YA lit

Cover Notes: Black Hole Sun, by David Macinnis Gill

March 28, 2011 By peta 1 Comment

Cover Notes is a new series I’ll be running every Monday. Rather than focusing on covers of books I’ve read, I’ll be writing about books I’ve never read and recording my first impressions of their covers. Each book will also have an Embarrassment Factor of between zero & five, with zero meaning “a totally awesome cover I want to write fan mail about” and five meaning “I’m ashamed to be seen with this in public.”

This week, I was actually on my way to the young reader section to look for a cover–and then the spine (yes, just the spine!) David Macinnis Gill’s Black Hole Sun grabbed me. Also, a little bit of fan girliness here–from his bio:

David Macinnis Gill is an associate professor of English education at the University of North Carolina at Wilmington, specializing in young adult literature…

I love seeing “professor” and “specializing in young adult literature” in the same sentence. It’s very validating. And now…

Things I love about the cover: Can I say everything? I love the outlining of the font and how it accentuates the blackness–and how that blackness is doubly accentuated by the stars/comets/space debris streaking past and the red lights in the background.

Also, the spine on this book is stunning, from the under-outlined O to the shadowing of what? A rocket perhaps? And the colors! I love the colors!

Things I’m not so hot on: The other text. Getting a Suzanne Collins blurb is a huge deal, but I feel like the quote was tacked on after the cover design had been finished, so it doesn’t quite fit. Something about the author’s name looks off, too, but I can’t tell what.

photo 1.JPG What I think it’s about: This screams science fiction to me–and I desperately want it to be science fiction, a kind of Sunshine without the intense horror elements (I loved the premise of that movie, but the horror was too much for me by the end).

Between the blurb and the cover itself, I’m thinking dystopic world where the sun is ending its red giant phase and about to collapse into a blackhole. And our hero’s journey? A boy and a girl (for some love interest), and a race to get onto a seed ship. There has to be a sequel.

Cover art by: unknown. Google only turns up details for the album of the same name.

Embarrassment factor: 0.

The Jacket Blurb
The synopsis isn’t quite enough here, so I’m posting the PW blurb too.

Durango is playing the cards he was dealt. And it’s not a good hand.
He’s lost his family.
He’s lost his crew.
And he’s got the scars to prove it.
You don’t want to mess with Durango.

From PW:
Gill (Soul Enchilada) shifts literary gears, delivering an exciting and brutal science fiction tale about teenage mercenaries on Mars. Durango is a disgraced Regulator who, roninlike, did not kill himself when his previous master (his father) was arrested. Along with his gorgeous second, Vienne, and the snarky AI of his former commander, Mimi, which has been “flash-cloned” to his brain, he now takes jobs that most other Regulators would refuse, using the money to try to make his father’s life in prison more bearable. When they get called to protect a group of miners from the cannibalistic monstrosities called Dræu, they discover secrets that could cast new light on the entire history of Mars, as well Durango’s own past. Gill fills his story with well-crafted action sequences and witty dialogue, and the fast pace more than makes up for the predictability of the plot. Everything from the inevitable betrayals and the heroic sacrifices to the dark secrets is by the numbers, though the character development, banter between Durango and Mimi, and solid action will entertain most readers. Ages 14 up. (Sept.)

Overall: So, so wrong. And I should have seen something mercenary was involved–the target is a (dead) giveaway. Two things, though–

I love this premise–it reads a little like YA William Gibson to me, and I need to read it. Soon.
This is the first time I’ve been sad about being wrong! I’d love a novel along the lines I described, a cross between Sunshine and Titan A.E. and the boy-girl part.

Have you read Black Hole Sun? Would you?

Filed Under: All, all, Blog, blog, Books, Cover Notes Tagged With: Books, books i want written so i can read them now, cover notes, covers i love, david macinnis gill, dystopia, ronin, samurai, Science Fiction, seed ships, sunshine, titan a.e., William Gibson, YA, YA lit

When Series Grow Up: Transitioning From Middle Grade to YA

March 16, 2011 By peta 1 Comment

The Lightning Thief, Percy Jackson & the Olympians, book 1, Rick Riordan

Sometimes, when I’m between books–i.e., I have too many projects and don’t trust myself to not be sucked into a new story to the exclusion of all else–I re-read snippets of my favorite series.

One of the things I love about long series is how they grow with the reader. It’s not just that Percy or Harry, or Alanna, or any of the others grow up. It’s that their voices, and their authors’ tone grows up, too.

Consider the Percy Jackson books. At the beginning of the series, Percy is twelve. He’s dyslexic, has ADHD, and has been kicked out of six schools in six years. His voice is delinquent, defensive, even slightly sad–and immediately gripping.

The Lightning Thief, chapter one

Look, I didn’t want to be a half blood.

If you’re reading this because you think you might be one, my advice is: close this book right now. Believe whatever like your mom or dad told you about your birth, and try to lead a normal life.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. It’s scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

If you’re a normal kid, reading this because you think it’s fiction, great. Read on. I envy you for being able to believe that none of this ever happened.

