A Reflection on YA Lit

The end of the semester is upon us once again and, as classes wrap up and final papers are turned in, I find myself wondering how it is possible for semesters to go by so quickly. Re-reading my original blog post, back in the days when I had no idea what I was doing, I thought it appropriate that I should spend a brief moment reflecting on the last four months. I was uncertain of my YA lit class for the first couple of weeks. I am not an education major and some aspects of the class dealt with issues that are relevant to those pursuing a career in teaching English to teens. However, I quickly came to enjoy the class and I would save my YA reading for my "fun" homework, the homework I would do on Thursday evenings when I couldn't bring myself to do any other work. Furthermore, I have learned a lot from this class and I will share some of that with you.

First of all, my knowledge of YA literature has increased exponentially. Before I had no idea what YA lit encompassed. Now, I feel that I have a much better grasp on the genre, even as I recognize the boundaries are a little blurry. My appreciation for YA lit has also grown. I have been fortunate enough to read some truly great novels, novels that deal with difficult topics. YA lit doesn't avoid the dark side of growing up or the hard situations that teens often deal with. It is not mere over-simplified sugar-coating of important issues. Rather, many authors have taken great risks, and continue to do so, pushing the boundaries of our thought. For this, I am grateful.

Secondly, I have gained a deep appreciation for all those on the front of the YA lit "movement." There are a lot of great, hard-working authors, librarians, critics, and teachers out there who deserve our praise and gratitude for the flourishing of YA lit and the increased interest it has rightfully been given. The enthusiasm with which many teachers have embraced YA literature and the risks some have taken in bringing innovative ideas to the classroom is truly remarkable. The effects that such a shift could have on the willingness of students to read are potentially great. The growth of YA lit is exciting and it would not have been possible without all those who devoted themselves to raising awareness as to its merits.

Lastly, there are going to be some very good English teachers teaching the next generation. The enthusiasm that my teacher-to-be classmates displayed and their interest in being the best teachers possible is amazing. I was blessed with some very good teachers in my day and sometimes a good teacher makes all the difference. Seeing so much willingness to teach and help students among my classmates makes me smile because I know that there will be many teens who benefit from their commitment. Even though I am not an education major, they taught me a lot about being invested and enthusiastic about whatever it is I end up doing.

I know that I will keep reading YA lit along with all the other reading I do. The stories are engaging and explore themes that remain revelevant to my own life. Besides, I take pleasure from reading YA and see no reason to stop doing something that I love.

Exciting News

Maizy and Sundance (Sundance is the one that looks like he could eat her)

Hey friends! My family recently welcomed into the home a new puppy and so I thought I would share her with you. At first, Sundance did not know what to think of her and so employed the aloof tactic, basically ignoring her and refusing to acknowledge her existence. However, he seems to have resigned himself to the fact that she is not leaving and has decided to make the best out of the situation. So now the two are friends. We decided to name her Maizy, and by "we" I mean my dad. For about one day we called her Nala. However, my dad apparently can't remember Nala and kept calling her Nola. He complained it was too hard to say and made an administrative decision to change it to Maizy. I ask myself, a.) has he never seen Lion King, and b.) how is Maizy any easier to remember? Well, for those of you who like the movie Uncle Buck you may remember that Maizy was the name of the little girl. I prefer to associate it with the fact that she looks like the color of a maize (or corn) field. This naming debacle, I am forced to think, is what happens when I am not at home to supervise things. I left Sunday evening to drive back to school and her name was Nala. I receive an e-mail Monday night saying the name has been changed due to extenuating circumstances. However, I am forced to remember that I named Sundance and no one liked it at first and now it is generally recognized as the best and most appropriate name ever. So, I can only hope that Maizy turns out to be an equally good choice.

Alcoholism, Disillusionment, and Trying to Survive

I just finished reading A Door Near Here by Heather Quarles. The novel won the Delacorte Press Prize, a prize given to the best first novel for young adults by an author. In fact, the book was Quarles's Master's thesis for graduate school--a pretty great read for a Master's thesis.

I fondly remember being a teen and enthusiastically anticipating every weekend my parents left my brother and me alone at home. It was glorious. An entire weekend to do whatever we wanted, as loud and as late as we wanted, with no one to demand quiet. We loved every minute of it. While this set up is fairly great for two days, being left alone for months is not. This is exactly what the Donovan children face when their mother loses her job and retreats to her bedroom, only to emerge to go to the store for more alcohol. All of the sudden, 15-year-old Katherine is running a household and, along with 14-year-old Douglas and 13-year-old Tracy, trying to keep life normal for their 8-year-old sister Alisa. However, as food runs out, laundry piles up, and bills go unpaid, things seem to be slipping out of Katherine's control. On top of everything else, Alisa, a big fan of C.S. Lewis, begins to obsess over finding the door to Narnia so that Aslan can cure her mother. Terrified that to alert any adult to their situation would result is Child Services contacting their distant father and sending Alisa, who has different father, to a foster home, the three struggle to keep up appearances as things begin to unravel. As the situation declines, a kindly religion teacher tries to help, but Katherine is determined to keep him away. In a moment of desperation, she makes a decision that could cost the man his career only to realize that she desperately needs his help.

