The Age of Avoidance

Anyone who has turned to this blog in the last month or so knows that I have been derelict with my posting.

It's not that I have found more enjoyable things to do; it's just that, for reasons having to do with the weather and the hecticness of the time of year, I have found myself avoiding that which puts some unwanted stress on other parts of my life.

In this respect, I am in synch with the two protagonists at the center of the two 2007 Teens Top Ten novels that I read while on my extended vacation from this blog.  Annabel Greene, a high school student in Sarah Dessen's Just Listen, seems to "have it all": a devoted mother, a promising modeling career, beautiful sisters, and wonderful friends. Over the course of this novel, however, we learn that all is not as it seems, as Annabel struggles to confront the pain and disappointment at the heart of her relationships to her mother, sisters, her modeling career, and especially friends.  Confronting anger and talking about emotions is not something that Annabel does easily; it takes her the entire novel to come to terms with her situation.  As a reader, I found myself practically yelling at her to do what she clearly needs to do at the very end of the novel. But Annabel's reluctance to change, and her avoidance of personal responsibility, appears to be the point: going against the grain is never easy, especially in an era where image is everything and so many advantages are being bestowed upon those who stay inside the lines.

Although the situation is very different in Firegirl, by Tony Abbott, the theme of avoidance again is front and center. In this instance, the main character, Tom, is a 7th grader grappling, along with his classmates, with the arrival of Jessica, a young girl who has been horribly scarred by a fire. Unlike his classmates, and especially his best friend Jeff, Tom reaches out to Jessica, and learns the truth about her tragedy.  However, like his classmates and even Jessica's parents, Tom practices a good deal of avoidance, too.  The narrative here is simpler than in Just Listen--Firegirl is ideally suited for fifth, sixth, and seventh graders, whereas Just Listen is more appropriate for teens in 8th grade and up--and much less frustrating in terms of character development and behavior.  But again, we see a central character unevenly negotiating a way toward greater personal responsibility and awareness of the many options that exist out in the world for living a fulfilling life.

As I read these two novels, I found myself at a lost to create a connection to the contemporary world (which also perhaps explains my time away from this blog).   But then I read a column by Frank Rich, in which he points out that Americans have been consistent in avoiding the reality of the Iraq war.   Shortly thereafter, I read Bob Hebert's criticism of Barack Obama's "bitter" remark, in which he suggests that Obama has been avoiding the truth about why his campaign is failing to attract a plurality of lower income, white Americans.   I also found myself paying attention to the many criticisms of the ABC presidential debate in Philadelphia, in which the moderators focused a good deal of attention on issues peripheral to the ones that are likely to consume the attention of the next president.  We live, it seems, in an age of avoidance, at a time when we seem incapable of facing head-on the difficult challenges that we most need to address.

It is this feature of contemporary American life that both Just Listen and Firegirl illuminate.  Given legitimate concerns about personal security and the advances in wealth and technology that have emerged over the last several years, it's easy to understand why people attempt to deal with complex social issues in much the same way that they work on dangers in driving (see the video clip below).  But what both Just Listen and Firegirl suggest is that social issues are not obstacles or impediments that should be avoided; indeed, dealing with social issues head-on is critical to finding one's way in the world.  It is this contribution to our national dialogue that these two books make, and that young adult novels in general are making today. Perhaps all we need to do to get ourselves out of our national predicament is listen.

New Moon, by Stephanie Meyer

Here is a quote from a commentary a couple of Sundays ago by sports writer George Vecsey. He offers his own view on the popularity of Barack Obama among today's youth:

"The way I see it, the younger generation is much more cool about racial, religious and gender differences than the older generations were. There are a lot of jerks among athletes, but young voters follow sports enough to be familiar with Shaquille O’Neal’s goofy jokes and Tiki Barber’s burning ambition and Dontrelle Willis’s warm smile."

Vecsey's point is that this is a new age where traditional boundaries between white and black, sports and politics, men and women, are being blurred so that cultural differences basically don't mean as much as they once did. Vecsey credits athletes like Tiger Woods and Michael Jordan for generating this new attitude among younger members of the American public.