But if you recognize yourself in these pages–if you feel something stirring inside–stop reading immediately. You might be one of us. And once you know that, it’s only a matter of time before they sense it too, and they’ll come for you.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Come the fifth book, The Last Olympian, Percy is sixteen. His dyslexia and ADHD, while still occasionally mentioned, are no longer key parts of his character. And while he still has a Percy-voice, he’s grown up: not only does Percy worry about his relationship with Annabeth, his sense of mortality is (realistically) greater than in the previous novels (with the possible exception of book four, The Battle of the Labyrinth).

The Last Olympian, chapter one

The end of the world started when a pegasus landed on the hood of my car.

Up until then, I was having a great afternoon. Technically I wasn’t supposed to be driving because I wouldn’t turn sixteen for another week, but my mom and my stepdad, Paul, took my friend Rachel and me to this private stretch of bead on the South Shore, and Paul let us borrow his Prius for a short spin.

Now, I know you’re thinking, Wow, that was really irresponsible of him, blah, blah, blah, but Paul knows me pretty well. He’s seen me slice up demons and leap out of exploding school buildings, so he probably figured taking a car a few hundred yards wasn’t exactly the most dangerous thing I’d ever done.

Hear the difference? They’re clearly still the same character, but there’s a distance between the two, a distance that’s less about age-related details (driving a car) than word choice and focal points. Would twelve year old Percy be as cool about Paul? Would he use “technically” in a sentence? Most importantly, though, is the sense of comfort in sixteen year old Percy’s voice: sure, he’s talking about the end of the world, but he’s not defensive, not hiding behind a tough persona. This Percy, for the most part, is strong, confident, and in charge.

The Last Olympian, Percy Jackson & the Olympians book 5, Rick Riordan

Behind Percy’s voice is Riordan’s–also strong and immediately recognizable–with a tone that’s more YA than middle grade. It’s less “wow, this is cool, and I get to save the world while looking totally awesome,” less peppy and pun-filled. There are still moments of lightness (a satyr wearing a “Got Hooves” shirt in book four, a hellhound gnawing on a giant pink plastic yak and a hundred-eyed monster getting bloodshot in book five), but they’re fewer, and used to good effect to not just illustrate character traits (as in the earlier books) but to break up tension (and thereby highlight key scenes and interactions).

While these may seem like the natural outgrowth of writing a series–and to some extent, they are–they’re actually not that common. Not all series grow with their readers (Harry Potter is probably the most famous to do so): the Michael Buckley Sisters Grimm series attempts to, but fails; the Nancy Drew books remain the same, story after story; even Dianna Wynne Jones’ Castle in the Air, a sequel to Howl’s Moving Castle, doesn’t quite capture necessary changes in tone and voice.

Oftentimes, that’s okay. Some authors want to stay within a certain genre or age-range, because that’s what speaks to them. But it’s still impressive–incredibly so–when a character demonstrates such clear growth over the course of a series. (The Protector of the Small (Kel) books by Tamora Pierce are another great example, as are J.K. Rowling’s HP books.)

Have you read any age-spanning series lately? Did you like them? Hate them? Why?

Filed Under: Blog Tagged With: alanna, Books, character development, character growth, characters, Harry Potter, JK Rowling, kel, middle grade, percy jackson, reading, Rick Riordan, series, Tamora Pierce, YA, YA lit

Beautiful Creatures: A Half Review

March 4, 2011 By peta Leave a Comment

Beautiful Creatures, Kami Garcia & Margaret Stohl

Beautiful Creatures is a marvelous, challenging book, completely outside my regular taste–and I love it.

Generally speaking, I don’t read romance. I’m not against the idea of it, but I prefer stories where love isn’t the driving force solely for love’s sake. But every now and then, a book hits me–really hits me–and I find myself questioning everything.

Beautiful Creatures is one of those books.

Written by duo Kami Garcia & Margaret Stohl, Beautiful Creatures is paranormal romance with a gothic, Wuthering Heights and Jane Eyre feel. Here’s the jacket blurb:

Lena Duchannes is unlike anyone the small Southern town of Gatlin has ever seen, and she’s struggling to conceal her power, and a curse that has haunted her family for generations. But even within the overgrown gardens, murky swamps and crumbling graveyards of the forgotten South, a secret cannot stay hidden forever.

Ethan Wate, who has been counting the months until he can escape from Gatlin, is haunted by dreams of a beautiful girl he has never met. When Lena moves into the town’s oldest and most infamous plantation, Ethan is inexplicably drawn to her and determined to uncover the connection between them.

In a town with no surprises, one secret could change everything.