A Door Near Here is a poignant reflection on the damage that alcoholism inflicts on children of alcoholics left to fend pretty much for themselves. However, it also deals with spiritual struggle. Katherine, like many teens and adults, does not believe in God. When Alisa tells Katherine that Aslan is the "king of the animals and children in all the worlds...like God." Katherine thinks, "Hopefully more reliable than God." She is disillusioned by God, a legitimate sentiment for someone whose life is falling apart despite her best attempts to keep her family functioning. When she meets Mr. Dodson, the new religion teacher, she describes him as a religious fanatic due to his belief in God, which he associates with Alisa's belief in Aslan. In the heat of their discussion, in which Mr. Dodson shared his childhood nightmare of having an alcoholic father who beat his mother, Katherine exclaims "But you say that you believe in God? How did God let that happen? If there is a God, how come he didn't fix your family? How come he didn't save your mother from your father?" Mr. Dodson falteringly responds that God gave us free will, and that it is not that God leaves us alone, God just doesn't fix everything. Katherine, however, refuses to relent, ending the conversation by stating that "It doesn't help to believe in God. We have to help ourselves." This is a common sentiment, one which most every individual raised in a faith tradition asks at one point or another. The problem of evil and suffering in our world is an immense stumbling block to any belief in a benevolent deity. One need only look at the headlines of a newspaper to see that the amount, intensity, and duration of suffering in our world is horrendous. Where is God in ethic strife or sever malnourishment or the homeless man on the corner of Grand and highway 40? This "spiritual crisis" or disillusionment, or even just an overwhelming realization of suffering, is a common human experience that is often neglected in young adult literature. In fact, this is the first YA novel that I have read where the theme even surfaces. Yet, often the high school years are the time for such questioning and criticizing of accepted beliefs. That this novel addresses the topic at all is refreshing and, quite frankly, authentic. Despite the increased secularization of the world, we still live in a primarily religious society where the majority of people affiliate with some group or another, or if not, remain influenced by the religions surrounding them. It is a topic that deserves more space.

This novel engaged these issues without focusing on them as the central plot so don't get turned off by my preaching. Really, the spiritual crisis is ancillary to the bigger issue of trying to survive on one's own with no money and no parents. It is, as School Library Journal writes, "heartbreaking and beautifully written." I read it in one sitting because I had to know what happened.

An Inclusive Reality: My Most Excellent Year

My Most Excellent Year by Steve Kluger is a refreshing read, a feel good story narrated in an engaging manner, guaranteed to elicit some laughs. Told through a series of journal entries, e-mails, and letters, the novel follows the lives of three high school students: the avid and obsessive Red Sox fan T.C., his "brother" Augie who has a flare for live theatre, and new student and daughter of the Mexican ambassador Alejandra. Each member of this eclectic trio relates the events of his/her freshman year as they deal with first loves, following dreams, and expanding the notion of family.

This novel is truly a breath of fresh air after reading so many novels dealing with the dark side of humanity and the screwed up lives of teens. The novel presents an alternate picture of high school reality, one in which students basically get along and teens have good relationships with their parents. It also presents a picture of what an inclusive society might look like. The novel blurs boundaries. T.C. and Augie are recognized by all as brothers as the two merged their families. However, the two are not biologically brothers. T.C. is white and the son of Pop while Augie is Asian and the son of Mom and Dad. Yet, the two families are for all purposes one. They do holidays together and vacations, and each boy has a bed and wardrobe at each house. Later in the novel, T.C. befriends a 6-year-old deaf child who gradually melts into the family also. Furthermore, Augie is gay and no one cares. His father at one point states, "Has this generation finally made [the I'm gay conversation] superfluous?" In our society, not yet. But in My Most Excellent Year, Augie is gay without the stereotyping or the angst often caused by other people's negative reactions. Everyone already knew anyway and he is able to be himself. He can still excel at soccer, swimming, and lacross and run the school musical. He is not ostracized from the jock world simply because of his sexual preference.

Kluger presents a picture of what an inclusive reality that accepts people and that is not defined over and against the other but rather alongside the diversity could look like with out falling into mere idealism. The novel is not naive. It merely suggests that superficial differences that often create pain and difficulty for those who are often seen as outcasts or odd need not be an unchangeable reality. A little open-mindedness and willingness to accept people as they are, to revel in the diversity, has enormous consequences on inter-personal relationships and, hopefully, on society as a whole.

If you want of taste of Steve Kluger as an author, check out his website at http://www.stevekluger.com/index.html. It will give you a taste of what this book is like.

Running from the Law: We Were Here

We had a pretty heated discussion in class last week over the novel We Were Here by Matt de la Pena. The novel follows the story of sixteen-year-old Miguel after he gets sent to Juvi and then a group home for committing a crime. His counselor tells him to keep a journal, and so he does, even after he escapes the group home with fellow "delinquents" Mong and Rondell. The three begin a journey to Mexico with little money, only the clothes on their backs, and just the stars to sleep under. In the midst of adventures, Miguel begins to realize that fleeing from the past doesn't change it, doesn't erase it. Instead, he must figure out how to deal with it if he ever wants to really live.

