When Adult Books Have Teen Protagonists (ROYA #27)

The first “adult” book I read featuring a teenage main character was Alice Walker's The Color Purple. It was recommended in one of the many teen mags I bought regularly - it’s a ‘90’s thing - as the perfect antidote to a bad break-up. In truth, reading in general can be an antidote to almost any heartache, so long as you pick the right book. At the tender age of sixteen, devastated after being dumped by a guy I’d only just forgiven for cheating on me, I needed a point in the right direction. It worked. In around three chapters my mind was open to the bigger picture. Those of you who’ve read The Color Purple will know it’s not what's considered a suitable book for children. But for teenage me, it was pivotal in my understanding of oppression as both a concept and the reality for many. I gained a valuable lesson on heartache and strength beyond the confines of romance.

When it comes to YA, the general rule of thumb is that the protagonist must be a teen. I completely agree with this and struggle to imagine a successful example of breaking this rule.* However, I’ve lost count of the supposedly “adult” books which have relatively young teenagers as main characters. Examples of these are Sue Monk Kid’s The Secret Life of Bees, Jane Harris’ The Observations, Sarah Water’s Fingersmith, and Jenny Fagan’s The Panopticon. Here’s the thing, if stories like these are about what can happen to adolescents, shouldn’t teens be made aware of their existence and have easy access to them? Just because they don’t end neatly, have adult themes, and harsh lessons doesn’t mean they’re not worthwhile reads for teens struggling to deal with their emotions.

Of course, like I said last week, I am a YA impostor. I read books specifically targeted at teens, for numerous reasons.  But I remain convinced that, just as adults enjoy books aimed at teens, so too should teenagers know they’re not restricted from reading adult fiction. We  can all enjoy both. When I needed a copy of The Color Purple, I was lucky enough to find one in my High School Library (thank you, Mr Clarkson!). Should it be left to librarians alone to bridge this gap? Or do we, as a society, have a duty to step-up and encourage reading which breaks the rules of a perceived demographic? Obviously, I favour the latter. I’m not saying we should start handing out copies of War and Peace to all thirteen-year-olds. I’m merely suggesting some as young as that have the capacity to comprehend and connect to Tolstoy’s epic through the journey of the many young characters.

A quick check of contemporary online magazines, especially those targeted at teens, will show a tendency to remain within the parameters of age-specific recommending reading.  Perhaps it’s always been this way, and my happening on an article which broke that rule all those years ago was pure chance. I honestly don’t know. What I do know is we have an opportunity as a society to provide perspective through all forms of literature, and teens have as much right to that information as adults.


*If you have an example, please leave a comment with details.

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.