Actually, it’s more than a feel. Here are just some of the ways Beautiful Creatures strikes gothic chords:

Exploring entrapment – Lena isn’t a woman trapped in a domestic setting (a la Jane or Cathy) but she is trapped between her power and the curse. And in this world, the curse setting is almost domestic.
Forbidding mansion and gloomy villain. I can’t reveal more without significant spoilerage, but you’ll see what I mean if you grab the book (which you should!).
The madwoman in the attic trope – Lena definitely isn’t Bertha, but there are clear elements of Bertha (Rochester’s wife in Jane Eyre) in the story.
Questioning social structures – this may be a reach, but the exploration of the town of Gatlin and the theme of belonging vs. other fit the bill to me. It also has a bit of a Frankenstein vibe, which I love. (If you haven’t read Shelley’s Frankenstein, grab it from Project Gutenberg now!)

Right now, Beautiful Creatures is fresh in my mind–I finished it this morning, in public, and did the staring at something trick Ethan mentions in later chapters to keep myself from blubbering like an idiot in a room full of old ladies drinking coffee, eating doughnuts, and gossiping louder than crows. (It may sound bad, but it’s actually a really fun place to read, with lots of setting and character swirling around.) But here are my briefest, most important thoughts about the book, mostly from a craft perspective; a proper review will follow next Tuesday, when I’ve had time to process.

Beautiful Creatures is a duet, something I rarely see done well (Warriors series, I’m looking at you).
The missing people–Ethan’s mom is dead, Lena’s parents are dead–hang over the text, giving poignancy to the story without crossing into the melodramatic.
The dialogue of the South is readable, understandable. I can’t testify to how people in the South actually speak, as I’ve only met one person, and not been farther from the Northeast than California, Utah, Arizona, and Florida. But there are distinct speech patterns in this book, with unique voices, that make sense and are easy to hear. Most attempts at regional dialect (including my own) fall flat. These do not.
Geekiness. Before I knew @MargaretStohl wrote video games, I’d spotted the Zelda reference, and giggled. That sort of call back always draws me in.
Trope tipping – having read a fair few classics and yet more fairy tales, I’m pretty attuned to tropes. And while Beautiful Creatures does have quite a few, and I did half-predict the ending, the tropes weren’t bland stereotypes, but rather explorations. Nothing, truly, is as it seems in this book, and that’s a good chunk of what makes it beautiful.
Research – again, I can’t speak to knowledge of the South, but there are parts of this book that reek of research. Not in an onion breath way, but rather in a well-rounded, knowledgeable way that gives the story more depth.
Prose. There are many things to love about this book, but I wouldn’t have continued reading if the prose hadn’t grabbed me.
Book-love. It’s clear throughout this book that the characters and the authors value books, and that makes me happy. (Read @KamiGarcia’s list of favorite classic science fiction & fantasy novels – we have pretty much all the YA & kidlit books in common! (I’m not really a fan of The Giver.))

Next week, a real review, with all the stops, commas, semi-colons, and apostrophes this book deserves. ‘Til then, Happy Friday, Folks!

Have you read Beautiful Creatures? What did you think? Who was your favorite character? Will you read the next book, Beautiful Darkness?

Update: this post was meant to publish at 2pm EST on Friday, but I forgot my WP settings are on 24 hour time, so it pre-pubbed for 2am Friday. I’ve corrected it now to reflect the real time it was supposed to drop.

Filed Under: All, all, Blog, blog, Books, reviews and thoughts, Writing Tagged With: beautiful creatures, book love, books i love, bronte, byronic influence, frankenstein, gatlin, gothic fiction, jane eyre, kami garcia, madwoman in the attic, margaret stohl, paranormal romance, shelley, wuthering heights, YA, YA lit

Digital Book World 2011: Fewer Big Brick-and-Mortar Stores But More Niche Ones?

February 3, 2011 By peta Leave a Comment

Jane Friedman has a summary of key points for authors out of Digital Book World 2011 over at There Are No Rules this week. Of the five points Jane lists, two stood out for me.

Bricks-and-mortar bookstores will continue to decline—which puts further pressure, as noted above, on commercial publishers to show their value to an author beyond distribution. Mike Shatzkin boldly predicted: “We’re looking for a reduction in shelf space of 50% in the next five years, 90% in the next ten years.”

One caveat: the e-book industry growth is primarily driven by Big Six publishers, rather than independent publishers. National Book Network president Rich Freese, whose company distributes 200 independent publishers, said: “Ebooks aren’t even 5% of our sales, and they won’t be 50% in two years.”

Anyone who’s walked into a Borders lately knows about the decline of the brick-and-mortar bookstore. But I think the caveat can be extended to niche stores, too. Children’s bookstores, science fiction stores, crime and mystery stores–these specialty markets hold potential as a brick-and-mortar store because they depend on hand-selling. In a Borders or a Barnes & Noble, it’s easy to get lost, and it’s common for the folks at the information desk to not know much about any given genre. In a specialty store, like the Grolier Poetry Bookshop in Cambridge, MA, or The Elephant’s Trunk in Lexington, MA, the staff know their titles, and can guide readers to the right books. (Some big stores also have well-informed, caring staff, but it’s rarely the case.)