The debate raging in class centered on the relatability of the novel. Can your average high school student relate to this novel about a half-Mexican, lower-class criminal who ends up in the system? It seems to be a very narrowing demographic, many people stated. Well, I am not Mexican, I am not male, I've never been to Juvi, and I've attended private schools my entire life and I had no difficulty relating to this novel. Granted, most of the time, my perspective in the story was not from Miguel's position so much as from his counselor. Not because I am a counselor but because the counselor was outside of the story. He never experienced Miguel's situation and yet he empathizes with him and desires only to help. However, because I had access to Miguel's journal, I had insight into his life that the counselor never had. I could understand Miguel more deeply. There were also times when I understood Miguel perfectly. There's a famous author named Salman Rushdie and after he wrote his novel Midnight's Children he said people came up to him on the streets of India and told him, "I could have written that." This, he said, is the greatest compliment because it shows you've touched on something real. There were parts of this novel I could have written, even if I could never have told the story. It is not my story, but Matt de la Pena touches on something real, a reality that may not be entirely my own but reality nevertheless.

One of the most poignant and striking aspects of this novel is that it critiques, or at least raises important questions about, the justice system in the U.S. It is no secret that our justice system is flawed and that minorities take the hit. In fact, while African Americans account for only 12% of the population, they account for a staggering 44% of all prisoners. A ridiculous 1 in 9 black men is in prison. (If you don't believe me, here's a link to the human rights watch http://www.hrw.org/legacy/backgrounder/usa/incarceration/ or the New York Times http://www.nytimes.com/2008/02/28/us/28cnd-prison.html) Clearly the Justice system has a problem. Minorities are prosecuted and sent to prison at a much higher rate than the white population. In We Were Here, at Miguel's group home there are three African Americans, two Mexican Americans, one Asian American, and one lone European American. Why, one is forced to ask, are the number so skewed? Miguel is just your average teenager, how does he wind up in Juvi? The theme of race runs through the entire book, exposing both the subtle and explicit racism of our culture and the destructive consequences it has on our youth, ourselves, and our society. And it does so from an under-represented but much needed voice.

This is a great read. It is engaging, fast, and sucks you in, leaving you wondering just what Miguel has done and if you're going to see him differently when you find out. It also allows an insight into a perspective that is often neglected, the "juvenile delinquent." It's definitely worth the time.

Embracing the Reality of Fantasy

I recently read what is now one of my favorite books of the semester, Graceling by Kristin Cashore. Katsa lives with her uncle Randa, the king of Middluns, one of the seven kingdoms governed by seven capricious and often warring kings. Randa usually remains neutral because he has a very dangerous tool which inspires fear in his own people as well as neighboring nations, a tool that can cause instant death and cannot be stopped. The tool is Katsa. Katsa is graced. Her one blue eye and one green eye reveal to the world that she has a special talent. Some gracelings excel in cooking or mindreading but Katsa's grace is different. Her grace is killing, as she discovers as a child when she accidentally kills a man. Her uncle exploits her grace, and rumors of her deeds, done at her uncle's bidding, assure that most people fear and avoid her. However, Katsa begins to realize that she can use her powers for her own motives, and that perhaps she need not be the king's dog. And so, Katsa creates the Council, a gathering of people who devote themselves to rescuing people from the destructive whims of the kings. When Katsa rescues the kidnapped grandfather of the prince of Lienid her life begins to change. She meets the prince himself, Po ,who's grace for fighting gives her the first competition she's known. The two quickly become friends as they work to uncover who's behind the kidnapping and why. But soon it becomes obvious that things are far worse than imagined and that even Katsa, the most powerful, may not be able to protect herself from the one behind it all.

I love fantasy. Love it and I am not ashamed to admit it. A lot of people hate the genre, take for example my roommate Micha who has been sitting next to me for the last five minutes bashing magic and dragons as she waits for Gossip Girl to come on. She claims that fantasy is not real, as if reality consists solely of what we experience ourselves. I happen to disagree. Fantasy is not about the unreal or the nonrelevant. It touches to the depths of human life and experience just as realism does, only in a way that stretches our imaginations. In a way, it requires no more imagination than reading any other novel requires. All novels require the reader to put him- or herself in the place of individuals from different cultures, different time periods, and different social/economic worlds. Fantasy does the same thing. Fantasy offers us different worlds from our own but the problems and struggles of the characters are similar. Katsa's world is one with many different cultures, each with its own customs and each ruled by a leaders who are often quarrelling. Katsa herself must deal with being different, and being ostracized for something that she never asked for and cannot change. More importantly, she must learn what power is and to whom it belongs. At the beginning of the novel, Katsa is controlled by her uncle, being sent to commit heinous deeds that she does not want to do. He owns her by bending her will to his. Gradually, she realizes that she cannot be owned by anyone but herself. It is an awakening of sorts, a realization as she begins to question just who she is and what her grace actually does. She finds her own power within, her ability to exercise it independently of another, and even in the face of betrayal can control her grace and make her own decisions. Her own grace is first feared but then embraced as she realizes that that which haunts her is the very thing that will lead her to finding herself, finding others, and ultimately living the life she desires, not one dictated to her. None of these themes are "fantasy," they are all reflected in real life, they are a fundamental part of human experience. By putting them in fantasy, however, our minds are opened beyond our own narrow assumptions and preconceptions of the real as we realize that reality has a flexible quality. It is far bigger than we ever imagined. Reality is not merely my world at SLU, its the collective experiences of the world, often revealed in literature, in all its multifaceted cultures and beliefs. So sometimes the lines between fantasy and reality are blurred, if you can just get over the apparent differences that people seem to focus so singlemindedly on and embrace the similarity.

Graceling is not the complex fantasy world of Lord of the Rings. Its actually quite normal except for graces and the fact that its set in a different world, an almost medieval world. So don't let the fact that it's fantasy turn you off immediately because its really an easy transition. And there is a companion book, not a sequel but set in the same world, Fire that I haven't read but intend to.

