Preaching to the Choir
So, I just finished reading Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother and this, combined with my memories of Steve Kluger’s My Most Excellent Year and (to a lesser degree) F. Paul Wilson’s Jack: Secret Histories, made me wonder about the YA literary audience. While I think that most of us would argue that the YA audience is, first and foremost, young adult (teen) readers, in the case of these novels (and, again, the Wilson novel to a lesser degree), I felt like it was the adults-who-read-YA audience who were really being addressed.
Both Doctorow’s and Kluger’s novels participate in what I consider to be the reification of the “holy adolescent,” the idea, following Henry Giroux (my future husband–sorry Ben) that the idea of youth “haunts” us adults because young people remind us of a future we will not live to see and that young people will ultimately inherit. Giroux’s theory–that “youth” serve a symbolic function–motivates both the “these kids today” headlines as well as the type of YA fiction produced by Doctorow and Kluger who, instead of lamenting the immorality and waywardness of “today’s youth,” characterize young people as nearly superhuman and damn near perfect. In the case of Doctorow’s novel, the narrator is not only a computer super-genius hacker (something most grown-ups are all too willing to believe of the “Net Generation”), but also a helpful teacher. Throughout the novel, the narrator explains his methods, encourages us to try computer programming, and quotes the Constitution not once but twice! In the case of Kluger’s novel, the central characters are just too good to be true. Sure, one of them is struggling with his sexuality, but he’s producing a talent show for his entire school. The real protagonist, meanwhile, is learning sign language to communicate to a deaf five-year-old, imitating John F. Kennedy, and arranging for a meeting with Julie Andrews (I know: WTF?!).
I think I’m confident enough in both my obsolence as an adult and as an adult, period, that I can say that I can’t predict how young people (writ large) might respond to either novel. All I know is my gut (and my smart ass) really wants me to question the adult reception of both novels.
P.S. If you’re curious about the F. Paul Wilson novel: the reason I’m questioning this one is because the novel provides an adolescent backstory for a character who has been established in a series of adult novels. I’m still trying to figure out if the writing of Jack: Secret Histories could be an attempt to broaden Wilson’s audience to include teens in general, a nod to the series’ teen readers, or a cutesy move to appeal to adult readers, a la Robert Parker’s gag-o-rific Edenville Owls, which commits both the “holy adolescent” and the “cutsey move” sins.
Preaching to the Choir
Preaching to the Choir
So, I just finished reading Cory Doctorow’s Little Brother and this, combined with my memories of Steve Kluger’s My Most Excellent Year and (to a lesser degree) F. Paul Wilson’s Jack: Secret Histories, made me wonder about the YA literary audience. While I think that most of us would argue that the YA audience is, first and foremost, young adult (teen) readers, in the case of these novels (and, again, the Wilson novel to a lesser degree), I felt like it was the adults-who-read-YA audience who were really being addressed.
Both Doctorow’s and Kluger’s novels participate in what I consider to be the reification of the “holy adolescent,” the idea, following Henry Giroux (my future husband–sorry Ben) that the idea of youth “haunts” us adults because young people remind us of a future we will not live to see and that young people will ultimately inherit. Giroux’s theory–that “youth” serve a symbolic function–motivates both the “these kids today” headlines as well as the type of YA fiction produced by Doctorow and Kluger who, instead of lamenting the immorality and waywardness of “today’s youth,” characterize young people as nearly superhuman and damn near perfect. In the case of Doctorow’s novel, the narrator is not only a computer super-genius hacker (something most grown-ups are all too willing to believe of the “Net Generation”), but also a helpful teacher. Throughout the novel, the narrator explains his methods, encourages us to try computer programming, and quotes the Constitution not once but twice! In the case of Kluger’s novel, the central characters are just too good to be true. Sure, one of them is struggling with his sexuality, but he’s producing a talent show for his entire school. The real protagonist, meanwhile, is learning sign language to communicate to a deaf five-year-old, imitating John F. Kennedy, and arranging for a meeting with Julie Andrews (I know: WTF?!).
I think I’m confident enough in both my obsolence as an adult and as an adult, period, that I can say that I can’t predict how young people (writ large) might respond to either novel. All I know is my gut (and my smart ass) really wants me to question the adult reception of both novels.
P.S. If you’re curious about the F. Paul Wilson novel: the reason I’m questioning this one is because the novel provides an adolescent backstory for a character who has been established in a series of adult novels. I’m still trying to figure out if the writing of Jack: Secret Histories could be an attempt to broaden Wilson’s audience to include teens in general, a nod to the series’ teen readers, or a cutesy move to appeal to adult readers, a la Robert Parker’s gag-o-rific Edenville Owls, which commits both the “holy adolescent” and the “cutsey move” sins.