I read some manga earlier this year (Full Moon) so I was already acclimated to the idea of graphic novels as well as the left-to-right reading. I the first time I tried reading left to right, it was a little bit difficult, but as I got more into it I liked how it sort of twisted my brain processes around.

I find myself paying attention to the words first, reading a whole page of the words, then going back and examining all of the pictures on the page. I thought that in both the graphic novel I read (Maus) and in the manga (Naruto) the pictures greatly added to the story. It was a very different experience from that of reading an all-word novel, but I liked it. I don't think I would ever switch to only reading graphic novels, but I get a different sort of aesthetic pleasure from them than I do a word-novel.

I think graphics often do a good job of expressing dreams or daydreams. This may be because these things (at least in my experience) are visual images in our own minds; they aren't necessarily expressed as words. An example of this is page 84 of Maus when Vladek sees the four jews hanged in town for dealing goods without coupons and is then haunted by the image of the men. The way Spiegelman draws this panel is very frightening, with Vladek and Anja as small shadows in the forefront watching their son playing on the floor while the gruesome images of the hanged men looms above them. In one panel of black and white drawing, the reader sees the emotion Vladek is experiencing without more than a few words of explanation. The simplicity of this is powerful.

In Gossip Girl, as Naomi Wolf posits, the teen characters try their hardest to fit into a materialistic adult lifestyle. The strange thing is that the lifestyle they are striving for isn't one that 99% of the world will ever come close to experiencing. Anyone who can spend over $100 on a purse without batting an eye is in socioeconomic minority. Does this mean that girls are giving themselves false aspirations, that they are hoping for experiences they likely won't ever experience? Or do they realize the absurdity of that kind of lifestyle and read it as a trashy diversion? I hope that it is the latter. Lets give them a little more credit. The fact that generations have survived materials their parents found disturbing, repulsive, and potentially adulterating makes me wonder if we aren't overreacting. In the 30s it was Jazz, in the 50s it was rock and roll, in the 60s it was flower power, and on and on. Most of the teenagers involved with those things didn't become drinking, drug-addicted sex fiends like their parents feared they would due to the influence of those 'evils.'

On the other hand, if we think of Gossip Girl as a symptom rather than as a cause of what teens are dealing with, that might be more productive. What I find most troubling in this novel is the role of sex in the girls' lives. I don't find it disturbing because it is a perverted or abnormal representation, but rather a typical one. What is the one of the most powerful insult to a woman? To call her a slut... and doesn't Blair use this weapon against Serena? According to the OED, the use of slut as a term for "A woman of a low or loose character; a bold or impudent girl; a hussy, jade" has been around since 1450. Is there a similar word for men? One that has held that nasty power for over 500 years in the English language? Not that I can think of. A woman's power and a woman's downfall has long been tied to her sexuality. We are forced to live in a duality wherein we must inhabit the world of the virgin and the whore simultaneously, and only because these personas appeal to men. In other words, a woman's sexuality is not her own. This is shown painfully in Serena's case as lies about her sexual practices are spread in order to damage her. Her value is determined by her desirability which are simultaneously increased and diminished by her slutty reputation.

I could go on and on about this, but if I keep going I'm going to keep thinking and going some more and soon I'll have a dissertation-length paper on my hands.

On to Peeps...

First let me say that, as the wife of an evolutionary biologist, I loved this book. The alternating chapters of non-fiction along with the description of the parasite in the fictional chapters was fabulous. So many people don't understand natural selection and this is a vivid and interesting way of explaining how it works. Bravo Scott Westerfeld. As far as my experience and how the alternating formats were affected by it-- I'd say my experience of the vampire story was greatly enhanced by the real science. It almost made the story seem more plausible because it followed the logic of true science. I also thought it was interesting that the parasite in the fictional story is also an STD because it showed how quickly a real STD could spread among people. And I love the idea of the anathema. If you think about it everything a kid once idolized becomes a sort of anathema once they are a teen-- their parents, their childhood blankee, etc. They become symbols of the childhood the teen is trying to separate him/herself from in order to become an adult. No I am not saying teens are diseased, I am saying that this is an interesting symbolic parallel. I am also saying this might be what makes it YA literature.

I think teens enjoy scifi/fantasy because it allows them to experience plaisir and jouissance simultaneously. The possibility of a world in which the very tenants of reality are bent, in which there is the possibility that unpleasant things could be totally different is comforting. On the other hand, sometimes in these texts reality is changed in such a way that is also disturbing. In a time when teens are trying to figure out what the world is about and how they fit in it, a text that allows them to explore these questions in a variety of ways is appealing. I think this is the same reason they would want to write fanfiction. They can take the new "rules" set up by an author and use them to figure out what would happen if they had to operate in this other world, or even how a certain character would do so. It allows them to explore different personas without risking their social capitol in real life.

