not-too-distant future, the United States of America has collapsed, weakened by drought, fire, famine, and war, to be replaced by Panem, a country divided into the Capitol and 12 districts. Each year, two young representatives from each district are selected by lottery to participate in The Hunger Games. Part entertainment, part brutal intimidation of the subjugated districts, the televised games are broadcasted throughout Panem as the 24 participants are forced to eliminate their competitors, literally, with all citizens required to watch. When 16-year-old KatnissÆs young sister, Prim, is selected as the mining districtÆs female representative, Katniss volunteers to take her place. She and her male counterpart, Peeta, the son of the town baker who seems to have all the fighting skills of a lump of bread dough, will be pitted against bigger, stronger representatives who have trained for this their whole lives. CollinsÆs characters are completely realistic and sympathetic as they form alliances and friendships in the face of overwhelming odds; the plot is tense, dramatic, and engrossing. This book will definitely resonate with the generation raised on reality shows like Survivor and American Gladiator. Book one of a planned trilogy. Jane Henriksen Baird, Anchorage Public Library, AK for School Library Journal

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Getting Inside the Book Review: How They Work & Why We Read Them

Once upon a time, only professional reviewers wrote book reviews. The greater the number of publishing credits and letters after your name, the greater your chances of being taken seriously. Of course, it doesn’t take a degree to work out if you like a book (though in the case of Edward Bloor’s Storytime, you might need an MFA to work out why). And a good review is still a good review–whether it’s over at your friend’s blog, or in the Books section of The New York Times.

Some time ago, I wrote about the internet killing professional book reviews, ending with my hope that pro reviews stick around. In my book, the difference between a pro reviewer and a casual reviewer (“amateur” is unfair–how can you be an amateur at deciding if you like/love/hate a book?) is the amount of time spent thinking about the volume in question. Casual reviewers read a book, write up a hundred words in the space of half an hour, and move on. Pro reviewers make notes, flag pages, talk to authors, find connections, and consider the bigger picture (how the book fits into a certain genre, if it makes any particular leaps or bounds &c, &c). Both kinds of review are valuable–few people have time to read a pro review every time they’re on the lookout for something new to read, and short, casual reviews are handy for readers trying to avoid spoilers.

But how does a book review work? What is it that makes a book review useful? Why care what reviewers think? Who cares what reviewers think?

Getting Inside the Reader’s Head

Much like a good story, reviews need a strong hook, clear voice, pacing, and balance. Longer reviews often achieve this by tying the narrative to a personal story, giving the reader something to hold onto. Although this may seem slightly narcissistic (there’s something slightly narcissistic about all writing, I suppose), it’s actually a very useful way for the reviewer to get inside the reader’s head. Let’s say I’m writing a review about one of Tamora Pierce’s Circle of Magic books. Since they’re an old-world fantasy setting with herb lore, metal-working etc., I might include a snippet about my experience with botany and herbalism:

Back when I was studying botany at university, I took a particular interest in medicinal herbs. Most of my professors looked down on herbalism, and, by extension, herbalists–genetic engineering and the Flavr Savr tomato were the order of the day. Years later, when I befriended herbalists of both the crunchy and non-crunchy variety, my professors’ reluctance to talk about herbs beyond photosynthesis and the CAM cycle became clear. But Pierce’s treatment of herbalism should irritate few–her descriptions are akin to science, her characters carefully harvesting, testing, journaling, and distilling in a manner familiar to anyone who’s ever studied the scientific process.

The personal anecdote gives the reader a chance to consider my opinion, and compare or contrast theirs. Someone interested in homeopathy might find my views too different to theirs to give my thoughts any weight. Similarly, a biology major might be more likely to pick up the book because my thoughts on herbalism run parallel to theirs, suggesting similar tastes.

Trends

Although anyone can read a book review, they’re of particular use to writers, agents, editors and anyone in the story-making industry (and yes, “stories” includes non-fiction). Reviews generally cover books that stand out in some way. Get enough of these in a similar style (think wizard>>vampire>>dystopia) and we have a trend. Keeping tabs on the stand out books can yield valuable market information, helping book folks keep on what’s hot, and help them make predictions about what will be hot.

Interestingly, casual blog reviews may give a better sense of trends, since important “lit” books are not always crowd pleasers (Annie Proulx and Margaret Atwood come to mind). In terms of straight out trend analysis, numbers are more important than an in-depth review–even without tallying the positives and negatives (there’s no such thing as bad press). Some pro reviewers, though, include trend analysis–recent books in the genre, what they contribute to said genre–in their work. If you’re in the story-making industry, these reviews are definitely worth the time. A lot of books cross a reviewer’s desk, and pros spend a lot of time doing lit analysis, fashioning general opinion and careful, critical reading into an easy-to-read trend report.

Vindication

Writing is a tad narcissistic, though reading, particularly literary reading, may be more so. We humans love to hear “you’re right”. Most of us love to say “I told you so”. Book reviews give us the opportunity to say both at once. I’ve been known to shout “Exactly, that book sucked!” while reading at my local coffee shop. I’ve also used positive reviews to convince my husband to read something I loved. And while this may be the pettiest reason to read a book review, it’s arguably the most common.

They Make Us Think

I often read reviews after I’ve read the book. I know it seems backward, but reviews often bring up a lot of issues that color my experience with a story, and that make it hard to concentrate on reading. Picking one up after the fact gives me a chance to sort out my own impressions of the book, then dig into them, exploring and dissecting my thoughts about the author’s story, style, etc. Reading this way encourages critical thinking, a useful tool for, well, everyone. Good book reviews are challenging, forcing readers to consider new angles and broaden their horizons.