Here's her blog, if you are interested. http://kristincashore.blogspot.com/

Hard Love

Hard Love, it is a fact of life. We've all been there, or will be at some point. The moment you realize that often love is not the happily ever after, easy love of fairy tales but instead can be chaotic, confused, and can seem at times indistinguishable from pain. Especially when you fall in love with the wrong person. What do you do then? This is exactly what John Galardi struggles to figure out in Hard Love by Ellen Wittlinger. When we first meet John, he claims to be immune to emotion, which he states is fortunate because people can't play off his sympathy. He doesn't have any. Living during the weeks with his emotionally distant mother and spending weekends alone at his absentee father’s apartment, John has perfected the art of keeping people at a distance. At school, he is a loner. He even describes his only friend as "just another hallow soul, trying to pass for normal." He is so cut off from himself, he can’t even decide whether he is gay or straight, he’s just indifferent. That is until he stumbles into the world a zines. Zines are like a written form of blogs, self published magazines that offer expression to anyone with an imagination and the commitment to produce them. Through zines, John discovers the outlet that writing can offer to his self-exploration. It also brings him into contact with fellow ziner Marisol. Marisol is a self-proclaimed “rich spoiled lesbian private-school gifted and talented writer virgin looking for love.” Marisol is unexpected, to say the least, but the two quickly become friends, as each recognize in the other a kindred spirit. As the two become closer John finds himself letting down barriers he’d forgotten were there and discovering what it means to be alive. Soon, however, the fact that Marisol is a lesbian begins to create difficulties as each tries to figure out how to love the other and both discover just how hard love can be.

Hard Love is a great novel, very deserving of the Printz Honor Award it won in 2000. This novel touches on the difficulty of loving and being loved in a very human and authentic way. The great Russian author Dostoevsky wrote, "Love in practice is a hard and dreadful thing compared to love in dreams." Love is not easy. Sometimes we hurt those we love or are hurt by them. It is unavoidable and something that we can't change. So, what do we do about it? John retreats. He becomes defensive, creates a barrier around himself that cuts himself off not only from any other person, but also from himself. He alienates himself and in the process of doing so, he stops feeling alive. But with Marisol, John begins to love again, he begins to live again. And it is not easy, because she cannot love him the same way that he loves her. It is hard as each must make decisions that will ultimately hurt the other, but that is just how love sometimes is.

At one point, John hears a song entitled "Hard Love," and he immediately feels like it was written about him. Listen to it here, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ejMPz5yOb0 . What makes a guy hear this and understand exactly what the artist (Bob Franke) was communicating? Read Hard Love and find out. It is definitely worth the time.

The "Other America"

Alright, Native Americans...the forgotten minority. I mean really, after the early Americans colonized the land and relegated the natives to small chunks of more or less useless land, they were basically removed from the American conscious. Sure, I've visited Cahokia Mounds, the local archaeological site of an old Indian city, but other than that, I sometimes forget that there are still tribes living on reservations. I am not, in other words, fully aware of a very important part of our population. When I picked up The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian by Sherman Alexie, I wasn't sure if it was about a Native American Indian or a India Indian. I just thought is sounded interesting. Turns out, it is about Junior, a Native American living on a reservation. Junior becomes infuriated one day at school when he sees his mother's name in a school book he is given. The book is at least 25 years older than he is! Losing his temper, he throws the book at his teacher's head. Later, that teacher stops by and urges Junior to get off the reservation forever, for, he says, hope cannot be found in the devastating poverty and rampant alcoholism of reservation life. Junior must make a tough decision. Either stay on the reservation and remain trapped in the cycle of despair, or leave and risk alienation by his tribe. Junior decides to leave and tells his parents he will be attending the white high school off the rez. In the process he loses his best friend and is thrown into a world where at first, he is just the Native American kid. As Junior attempts to chase his dreams and faces devastating loss, one cannot help being sucked into his world and find oneself fervently hoping for things to work out.

I very much appreciated the insight this book gave me into reservation life. I am not Native American, nor do I live near a reservation, so I am glad Alexie gave a voice to a portion of our population that doesn't always get the attention it deserves. This book is both hilarious and heartrending, depressing and inspiring. The narrator is witty and caustic, not hiding any of the ugly side of life. As an added bonus, the author plays with format, including illustrations that really add to the story itself. Alongside humor, however, is the devastating poverty of life on the reservation, the sub-par quality of education, and the rampant alcoholism that destroys families. The reservation is a hopeless place, full of the pain of death and the despair of being unable to dream. At one point, Junior says that his white friends can count the funerals they have attended on one hand. He on the other hand can use every body part and still not get close to the number of deaths he's experienced. The worst part, he says is that "About 90 percent of the deaths have been because of alcohol." Many people don't realize the immense problem that alcohol presents to Native American families. As Junior puts it, you're either an alcoholic, or you don't drink. And alcohol merely leads to more death and despair. It is horrendously sad because it is a reality for many people everyday. However, at the same time, this book is also inspiring, watching Junior commit to hope and dream, refusing to give up like so many of his family and friends. We all leave our families at some point. Whether it is to go to college or move to another country, we all experience the pain, uncertainty, and loneliness of leaving behind one's beginnings, one's core identity. Junior still loves his tribe and his reservation but he knows he must leave and he only prays that they forgive him and that he can forgive himself.