It's an interesting interpretation. And it's useful, too, as an explanation for the popularity of Stephanie Meyer's Twilight series, of which I have read merely one, New Moon, which was selected in 2007 as the top pick of the Teens Top Ten booklist, sponsored by the Young Adult Library Services Association.   New Moon has very few explicit connections to the contemporary world; it is about as insular and isolated as a contemporary novel can be (curiously, exactly opposite the other vampire novel that I have read for this project, Blue Bloods, by Melissa De La Cruz). But one thing you can say about this novel is that it articulates very well the blurring of cultural boundaries that Obama's campaign also evokes, and that Vecsey identifies as a defining characteristic of the contemporary age.

The cover of New Moon represents the blurring or blending of cultural boundaries and differences that I am talking about here.  The plot does as well. At the start of New Moon, Bella Swan, a sensitive yet strong teenage girl, goes into shock when her true love, the vampire Edward Cullen, breaks off his relationship with her (for more on this relationship, see the first novel in the series, Twilight).  Eventually, however, Bella recovers, and forms a relationship with Jacob, a tall and handsome Native American with a hidden identity of his own.   Essentially an extended re-thinking of Romeo and Juliet, New Moon explores the nature of love and the question of whether or not it is ever possible to recover from the loss of one's truest soulmate.

I found this second novel in the Twilight series a bit tedious in the beginning, as the somewhat implausible break up occurs between Edward and Bella, but I have to admit I found the romance and tension in the relationship between Bella and Jacob very believable and suspenseful.  The high action at the end of this novel also works very well--it is easy to see why the Twilight series is so popular with teen readers, especially young women.  

Part of the allure of New Moon, though, is not just the way vampires, humans, and other supernatural creatures all interact and blend with one another in relatively harmless ways; in addition, readers enjoy this storytelling, I suspect, because of the danger that always lies just beneath the cultural blending and "forbidden" interaction.  Readers know that Bella is just a footstep away from becoming a vampire herself; readers enjoy watching Edward and other characters battle their more base instincts.  New Moon reminds that full cultural integration and boundary erasure is not easily achieved, and is always frought with danger within a society that is still very Puritan and conservative, at its core.  This is a lesson that Barack Obama has been learning on the campaign trail in recent weeks, as various conservative commentators have begun to question the influence of the Rev. Jeremiah Wright on his thinking and leadership skills (basically, casting Wright as a vampire, and Obama as Bella).  It's a lesson that Eliot Spitzer, too, has learned the hard way (see the video below).

Anahita's Woven Riddle, by Meghan Nuttall Sayres

Consider yourself forewarned. This book--the last of the 2007 Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults that I am reading for this project--is hard to find. I looked for it at my public library, which is typically well-stocked with young adult literature, but I couldn't find it. Likewise, I couldn't locate it in independent and chain bookstores, either. I had to order it through a local bookseller to get it in my hands.

Anahita's Woven Riddle tells the story of a young nomadic tribeswoman, Anahita, and her quest to exert some influence over the process of selecting a husband in turn-of-the-century Iran. I say "exert some influence over" because in Anahita's culture women traditionally had little or no choice over whom they would marry. Typically, the family made all of the marriage decisions and arrangements.

Anahita, however, is an independent spirit--in part because she has been raised to be so by her father, the leader of her tribe--and so she rejects her father's first choice for her future husband. For mainly political reasons, Anahita's father wishes her to marry the local khan, a powerful, monied, elderly, but slightly odd figure--he has a cat fetish--with a checkered past (his first two wives died for reasons that are not entirely clear).

Anahita and her father have a tradition of trading riddles with one another; sensing that her father has some misgivings himself about the proposed marriage to the khan, Anahita requests that she be allowed to weave a riddle into her qali, or wedding carpet. Instead of having an arranged marriage, Anahita suggests that she be allowed to invite suitors to guess the answer to her riddle. The winner of the riddle contest will then win her hand in marriage.

Like Samurai Shortstop, Anahita's Woven Riddle presents a great deal of useful historical and cultural information about life at the turn into the 20th century. At times, Sayres's writing is just beautiful--much like the Persian carpets she describes in this book. Readers learn a great deal about the internal political, religious, and cultural systems in Iran, as well as the issues that were emerging as a result of increased economic development and interactions with Western cultures and customs. The insights into the complex negotiations of these issues is pertinent to any reader today with an interest in events in the Middle East--especially young women.

Teachers with an interest in exploring these issues and negotiations--perhaps in a middle school social studies course, or a unit on world cultures--will find this book of value. Because of its Cinderella-like qualities, the story itself is likely to appeal to younger teenage girls or even girls in 4th or 5th grade. Older adolescents may find the plot somewhat predictable and tedious. But the occassionally brilliant writing, and insights into Iranian culture make this a book well-worth reading.