[Read more...]

Filed Under: blog, News Tagged With: bookstores, brick-and-mortar, digital book world, e-books, e-rights, YA, YA lit

Reading YA: Where Do Trends Come From?

June 1, 2010 By peta 12 Comments

Book...in blue, NKZS Vampires. Zombies. Sea monsters with an unfettered love of double java chip frappuccinos. In the book world, trends appear to come and go quickly–the Twilight vampire boom is already coming to an end, just five years after Meyer’s book hit shelves the world over. Fie years? Although that may seem a long time, it’s really only 2-3 publication cycles. But where do trends come from? Do authors band together to write books of the same ilk? Or are they the result of a rare and spectacular cosmic boom?

The short answer: it depends. Few trends appear fully formed from the cosmic ether (or Zeus’ head). Most come from a combination of cross-media pollination, cycling, and what I think of as the trickle-down effect.

Cross-Media Pollination
This is exactly what it sounds like: cinema influencing books influencing music influencing cinema. But the lines of influence are rarely so direct. In actuality, they’re closer to the zigzag path a bee takes as it flits from flower to flower, revisiting some, entirely skipping others.

Musicals are an excellent example of cross-media pollination, particularly Les Miserables. A books first, it’s spawned a host of new media–Les Miserables, an 1862 novel by Victor Hugo (also of The Hunchback of Notre Dame fame, though the less said about the Disney adaptation, the better), was adapted for cinema audiences as early as 1907, and continues to influence music, stage, and, of course cinema. Countless novels–including Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment (and, to a lesser extent, Anna Karenina), a classic in its own right, can be traced back to themes of redemption, rebirth, spirituality and exploration of the psyche in Les Mis.

Cycling
Although “what goes around comes around” might seem like an oversimplified version of karma, it’s a pretty apt description of the cycling–and recycling–of trends in the book world. In the pre-Twilight era (yes, there really was one), Anne Rice was the Queen of the Elegant Undead, and LeStat her hunky Brad Pitt lookalike king.

Vampire fiction has been around since the 18th century, and had a regular sort of resurgence every few decades. Until Rice, the most well-known (modern) vampires in the world was Bela Lugosi’s Dracula (1931) and Max Schreck’s Nosferatu (1922) (if you haven’t seen Nosferatu, get thee to Netflix right now)–both of which were based on books (cross-pollination, people!). But sometime in the mid-1930s, vampire fiction slinked back into its coffin, keeping largely out of the limelight until the 1976 publication of Rice’s Interview with the Vampire. (The first two of John Matheson’s influential I Am Legend series predate Rice.)

Vampire fic remained mostly dormant until the 90s, when the world hit another boom. Can’t remember back that far? Here’s a quick rundown (or check out a fairly comprehensive lit list here):

Buffy the Vampire Slayer movie
Joss Whedon’s Buffy the Vampire Slayer series and its later counterpart, Angel
Laurell K. Hamilton’s Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter
More Anne Rice; the Brad Pitt Interview with the Vampire film adaptation
Poppy Z. Brite’s Lost Souls
Orson Scott Card’s Lost Boys
P.N. Elrod’s I, Strahd
Dan Simmon’s The Child of the Night
Marvel’s Blade franchise

The 1990s vampire boom is, so far, the longest lasting–partially because film and television caught the trend early and kept it alive. Despite the success of Joss Whedon’s Buffy, the downturn came in the late 90s, as readers moved on to boy wizards and magic.

And then Stephanie Meyer’s first novel, Twilight, hit shelves in 2005, and reached Harry Potter/worldwide phenom status around 2007-2008–and the cycle began anew.

The Trickle-Down Effect

Much like cross-media pollination, trickle down is one thing influencing another–in this case a particular audience, YA and adult literature. The book world is sort of like a giant pyramid, with YA and kid lit at the bottom, then other demographics like 18-25 (new adult/crossover), 25-35 (singles, newlyweds) etc. above those all the way to the top. Trends start anywhere on the pyramid, then trickle down to the next level and the next until saturation.

Most often, because I’m a YA writer, I think about the pyramid in reverse–I look at the trends in YA (like the current vampire cycle) and see how they feed into adult literature. I’m not trying to predict trends so much as work out why some things work and others don’t, and, more importantly, help non YA folk understand the importance of teen and kid lit. If I wanted to do some magic YA hand waving trend prediction though–the kind agents and editors have to do–I’d be keeping my pyramid right side up and checking out what’s hot in adult literature.

One example of an adult trend influencing YA is chick lit. Chick lit became a Big Deal in 1996, with Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’ Diary. In the 90s, though, most YA was too serious to fit the chick lit genre. This isn’t to say there weren’t fun and funny books, but rather that the focus was, for the most elsewhere–solving a mystery (Trixie Belden, Nancy Drew, James Patterson’s Maximum Ride) winning a competition, following a calling/proving girls are as capable as boys (almost everything Tamora Pierce has ever written), and princess wish fulfillment (don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, people)–rather than the slice of life relationship stock most chick lit depends on.

