Good to know I was born to be an editor.

Calvin and Hobbes pretty much defined my childhood. And y’all wonder where White-Harp came from…

And this, my friends, is why everyone needs a Wicked Cool Riley in their lives.

What does this all mean? I have absolutely no idea. Am I getting a little fatigued with high-concept YA? I might be. There’s a lot of flash and pizzazz out there that’s pretty neat and awesome, but perhaps I’m more in the mood for something smaller in scope, something pure in its emotional simplicity. (This rather echoes my feelings about current Doctor Who, actually, but my thoughts about New New Who I will table for another day. I am, however, rather excited for this year’s Christmas special.)

Anyway, here’s a list I’ve cobbled together of the reads that have stayed with me. As per usual, they are not ranked but shoved into their own arbitrary categories.

Favourite Reads of 2011

Truly Magical: The Book of Lost Things by John Connolly and The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Most Self-Indulgent Fangirl Read (That Is Also Full of Excellent and True Writing Advice): The Writer’s Tale by Russell T. Davies

My Feminist Bible: Beauty Queens by Libba Bray

Just Rip My Heart Out Through My Gut, Will You? The Lovers Dictionary by David Levithan and Where She Went by Gayle Forman

Best New (to JJ) Writer: Nova Ren Suma with her novel Imaginary Girls

Most Swoonworthy: Heart’s Blood by Juliet Marillier

The Ones That Got Away: The Girl of Fire and Thorns by Rae Carson and Legend by Marie Lu*

Favourite YA Couple: Alan and Sin from Sarah Rees Brennan’s The Demon’s Surrender

Best Book JJ Read Over the Holiday That Didn’t Make Last Year’s List: Revolution by Jennifer Donnelly

Most Absorbing Worldbuilding: Eon and Eona by Alison Goodman

Hottest Fictional Character EVER: Dr. Pellinore Warthrop from The Monstrumologist

Looking over this list, it appears as though my favourite books have less to do with intricate plot happenings than studies of emotion and change. (Or a nonfiction book from a writer whom I consider the champion of emotional storytelling and character building.) The Lovers Dictionary, Where She Went, Revolution, and Imaginary Girls are all books I consider pure in their emotional simplicity, and because of that, I find them highly effective and devastating. I like a good plot, of course, but I’m willing to forgive a lot of plot problems if characters act in ways that are emotionally intuitive. I’m also willing to throw plot out the door if I feel a book actually has something to say. (Beauty Queens, for example. The book is bombastic, over-the-top, unwieldy, ridiculous, and pretty much hangs together by a thread, but you know what? I don’t care. I loved this book. It was emotionally true. Is it preachy? Yeah. But I wouldn’t ever say it was sanctimonious. But your mileage may vary.)

Also, I just have to include Dr. Pellinore Warthrop on this list because, well, I’m in love with him. He’s not a book; he’s a character in a book series, BUT I DO NOT CARE. OH PELLINORE, OUR LOVE IS TRUE. OUR LOVE IS EPIC. You guys don’t understand; I crush on book characters all the time, but I HAVE NOT FELT LOVE LIKE THIS SINCE GILBERT BLYTHE. It’s so bad, I almost considered writing Bear a Dear John letter. OVER A FICTIONAL CHARACTER. “Dear Bear, it’s not you, it’s Pellinore Warthrop.”

*I tried to acquire these books last year. Le sigh.

Books win their audiences for a reason. Most popular books wear their artlessness on their sleeve: Stephenie Meyer, the author of the “Twilight” series, is an awkward writer with little feeling for construction, but the intensity of emotion with which she imbues her characters is enviable. You never doubt her commitment to the material, which is half the battle won. So to say that Paolini is an unskilled narrator and a derivative mythmaker is more or less beside the point. What is it, then, that makes the books enter kids’ consciousness?

First, kids experience them as mythologies more than as stories—the narrative sweep is, curiously, the least significant part of their appeal. [...] The sheer invocation of a mythology casts a deeper spell than putting the mythology on its feet and making it dance. If you talk to an Eragon reader, you will see why the introductory seven-page synopsis of the mythology is necessary. The synopsis is the story.

A really interesting article about what makes fantasy so appealing for young adults. Recommended! I especially like the analysis of Twilight and Eragon as heightened versions of what kids experience everyday.

Anyway, I wanted to come and talk to you about a problem I’ve been having. All around the internets you’ll find discussions about Mary Sues and while I certainly agree with many of the points various authors bring up, I have a problem of a different sort. You see, the term “Mary Sue” is something given to a female character by an audience, and I feel a lot of readers’ (especially female readers) problems with female characters has much more to do with societal baggage and internalized misogyny than poor writing or poor characterization.