Feed is a good example of the possibilities scifi presents to a teen audience. It allows the reader to think about commercialism and technology-- things they experience in real life-- taken to the extreme. Titus is confronted with the negative affects of the feed by Violet's reaction to it, and responds in what I thought was a discomforting way. His lack of ability to help Violet emotionally calls into question the value of technology when it comes at the expense of humanity. The same issues could be addressed in a reality-based novel, but by the very fact that a reality-based story would take place in a world in which teens are immersed, would make it more difficult for teens to take a fresh look at the issues themselves. Scifi and fantasy, to some degree, allow the reader to step outside of culture, to ponder things that they take for granted as "the way they are" and imagine different possibilities for their world. Fanfiction allows them to become an active participant in this act of imagination, affecting even further their ability to think outside of normal reality.

The Golden Compass has the fantastical element of the daemons, which might appeal to teens in several ways. One: the daemon is an outward representation of one's inner feelings and thoughts, and in a time when these aspects of life can be so confusing, the idea of an easier way to "read" people is appealing. At the same time, the visibility might reflect a certain vulnerability that teens can identify with. In addition, the fact that the daemons are shape shifters until their person reaches adulthood is an interesting reflection of the state of "becoming" teens are in. Two: Having a constant companion might also be an appealing idea. Wouldn't we all like to have our own Pantalaimon?

"Many young adult novels do describe the long-term painful effects of 'problems,' yet usually offer hope, a sense that young people can be strong.... Some of these characters may not look like traditional heroes. However, their actions and their relationships with others, particularly those less fortunate than themselves, communicate idealism and hope."

Both Speak and Hole in My Life end with a sense of hope like that described in the above quote. The main characters in both go through serious hardship-- one after surviving a brutal attack, and another after choosing to participate in illicit activities. In the end, however, both do overcome these events and move on to lead happier lives. I think it is important to deal with "heavy" subjects in YA literature because most YAs are dealing with "heavy" things in their own lives. Being able to see that the experiences they're having are normal and that it is possible to come out on the other side of them is a good way to help them as they confront difficult issues.

I found Speak to be much more powerful than Hole in My Life both in its writing style and in its content. Hole in My Life didn't elicit much sympathy in me from the beginning and so the hope at the end lost its potency. Speak made its survivor into a hero as she literally fought off her attacker and found her voice after months of painful silence. The depression, ostracism, and shame she claws her way out of are painful to read about, and when she finally comes back to life it is like taking a deep breath. She is absolutely a hero in my eyes-- for emerging from a horrific experience to warn others so that they might avoid going through what she has gone through. Throughout Melinda maintains an authentic voice-- she is depressed but still finds irony and humor in life-- which makes her all the more human and believable. Her humanity only adds to her heroism in the end because she has no superpower to deliver her from her pain and isolation, she delivers herself, giving hope to the reader that she too can overcome a painful situation she faces.

On a practical level, Melinda's behavior could serve as a way of teaching YAs to recognize depression and signs of struggle in their friends or themselves, perhaps prompting them to ask for help. When I was a freshman in high school my best friend attempted suicide twice (and thank God was unsuccessful both times). She warned her friends and teachers indirectly by her actions and words, and a guidance counselor was even alerted to these signs but never followed up on them. I wish I had known what to do, or how to recognize what she was going through. I don't know that reading a book like Speak would have changed what I did or did not do in that situation, but it might have somehow helped me deal with it. Part of the reason I tell this story is to illustrate that troublesome, horrifyingly scary things happen to young adults. Their parents might not want to admit this, and might think that books with mature themes are too much for their teens, but the aren't! Literature can show people pain and misery and can show them that those things don't last forever and that it is important to pay attention to someone who seems to be in pain.

Amy Pattee argues: "These fictional texts should be considered as unique information sources that can offer young readers both realistic and needed information about sex and the sex act as well as a private, safe space to try on new feelings of sexual desire" (30-31). I completely agree with Pattee's argument. As teens become aware of their erotic selves they will inevitably have questions, some of which will not be answered by their parents or their sex ed classes. As Pattee writes, these texts provide context to the sex act which in many other sources is described to teens only in clinical terms. I remember feeling extremely uncomfortable when my mom gave me the "sex talk" and when I had "Family Life" class. So uncomfortable that I did not ask questions. Reading provides a wonderfully private space to read about sexuality without the embarrassment.