Sometime around 2000-2001, YA chick lit started to pop up in bookstores. It wasn’t as light and all round humorous as its adult counterpart, but it was about being a girl, fitting in, balancing school/work/books and, in many cases, an abiding love of a given thing–shoes or cupcakes or politics or soccer or a dozen other things. It’s a more realistic version of the girl-meets-boy/girl/vocation, with a funny-because-it’s-true feel. And for the most part, YA chick lit has kept its serious core (and I much prefer it over the adult version)–some of it even tends to the literary. A few examples of YA chick lit:

Sarah Dessen’s Just Listen, This Lullaby
Ann Brashares’ The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series
Meg Cabot’s Princess Diaries series (but only just)

So what trends might be trickling down into YA just now? I’m not an analyst, agent, or editor–and trends could come from anywhere–but from a purely trickle down point of view, my money’s on Phillipa Gregory (The Other Boleyn Girl)-meets-YA style historical fiction (separate to historical fantasy). How about yours?

Where do you think trends come from? What influences them?

Image Credit: Book…in blue by NKZS

Filed Under: All, Blog, Books, reviews and thoughts Tagged With: Anne Rice, Arts, Books, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV series), Hunchback of Notre Dame, Just Listen, kidlit, opinion, Princess Diaries, reading, Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, Stephanie Meyer, thoughts, trends, YA, YA lit, YA trend

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

May 28, 2010 By peta 5 Comments

Tithe, Holly Black Fairy 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

Filed Under: Blog, Books, lists Tagged With: Brothers Grimm, Charles Perrault, fairy tale, Folklore, literature, Robin McKinley, Tales, True Story of the Three Little Pigs, YA, YA lit

Reading YA: Reading Fast, Writing Poorly, & Getting Old

April 8, 2010 By peta 12 Comments

Young adult literature is popular for a reason. It’s full of tight storytelling, engaging characters, and authentic, relatable voices. Why? Because it has to be. Teen readers are discerning and intelligent, and will toss aside books with unrealistic/unrelatable characters or a condescending tone. And yet, teens read a lot of poorly written crap (read more about poor writing in my earlier post, here).

I read a lot of YA, partially because I like it, and partially because I think it’s important to stay on top of my field. And I’m passionate about what I read–I love some books to pieces, and hate others with the sort of vitriol I usually save for drivers who speed through crossings I am walking across with a stroller (this happens more often than you might think). Over the past year, though, almost every YA novel that’s been recommended to me has fallen into the latter category. Why? Poor writing.

Writing Poorly?

Poor writing, for me, isn’t about grammar (though misusing apostrophes will instantly garnish your writerly stock). Poor writing is what happens when writers (myself included) forget about:

Flow–transitioning from one idea to the next without jolting me out of the story
Smoothness–text that’s easy to read aloud, lacking in jarring/clunky sentences
Word choice–using words correctly, or using the correct form of a word in the right place (practice v. practise, they’re v. their)
Imagery/Atmosphere–using strong words to draw the reader into the story, set up a certain idea, scene, or theme

These four things fall into what I call “craft stuff”. Craft stuff is like a bonus, an extra reason to read and enjoy book, something beyond the story/plot/characters that enhances the reading experience. Many authors (arguably to their detriment, but that’s a whole other post) ignore the craft stuff in favor of the bigger picture–a compelling story.

Reading Fast & Getting Old

I am old. At least, I feel like I am (having a baby will do that to you). Later this month, I turn 29, putting me ten years past what is, technically, the upper limit of YA. And while this isn’t particularly significant in terms of life in general, it’s very significant in terms of my reading life.

As children and teens, we devour books. Stories consume us, forcing us to read longer and faster. But as we grow older, things change. High school English classes teach us how to read, focusing on comprehension and discussion. College lit introduces us to research, derivation, and lines of influence, reshaping the way we read everything from the newspaper to the grocery list to our favorite author. The older we grow, the more unforgiving we become.

Not sure what I mean? Half a dozen people I respect have suggested I read Michael Scott’s Secret of the Immortals series, particularly since I have a strong interest in myth and fairy tale. Yet when I finally carved out time to read The Alchemyst I was disappointed. The writing was poor, the sentences were clunky and hard to read, the characters irritating in their naivete. The story, when I did finally grasp it, was interesting though very derivative. But when I actually spent some time outside my own head, I saw that these issues were my issues, my frustrations and baggage realized in print.

The Alchemyst isn’t a bad book–if you’re young. It’s meant to be absorbing and read fast, not picked apart for a book group or savored over hot chocolate and madeleines. It’s written for a young audience, an audience without a grounding in mythology and fairy tale, an audience still forming tastes and opinions. A lot of YA is written this way–Michael Buckley’s Sisters Grimm series and early Tamora Pierce* (particularly the Song of the Lioness series) come to mind.

