YA Guy Reads... Classic Plague Novels!

YA Guy will admit that the title to this post is perhaps the weirdest I've ever written. But as I'm sure I've mentioned, I'm not only a YA writer; I also have a doctorate in American literature and teach at the university level. What this means is that I read a lot of non-YA literature, and sometimes, I find that it dovetails with the YA I read (and write).

That seems to be the case now, though I'm not sure exactly how or why I started reading the genre I'm currently reading: classic novels about plague. Plague novels are super-popular right now, in both YA and non-YA: we have zombie plagues, hot zone plagues, superbug plagues, and so on and so forth. No doubt this plague craze has to do not only with actual medical threats but with generalized anxiety about the state of the world.

And I suppose, though I've never written (and have no plan to write) a novel specifically about plague, all of my novels are similar to plague novels in that they're about people surviving against hostile environments: the desert-plus-monsters environment of the Survival Colony novels, the sentient, predatory Nature of the Ecosystem trilogy, the threatening exoplanet of Freefall. Come to think of it, the draft novel I just completed does feature a disease as one key plot element. So when I started reading plague novels, maybe I was preparing for my own next book.

Anyway, here are the top three classic plague novels I've read, in order of the date of publication. I wish I could say "enjoy," but like all books of this sort, these three are pretty grim.

Daniel Defoe, A Journal of the Plague Year (1722). Written by the author of Robinson Crusoe, this is a fictionalized account of the 1665 plague in London that killed nearly 100,000 people. Defoe's book relies on archival research, testimony from survivors, and other sources, but its narrator is pure invention, as are some of the incidents. That makes it an early example of experimental, hybrid fiction (or creative nonfiction). Coincidentally, the novel I wrote my senior year in college was titled after Defoe's work, which I'd heard of but hadn't read as of then.

Mary Shelley, The Last Man (1826). Almost one hundred and fifty years before Richard Matheson's 1954 I Am Legend, Shelley wrote this novel of a worldwide plague that leaves no one but the narrator alive. Shelley's Frankenstein (1818) is sometimes considered the first science fiction novel, and you could call this book the first post-apocalyptic novel (unless you think of the Book of Revelation that way). It's nowhere near as influential as Frankenstein--and, truth be told, it's nowhere near as well written, with the first 100 pages in particular being full of turgid prose and Romantic excess--but it's still quite an accomplishment.

Albert Camus, The Plague (1947). Originally published as La Peste, this novel tells the tale of plague descending on a twentieth-century city in French Algeria. Narrated by one of the town's doctors--who avoids death himself but loses his wife, ironically, from an unrelated illness she's escaped the city to cure--the book can be seen as an allegory of the German occupation of France or, more generally, as a work of existential philosophy, with the plague standing for the human condition of inevitable death and capricious fate. Either way, it's beautifully written, focusing much more on people's diverse reactions to the pestilence than to the graphic details of plague itself.

YA Guy Talks about... Diversity in YA Literature!

YA Guy originally planned this post for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, but then I decided to celebrate the holiday with my family instead of blogging. So….

The movement for diversity in YA literature is going strong, with readers, authors, and publishers searching for stories that feature characters representing various racial and ethnic groups, sexual identities, physical and mental abilities, and more. That’s great, and YA Guy hopes the movement continues to grow.

Lots of questions remain contested, however. Can writers from one racial/ethnic/other group write about (or from the perspective of) characters from another group? Should books that play into stereotypes (about Muslims, for example) be published—and when they are, should they be protested? What about when reviewers, as in the recent scandal involving VOYA magazine, reinforce stereotypes about non-dominant groups? Must all YA books strive for diversity?