If only you are lucky enough to find a copy.

Nightrise, by Anthony Horowitz

Forgive me, but this review is a little off the beaten track, in two ways:

1) Nightrise, by Anthony Horowitz, is not on the list of books that I am supposed to be reading for this project.

2) The content of Nightrise is pretty unusual; basically, the plot entails an encounter between two twin, telepathic brothers and an international corporation called Nightrise. This corporation seeks to spread chaos across the globe and restore to power hugely evil "Old Ones," conceived centuries and centuries ago, who promise to suck the life out of all humankind.

Pretty far out, huh?

Even though Nightrise is a little out there, it is an excellent book, by one of my favorite authors. When I saw it recently in a bookstore, I couldn't resist purchasing it, especially since both of my sons have read the first two books in the series (The Gatekeepers in the US, the Power of Five in the UK) and we are all nuts about it.

If you are looking for something beyond Harry Potter, something a little more edgy and sensational, Horowitz is a good choice. His compelling action plots, strong writing, and intermittent commentary on the contemporary world make his books a favorite with many teen and adult readers.

This is my favorite passage in the book. It involves an explanation of the political context in which the novel unfolds:

"'The current vice president and the chief of staff both used to work for Nightrise before they went into politics. When they leave the White House, whoever wins the next election, they'll go back on the board. Nightrise has about three hundred companies around the world and many of them do work for the U.S. government. There's one that manufactures bombs. The bombs are dropped. Then there's another one that's hired to rebuild the cities that the bombs destroyed. You see what I mean? Business and politics go hand in hand.'"

Does this sound like a U.S. vice president and larger political situation that you know?

My obvious political bias aside, this is a great thriller, one that teachers will abhor, but teens and early adolescents--especially boys--will adore. The book is only available in hardback right now, but expect to see it in paperbook soon, and on the list of best books for young adults next year.

Samurai Shortstop, by Alan Gratz

The title of this book drew me in, before I ever saw or read it. I like baseball, and I found the juxtaposition of the words "samurai" and "shortstop" intriguing. I had no idea what the book would be about, but I wanted to know more.

By the end of the first chapter, I was pretty much hooked. The beginning is shocking (a character named Uncle Koji enacts seppuku), but a strong narrative voice and the detailed historical insight into samurai culture made this a novel impossible for me to put down. I had to keep reading, especially to discover the connection to baseball.

Basically, Samarurai Shortstop tells the story of Uncle Koji's nephew, Toyo. Toyo is coming of age just as Japan is officially renouncing much of samurai culture, and opening itself up to Western values and customs (including baseball). Toyo makes his high school baseball team (not surprisingly, he is the shortstop), and then leads his older teammates into competition against other Japanese teams, and eventually a team of Americans.

For the most part, this book really delivers. Samurai Shortstop is a first novel, and so the dialogue, from time to time, is a tad unrealistic. But this is due mainly to the fact that Alan Gratz has so much knowledge to convey to readers about samurai culture and Japanese society at the turn of the 19th century. The information that Gratz has to share is so interesting I was inclined to forgive him for writerly bumps in the road. Fortunately, Gratz's writing and insights on baseball, competition, and father and son relationships are so strong that I found myself rewarded many times for my patience. I especially appreciated the surprising series of events that conclude this novel.

Middle school teachers could suggest this novel as independent reading to sports minded readers and/or history buffs; they also might include it in units on Japan and cultural diversity or decision-making. Like American Born Chinese and The Trap, Samurai Shortstop has a lot to say about how to create relationships to mainstream American values and culture without sacrificing other voices, values, and models. It also raises some very provocative questions about traditional values and group decision-making that I think would inspire a lot of critical conversation in grades 6-8. Pairing this novel up with a novel by Chris Crutcher (perhaps Stotan) would open the door to weighing the relative value of independence versus being part of a group.

My guess is that Samurai Shortstop will appeal more to the middle school crowd than older adolescents (I also suspect it will appeal more to boys than girls, since female characters are in the background in this novel--though this could be an issue to discuss, too). Younger adolescents with a passion for baseball or reading might also be drawn to this novel, though parents should probably read the first chapter so that they can talk with younger readers about the different cultural norms that propel the violent action in the first chapter and ultimately the main decision-making in the book as a whole.