In some ways, blaming my age for my problems with certain books is wussing out. Taste in books is a very subjective thing, and not all stories will appeal to all people. Saying I’m too old (or too young) for a given novel is a neat way to skirt dangerous ground and avoid insulting authors and readers alike. Worse, playing the blame game makes me sound as if I don’t value craft stuff. The thing is, I do think of writing as a craft. And Michael Scott’s writing annoys me, greatly, because I think it lacks craft. Could The Alchemyst be better written? Yes. Would it attract the same readers? I don’t know.

Craft v. Story

Pride and Prejudice is a classic. The characters are instantly relatable, and Austen’s wit shines through. The story forms the basis of many modern love novels, and the original has spawned dozens of sequels. But for every reader who loves P&P, there’s a reader who doesn’t get it, a reader who gets lost in the language and slips out of the story. Many readers who love the movie adaptations find the original text inaccessible or, worse, intimidating, and never make it past that first, perfect line. (Austen is the soul of intimidation–her work (except maybe Northanger Abbey) has a certain “yes, I know, I’m very clever, and you simply cannot help laughing at my wit” feel that can be quite off-putting.) Yet retellings, like Helen Fielding’s Bridget Jones’ Diary, are often lumped in with chick lit, or dismissed as “pop trash”.

The Alchemyst, The Sisters Grimm, and the Song of the Lioness series have one glaring feature in common: they’re fantasy. And while fantasy is often well written, it’s also (for good or bad) the catch-all easy genre, the genre many serious YA readers (teens and adults) look down on. But fantasy is also one of the most popular YA genres–not just because of the vampires and werewolves (or their predecessors, elves and goblins) but because it’s accessible. Does this mean fantasy authors should skip craft stuff? No. But it may mean that plot is more important than a perfect sentence. Of course, we already knew that, didn’t we?

*I love Tamora Pierce, especially her later work. I think her early work is a little raw, and it took me a while to get into it, but her stories are captivating, and I think she deserves some slack because her books were so original for the time, and originality is its own kind of greatness.

Her more recent stuff is brilliant–marvelous storytelling/craft and great plot. Go read some. Now.

Do you care about craft in the books you read? Do you read fast? Slowly? What’s your definition of poor writing? Is it excusable?

Get the first part of this discussion, here.

Image credit: leocub

Filed Under: All, Blog, Books, reviews and thoughts Tagged With: Alchemyst, Arts, Bridget Jones' Diart, fantasy, Fiction, Helen Fielding, Michael Buckley, Michael Scott, Northanger Abbey, reading, Song of the Lioness, Tamora Pierce, the Alchemyst, the Immortals, The Sisters Grimm, YA, YA lit, Young-adult fiction

Writing YA: Reading Deeply to Write Deeply

March 23, 2010 By peta 3 Comments

Writing YA: Reading Deeply to Write Deeply We all do it, right? Glance at a group of letters, pull out a word. Reading is so ingrained in our minds that it’s almost impossible to not read signs, titles, anything with words on. But there’s reading, and then there’s reading.

Today, reading mostly falls into two categories: reading for pleasure, and reading for information. Reading as an art–really reading, reading deeper, to get within a story, to pick it to pieces and learn how it works–is fast becoming forgotten.

But What Does “Reading Deeper” Mean?

Reading deeper is about thinking deeper, about tapping into critical thinking skills. Instead of being carried away by surface currents, a deep reader asks questions. Unlike general reading for pleasure, though, deep reading requires active thought.

E.g.
Anne of Green Gables – Why does Anne Shirley want a more romantic name?
Little Women – Why does Jo care about cutting her hair off?
Wuthering Heights – Why does the weather mirror Catherine and Heathcliff’s moods?

Another way to think of reading deeper is to think of it as reading between the lines. In the first Anne book, Montgomery establishes that Anne thinks herself unworthy of love and affection. But instead of simply telling the reader this, Montgomery uses contrasts. At first glance, a reader might chalk Anne’s dislike of her too-ordinary nose and freckles up to vanity. But when taken in context alongside the girl’s history as an orphan and her want of a more romantic name, Anne’s inner thoughts are made clear.

But what I think of as deep reading goes beyond reading between the lines–it’s sometimes called analytical reading. In an article for CopyBlogger, founder Brian Clark writes:

At this level of reading, you’ve moved beyond superficial reading and mere information absorption. You’re now engaging your critical mind to dig down into the meaning and motivation beyond the text. To get a true understanding of a book, you would:

Identify and classify the subject matter as a whole

Divide it into main parts and outline those parts

Define the problem(s) the author is trying to solve

Understand the author’s terms and key words

Grasp the author’s important propositions

Know the author’s arguments

Determine whether the author solves the intended problems

Show where the author is uninformed, misinformed, illogical or incomplete

Reading for Facts or Fun

How is this different to reading for fun or information? When we’re reading for fun, we let our conscious minds drift, giving ourselves leave to be caught up in the story. If the action gets a bit intense and our favorite character’s in danger, we might skip ahead, looking for their name, or words that indicate everything’s okay in Trixie-land (I read a lot of Trixie Belden this way when I was a kid). Sometimes, we’ll go back to fill in the blanks. Other times, particularly if the book is something akin to a cozy mystery, we just keep reading and assume anything important will be covered later.