I was thinking about this when I read a Kirkus review of S. L. Duncan’s latest book in the Gabriel Adam series, a YA fantasy trilogy about teens who discover they’re reincarnated angels, just in time to save the world from demonic forces. The reviewer, clearly missing the fact that one of the teen archangels is Iranian and another African, sniped that the cast consists solely of characters who are “apparently white.” I found a similar misconception in a Kirkus review of my most recent novel, Scavenger of Souls; writing of the biracial character Mercy, the reviewer opined that Mercy is “notable for her dark skin in an otherwise predominantly white cast.” Clearly, this reviewer missed the fact that Mercy’s mother is African, and her brother and sister biracial; that the character Wali is described as bronze-skinned and curly-haired; that the character Soon has an Asian name; that the character Nekane has a Hispanic name; and so on. I was striving for a multiracial, multiethnic cast in this novel, my reasoning being that, after the wars that decimated much of the human population, the few who survived would likely represent a spectrum of races, ethnicities, and nationalities. I had hoped that readers would pick up on this, but this reviewer, at least, did not.

The issue here, clearly, goes beyond careless reviewing (which, to be fair, is a function of how many YA books industry reviewers have to keep up with). Readers schooled in dominant traditions and aesthetics often assume that all characters are white, heterosexual, able-bodied, etc. unless these characters are overtly “marked” otherwise. But if a character's "difference" isn't essential to the story, should such characters be so marked? If the writer doesn’t call attention to the skin color of white characters, should the writer invariably do so in the case of nonwhite characters? I wrestled with this question in the case of Scavenger of Souls, and eventually I decided that in Mercy’s case, I needed to “flag” her racial ancestry so that readers wouldn’t miss the fact that she and my protagonist, the blond-haired and blue-eyed Querry Genn, form an interracial team. In other instances, though, I left it to readers to draw their own conclusions. In my forthcoming novel Freefall, a science fiction story with a multinational cast including a central relationship between a white teen from the industrial West and an Asian teen from the developing world, I’m reasonably confident that no one will mistake the characters’ racial or cultural backgrounds. But readers were confounded—and in some cases outraged—to discover that Rue from The Hunger Games is black, so you never know.

I personally believe that writers have a responsibility to present the world in its actual diversity. But I also believe there’s an equal responsibility on the side of readers, who have to be willing to read against preconceptions and discover the diversity in the author’s invented world. Working together, authors and readers can help move us toward an acceptance of difference. I get the feeling we’re going to need this more and more in the coming years.

YA Guy Reads... Historical Fiction!

YA Guy's always been a voracious reader. (Like, what author isn't?) Though there are certain genres I've focused on--YA and science fiction, most obviously--I've dipped into lots of others over the years, including biography and memoir, travel narratives, epic fantasy, mystery, and many more. I'm too restless a reader (and writer) to exclude anything!

So now, I find myself reading historical fiction, something I haven't done much of in the past. My new fascination with the genre is largely due to the fact that I've begun to write a historical novel myself, centered on Thoreau and his relationship with abolitionist John Brown. I'm discovering that there's some really good stuff out there, and while I'm in the thick of it, I thought I'd share it with you here.

Mr. Emerson's Wife by Amy Belding Brown. Ralph Waldo Emerson was married twice, first to Ellen Tucker, who died shortly after their marriage from tuberculosis, and then to Lydia Jackson, who bore him four children and lived with him through the rest of his life. This novel is told from Lydia's point of view, and it delves into the frustrations of being a woman in the nineteenth century, even (or especially) when one is the wife of a famous man. Though it's a bit disconcerting to delve into Emerson's intimate life, the book does a good job of humanizing characters whom most people think of as pure symbols or icons.

The Good Lord Bird by James McBride. There are many novels written about John Brown, and this one, which won the National Book Award, is well worth reading. Purporting to be the narrative of an escaped slave who rode with Brown in Kansas and survived his raid on the federal arsenal at Harpers Ferry (no such person actually existed), the novel seeks to deflate the Brown myth through comedy and satire. I wasn't crazy about that at first, but the book gains richness and resonance as it goes on.

The Invention of Wings by Sue Monk Kidd. Told in alternating points of view by Sarah Grimke, a southern slaveholder who became an abolitionist, and Handful, one of Sarah's slaves, this Oprah's Book Club novel does an excellent job of portraying the lives of antebellum women, black and white. For me, it bogged down a bit in the middle with its focus on Sarah's romantic entanglements, but it picked up thereafter, weaving other historical figures expertly into the tapestry of Sarah and Handful's lives.