Do you read reviews before or after the book? Do they influence you? Have you used them to keep track of trends?

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Dystopias: YA Fad, or Here to Stay?

Dystopic fiction is nothing new. According the Oxford English Dictionary, the word was first used (created of his own free will) by philosopher John Stuart Mill in 1868. Mill used the word in a speech to the British House of Commons, denouncing the Irish Land Act (“What is commonly called Utopian is something too good to be practicable; but what they appear to favour is too bad to be practicable.”). Since then, dystopias have become a staple in fiction, cycling through literary, science fiction, and fantasy. The current YA dystopic trend may signal the end of of dystopias as a wandering subgenre–perhaps even bringing them into the mainstream.

Literary Fiction, Science Fiction, or Both?

Like many “fads” (ahem, *cough*, vampires, *cough*), dystopic fiction appears to be cyclical. Proto-dystopic novels have been around since Jules Verne’s 1879 The Begum’s Fortune, a study contrasting utopian and dystopian societies. Several novels centered around the perils of technology and progress followed (particularly in the years following Edison’s lightbulb, Marconi’s telegraph, and Becquerel’s discovery of radioactivity). The first modern dystopia, H.G. Wells’ A Story of the Days to Come, appeared in 1897, over several issues of The Pall Mall Magazine. The first truly dystopic novel, Wells’ When the Sleeper Wakes, was published in 1899. (It’s particularly fitting that Wells lay claim to the first modern dystopias as he steadily contributed many ideas and tropes over the course of his 40+ year career.)

The majority of early dystopic fiction is today classed as science fiction. In 1924, Yevgeny Zamiatin’s We marked the publication of the first “serious” literary dystopia. Zamiatin’s commentary on the future of the USSR later served to inspire the more famous literary dystopias, Brave New World (Aldolus Huxley, 1932) and 1984 (George Orwell, 1949). By 1959, dystopic stories had once again become the province of science fiction and fantasy (think Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clark, Frank Herbert, Philip K. Dick).  In 1971, Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange straddled the line between serious literary fiction and science fiction; come 1984, Neuromancer (William Gibson) gave rise to the SF subgenre cyber punk. A few years later, Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (1987) put dystopian fiction back in the black; in 1992, Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash reclaimed dystopias, sticking them back in the SF/F section of the bookstore. (Read Exploring Dystopia‘s marvelous dystopia timeline here.)

Science fiction, fantasy, and literary fiction have long been at odds, particularly on the literary fiction side–science fiction and fantasy are often looked down upon by “serious readers” and, sadly, some “serious writers”. Dystopic fiction, though, depends on elements common to both:

  • issues of morality
  • who is the hero, why is he/she the hero?
  • does the hero choose to be so, or are they forced to be so?

Moving into the Mainstream

Last week, Publisher’s Weekly ran an article on dystopia as a YA trend, focusing on popular titles such as Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games (see PW’s list of dystopian YA here). As PW’s Karen Springen points out, dystopic fiction is particularly suited to teens. It’s full of angst and worry for the future, and it gives kids and teens an out, a way to parse issues they may not yet understand or be comfortable with. Good dystopic fiction also encourages critical thinking, perhaps more than any other genre. And, of course, dystopias rock. Yet YA trends seem to translate into adult lit trends a good percentage of the time. Granted, this could be because YA readers grow up to become adult lit readers (via NA readers, of course). But I suspect there’s more to it than that.

It’s possible YA shelves act as a sort of magic 8 ball for the rest of the literary scene because they are so unbiased. Few bookstores break their YA sections into defined genre shelving. Sure, there are series shelves, and some very broad genre shelving, usually associated with age breakdown. Beyond these, though, most YA books are shelved in alphabetical order. Magic realism lives next to humor, which cuddles up to romance, which nudges sword and sorcery. Most teens, too, are open about their reading choices–when was the last time you heard a teenager claim they prefer Jack Q. McWriterson’s less mainstream, more critical earlier work?

Could YA fiction really be a harbinger of adult trends? Yes. In contrast to most other markets, children’s and YA books are still selling well, even showing some growth. More and more YA titles are being marketed as crossover novels, St. Martin’s is launching a New Adult Fiction line. YA authors once struggled to be taken seriously; today, flocks of adult authors are moving into the YA market.

Magic realism (think Isabelle Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez), a subgenre of fantasy, began in Latin America the exact year is contentious–some put it as early as the 1950s, others as late as the 1980s). In the English-speaking world, it appeared sometime in the 1980s, quickly gaining popularity among SF/F readers. Yet proto-magic realism has been popular amongst YA readers since at least the 1930s, beginning with Enid Blyton’s The Faraway Tree series and moving through Tamora Pierce, Jane Yolen, William Sleator, and Dianna Wynne Jones (to name just a few). YA sensations Harry Potter and Twilight have each catapulted two once SF/F bogged tropes into the mainstream–vampire television and literature is arguably more popular now than during Anne Rice’s heyday and the run of Joss Whedon’s Buffy.

Does the YA dystopic trend signal another turn of the cycle? Maybe. More likely, though, dystopic fiction will get bumped up to mainstream. It probably won’t hit Jennifer Weiner/Sophie Kinsella/John Grisham/James Patterson status anytime soon, but we may be seeing more of it on display tables or racked on the shelves. 2010: an exciting time to be writing YA.

Do you read dystopic fic? Can you think of any YA trends that have made it in the adult world?

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