Hey, fellow young adult writers -- want to storm off righteously? Then read this
New Yorker article
, in which several book reviewers read and discuss a single YA book, share their astonishment about its (presumed atypical) good qualities and ascribe its shortcomings to the genre as a whole.
I don't usually feel undervalued as a children's writer -- indeed, I find that people view my novel for children with much more seriousness than my poetry for adults, as if by producing more words I've somehow written a "real" book -- but this time I will make an exception. I will point out that I can think of no other genre where one could make sweeping judgments based on the reading of a single book, and not be called out on it. Is this not richly analogous to judging all black people by one's beloved housekeeper?
Some choice bits:
- I tend to think of young-adult fiction as sort of facile-a straightforward style, uncomplicated themes and morals
- anything branded “young adult” needs to have a plotline that captures a teen’s attention, and also needs to be not too long or challenging
- we do demand of “great” writers-literary-fiction writers-higher moral and philosophical stakes. Like I said, I think the Y.A. genre is typically defined by very straightforward moral messages.
Oh, sure, straightforward styles, uncomplicated themes, and low stakes pretty much define the genre. And short? I realize these serious readers are far too busy to actually read in the young adult section, but you would have thought they might mosey over there and check out the thickness of the spines.
There are interesting conversations that the New Yorker might sponsor about young adult literature. For instance: is it a genre or a marketing category? If it's a genre, what defines it? If it's a marketing category, does it do more harm than good? What accounts for its current popularity with adults and with "great writers" like Alexie and Allende? Do these "great" writers truly write good YA?
But they would have to find some people who actually read YA first.