Sold, by Patricia McCormick

Sold, by Patricia McCormick, is on the 2007 Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults list; it also was an American Book Award nominee last year. It explores the challenges and injustices that many young people--especially women--face in third world countries.

The format of this novel is very familiar: it consists of short, poetic vignettes, much like Virginia Euwer Wolff's Make Lemonade. The language flows and the action builds to a dramatic climax--though the ending is somewhat abrupt. In any case, I found the novel extremely powerful and eye-opening.

Teachers 8th grade and up might consider using this book to explore issues related to gender inequalities, economic development, and taking a stand in the face of injustice. The content is challenging because McCormick depicts in unflinching terms--in the final third of the novel--various sexual topics and issues. All of this is handled very maturely, in full support of the main storyline. A note home to parents explaining the relationship between the novel and prevailing curricular goals and objectives would probably do the trick, though teachers might want to provide other options for reading, too. The novel could definitely be used to organize powerful discussions and writing projects, as well as useful connections to health or sex education curriculum.

As a parent, I would have no trouble giving this book to my 6th grader, though this is a book I would prefer he read in 7th or 8th grade. Pre-adolescents with the ability to handle more adult subject matter would find the narrative engaging and educational, though parents should expect to read or least discuss the text with their child, if read independently.

The Rules of Survival, by Nancy Werlin

The Rules of Survival, by Nancy Werlin, is a highly acclaimed mystery--it is on the 2007 Top Ten Best Books for Young Adults list, put out by the Young Adult Library Services Association--and it is one of the most horrifying and interesting novels that I have ever read. For insight into the current age of fear, and the dangers associated with taking a stand against terrorism, read this novel.

Middle school teachers and high school teachers might recommend this book to students who love mysteries and who have a tolerance for intense psychological drama. Nancy Werlin is not Stephen King by any means, but she is a very fine writer, and keeps her readers on edge throughout this narrative.

English teachers exploring the genre of mystery writing might use this book with small groups of students, or even an entire class. Adults will love this book too, and should feel comfortable giving it to middle school students who like horror or mystery writing, or just fine writing more generally speaking.

American Born Chinese, by Gene Luen Yang

American Born Chinese is the big kahuna of the novels that I have read so far for this project. It is the 2007 Printz Award winner for literary excellence in young adult literature.

For a great review of this novel, visit A Fuse #8 Production: Review of the Day: American Born Chinese. BTW, I love Fuse #8's blog--it is a great resource for information about children's literature, and its a lot of fun to read. I hope one day to be as witty as this children's librarian.

For insight on Gene Luen Yang's creative process, visit A Fuse #8 Production: Monkey King Mana and follow the links to Yang's own article about his book. The commentary on the relationship between the Monkey King fable, Buddhism, and Christianity is really fascinating.

Overall, I very much enjoyed this novel, and have already recommended it to many teachers. I think middle school students (7th and 8th graders especially), and 9th and 10th graders, would especially enjoy this book. The artistry is powerful, and the interweaving of three different stories provides a lot to talk about, in addition to the issues of cultural identity and interrelationships. If you are using themes like diversity, stereotypes, and overcoming adversity to structure your curriculum, this might be a great book for you. History teachers discussing immigration in their courses also might use this book to examine some of the impacts of making a transition to life in the United States, not only for new arrivals, but also for the second generation.

My rising 6th grader picked up this book and thought it was a little strange (mainly because the issues it raises are more adolescent than pre-adolescent). It is probably better suited to 7th grade and up, but there is no reason younger adolescents can't read it and enjoy it too.

An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green

My third stop on the 2007 Printz Award Honor Books list is An Abundance of Katherines, by John Green. Don't be fooled by the cover, nor my booktalk below. This is a serious book written for advanced readers and other exceptional youth. It explores the challenges of falling in love and maintaining relationships, but also larger questions having to do with constructing an identity and the purposes of life.

Like Looking for Alaska, Green's previous award-winning book, An Abundance of Katherines pushes the limits of "acceptability" in young adult literature. In this novel, math formulas, footnotes, and words like "fug" are sprinkled throughout; nothing terribily offensive is ever done or said, but the dialogue is realistic and the issues raised are ones that people, and young adults in particular, think about all the time, but rarely get the chance to talk about seriously in school or most other settings.

