The New Yorker stoops to review a YA book.

The New Yorker's Book Bench reviewed a YA novel called Headlong by Kathe Koja, a book I have not yet read, but intend to. Some of the comments by the illustrious bench were quite disappointing. They seemed to like the book in spite of the fact that it's a lowly YA novel. Patronizing comments were bandied about, such as: "I tend to think of young-adult fiction as sort of facile—a straightforward style, uncomplicated themes and morals..." and "When I was a teen-ager, I assumed that the label was synonymous with preachy and boring."

Oh, my aching little writer's heart!

So I got up my courage, and I wrote a response:

As a young adult author, I was disappointed at the tone of this discussion, but not surprised. This dismissive attitude toward young adult fiction abounds in the literary community. I can’t tell you how many times my classmates and professors in my MFA program would tell me, with a straight face, “Your writing is surprisingly well crafted for a young adult writer.” When my first novel was accepted for publication before I graduated, instead of receiving congratulations, I got bitter comments like, “It must be much easier to publish in your genre.” I knew that this attitude came mostly from ignorance of the wonderful work being done in literature for adolescents, but it still hurt. I’m so glad the New Yorker is starting to discuss young adult literature, but I hope that next time the Book Bench will be populated by experts in the genre.


Tish tosh, New Yorker. Tish tosh on you!