This is a great book, truly excellent. It gives us insight into an often ignored perspective, into the "other America," that really isn't so other. It forces us to recognize the reality of extreme poverty, rampant alcoholism, and lack of options through education prevalent on reservations as well as our own ignorance of it which helps keep it in existence. It also teaches us to hope and to dream, to never settle with what we are given, to never give up. It is a story of determined persistence, of humanity, of life, and ultimately, of hope.

The Power of Power: The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks

Frankie Landau-Banks attends a boarding school where there exists a secret society, the Loyal Order of the Basset Hounds, an all-male club dedicated to breaking school rules, throwing illegal parties, and pulling the occasional prank. Frankie desires more than anything to become a member of this club but there is only one problem: Frankie is a girl and girls are not welcomed into the Loyal Order. However, Frankie is determined and ambitious, not one to be deterred by mere formalities. Upon returning for her sophomore year, Frankie realizes that the four inches and 20 pounds she gained, all in the right places, has changed her social status from invisible debate club member to...well, to the popular girl who snags the hottest, most eligible senior on campus--Mathew Livingston. Mathew just happens to be the co-president of the Loyal Order, along with the newly returned rebel Alpha. As Mathew progressively becomes more preoccupied with the Order, canceling plans with Frankie for mysterious meetings, Frankie decides she's had enough and begins following him. When, Mathew shows no sign of ever informing Frankie about the Order, let alone asking her to join, Frankie decides it is time to take matters into her own hands. But, as events escalate, the reader can't help but wonder just how far she'll go to prove herself to Mathew and Alpha.

The Disreputable History tells the classic "girl-falls-in-love-with-the-uber-popular-senior-soccer-player-story" in a refreshingly new and amusing manner. It's a girl-power novel but without being nauseatingly so, so boys don't knock it just yet. One of the best aspects of this novel is that it engages multiple issues: class issues, the idea of acting according to societal expectations, gender issues, etc. It not one-dimensional and it is also not shallow. One of the major themes of the novel is the influence gender has on how one is perceived and what one can do. The book does an excellent job portraying the difficulty of girls breaking into an all boys' world. Frankie wants more than anything to prove herself to the boys so that they will take her seriously. She is not merely Mathew's pretty girlfriend, no matter how much she enjoys the role, and their inability to acknowledge her intelligence and ability chaffs at her. She commits to gaining their respect at all costs, but along the way, she also uncovers some problematic tendencies within the school itself. The pranks she pulls are, in her own words, acts of "creative civil disobedience of students who are politically aware." Through her vandalism, Frankie reveals the absence of female authoritative presence on campus as well as the hypocrisy and out-datedness of the Old Boy club mentality. At the same time, it gets us thinking about these same elements in our own society. At one point, Frankie's sister tells her that, "The institutions of male supremacy only have real power over you if you buy into that notion." Really? Aren't we all products of thousands of years of male domination to varying degrees? Aren't we just now beginning, within the last 100 years, to truly recognize the equality of men and women? Does it really matter whether or not we, as individuals, recognize this? Does ignoring the remnants of the patriarchal paradigm make them less real?

This novel raises all these questions without making gender the sole focus. It is not a sermon on female power, or lack thereof. It is a comic, entertaining story about a secret society and a rich boarding school. It is a narration of an ambitious girl who, perhaps, goes to far. To be honest, I liked this book, but I did not love it. It was a good, quick read and I was thoroughly entertained, but it is hard to relate to the ridiculously rich and at times Frankie's fawning over the boyfriend annoyed me. However, in the end, Frankie is a strong, independent individual...a force to be reckoned with, really.

History Forgotten: The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing

I've read a fair amount of historical fiction in my life. In fact, I have always enjoyed the genre, feeling that it gives me a deeper insight into the history I learned from textbooks. The most recent work of historical fiction that I've read is The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing: Traitor to the Nation by M.T. Anderson. Set in Boston during the period leading up to the Revolutionary War, Octavian Nothing documents the life of a rather unique slave boy. Raised with his princess mother by a group of philosophers, Octavian is given the best of classical educations. As a small child, the oddity of his life escapes his attention. Soon, however, the fact of his own slavery is brought to his attention. But Octavian is unlike any other slave. He is an African prince, and his education is a part of a larger agenda that he only gradually begins to understand. With greater awareness of his prescribed role comes greater awareness of his freedom, or lack thereof. With the outbreak of the Revolutionary War, Octavian must decide where his loyalties lie in a world that severely limits his choices.

Octavian Nothing is not like any other slave narrative I have ever read. Far from the plantation slavery of antebellum south, Octavian's slavery is radically different, yet simultaneously exactly the same. His life is, for legal purposes, not his own and yet he receives an unparalleled education and grows up with a semblance of freedom, so that he must come to realize that he is a slave. Once he does, Ocatian must confront exactly what it means to be free, espcially in a world where the color of his skin makes him a subordinate creature, incapable, or so he is told, of being truly free and equal with the white person. In the portrayal of Octavian's struggle, the novel also reveals that awareness of freedom, or lack thereof, is inextricably tied to resistance. From the moment Octavian becomes aware of his own slavery, he also begins to resist, first in small ways, the restrictions placed on his being. His own movement is reflected in the climate around him. Americans begin to rally against the British to prevent themselves from becoming slaves to the king. One of the great paradoxes of the Revolutionary War is that Americans fought for freedom from Britain while staunchly defending their right to own slaves. Black freedmen and slaves fought on the front lines but the freedom they fought for was not their own. However, this historical reality is often overlooked because it was not a primary concern of the white population. People often fail to consider the place of slaves in the American battle for freedom and the role they played in the fight for freedom that would not benefit themselves. It is a history forgotten because those on the underside of society are rarely remembered unless they command the attention of the powerful majority. Octavian Nothing gives us an insight into this often neglected world of a slave during the Revolution and raises questions about the nature of freedom and resistance that continue to be asked today. What constitutes freedom? How does one obtain it? As Octavian struggles to understand these questions, the reader's own notions are challenged and ultimately one begins to understand that freedom is more complex than one may have thought.

