The Problem With Forever Love (ROYA #28)

There’s something special about teenage romance. The butterflies, blushing, jangled nerves whenever that special person is close enough to touch. It’s intense, all-consuming, and when it’s good, it’s great. Holiday romances, one week flings with a classmate, stolen kisses with a friend in a moment of confusion, or unrequited infatuation, they all have one thing in common. Teen romances – usually – end. And that’s a good thing. It’s hard to acknowledge that at the time, but it’s nevertheless true. Teen romances are rites of passage that bring us one step closer to self-definition, something we strive towards throughout our teens and early twenties.  So why do so many contemporary YA books portray teen romances as lasting a lifetime?

Okay, I know what some of you are thinking. “YA fiction doesn’t have to be realistic!” and “I don’t want the reality, I want the fantasy/ love the happily ever after.” Sure, I understand the appeal. But hear me out. As adults, we can suspend our disbelief and decipher fact from fiction. However, the trend for Forever Love in YA movies, TV, and books is having an impact on how teens perceive romantic relationships. As literature teacher Cheryl L. Dickson points out in The ALAN Review:

“Each adolescent is certain that his/her love is true and will result in a lifelong commitment. Each one dreaming of the emotional fireworks, picnics on the beach, a honeymoon in Paris, and the names of his/her first-born… I then realize how disappointing it can be when their dreams of romance and love are crushed.”

Adolescent and adult relationships are different.  The motivation behind most teenage romance is not emotional intimacy, but convenience, status, and appeasing their egos. Admittedly, that sounds negative, but it’s all part of growing up. Teens are hardwired to seek relationships that benefit themselves and aren’t normally willing to put another’s feelings before their own. It’s well established that teenagers are more susceptible to media influence.  Consistently offering unrealistic representations of teen romance in mainstream books, TV, and movies isn’t just irresponsible, it’s harmful.

It all comes down to expectations. If there were enough depictions of realistic teen romance in popular entertainment, then adolescents would have a better understanding of what to expect from a relationship. Instead of adopting a wait-and-see approach, many teens enter their first romance assuming it’s the love of their life. As a result, they’re more likely to forgive mistreatment and abuse for the sake of maintaining their relationship. Especially when male love interests in YA are portrayed as controlling liars who’re excused for their behaviour because they’re super hot (I’m looking at you, Twilight). I could list a plethora of YA books which conform to this type, but I want to avoid giving away any spoilers. Because of this unattainable aspiration for Forever Love, teenagers will go to lengths to hold the interest of their girl/boyfriend, compromising their appearance, character, and sense of self-worth. Of course, when the relationship inevitably turns bad or fizzles out, the impact can seem life-altering. As adults, we know this isn’t the case, but as teens, almost everything seems like it will change your life forever.  Their feelings are valid and should be respected when representing teen romance in fiction and entertainment that's specifically aimed at them. They shouldn’t be made to feel as though they’re incapable or not deserving of a relationship when in actuality the relationship is an ideal which doesn’t exist.

You might be wondering if YA and teen fiction have always been this way. Simply put, no. The concept of Forever Love rose in popularity around the start of the noughties and is yet to see a decline.  As a 90’s teen with a voracious appetite for fiction, I can confirm none of the contemporary books aimed at my demographic had lifelong romances. At least, not the ones I read, and I read a lot. Of course, the market for teen/YA fiction is relatively new, and the general acceptance of teens as a demographic originated as recently as the 1950s.  Social standards were different  then, of course, and the legal marrying age drops the further back in history you look. Yet, celebrated books considered suitable for adolescents such as Little Women (1868) the Little House [on the Prairie]  series (1938), rarely portray protagonists in long-term relationships before their twenties. In Anne of Green Gables  (1908) it takes five books before Anne’s married, and by then she’s twenty-five. 

There are contemporary YA books out there with more accurate depictions of teen romance, and they need to be championed.  I just have to find them first. If you have any suggestions of great YA with a believable romance, please get in touch, I’d love to hear from you.

YA Impostor (ROYA #26)

It’s true. Despite being a thirty-something mother with greying hair, a passion for early mornings and elasticated waistbands, I read books aimed at teenagers. Why? The simple answer: for research, because YA is primarily what I write. There’s so much about it I want to challenge as a writer. Yet, when it comes to reading for fun, I confess to being frequently drawn to YA stories. And I’m not alone. 

Although some people still hold the notion that adults should be embarrassed reading YA, the fact is over 55% of YA readers are adults. [But really, who cares what someone else is reading, unless it’s 1) Amazing, 2) Spectacularly awful, or 3) Meh?] Of course, like many readers of YA, I enjoy adult fiction too. From a young age, I’ve read books unsuitable for kids. Liking one is not a rejection of the other. Reading The Fault in Our Stars as an adult left me contemplating the value of life, even if teenagers don’t actually talk the way John Green writes them. Then again, at thirteen I read The Exorcist and hold the same opinion of it now as I did then: William Peter Blatty waffles. What a person chooses to read, when they happen to read it, and how much enjoyment they get from it isn’t cut and dry. It’s simply not down to age.

Don’t be angry at those who’ve never tried it. When you’ve not read much YA, it’s tempting to assume the majority are childish, predictable, or lacking complexity. Of course, some are, but there’s equally superficial adult fiction. Choosing to give YA or even children’s fiction a miss on these grounds isn’t just inaccurate, it’s a crying shame.  I say this because I’ve been there.  In 2002, I distinctly recall scoffing at the notion of reading Harry Potter because it was a children’s book and lived to eat my words.  If you know someone reluctant to try YA because it’s not “proper reading” then recommend Markus Zusak's The Book Thief or Are You Experienced?  by William Sutcliffe. Alternatively, remind them The Catcher in the Rye and Sunset Song are both coming-of-age novels, the YA of the time.

When it comes to depth, there’s plenty in YA to offer satisfying reflection from an adult perspective.  No matter what I read, save for the likes of Peepo and Goodnight Moon, I form a critical opinion. That’s who I am. I don’t forgive YA for poor writing, lack of profundity, or thin characterization, and I don’t tolerate them in adult fiction either.  Personally, I can’t be bothered with obligatory graphic sex scenes and blatant titillation in fiction, which are all too common in adult books.  Seriously, fiction is not my go-to for those things! Often, it seems the only reason they’re put there is to ensure a book will appeal exclusively to “grown-ups”. As established by my reading The Exorcist at thirteen, that’s not how it works.  

Fine, reading YA isn’t particularly ambitious, but I get annoyed if I have to get my head round every book I read. I shouldn’t have to toil over a book in order to appreciate its significance. Besides, sometimes it’s good to stay comfortable and get carried away by a story. It’s not about clinging to the same things I loved at thirteen. What I value is connecting with the part of me that’s still young, recalling a time when everything was urgent and vital, but from the position of an experienced adult.

Simply put, I can’t see how I’d benefit from limiting myself from YA except for research purposes. So I’ll remain a YA impostor until the day I no longer enjoy reading YA books.  Which doesn’t look to be any time soon.