Reading for information also involves skimming, particularly if you’re a speed reader. Instead of taking in every word, we skim a page until we find relevant sections, then read more comprehensively–sometimes reading quite deeply, but only within a given section.

Of course, there are exceptions–as anyone studying literature, history, or even reading itself, like my crit partner and friend, Livia–will know. If you’re writing a paper on The Old Man and the Sea, you pretty much have to read deeply and pull the book to pieces because that’s where the information you’re using for the paper comes from, in contrast to, say, a biology paper on photosynthesis.

Unsurprisingly, deep reading and critical thinking are important skills for writers. But they’re especially important for YA writers.

Why We Need to Read Deeper, Especially in YA

It’s easy to dismiss YA and teen readers–we’re constantly reminded that teens have short attention spans, that there are half a dozen cute kittens and dancing hamsters just a couple of clicks away. To some extent, the YA bestseller list even supports the idea – Twilight, The Mortal Instruments series, even The Hunger Games are full of flash and bang. Why? Because it’s hard to be distracted when:

things are blowing up

a demon is chasing you

the hot guy you’ve been dreaming about is leaning in close for a first kiss

Some flash-bang books are definitely worth a deeper read–there are a lot of layers in The Hunger Games (Suzanne Collins) and The Mortal Instruments (Cassandra Clare) that are lost in that quick, exciting first read.But for every popular action-packed book, there are a dozen contemporary YA novels being devoured every day. Yes, some of them are edgy, issue books about abuse, rape, eating disorders and the like. But the majority are not. The majority are, on the surface, simple slice-of-life books about school, or summer jobs, or a pair of pants that magically fits four girls with drastically different weights and heights.

Why are teens reading these books? Because they’re relevant. On the surface, the stories may seem as ordinary as Anne Shirley’s nose. In truth, the authors are catching hold of the things most important to their readers on a subconscious level. (Good examples include Ann Brashares’ Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants series, Melina Marchetta’s Looking for Alibrandi and On the Jellicoe Road, Randa Abdel-Fattah’s Does My Head Look Big In This? and, to some extent, J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter, particularly The Prisoner of Azkaban and Goblet of Fire.)

Remember when I said deeper reading leads to deeper thinking? That’s just the first part of the chain – deeper thinking leads to deeper writing, too. Think about it–if you invest time figuring out why and how a book like When You Reach Me (Rebecca Stead) works, you suddenly have a whole lot of information about story construction at your fingertips (see Clark’s list above for ways to get started). And while you may not sit down and write out every detail you’ve gleaned (though taking notes is definitely useful), they’ll rattle around your brain and inform the next thing you sit down to write. And that information will help you write a deeper, more relevant story–the kind that catches hold of your reader’s mind, then doesn’t let go until it’s done.

Which slice-of-life YA novels have caught hold of you? Why? Do you read deeply?

P.S the kidlet has been trying to add to this post all day. Here’s what he has to say.

——-zzzzzzz—kjk

Image Credit: lusi, via sxc.hu

Filed Under: Blog, Books, reviews and thoughts, Writer's Kit Tagged With: Anne Shirley, Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, JK Rowling, L.M. Montgomery, Looking for Alibrandi, Louisa May Alcott, reading, Trixie Belden, When You Reach Me, Writing, YA lit

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

March 18, 2010 By peta 13 Comments

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

Filed Under: All, Blog, Books, reviews and thoughts, Writer's Kit, Writing Tagged With: Arts, Author, Boston Globe, familiar, literature, Margaret Atwood, style, William Hazlitt, Writers Resources, Writing, YA, YA lit

YA Fiction: Filial Piety & Uncool YA

March 16, 2010 By peta 21 Comments

A Teen Reading Picking books to give to others is difficult. It’s particularly difficult if you’re picking for a YA audience. YA pickings are vast and ungenred, everything housed in the same not-quite-big-enough section of the bookstore, the ever-popular paranormal romance crammed up against Trixie Belden (Oh, Trixie, oh Jim, how I wanted you to get together in that lovely, tame 70s-80s way) reissues.

Then, of course, there’s theme to be considered. Sure, your YA-loving teen might love werewolf-dalek mashups, but is that really what they need right now? Wouldn’t something about the value of family, the importance of attending church/synagogue/mosque/temple/mothership, or the seriousness of skipping meals and never flossing be more suitable?

