Sex, Drugs, and YA

A few days ago, Twitter exploded when The Wall Street Journal posted an article written by Meghan Cox Gurdon (and no, I’m not going to link it) about the so-called “darkness” of the subject matter in today’s YA being too poisonous for teens, as well as a none-too-subtle jab at the publishing industry for pushing these sorts of books in the market for implied titillation and exploitation.

And so it goes again.

Perhaps it’s because I’m not a parent, or perhaps it’s because I’m a reader who in some respects never left the YA shelves (grew up in it, stayed in it), but I get weary of the same judgmental arguments coming from hoity-toity, holier-than-thou “tastemakers” about what is or isn’t considered “appropriate” for children’s fiction.

I’m not going to touch on the bias against children’s fiction (although there is one), or the awesome #YAsaves conversations on Twitter. I’m going to address two bizarre notions that persist when it comes to conversations about books and reading: 1) that reading is supposed to be “good” for you, and 2) that what you read has a direct effect on your life.

Reading Is Supposed To Be “Good” For You

Where to begin? There’s this insistence in our social consciousness that “books are good”, that the very act of reading somehow makes you a better person, with more money, more opportunities, more whatever. If you accept the premise that to read is to learn, and that to learn is to “better” oneself (although I don’t know how anyone quantifies this), then sure, to read is to better oneself.

Except that’s far too simplistic. After all, there are many different ways to learn, and reading comes in many different forms: from newspaper articles to textbooks to fiction to graphic novels to webcomics to the nutrition panels of cereal boxes. (Which, by the way, I used to read when I had nothing else to read while eating breakfast before school.) Reading materials that apparently don’t count in the “bettering oneself” discourse: nutrition panels, comic books, bus signs, traffic notices. This is all reading, people. Apparently not all reading is equal. Okay, fine. So that leaves us with published materials, like magazine and newspaper articles, as well as books, both fiction and nonfiction, but especially fiction. Apparently.

From whence does this idea that long-form fiction is supposed to be “educational” and “good” emerge? And who is to decide what’s “good”? Does it mean “intellectually good”? Or “morally good”? I’ve always believed that the primary function of fiction was to entertain by holding up a mirror (directly or indirectly) to our lives. In the best books, I’ve always found something that spoke to me because I was looking into a mirror that reflected back my own experiences. Otherwise, I was always in it for the ride.

Children’s books, of course, have the burden of having to be “good” for children, or so these hoity-toity tastemakers believe. But what does that even mean? Surely these “issue” books, filled with such darkness, could open the door for open and honest discourse about such difficult subjects as cutting, suicide, bullying, sex, rape, death, eating disorders, psychological disorders, and so on? (Personally, I’m not big on “issue” books, because the cautionary tale aspects of many of them make me roll my eyes. No one likes to be preached too, least of all teenagers. Where is the story?)

Besides, can we not discuss the contents of The Good Book? Which features, among other things, genocide, rape, incest, murder, and torture? I remember studying the Bible as a tender young eight-year-old twice a week during Bible school. Can we talk about the fact that Lot’s daughters drugged their own father in order to have sex with him and beget children? Or the fact that one of Jacob’s daughters was brutally raped, and then MARRIED OFF TO HER RAPIST? What about the horrible depictions of torture and slow, cruel death of Jesus on the cross? No?

Think I’m over-simplifying the Good Book? Of course I am. Just like these holier-than-thou tastemakers are over-simplifying YA.

What You Read Directly Influences Your Life

I’m sorry, but this one is ridiculous. I can’t remember the last time I turned into a vampire, or taken down a corrupt government, or turned into a fortysomething white male contemplating an extramarital affair with his barely legal student. Do you know when the last time a book about cutting made me run out and buy some razor blades? Never.

I’m not discounting that these fraught issues and topics can influence impressionable readers, but I’m more afraid of the subtly pernicious ideas that permeate book pages. Like the idea that characters of color can’t be “real” people, that they must die nobly, or be the sassy sidekick, or whatever. Or the idea that a girl is not whole without a man, that her entire existence must be defined by him. These so-called “dark” issues of abuse, violence, et al, are less dangerous that the subtle ones because they are out in the open. They can be discussed. They can be refuted. They can open minds and broaden horizons, and hopefully teach us more compassion for experiences beyond our own.

So yeah. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.

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