This is, at least to my mind, a compelling problem... but not for the reasons that someone might think. While all of these foci (save perhaps for the one involving a conjoined twin) represent...
Young adult fiction is the worst: I receive books about being trans, gay, a Siamese twin, dyslexic or with OCD. There is one on the subject of Brexit, about a post-EU Britain where everyone born outside the country is subject to arrest and deportation.
This is, at least to my mind, a compelling problem... but not for the reasons that someone might think. While all of these foci (save perhaps for the one involving a conjoined twin) represent topics that would benefit from more awareness and understanding, each one of them will alienate many of the readers who approach it. The overall strategy and intentions are understandable enough, but the end result is an offering that isn't so much an appreciable narrative as it is a thinly disguised piece of alleged education couched in some heavy-handed metaphor.
The thing about stories in the young adult genre is that they're escapism by default. Young readers rarely want to be Hercules, for instance; they want to do what Hercules did. Hell, I can remember writing about the exploits of "Duke Moonrunner" when I was about nine years old, simply because I wanted to emulate one of my favorite heroes... but I knew that Luke Skywalker already existed, and I wanted to have my own adventures. I didn't need a preadolescent character on which to model my own, because the process of adaptation (such as it was) automatically included aspects of who I was. Assuming that someone trans, gay, dyslexic, or suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder wouldn't be able to do the same thing seems like a disservice right from the onset... and furthermore, presenting tightly focused stand-ins for real-world events removes a reader's opportunity to make logical jumps of their own.
As Bettelheim said, children's books answer our most profound needs without our even realising. When we subvert them, we're depriving children of a refuge, a delight and a way of understanding the world.
I agree with this statement, but I'd take it a step further: When we subvert our avenues to answering those needs, we're doing more than depriving children of refuges, delights, and understanding; we're denying them the chance to define those needs for themselves.
I remember, as a young gay tween/teen back in the 1980s, discovering an old 1960s novel called 'I'll get there, it better be worth the trip' (yes, it made such an impact on me that I still recall...
While all of these foci (save perhaps for the one involving a conjoined twin) represent topics that would benefit from more awareness and understanding, each one of them will alienate many of the readers who approach it.
I remember, as a young gay tween/teen back in the 1980s, discovering an old 1960s novel called 'I'll get there, it better be worth the trip' (yes, it made such an impact on me that I still recall the title all these years later!). It was the only book I ever found which included me. Sure, I read lots of science fiction and fantasy (I loved Encyclopedia Brown and Danny Dunn, as well as the Oz books, and lots of other random reading), and I enjoyed those very much. But this one book made an impact on me because, for the first time, I could read about someone like me: a young teenaged boy with same-sex attraction. In reality, I was much more connected to my sexuality than the boy in the book, so it's not like the story taught me anything. It was merely the act of my being represented in fiction that gave this book such meaning for me. I re-read that book quite a lot.
I think this is the point of those books about people who are trans, gay, a Siamese twin, dyslexic or with OCD: not necessarily to educate young readers, but to represent them, to themselves and others.
It's not about me as a young gay reader assuming that I couldn't solve puzzles like Encyclopedia Brown, or that I couldn't go through the wardrobe to Narnia like Lucy, or that I couldn't go on a quest to discover my destiny and defeat The Dark like Will Stanton. Of course I knew I could do those things. I used to climb a local pine tree and imagine it was the Faraway Tree!
It's about the fact that none of these stories included people like me. Of course, like any other type of story, this can be done well or badly. If it comes across as a didactic educational opportunity, then it's not going to do its job. It has to first be an enjoyable story, and second represent different types of people. The trick is finding that balance.
Totally agree. I was an avid reader growing up and surrounded myself with fantasy and sci-fi too. Lots of stories offered escapism, but it was with fantasy and sci-fi that I didn't feel...
It has to first be an enjoyable story, and second represent different types of people. The trick is finding that balance.
Totally agree. I was an avid reader growing up and surrounded myself with fantasy and sci-fi too. Lots of stories offered escapism, but it was with fantasy and sci-fi that I didn't feel as...alienated. So, I guess I'm saying, a lot of stories were enjoyable, but none really represented me. Fantasy and sci-fi had a natural appeal because technically they weren't anyone.
There were immigrant stories, but they weren't fun. And I wasn't an immigrant. But the main reason I didn't read them was still because they weren't interesting.
So... I have a couple thoughts. The first is that I think the author is taking a very narrow view of what type of book can create this "overpowering desire to find out what happens next." When I...
what's evident is that authors are writing to contemporary ideology as much as to their own sense that they must write or burst, as CS Lewis said about writing a book that started with a faun and an umbrella. What you want from a child's book is an overpowering desire to find out what happens next.
So... I have a couple thoughts. The first is that I think the author is taking a very narrow view of what type of book can create this "overpowering desire to find out what happens next." When I was a kid I used to inhale any number of books that one could call "dispiriting," like The Devil's Arithmetic. More recently I practically devoured The Hate U Give, despite its difficult subject. I can imagine some people dismissing the latter as "contemporary ideology," and it made me cry so clearly it didn't "delight" me. But it is definitely the sort of book I would have read as a kid with overwhelming desire to know what happens next, and I think I'd have been better for reading it.
I also think that just because the author herself might not have a need to write about these specific topics or she might "burst," that doesn't mean other writers don't genuinely want to write about trans characters (for example). Wanting kids to see themselves in a book when you didn't is a pretty powerful motivator, and it feels dismissive of her to assume that people are mostly writing trans characters to simply check a box or exploit people's hunger for representation.
I think it is dismissive, but I can't help but sympathize with her a bit. I've read a lot of YA writing targeted at schools in the US. And when a new perspective comes out that is refreshing and...