I read Empress of the World and discovered that even though it did not have graphic sex scenes such as those in Forever, it extensively explored the experience of having homoerotic feelings for the first time and what it's like to act on them. I don't know of many sex ed curricula that would address homosexuality, and in much of the media lesbianism is portrayed as an erotic display to arouse straight men, so having a positive and accurate account of lesbian first encounters seems extremely important. Much is implied in the intimate scenes of Empress of the World: "Everything we've been awkward about, all those steps we haen't taken yet, all of it gets blurry and soft until all that's left is sensations: cool night air on skin, hands and mouths moving over each other, the scent of pine mixed with lavender, the sound of breath" (131). I doubt, however, that anyone would label this as pornographic. In fact, this story seemed like such a classic teen love story with all of the beautiful thrill of being in love for the first time, that I even identified with it as a straight woman. I think it provides a very holistic context for readers: how it feels to love and express it physically, how others react to that (especially from an identity standpoint as discussed in "Defending Gay Teen Literature"), and how it feels to lose the affections of the person you love. I use the world "feel" a lot in the previous sentence, because I thought this book was wonderful at focusing on the emotional aspects of love and sexuality and portraying them authentically. Unfortunately, I don't think that most teens' parents or teachers would discuss emotions in a gay context. Thank goodness authors like Sarah Ryan are there to bridge the gap.

I agree in part that Meloni and Sullivan's articles perpetuate potentially negative gender stereotypes. I have no problem with conclusions about perferred reading based on the breakdown of circulation and sales numbers by gender, but neither article offers any concrete evidence. Though the assumptions made in these articles might prove to be true if one were to gather the hard data, simply making assertions about reading preference based on gender with no concrete proof that the assertion is correct is in itself the perpetuation of stereotypes.

Yes, Gossip Girl books and other "chic lit" might appeal to many girls because of their potential escapism, but the escapist action situations (that Sullivan claims are the realm of boys) in Stormbreaker certainly appealed to me, and I see no reason why they wouldn't appeal to YA girls. In fact, as I read Stormbreaker I constantly had the feeling that the book would have worked just as well if Alex Rider were Alexandra Rider. This type of escapism involving intrigue and danger seems less damaging to the self image of girls than the "chic lit" that, as Meloni says, puts "emphasis on physical rather than inner beauty" (16). Meloni says that one common attribute of a "chic lit" cover is that it shows parts of women's bodies only, and I find this to be disturbing (though true, based on the covers I browsed in our YA section). I cannot remember the scholar who documented and theorized about this, but a reading I had for a Theories of Visual Culture class I took as an undergraduate discussed how a common attribute of pornography is that it shows only part of a woman's body, thus objectifying her and making it easier to view her as a sex object rather than a whole being. In a way we learn how to view ourselves by how others view us, and if young girls learn from images they see, they will be taught that their bodies are merely sexualized objects. It shouldn't be difficult to see how damaging this could be. Just as the visual image of the girls on the cover is sexualized and made one dimensional, it seems like the characters Meloni describes evoke a similar girl stereotype.

I did not, however, find Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging to be one dimensional or stereotypical, though it seems to be aimed at a female audience (and is included as "chic lit" in Meloni's article). Georgia Nicholson is smart, interesting and funny as she deals with the usual teenage issues of hating parts of her body (hmmm, maybe this has something to do with what I described above), having impossible crushes, being impossibly embarrassed in front of her peers, trying to figure out how to kiss, etc. The plethora of awkwardness and the quirky ways of dealing with it really reminded me of being a young adult. A book that deals with these issues with honesty and humor seems very valuable. It is hard for me to say whether I would have liked this book if I were a guy. I keep trying to figure that out but am having no luck. The style is appealing, but I think some of the subject matter is very specific to the female experience as formed in 21st century Western culture. Then again, I also liked the 'boy' book Stormbreaker, so maybe it works both ways.


Though I admit that certain types of books have appeal for boys vs. girls, I could write a 20 page essay on why Sullivan's article is damaging and wrong (for a brief version of this see my previous post-- I will have a lot to say about this in class). For now I will point out that his entire article is based on implicit cultural sexism, which assumes that being a girls is equal to being less than a boy, that things boys read (non-fiction) are more valuable in and of themselves (I think they are considered more valuable because boys read them), and that there is no point in attempting to break gender stereotypes with books.

I think there could (and should) be an entire class on gender and library materials and service. It would do the library world a great deal of good to re-examine its assumptions.

The Chocolate War:
1. Its characters are themselves young adults, who are trying to answer that question, "Who am I and what am I going to do about it?" (Campbell). In this case, Jerry chooses to stand up to the school's socially powerful group. By doing so, he begins to answer the question of who he is-- a non-conformist who "dares disturb the universe." Unfortunately, I did not find the conflict over selling chocolates to be a convincing motivation for him to stand up in the face of the social pressure. This weak motivation, coupled with the constantly rotating points of view that did not allow for full character development.

