I’m going home next weekend to celebrate some
birthdays and father’s day with the family. It promises to make me crazy.
However, a shining light is C and I are going to see The Fault in Our Stars. This is a film based on the John Green
novel of the same name. Green is important on the Interwebs with his brother
Hank who have created a safe, respectful space for teenagers online. I’m not
even kidding they do not tolerate bullying on their vlog or blogs. It is pretty
incredible to know thousands of teenagers are listening to these two instead of the racist Canadian.
But that isn’t the point, the point is Green is
ushering in a new era of young adult fiction. Post-Twilight my expectations of
young adult literature is low. Really low. However, Green’s novels (and I’ve
read several) value language in addition to storytelling. He is not alone. His
books wrestle with complex themes that a lot of contemporary fiction just isn’t.
I think he is working on a novel about two young men and privilege right now.
Mind blow.
Let’s talk about fiction, novels, and young
adult (YA). Fiction, like most art, can be a tool to critique and challenge
those in power. Look no further than JM Coetzee, JK Rowling, or Jane Austen.
(Come at me about Harry Potter,
because it is about ethics of war and parliament.) Jane Austen is a great
example that brings me to novels in general. The novel was considered a base
level of literature. Specifically, novels were for women *side eye.* I’m
serious though, novels weren’t considered worthy of real authors instead they
were considered feminine because the pioneers of novels were women. They rose
while poetry was still considered the premier form of literature.
Now, we’re talking about YA the way people had
referred to novels, and then consumer fiction, and I’m sure some I’ve missed.
It is all very dismissive of literature and new innovations. After all, one of my favorite books To Kill a Mockingbird would most
certainly be YA. Don’t get me wrong some YA blows, but so does some general
fiction, and some classic cannon. I’m looking at you Hemingway. End rant.