Some people complain that this book takes a while to pick up, and it does. The action does not begin until a few chapters into the novel. However, even in the opening sections the prose is beautiful and Octavian's insights enjoyable. What is not to like about a work that quotes Seneca and ends the opening chapter with, "How doth all that seeks to rise burn itself to nothing."? It is provoking. Plus, the action becomes more exciting farther into the novel, so I really encourage you to stick with it.

Statement of Intent

Lately, it seems that I have been accused of being purposeless an inordinate amount of times. I mean, how often do you go around asking people what they're doing with their lives? I for one, rarely engage in such behavior. Well, just wait until you are a senior in college and then you might want to start a FAQ section on your facebook page dealing solely with your life goals, then you can just direct professors, family members, career councilors, strangers you meet on the street to that page and be done with the whole business. As an English and Theology double major (so useful, I know), my career options are endless and NO I do not know what I am going to do six months from now so don't bother asking. OK, but what does this have to do with Y.A. literature, you ask. Simple, it has been brought to my attention that my blog lacks a clear purpose. No one can discern from my entries who my intended audience is meant to be. Well, this is because I did not have one until now. I was just writing for whoever happened upon this page. So, I am going to make my audience explicitly clear. This blog is written for and dedicated to my six younger cousins--Alex, Erik, Sam, Ashley, Taylor, and K-dizzle. These six exceptional individuals all happen to be currently in highschool and at least three of them inherited, or so I like to think, my love of literature. So, I am writing to 15-18 year olds, one boy, five girls, all very intelligent young adults.

But why write, you know, other than for your class? I write because literature is magical. It allows us to enter into and understand the worlds of people drastically different from us. Through it, we who have never been slaves, or prisoners, or victims of plague, etc., can reach greater depths of empathy, of realization, that the limits of our self would otherwise deny us. Thus, reading literature makes us better people. Literature is also extremely powerful. James Baldwin said that, "You write in order to change the world, knowing perfectly well that you probably can't, but also knowing that literature is indispensable to the world... The world changes according to the way people see it, and if you alter, even by a millimeter, the way ... people look at reality, then you can change it." Literature can be radical. It can subvert power systems and ideologies, or conversly it can reinforce them. Either way, literature exerts an influence in our world that no one can deny. Therefore, it is important to engage it, to study it, and to critically analyze just what forces are at work in texts. So, my task is two-fold. 1. To inform my cousins about the great, entertaining novels I stumble across; the ones that are must-reads. 2. To help them recognize aspects of the text that perhaps are not immediately visible. In short, to help them become better readers, even as I try to become a better reader. And of course, because this is a blog, my own musings and tastes will surface as well.

So, now you have my intent, for now at least.

Lethal Society: Hunger Games and Dystopian Literature

For those of you who like dystopian literature, The Hunger Games is for you. In The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins sets up an Orwellian society in which freedom is limited if not non-existent and the government wields total control. As a means of enforcing and maintaining the dominance of the Capitol and to discourage revolt, the nation of Panem created the Hunger Games. Every year, two children, one boy and one girl, are randomly chosen in a lottery from each of the Twelve districts of the Capitol. These twenty-four individuals are then granted the privilege of representing their homes in a fight to the death in the Capitol, in which only one survivor attains glory, the rest just a body bag. When Katniss's younger sister gets chosen, Katniss volunteers to go in her stead. She and Peeta, the boy chosen to compete with Katniss, are whisked away to the Capitol where they encounter a foreign world of indulgence and frivolity unknown to two kids from the poorest district in the state. As they try to navigate this new world and maintain their identities in a system set up to push them to their breaking points and turn them against one another, Katniss and Peeta learn just how little their lives matter to those in power.

This book reminded me of Shirley Jackson's short story 'The Lottery," in which a community has a lottery and whoever wins is stoned to death on the spot. No one is exempt, even small children. The Hunger Games had the same disturbing shock factor. It's sick, the idea that children would be thrown into an arena to kill one another while the entire nation watches as if it is the Olympics. But that is what dystopian literature is designed to accomplish, namely shock the reader into critically examining one's own society. Like "The Lottery," The Hunger Games asks the question, Do we set up society in a way that crushes people, a society of death and oppression? This novel takes the question a step farther making us consider whether we are the victims or the perpetuators of the system, as well as forcing us to consider the role government plays in controlling and limiting freedom. Panem is set up in Twelve districts with District One being the capital and the richest and Twelve being the poorest. There used to be a Thirteenth but the Capitol decimated it for rebellion, leaving the ruins as a reminder to the other districts of the price of revolt. The Hunger games is another means of this control, reminding each person that they are totally under government's power and the slightest offense means death. In the poorer districts people are forced to watch the hunger games, but in the richer ones, the games are a spectacle. People actually train their children to compete and the games represent a chance at honor. The game keepers even leave the stadiums of the games set up so that families can vacation there and replay the deaths of competitors on the spot where they occurred.