2. It has an interesting way of dealing with parent/child relationships and how those change during young adulthood. Jerry is almost protective of his father, not wanting him to know what he is going through. He also views his father's life as sort of pathetic-- working and sleeping and not much else, and questions where his own life will lead. At the same time he differentiates himself from his father, at points he longs for his deceased mother as a child might. He exists on an emotional borderline between child and adult which is typical of a teen/ YA.

3. The book also deals with emerging sexuality-- Emile's blackmail picture, one guy's desperate attempt to impress his girlfriend by buying her a gift with the chocolate money, and several other references to masturbation. Of course part of becoming an adult is becoming aware of one's sexuality, and these aspects of the book might help teen boys deal with and understand their own sexuality.

Weetzie Bat
1. Weetzie Bat was like a whirlwind fairytale for young adults. Weetzie is definitely on a voyage of discovery. She's figuring out what love is, what loss is, and how she will deal with both. I definitely related to her friendship with Dirk-- my best friend in high school was gay and came out to me our junior year. There is something about the gay guy/ straight girl relationship that's special, and I think Block captures that. It is also is a great picture of a non-traditional household that works well most of the time, which might be good since I bet there are many fewer "traditional" families around now that people realize.

2. It may not seem like Weetzie's desire to have a baby is an "appropriate" topic for young adult literature, but I actually think that it is. On some level a young woman might feel that a baby is something could be truly hers and hers only, that is an accomplishment, that will love her completely (of course in reality these desires would not be satisfied by a baby). I think that even young teen girls, especially if they are feeling purposeless and confused, might want a baby for those reasons. Of course, in this case Weetzie is slightly older and has established a family structure that is supportive of her and her baby. Most teen girls wouldn't have such advantages, but I don't think this means that they don't understand the difference between their life and Weetzie's and would immediately decide to go out and have a baby because it would work out so well. I actually think it's nice to see a book that has an unmarried slightly younger girl getting pregnant whose life does not end in complete misery. I understand that sex education aims to keep teens from becoming pregnant until they're ready to care for a child, but in the process the curriculum drills it into us that pregnancy, birth, and child-rearing are horrible unpleasant things to avoid at all costs. When a teen girl grows up with these ideas and is finally at a stage as an adult when she wants to have a baby, I wonder if these negative ideas don't make it more difficult for her to endure labor or to deal with a screaming child.

3. Weetzie also experiences the loss of her father near the end of the book. Though most teens may not have to experience the death of a parent, they are probably becoming aware of what loss can mean through the death of grandparents, other relatives, or peers. I think any teen dealing with this for the first time would identify with Weetzie's experience: "Weetzie's heart cringed in her like a dying animal. It was as if someone had stuck a needle full of poison into her heart" (74-75). Part of being human is feeling pain, and then realizing that we have things worth living for despite it. Weetzie's story illustrates the importance of loving friends and family when one encounters loss and this part of it might be comforting to a teen who is dealing with similar feelings for the first time.

Overall, I enjoyed Weetzie Bat much more than The Chocolate War. Block's writing style was more interesting, and her story unconventional, yet full of humanity. Cormier didn't tell me a story with a conflict I could care about, and so lost me in about the first third of the book.

'The Outsiders'deals well with that timeless teenage problem of warring social groups. Unlike Ponyboy and company, I don't think most people experience the social "wars" in such a physically violent way. The extreme example of the greasers-socs conflict does, however, provide an easier point of access for male readers who might not care to read about the intricacies of the silent snubs and sabotage between cliques, but would be drawn in by the tough street fighting events of 'The Outsiders.'

Because Ponyboy is good in school and is younger than most of his 'gang,' he is able to have a more emotionally aware perspective. In most scenes this is believable, but occasionally Hinton strays too far into the reflective/ moral pondering mode and it distracts from the authenticity of the narrative. For example, "Socs were just guys after all. Things were rough all over, but it was better that way. That way you could tell the other guy was human too" (118). Ponyboy doesn't need to spell this out for us, we know this is what he's discovered in his conversation with Randy, and ending a chapter with a neat little summary takes away from the impact of that conversation.

As a teen I never experienced violence like Ponyboy does, but I did experience the feeling of being an outsider, as I think most teens do. Somehow there's always a popular group, and for some bizarre reason (maybe because our brains aren't fully formed at 14?) we will do anything to gain their favor. In my experience this was done through back-stabbing less-cool friends or spilling juicy, mean gossip to the popular girls-- the emotional equivalent of switchblades and jagged glass.

Hinton captures that desperate need to belong, and in doing so creates a narrative that I think would appeal to both teen boys and girls. Even though it was published in 1967 and the slang has changed, the underlying motivations and feelings still ring true. The most authentic aspect of the story for me was the relationship between the brothers and the unspoken ways they care for each other-- Soda working to keep Ponyboy in school, Darry's tight reign on Ponyboy. These are the real signs of love and caring that make fitting into any other image or group seem trivial by comparison.