English teachers might enjoy reading An Abundance of Katherines, but I suspect most will choose not to teach it in their regular curriculums because it is just too "edgy" and unconventional. Because of this, and because the novel revolves around a road trip that takes place immediately after graduation from high school, I recommend teaching the book in an elective English course with high school seniors. High school seniors would likely love the book, and enjoy discussing all of the various issues that it raises.

Even though the book might be a challenge to teach (woops--I forgot to mention that math teachers working with exceptionally talented math students also might find this book a useful one to incorporate into their curriculums), I wouldn't hesitate to recommend it to adolescents in grades 8-12 for independent reading. Younger, advanced readers might also enjoy the book, though they might have more questions, or parents might feel a need for conversation about some of the content.

Last but not least, adults who were big fans of Judy Blume's Forever, one of the biggest young adult novels from the 1970's, might also pick up An Abundance of Katherines. This book twists Blume's plot inside out by having the break-up between a Katherine and her "lover" occur at the beginning of the novel, instead of at the end (as well as 18 other times in the novel!). Its a great twist on that previous account of teenage love, and provides today's teens with a much more hip and relevant depiction of the vagaries of adolescent romance.

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak

The Book Thief, by Markus Zusak, has leaped to the top of my list of favorite young adult books. This is a great one for both adults and adolescents. It is even published in two different versions, one for adults and one for adolescents, in the United Kingdom.

Like Sonya Hartnett, the author of Surrender, Zusak is from Australia. But he has written a timeless book that is sure to generate big audiences everywhere (The Book Thief even was on the NY Times bestseller list not too long ago, among other bestseller lists).

What captures my imagination the most is the narrative perspective we get on Nazi Germany in this book. Zusak uses Death as a narrator to tell the story of a young girl named Liesel and her community; the attitude and language of this narrator is unmatched in the history of young adult literature, and always keeps the reader guessing and intrigued.

Both history and English teachers should consider incorporating The Book Thief into their curriculums; in particular, it would pair nicely with The Diary of Ann Frank, or provide a useful substitute for those teachers experiencing Ann Frank-fatigue. Another great pairing would be with Maus, by Art Spiegelman. Students in grades 8 and up would learn a lot from The Book Thief about the ideologies that prevent human beings from acting with kindness and integrity; they also would learn about the power of words and stories to break through these ideologies and create more generous worlds.

My rising 6th grader is in the middle of reading this book, and he says it is terrific so far. The Book Thief is an ambitious read for someone this young (its a long book), but the short chapters, compelling action, and creative storytelling (a picture book is contained within the larger narrative) makes this a tough one to put down, no matter what the age.

Like the other books I am reading right now, The Book Thief is a 2007 Printz Award Honor Book, recognizing outstanding writing in young adult literature. I'm surprised this one didn't win the actual award; there must be a lot of good young adult novels out there.

Surrender, by Sonya Hartnett

The first book on my journey to understand the contemporary world is the 2007 Printz Award Honor Book Surrender, by Sonya Hartnett. Surrender was a great selection. It is one of the most frightening and compelling books that I have ever read (reassuringly, this is an instance of the cover being a very good indicator of the type of narrative contained inside).

My booktalk below gives some of the details related to the scene or situation that generates much of the action and suspense in this novel. However, what is really provocative about Surrender is the plot that follows from this situation. Basically, Hartnett creates a complex relationship between the main character, Anwell, and a "friend" named Finnegan. Through this relationship, Hartnett explores the meaning of isolation and friendship, and what it means to live in a world full of ghosts and terror (interestingly, the setting is Australia--Hartnett is Australian--but the setting for Surrender could be any rural environment in the developed world).

Surrender would be a terrific book to teach in 9th or 10th grade, and maybe even 8th grade, in juxtaposition with other suspenseful narratives such as ones written by Edgar Alan Poe. But the book also stands on its own; it is beautifully written, has lots of religious imagery, and contains subtle commentary on social problems in the contemporary world. The ending is guaranteed to produce energetic debate and discussion. This is a rare novel that will be read and enjoyed by both struggling and advanced readers.

I personally would think carefully about giving this book to a younger middle school student, especially ones who may not be comfortable with psychological suspense and horror. There are some violent incidents--nothing terribly bloody--but the telling is relentless in its darkness and gravity. Young adolescents and pre-adolescents will be drawn to the book; if this happens, I suggest asking them to postpone their reading, or engaging them in conversation about it. There is a lot to talk about.