And no one questions this set up, knowing that to do so means certain death not only for oneself but one's family and friends. It the lie of silent assertion, as Mark Twain would say. We perpetuate oppression and inequality by remaining silent, as if nothing were wrong. And we all do this. But, you ask, how much power to the citizens of Panem really have, if their government exercises such iron control? Seemingly little. But the government draws its power from the people. If the richer districts recognized the extreme poverty of the poorest districts and the sheer wrongness of sending a twelve-year-old into a gladiatorial stadium with eighteen-year-olds and people stopped watching the hunger games, the games would no longer be effective as a means of control. It is the fact that people watch that make the games efficacious, not the games themselves. This, however, would require that the districts recognize one another as co-victims of the Capitol, meaning the rich would have to stop dominating the poor. As far as I am aware, this has never happened before. We do it to minorities, the poor, or currently suspicious people, depending on who we are in conflict with at the moment. People accept it and it continues. Thus, while Panem may appear to be an unrecognizably oppressive nation, elements of its exaggerated problems occur in our world as well, and it is important and neccesary to contemplate just what role we play in contributing to the state of things.

There is a sequel to The Hunger Games, Catching Fire. I have not read it but intend to, because now I am invested in the outcome. Will our heroes survive or will the system crush them like it has so many people?

High School Drama: Sarah Dessen

Sarah Dessen is familiar name around YA lit circles. With nine novels to her name and a solid fan base, Dessen's books continue to appeal to a wide range of teen readers, mostly girls I would assume. I read her novel Someone Like You, and I'll admit I remain slightly ambivalent about it. The plot moves fluidly and the characters are engaging, keeping the reader interested and invested in the outcome. But it was too much the typical teen problem novel, with the high school drama, the mother-daughter conflict, teenage pregnancy, and bad-boy boyfriend who is only trying to get in the nice girl's pants. Typical. Don't get me wrong, her teen characters, Halley and Scarlet were excellently and realistically portrayed and the growth of the two as they struggle to support one another and take charge of their own lives is authentic without falling into mere cliche. Both were portrayed as strong young women but Halley's conflict with her mother flirts with moralizing. Fortunately, even though the mother is right about some things, Halley proves herself quite capable of choosing the best decisions for herself, and she does so on her own accord, proving to her mother and to herself that she is no longer a child.

My complaint, and it is completely biased, is that it is too much like a written version of The O.C., or to be old school, Seventh Heaven. We're flooded with that on T.V. I really have no desire to spend my reading time being drown in more of the same. Still, I can understand why teenage girls would enjoy these novels, and to be fair I haven't given Dessen the chance she deserves. I have heard great things about Dreamland and reviewers usually praise her writing. According to friends who have read other novels by her, she generally sets her novels high school. This is most likely part of the reason I'm overly harsh on her. I'm old now, I've done the whole high school thing and to be honest, we never had as much drama as the characters in Someone Like You. But I won't write her off until I've read more of her novels and am better informed. If you want to get a taste of her as an author, check out her blog at http://writergrl.livejournal.com/ (it is pretty great!) or her books at http://www.sarahdessen.com/books.

Surviving the Labyrinth: Looking for Alaska

So I finished reading John Green's Looking for Alaska and I have decided it is great. The book is told from the perspective of Miles who enters his first year at Culver Creek boarding school. At the beginning of the novel, Miles is perhaps the most boring and uninteresting narrator ever. Coming from a school where he had zero friends, he is quickly befriended by the Colonel, Takumi, and the beautiful but wild Alaska. The three form an eclectic and, for the administration, often troublesome group that you can't help but like. When the group is faced with an unexpected death, everything changes and those left behind must struggle to make sense of their loss.

This novel presents an engaging story and it does so with literary merit. It is beautifully crafted and will make you laugh as well as cry. Early in the novel, Alaska asks the question, "How will we ever get out of this labyrinth of suffering?" and this becomes the overarching theme of the novel. Green engages the darkness or the labyrinth. Alaska was haunted by the darkness of her mother's death and her own feelings of guilt, pain, and shame. Instead of dealing with her past, she runs from it in the most self-destructive ways possible. She is incapable of accepting and making peace with what happened, but the fact is, it happened and it is not going to go away. Miles, in the end, recognizes this. He felt the darkness also, of his own failure and guilt and pain but instead of running from it, he eventually acknowledges what happened and that he is not wholly to blame. He goes through the pain and darkness and finds forgiveness. It is a fact of life that bad things will happen, you will make bad decisions, it is part of life, of growing up. You can't outrun the darkness, and to attempt to do so will only lead to self-destruction and suffering. You have to engage the labyrinth, the darkness. You have to forgive. Miles will still deal with the intense pain, but he doesn't drown in the suffering, and there is a big difference between the two. In the end, he realizes that you can't just pretend the labyrinth does not exist and you can't flee from it. You have to recognize its existence and live within it and it is no longer merely a labyrinth of suffering that we are trapped in but becomes a complex world full of possibilities.

This book portrayed the chaos of unexpected death and the corresponding feelings of guilt and pain well without crossing the line into the melodramatic. Eventually Miles finds his answer and it is the truthful one: sometimes there is not an answer. Life is not a math equation, one must live with uncertainty. It's something everyone can relate to.