My problem, you see, isn’t with Mary Sues. My problem is with the Plague of Perfect Boys in fiction.

Because nobody's perfect. Unless he's David Tennant. (Obligatory image of Sexy Person included in post to drive up traffic. I am transparently shallow that way.)

I don’t understand the flak many writers get for their female characters, because most of the time, I’m fine with female characters in books. (Unless she becomes a satellite to a male character in her own goddamn narrative, but I digress. Or if she’s presented as idealized in some way, but that’s a topic for another day.) The poor female character has to dig herself out of a pit before she arrives at level ground when it comes to audience appreciation, but not with me.

On the other hand, I’ve become extremely wary of male characters in fiction. I see people cry “badly written female characters!” all the time, but never have I come across someone say, “Hang on, a minute, this male character is too perfect to exist. He must be terribly written!”

So I’m going to do it now.

BADLY WRITTEN MALE CHARACTERS!

There, I’ve shouted it. I’ve confessed it. 9 times out of 10, I’m going to find your perfect male character irritating, obnoxious, annoying, unrealistic, bland, and every other thing you’ve accused female “Mary Sues” of being. What I don’t understand is why no one is turning a critical lens on how cardboard, stock, and utterly un-nuanced male characters are when we will scrutinize everything “wrong” with a lady.

Oh, male characters can come in a rainbow of Perfect shades: Perfect Bad Boy Loner, Perfect Mysterious Hot Boy with a Deadly Secret, Perfect Boy Next Door, Perfect Angel-Demon-Vampire-Werewolf-Fae Hybrid, etc. They can have a dazzling array of perfunctory “quirks”: speaks French, has a British accent, is impeccably dressed, volunteers at the animal shelter on weekends, etc. The problem here is not an issue of using every colour in the Personality Traits Crayon Box, but an issue of drawing the same goddamn thing over and over with a different colour crayon.

The problem with the Perfect Boy is that he never fucks up. Ever. He’s always perfectly good-looking, perfectly the best at whatever it is he’s does, perfectly sensitive and attuned to the female character’s emotional needs, perfectly considerate (even when he’s been an asshole, he is SECRETLY perfectly considerate–really! he just loves you so much he needs to hide his good side!), perfectly mannered, perfectly smooth and suave, perfectly ANNOYING. That’s not attractive; that’s grotesque. It’s like someone cobbled together a Frankenstein monster of attractiveness traits, but this monster isn’t just scary–he’s also SCARILY BORING.

Look, it’s pretty easy to make a male character interesting to me: make him a little dinged about the edges. Make him well-intentioned but a little thoughtless. Make him so much a genius and wrapped up in his own head he’s totally socially awkward. Make him cocky but also make him eat his words. Make him an obnoxious little shit who likes to fuck with people’s heads–JUST BECAUSE. Make him so totally selfish he’d sell his own grandma to get ahead in life. Something.

Most importantly: MAKE HIM FUCK UP OCCASIONALLY. It doesn’t have to be on the world-destroying scale, it can be something small and domestic. One of my favourite things about Ron Weasley from Harry Potter is that he fucks up CONSTANTLY. He’s not always a perfect friend, he can be insensitive, and he can be a teeny bit of a skirt-chaser, but his flaws don’t make him a bad person or unattractive; they make him a real boy.

(And you know what the ironic thing is? I don’t even like Ron all that much–not compared to Hermione or Luna Lovegood or the Weasley twins.)

I’m going to quote Russell T. Davies again here:

Most people ARE likeable, or go through the world with some construct of character that they hope is likeable. That’s how you get through life. [...] The key with characters is to be HONEST. If a character’s actions are believable, then that character will work. Notions of like or not-like become irrelevant.

These Perfect Boys? I don’t find them believable. I honestly can’t find it in myself to believe that a 17-year-old teenage boy would drop all of his previous engagements to come comfort his female best friend/lady love at 2AM with chocolate cupcakes and poems by Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I have a hard enough time believing 17-year-old boys shower with any regularity. Christ.

I like fantasy as a genre, but I dislike it when physical fantasy turns into emotional fantasy. Perfect Boys? Not only are they generally physical fantasies, they’re complete and utter emotional fantasies as well.

So! That’s my rant of the day. Sorry about that, blog. I know, I know, I should be a better friend and try and update you more frequently about my life–I mean, listen to you talk about yours. Anyway, gotta go. Talk to you soon!