Darker Themes
Several days ago, the Wall Street Journal published an article by Meghan Cox Gurdon in which she examined what she referred to as a disturbing increase in "darker themes" in contemporary Young Adult fiction. Her essay was highly critical of a number of general trends in YA, and it singled out a few specific books and authors. The article's subtitle perhaps says it best : Contemporary fiction for teens is rife with explicit abuse, violence and depravity. Why is this considered a good idea?
The central premise of Gurdon's article is clear : if teens are exposed to literature that examines dark and serious subject matter, there's a good chance that they'll be negatively influenced by it and possibly act out in response to what they read. Her argument is basically a variation on the old idea that "if you listen to heavy metal music, or play Dungeons and Dragons, you'll become a crazy headbanger and sacrifice cats,"- only applied to literature.
Meghan Cox Gurdon is an idiot. I should say that I took the time to search for and read several of her older articles. I didn't want to judge her character on one isolated article. I wanted to make sure I had given her the benefit of the doubt. After reading several of her earlier works, my opinion stands. She's an idiot.
Apparently the internet agrees with me. Reaction to the WSJ piece was swift, fierce, and wide-reaching. It was also overwhelmingly negative. While a few scattered commenters applauded the journalist for taking a stand against what they saw as the "filth and depravity" that are all too common in today's books for teens, a significant majority felt differently. Thousands of people took the time to chime in on twitter, facebook, and countless YA message boards. Most of them felt quite strongly that Gurdon had wildly mis-read and mis-represented the reality of what's being written for teens, and more importantly, how they're reading it.
I found the online reaction both moving and encouraging. With one great example after another, people responded to her by pointing to a book, or books, with so-called "dark themes" that are, or had been, crucially important to them as teenagers. Within hours of the article's publication, over 100 people had commented about the article on the Wall Street Journal's website, and the twitter topic #YASaves was trending worldwide (for people who don't use twitter, that means it was a widely discussed topic.)
In reaction to the article, I found comments from survivors of rape and incest, who said that without books that helped them articulate the wild range of emotions they were dealing with, they don't know how they would have survived. There were similar stories from people for whom books had helped them while they lived with family members who were severe alcoholics or drug addicts, or who had themselves been drinking or using. There were teens who grew up mercilessly bullied in small towns, and found solace in books about people enduring the same sorts of tortuous experiences. Other people talked about being physically abused, and their gratitude towards the books that told them it was okay to stand up and get help.
Being a teenager is a rough, tough business. I don't care who you are. It's difficult for the geek sitting alone in the cafeteria, and it's difficult for the prom queen. Growing up is not easy for anyone.
Being a teen was hard for me too. I grew up gay in a small town, in many ways isolated, scared of being found out, unwilling to admit to myself that I was different, unable to accept myself as I was, afraid of the consequences of my reality. Back then, where I lived, I wasn't lucky enough to find books about kids like me.
But books helped me anyway. They opened doors and windows, they smashed down walls, and tore down buildings. They revealed to me hidden insights, fresh perspectives, new ways of seeing the world as I'd never seen it before. Reading brought me to understand that the world I inhabited was more expansive, and held so much more opportunity, than I often wanted to give it credit for.
Books taught me that possibilities win out over limitations, any day.
Meghan Cox Gurdon missed the point entirely. Dark, honest, gritty, genuine, straight-talking books, books that flip over rocks to see what's squirming underneath – they don't encourage teens to follow some cynical garden path to darker, unhappier realities – they lead them away from those realities, to brighter, more hopeful places. They show them the difference between the world that is, and the world that can be. They give them evidence that they aren't alone. Written proof that things get better.