If you can find such a book, go ahead and buy it–though it’ll probably end up in the deep, dark recesses of an over-stuffed closet. If? Am I saying YA literature is devoid of books filled with good values and useful information?

Of course not. There’s lots of great stuff in YA – it’s just not as simple as we adults might think.

Why You Can’t Find A Book About Floss

Books about floss are being written. Books about everything are being written. Books about floss, however, are not being published (unless the handy dandy little pamphlet I picked up on my last visit to the dentist counts). Why? Stories about floss, even psycho-strangler floss, are boring. Stories about rules are boring. Why? Because nothing happens.

Don’t believe me? Check out the frighteningly rule-filled Freddie series by Danielle Steele. Every page is full of reasons why Freddie can’t do something, like run into the road or play with knives. I’m all for that. Thing is, the books are lacking everything else–there’s no conflict, no humor, and no characters to connect with. These are the books well-meaning parents by their kids, and fun-loving kids accidentally-on-purpose flush down the toilet.

Finding YA with a Purpose?

Values are an important part of YA literature. Good YA authors understand that–which is why they don’t beat their readers over the head with obvious calls to good dental hygiene and stranger danger. The fastest way to set off a teen’s finely tuned crap-o-meter is to tell them things. Of course, like all genres, YA has its share of rotten apples. Trashy books are in–there’s a reason Gossip Girl and Twilight are popular. But that doesn’t mean we should write off all YA.

Over the past few days, my friend Amitha and I’ve been trying to brainstorm YA titles with a theme of filial piety, a result of a question my friend and critique partner Livia Blackburne posed on Twitter. The first–and only–books to come to mind? Anne of Green Gables (L.M. Montgomery) and Little Women (Louisa May Alcott).

When I first hit the filial piety title wall, I figured filial piety was just uncool, pushed out by vampires, angels, and werewolves (oh my! Come to think of it, Harry Potter is about filial piety…). But YA isn’t lacking in family stories–my shelves are filled with books about relating to family, finding a niche in in your family, trying to understand parents, mourning parents–the list goes on. Filial piety, what Livia defines as “honoring one’s parents” and “[making] sacrifices for them” is, I think, too simplistic a theme for today’s YA market.

While it may seem bad that I can’t come up with any modern YA titles that fit Livia’s question, I think it’s actually a very good thing. YA is moving beyond standard tropes, beyond themes that were common fifty years ago, and asking important, often uncomfortable questions. Instead of focusing on what kids and teens should do, good YA–great YA–asks why. Telling teens they should honor their parents is easy. Showing them why they should honor their parents is hard.

Fudge

No, I don’t mean literal fudge (though I could definitely go some of that right now). Fudge is my Baby-friendly, catch-all term for anything M-rated: foul language, sex scenes, mature content &c. &c. YA is full of fudge, and it pushes boundaries everyday. Sometimes, though, we adults are so consumed with a need for books about floss we forget that boundaries are what YA is all about.

Pushing boundaries didn’t begin with modern YA literature. In the beginning, way back in the nineteenth century, Charles Dickens (Oliver Twist, 1838), Charles Kingsley (The Water Babies, 1862-1863), and Mark Twain (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, 1885) put YA and the hardships of being a kid/teen front and center. Readers were faced with characters and situations that were more than a little uncomfortable–these were the first books to show that, for many kids and teens, life was hard, cruel, and unfair. (They were also part of the impetus for change that resulted in first improved working conditions for children, then later the abolition of child labor.) Despite their clean, curse free language and sex-free scenes, these books were full of fudge.

Somewhere along the way, though, YA became less about boundaries and more about cleanliness. “Appropriateness” became the order of the day–by the 1950s, Salinger’s ever-questioning, ever-swearing Holden Caulfield was shocking, as was To Kill a Mockingbird (Harper Lee) when it hit shelves in 1960, and S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders was controversial in 1967. Schools banned books; one teacher was even fired for assigning Catcher in the Rye as homework. Yet these books are classics, stories we praise for making us–for making our kids–think about more than prom and *insert random celebrity here*’s latest haircut.

It’s easy to dismiss YA and say there are no modern classics (I hear this a lot), that kids should be reading more about Anne Shirley and Scout Finch (I hear this even more). And those books are great–they truly, truly are, and I will give them to the kidlet as soon as he’s old enough to spell “Atticus” correctly. But today’s YA isn’t just about what’s cool. It’s about what its audience needs. And while I’m unsure where exactly the line in the sand should be, I think this is a good thing.

Today, YA literature is still pushing boundaries. Of course, some YA stays firmly within them–and that’s okay, as long as the boundary changers keep coming along. Filial piety, honoring one’s parents is still important. But it’s also an old idea, one kids and teens everywhere are familiar with. Today’s YA shows teens that it’s okay to question, that parents are not always right, that even parents can do bad things–and, hopefully, gives them the tools to deal with what is yet to come.

What do you think? Can you think of any YA titles with a filial piety theme?
Image credit: the_franz, via sxc.hu