...it feels dismissive of her to assume that people are mostly writing trans characters to simply check a box or exploit people's hunger for representation.
I think it is dismissive, but I can't help but sympathize with her a bit. I've read a lot of YA writing targeted at schools in the US. And when a new perspective comes out that is refreshing and informative, the market often floods with that same perspective three to six months later.
Take the waves of culture/heritage books. Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry, Kira Kira, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian... As truly amazing books come out, others think "I could do that too." And publishers think "Woo more money!" So for a while the subject goes mainstream and then settles down. The YA vampire werewolf genre has exploded this decade. Most of them give me headaches.
The author of the article seems to have to read a lot of them as part of their job. After a couple of years of that, I would go bonkers and complain a bit too. But I'm glad the books are being written. The best ones will float to the top anyways.
This is, at least to my mind, a compelling problem... but not for the reasons that someone might think. While all of these foci (save perhaps for the one involving a conjoined twin) represent topics that would benefit from more awareness and understanding, each one of them will alienate many of the readers who approach it. The overall strategy and intentions are understandable enough, but the end result is an offering that isn't so much an appreciable narrative as it is a thinly disguised piece of alleged education couched in some heavy-handed metaphor.
The thing about stories in the young adult genre is that they're escapism by default. Young readers rarely want to be Hercules, for instance; they want to do what Hercules did. Hell, I can remember writing about the exploits of "Duke Moonrunner" when I was about nine years old, simply because I wanted to emulate one of my favorite heroes... but I knew that Luke Skywalker already existed, and I wanted to have my own adventures. I didn't need a preadolescent character on which to model my own, because the process of adaptation (such as it was) automatically included aspects of who I was. Assuming that someone trans, gay, dyslexic, or suffering from obsessive-compulsive disorder wouldn't be able to do the same thing seems like a disservice right from the onset... and furthermore, presenting tightly focused stand-ins for real-world events removes a reader's opportunity to make logical jumps of their own.
I agree with this statement, but I'd take it a step further: When we subvert our avenues to answering those needs, we're doing more than depriving children of refuges, delights, and understanding; we're denying them the chance to define those needs for themselves.
I remember, as a young gay tween/teen back in the 1980s, discovering an old 1960s novel called 'I'll get there, it better be worth the trip' (yes, it made such an impact on me that I still recall the title all these years later!). It was the only book I ever found which included me. Sure, I read lots of science fiction and fantasy (I loved Encyclopedia Brown and Danny Dunn, as well as the Oz books, and lots of other random reading), and I enjoyed those very much. But this one book made an impact on me because, for the first time, I could read about someone like me: a young teenaged boy with same-sex attraction. In reality, I was much more connected to my sexuality than the boy in the book, so it's not like the story taught me anything. It was merely the act of my being represented in fiction that gave this book such meaning for me. I re-read that book quite a lot.
I think this is the point of those books about people who are trans, gay, a Siamese twin, dyslexic or with OCD: not necessarily to educate young readers, but to represent them, to themselves and others.
It's not about me as a young gay reader assuming that I couldn't solve puzzles like Encyclopedia Brown, or that I couldn't go through the wardrobe to Narnia like Lucy, or that I couldn't go on a quest to discover my destiny and defeat The Dark like Will Stanton. Of course I knew I could do those things. I used to climb a local pine tree and imagine it was the Faraway Tree!
It's about the fact that none of these stories included people like me. Of course, like any other type of story, this can be done well or badly. If it comes across as a didactic educational opportunity, then it's not going to do its job. It has to first be an enjoyable story, and second represent different types of people. The trick is finding that balance.
Totally agree. I was an avid reader growing up and surrounded myself with fantasy and sci-fi too. Lots of stories offered escapism, but it was with fantasy and sci-fi that I didn't feel as...alienated. So, I guess I'm saying, a lot of stories were enjoyable, but none really represented me. Fantasy and sci-fi had a natural appeal because technically they weren't anyone.
There were immigrant stories, but they weren't fun. And I wasn't an immigrant. But the main reason I didn't read them was still because they weren't interesting.
So... I have a couple thoughts. The first is that I think the author is taking a very narrow view of what type of book can create this "overpowering desire to find out what happens next." When I was a kid I used to inhale any number of books that one could call "dispiriting," like The Devil's Arithmetic. More recently I practically devoured The Hate U Give, despite its difficult subject. I can imagine some people dismissing the latter as "contemporary ideology," and it made me cry so clearly it didn't "delight" me. But it is definitely the sort of book I would have read as a kid with overwhelming desire to know what happens next, and I think I'd have been better for reading it.
I also think that just because the author herself might not have a need to write about these specific topics or she might "burst," that doesn't mean other writers don't genuinely want to write about trans characters (for example). Wanting kids to see themselves in a book when you didn't is a pretty powerful motivator, and it feels dismissive of her to assume that people are mostly writing trans characters to simply check a box or exploit people's hunger for representation.
I think it is dismissive, but I can't help but sympathize with her a bit. I've read a lot of YA writing targeted at schools in the US. And when a new perspective comes out that is refreshing and informative, the market often floods with that same perspective three to six months later.
Take the waves of culture/heritage books. Roll of Thunder Hear My Cry, Kira Kira, The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-time Indian... As truly amazing books come out, others think "I could do that too." And publishers think "Woo more money!" So for a while the subject goes mainstream and then settles down. The YA vampire werewolf genre has exploded this decade. Most of them give me headaches.
The author of the article seems to have to read a lot of them as part of their job. After a couple of years of that, I would go bonkers and complain a bit too. But I'm glad the books are being written. The best ones will float to the top anyways.