Raising Holy Hell by Bruce Olds. Another John Brown novel, this one a kind of postmodern pastiche that combines actual quotations, newspaper clippings, slave laws, and other historical material with an inventive, fictionalized portrait of Brown. While I didn't agree with the author's representation of Brown as a complete madman, I found the technique intriguing.

Woodsburner by John Pipkin. Based on an actual event in which a young Thoreau accidentally burned down part of the Concord woods he so loved, this novel felt particularly well researched to me. Its cast of characters includes not only Thoreau but an opium-addicted minister and a businessman who discovers the new art of photography (and thereafter trades in pornographic images). You'll have to read it yourself to see how all of these strands tie together!

Cloudsplitter by Russell Banks. Yet another John Brown novel, this time narrated by Brown's son Owen, who accompanied his father to Virginia but stayed behind at Harpers Ferry and thus survived the raid. I haven't finished this book, mostly because it's nearly eight hundred pages long (!!!), but it promises to be another good read.

So there you have it! If you know of any other good historical novels--especially ones focusing on Thoreau, Brown, the Transcendentalists, and/or antebellum slavery--drop me a line!

YA Guy Reports: Why Girls Aren't Reading

My daughter used to love to read.

Voraciously. As a pre-teen she read just about anything you put in front of her, though she favored fantasy series: Harry Potter, Narnia, The Shadow Children, Percy Jackson, The Hunger Games, The Maze Runner. When she entered her teen years, she started reading realistic fiction: Sarah Dessen, Gayle Forman, S. E. Hinton. She loved the classics--Lord of the Flies, Catcher in the Rye--and some modern classics, including Life of Pi and The Perks of Being a Wallflower. When she met YA writers Erin Bowman and Kat Zhang at a workshop for young writers, she was so jazzed she ran right out and gobbled down their books as well. As the daughter of a writer, it’s perhaps unsurprising that she read so much. But it was still impressive.

And then she started high school.

She doesn’t read anymore. Oh, she reads what’s assigned (currently The Odyssey for English, a book about leukodystrophy for Biology, and newspaper articles for Social Studies). But pleasure reading has shriveled to near nothing.

As I see it, there are two main reasons for this.

--First and most obviously, the amount of homework she has every night and weekend leaves virtually no room for leisure reading. She averages four hours of homework per weeknight, five per day over the weekend. Some weekend days, she does nothing but homework. And much of the homework is repetitive, boring drills: once you’ve proven twenty times that you can summarize a chapter, you really don’t need to summarize any more chapters. But the teachers don’t see it that way, and neither does the school district. And so reading for pleasure takes a back seat to working out three hundred identical algebraic formulas to prove yet again that you can work out algebraic formulas.

--Second and somewhat less obviously, high school--or at least my daughter’s high school--strips the fun out of reading, making it yet another onerous, meaningless chore. It’s bad enough that ninth graders are reading The Odyssey (a book I first read in college, and that my current college students struggle with)--but was it really necessary to use a stodgy, antiquated prose translation of Homer’s epic poem? With so much great literature for young people out there, both classic and modern, what on earth is the point of making young teens slog through a three thousand-year-old behemoth for which they can’t possibly have any associations or context?

We obsess endlessly about why boys aren’t reading. We don’t talk so much about why girls aren’t reading. (Indeed, when I Googled "why girls aren't reading," I got the same articles about why boys aren't reading.)

Based on my experience, I’d have to say girls aren't reading because high school beats the love of it clean out of them.

YA Guy Hosts... Kai Strand

Today on the blog, YA Guy has Kai Strand, author of KING OF BAD, discussing the obvious (and not-so-obvious) benefits to teenage boys of reading. And at the end of her list, you'll find another goodie: a giveaway of KING OF BAD itself! So settle in, enjoy, and enter to win. Free advice and free books--it doesn't get any better than this!

Hi, my name is Kai Strand. I write fiction for kids and teens. I think we are all aware of the fact that girls will read almost anything. They don't care what gender the main character is. They don't care if a book is chock full of romance, adventure, brainiacs or divas. Girls just read.