A Sampling of the Classics: Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret

For a recent assignment, we were asked to read a "classic" YA novel. Now, you may be wondering what it means to be a classic. Sadly, I do not have a satisfactory answer for that question. As far as I'm aware, what makes a book a classic is its enduring popularity and literary merit. I chose to read Are You There God? It's Me Margaret by Judy Blume partly because I had never read her, partly because I had just read Chelsea Handler's Are You There Vodka? It's Me Chelsea and so the title caught my eye. In case your wondering the two do not have much in common but they can both be read in about two hours so feel free to make your own judgments. Basically, the novel is told from the perspective of 12-year-old Margaret and focuses on her arrival at puberty, her uncertainty towards religion, and her problems with friends as she tries to assert herself as an individual and as a member of her friend group.

This novel is definitely geared towards young, pre-pubescent girls. As a "classic" this book is significant because Blume was the first ever to address menstruation and its importance for young girls. Blume has had immense influence on YA authors and continues to be adored in the YA circle and its easy to see why. Her protagonist was authentic and she engaged issues that had in the past been ignored but which have a big impact on young girls. I found parts of it dated but that's inevitable for a book written over twenty years ago. One of the best aspects for me was her ambivalence towards religion, which is possibly even more relevant today given our increasingly pluralistic society. Would I recommend this novel? Only to young girls. And even then, you have to know a person to recommend a novel to them. I for one would not have liked this book as a young girl. I would have found it boring, but then I was always more of an action/adventure/fantasy/pirate/knight/anything exciting fan. Still, the writing is fluid and the characters believable. Plus, Blume is a huge name in YA lit so perhaps I just need to read something else by her.

Prison of Silence: Speak

I just finished reading Laurie Halse Anderson's novel Speak. Verdict: Definitely worth the time....and the honor Printz award it won back in 2000. Melinda Sordino enters freshman year at Merryweather High an outcast, blacklisted by old friends for calling the cops to break up a party. Rather than speak about what happened, Melinda opts for silence, to the dissatisfaction of teachers and her parents. As Mel struggles to survive in an environment where she is labeled with a bad reputation, the reader is left wondering if the truth will ever come out.

Speak authentically engages this theme of silence. Mel is incapable of talking about what happened. Her words have been taken from her and so she retreats into herself, drawing farther away from anyone who threatens that silence. She lives in constant fear and pain. And nobody has any idea. She is entirely alone. Her parents aren't involved enough to bother trying to reach out to her and her friends all hate her. All she has is an art class she stumbles into and a kindly art teacher who can see her brokenness and her need to express it through art. In art, she finds a way to channel her emotion, to begin to sort through the chaos within. It keeps her sane, if only barely. As the novel progresses, one is forced to wonder, will the girl break the silence or will the silence swallow the girl?

By the end of the novel, Melinda is a good friend that one can't help but root for. The internal struggle with herself and the outward struggles with teachers, friends, and family are excellently and realistically portrayed making it impossible not to empathize. In the end, it is an intriguing, desperate read that sucks you in and keeps you reading when you should be doing other things.

What is YA lit?

A very good question, one I found myself asking after enrolloing in a class entitled "Adolescents in American Literature," only to discover that we would not be focusing on works featuring an adolescent as a main character as I had thought. We would in fact be reading YA--or young adult--literature. "What the hell is YA lit?" I asked myself, trying to recall if I had read the course description, remembering that I have never read a course description so I most certainly had not, and silently cursing my lack of preparedness in my all-important college education. As I sat there trying to decide whether I was going to drop the class and pick up another, I could not help but become interested as our professor began to speak about YA lit. Apparently it is its own genre. Who knew? I have spent ample time in bookstores and libraries in my day so I was aware that the teen books were shelved in their own area, seperated from Fiction, but I had no idea that YA literature was its own market, with its own somewhat hazy perameters, written specifically for 12-18 year olds. The more I heard about it, the more interested I became. I have always been an avid reader and I remember fondly my teenage years trying to find books that I liked but which were not sappy romances or soap operas in dust jackets. No one informed me about YA lit back then. We were too busy being drowned in Shakespeare and Jane Austen--no disrespect intended, I happen to enjoy the greats also--during the school year and largely ignored over the summer, except of course the one summer reading book chosen and demanded by the administration. It is to these days that I ascribe part of the blame for the lack of interest in reading that is characteristic of most of my friends. No one wants to read something that does not interest them, no matter what its literary merit. YA lit attempts to counter this unfortunate side effect of English classes by offering complex, literary novels geared towards teens. It is not merely your overdone "problem novel" or a moralizing story devised to keep teens out of trouble. These books address all different sorts of situations and struggles in a realistic and truthful way. Instead of pretending the darkness or confusion or ambiguity doesn't exist, these novels engage reality from the perspective of a teen. What makes YA lit different from other literature? According to resident expert Patty Campbell YA books "must have a teen protagonist speaking from an adolescent point of view, with all the limitations of understandings this implies." YA lit enages questions of identity--who am I?--so often the central action is internal, in the psyche of the teen. With anual awards now given specifically to YA literature written for teens, the quality of these novels is beginning to be recongized as authors take literary risks. Just in the past few weeks I have read enough to realize that YA lit is no joke, its quality writing. While I am no longer a young adult, technically speaking, I still appreciate good literature and a good story. And this is exactly what good YA literature offers us.