About five years ago, I was trying to get one of my cousins into reading. He’s about ten years younger than me, so teenage/young adult fiction seemed right up his alley. But he’d just ignore me and say “reading is for girls.”
Now, I was not about to let stereotypes keep one of my cousins from enjoying one of life’s great pleasures, so I took him to a Barnes and Noble, one that took up two stories and stretched as far as the eye could see, and I brought him up to the young adult fiction section, and…hung my head in defeat.
The entire aisle was packed with different variations of teenage romance dramas. You know the kind; the ones where the protagonist is a Plain-Jane in high school or college, and her love interest(s) is some kind of muscular pretty boy who racks up a criminal record that begins with stalking and works his way up to domestic abuse (good thing he’s usually rich, or he might not be able to afford bail).
A few books took a spin on this by having the lead be some kind of teenage spy, or witch, or the felon she’s in love with might actually be a convicted criminal, or a monster, or literally Satan. Sometimes they’d be recycled in a fantasy setting, or a dystopia, adding ‘cyborg’ to the list of possible love interests. I’m still waiting for the book to come out where the teenage girl battles a dystopian government while having an on-off relationship with the rich successful werewolf Satan on another planet.
Trying to get my cousin to read any of these would be like trying to get a 13-year-old girl to read a male-fantasy novel where the only female character is an extremely busty mannequin brought to life by Frosty the Snowman’s hat – the male equivalent of the mindless woman in male fantasies is the Christian Grey archetype who has no real mind or even identity, and his only hobby is stalking the main heroine. Wish fulfillment is fine now and then, but don’t expect people who don’t share your fantasies to enjoy the same kinds.
As I checked the young adult section with my cousin, I tried to find the Rick Riordan novels, which I usually use as a gateway to get young boys to start reading, but they had been moved to a different section. Apparently, they didn’t count as “young adult” anymore because the author and the characters kept everything PG (at least through the Heroes of Olympus), and the young adult section was now reserved for authors who can’t keep it in their pants.
I got my cousin a copy of the Lightning Thief. He may have read it at some point, but I think he might have said something about just watching the movie instead. I say ‘he might have said something’ because anytime someone mentions the film version of the Lightning Thief, all I hear is the sound of nails on a chalkboard.
The thing is, one cannot live on Rick Riordan alone. His books are like fried chicken: good in any season, borderline addictive, and they go well with a side of mashed potatoes, but sooner or later, you’re going to want something else. And even though we did eventually find his section in the bookstore, the sheer sameness of young adult fiction today killed my attempts at getting my cousin into reading.
So, the first reason why I write: so that there will be something else on the shelves for young adults who want to try something different. And hopefully, it’s something they’ll enjoy. And yes, I did send my cousin a copy of Janaan.