Well, I'm here to encourage boys to do the same thing. There are so many reasons why, but here is a sampling of them.

• Teenage boys who read are more approachable.
• They are better able to carry on conversations because they’ve read so much dialogue.
• Being able to discuss plot points and character motivation on a first date often leads to a second date.
• They experience things they may not get to do in their own school like saving the world, kissing, Yetis and foreign countries.
• Their vocabulary is advanced so they are naturally more articulate and able to schmooze speak coherently to teachers and other adults.
• They know the thrill of jumping out of a plane, or speeding down a highway, or piloting a spaceship, without the consequences of broken bones or life in prison.
• They learn what to take on an extreme mountaineering adventure in order to avoid death.
• If they are paying real close attention they learn what girls like and don’t like--and they take notes.
• There is a certain sort of internal quiet to a teenage boy who incorporates reading into his leisure activities opposed to one who only blows up aliens on his Xbox.
• Teen boys look sexy lounging in a chair clutching a book or ereader in their hand and ignoring the world around them.

I’m not saying that teenage boys who don’t read aren’t smart or sexy. I’m just saying that teen boys who read get there faster.

Anything you’d like to add to the list? Let’s hear from you.

About the book:

Jeff Mean would rather set fires than follow rules or observe curfew. He wears his bad boy image like a favorite old hoodie; that is until he learns he has superpowers and is recruited by Super Villain Academy--where you learn to be good at being bad. In a school where one kid can evaporate all the water from your body and the girl you hang around with can perform psychic sex in your head, bad takes on a whole new meaning. Jeff wonders if he’s bad enough for SVA.

He may never find out. Classmates vilify him when he develops good manners. Then he’s kidnapped by those closest to him and left to wonder who is good and who is bad. His rescue is the climactic episode that balances good and evil in the super world. The catalyst--the girl he’s crushing on. A girlfriend and balancing the Supers is good, right? Or is it…bad?

Buy it: Publisher, Amazon, Barnes and Noble Add it to Goodreads

About the author:

Kai Strand writes fiction for kids and teens. Her debut novel, The Weaver, was a finalist in the 2012 EPIC eBook Awards in the children’s fiction category. As a mother of four young adults her characters are well researched and new stories are inspired daily. Kai is a compulsive walker, addicted to pizza and a Mozart fangirl. Visit her website for more information about her work and to find all her virtual haunts; www.kaistrand.com.

To celebrate her newly released book, Kai is offering one ecopy (Kindle or pdf) of King of Bad to a lucky winner. Open internationally as long as you have an email address to receive the book. Enter as often as you can and spread the word.

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YA Guy's Top 10

What should teen boys be reading?

Well, here's what YA Guy was (and is) reading (and though biologically I've grown up, I still read the same things I read in my YA years!).

Note: this list is in no particular order.  Everything on it is guaranteed, bona fide great!

1. J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings.  Not technically YA, as the category didn't exist in Tolkien's time, but close enough!

2. James Dashner, The Maze Runner.  And its sequel, The Scorch Trials.

3. Roland Smith, Peak.  Wonderful storyteller, great economy of voice.

4. Chris Howard, Rootless.  Amazing dystopian novel about a world without trees.  Sequels forthcoming.

5. J. Barton Mitchell, Midnight City.  Totally creepy alien-invasion novel.  Beware the Tone!

6. Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games.  Just plain a great book, for boys and girls.  The sequels rock too.

7. Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  Still one of the greatest boy books--scratch that, books--of all time.

8. John Green, The Fault in Our Stars.  Female narrator, but so what?  This is Green's best book--and that's saying something.

9. M. T. Anderson, Feed.  A world hooked on the internet.  Wait, is that the future?

10. S. E. Hinton, The Outsiders.  Hinton initialed her name so no one would know she was a woman.  But her book remains one of the all-time great boy books.

So there you have it.  If I'd allowed myself fifteen or twenty or a hundred, I could have gone on and on.  What would you add to the list?