Pros and cons of using Young Adult Literature (YAL) in class

 

For a few months now, I have been re-reading novels in order to find out which ones I want to use in class next year. It’s for a Master’s module on contemporary literature, and the texts I’ve been using over the last few were:

• ·       Barry Unsworth: Morality play
• ·       Magnus Mills: The forensic records society
• ·       Samuel Beckett: Endgame
• ·       Jamaica Kincaid: The autobiography of my mother
• ·       Charles Yu: How to live safely in a science-fiction universe

But I want to change, and it’s not easy: first because it’s hard to kill your darlings, and that’s what you do each time you change the list. But second – and more importantly – because texts are tools as much as they are themselves: it’s about what they give us as novels, and what we can do with them as tools in class. And that distinction is really crucial: not all great texts are teachable, and not all very teachable texts are great literature – in fact, that inverse ratio in both cases is probably very high. And third, somehow a pretty important aspect for me, is that I should like the books as much as possible. If not, there must be something in it that I know I can use: again, I’d rather use a teachable book I don’t care for than a book I love which is simply not teachable.

Case in point: I’m also re-reading The Bookshop, a magnificent novel by the incomparable Penelope Fitzgerald (click here for my short  blog on her) – magnificent, subtle, ironic, revealing…but I’m not sure what I would do with it in class beyond saying just that: it’s magnificent: look at this passage!; it’s subtle: read those lines! But that’s not using the text for anything but an analysis, and what’s the point of that?

One of my first decisions for the new list was to get a Young Adult Literature (YAL) novel on there, not so much out of principle as out of liking one in particular: The bunker diary, a well-known YAL text I think. But first I had to re-read it in order to make sure: I had some memories of the first time I’d read it but that was years and years ago – was my memory accurate? Was the text rich enough? Was there enough to work with in class? And as I was reading, and making notes and marking out bits, I also realized something else: a YAL text simply does not read like a non-YAL text. The rhythm is different, the vocabulary as well, the syntax tends to be less complex and the narrative structure more straight-forward. Add to that shorter chapters and shorter paragraphs written in shorter sentences, and the feeling, the taste of the text is its own thing.

At the same time, I’m well aware that there are many teachers out there who have an adverse reaction to YAL, especially in the bovenbouw (upper forms), and on the basis of linguistic and narrative complexity, it might be a fair point. Yet I believe their reason is not always that: it’s often a morally-fed vision of cultural capital where some texts are Literature, and some are (mindless) entertainment. And Literature is what pupils should be exposed to, because that’s where the real magic happens.

But does it, though? Which magic exactly? And is that magic transmissible? Decipherable? Attainable? Teachable?

And more to the point: are you teaching magic, literary history, cultural history, or are you trying to get something else done with the text? Are you teaching the text (and its context, its authorship, its place in the canon), or are you teaching with the text, from the text? These questions are essential when deciding which texts to use in class because without clarity on this issue, your reading list might end up being a compendium of things you like (irrespective of your goals), things you know you should like because they’re famous, things there’s lots of material about online, things you inherited from previous teachers, things people say are ‘important’, or things that everyone does and so why wouldn’t you?

So here’s a little list of pros and cons about YAL – and as often in cases like these, where ‘Quality’ is a highly debatable term (quality in itself, or as a tool?), some pros are also cons and conversely. I must be quite clear here: I do not mean ‘pro because it makes young people read’: I consider this from the perspective of a teacher of literature. After all, if you read Harry Potter one hundred times and nothing else, or Romantasy and nothing else, is that really beneficial?

The cons of YAL in class

Stylistic elements, form: Language and narratives

YAL often has a simpler vocabulary and simpler syntax: sentences tend not to go on for very long, syntactic complexity (relative clauses and the like) is more limited. Narrative structures also tend to be simpler, with more information given at the outset so as engage the reader immediately (hopefully) and to ensure inexperienced readers won’t get lost. Keeping a reader in the dark for a while (who’s who, where are we, what’s going on?!) can be very rewarding of course, but many readers, specially when they’re younger, often need some support to attend to the story and its details. Chapters are usually rather short, and the paragraphing simplified, for example by having very short (2 or 3 sentence-long sometimes) paragraphs. This chopping up of the text is probably intended to make the reading pacier, easier and requiring less complete focus. At the same time, it cuts up any passage in quasi-independent sentences which means there’s no real flow to the text as a whole. And of course a question here is to what extent those narratives and types of language enable the transition to more complex works, and certainly when it comes to style.

Indeed, a feature of YAL is its common attempt to imitate speech, or get as close as possible to speech patterns, even in descriptive passages, whereas what typifies many works of literature is their embracing of the written form, distinct from spoken language (there are many exceptions and adaptations to this of course), certainly in the absence of dialogues. This imitation of speech leads to styles that can be grating to older readers, and may present a skewed perspective on what writing can be – after all, great writers don’t just write well, they also make full use of what writing offers as a tool for expression: as a mode, in linguistic parlance. By reducing writing to an imitative form of a different mode of expression, you also seriously limit the possibilities of expression.

In terms of content more generally, Farah Mendlesohn already showed that much of Young Adult science fiction did not connect very well with adult science fiction in terms of themes, depth of treatment, clichés and several recurring tropes – for example, that of the parents standing in the way and, albeit with the best intentions, stymying their children in their adventure. And indeed, YAL can sometimes be full of clichés, or stereotypes, no doubt in order to cover all gender and ethnic bases and exude a general tone of goodwill, hope and the importance of friendship. This in turn may lead to some characters being superficial, their only role to just be there and ensure representativity, which in its turn might lead to even more stereotypes. That is sometimes compounded by a desire to tell rather than show, turning the novel in a pedagogical, almost moral text rather than being something to explore.

Finally, YAL tends to be topical, that is, addressing one issue outright: racism, bullying, death, war. While pedagogically one could argue that’s useful, someone else could easily show that such an approach can be very limiting. Such novels are novels only so as to carry a message and educate – to teach that something is bad for example. But they may not be full novels in their depth because of that. After all, it’s very important to try and understand why someone is racist, or how a racist thinks: not to excuse them or condone their attitudes, but because understanding the other helps understanding ourselves. If villains are villains and good guys are good guys, you do not go very far in exploring the reality of our world – Harry Potter is an excellent example of a great narrative without moral complexity: it reads well but it leaves little to teach.

In the above, it is already clear that some cons about YAL also offer new possibilities, and that ‘cons’ must really be understood as ‘cons when compared to literature tout-court’. Let’s just have a quick look at some more reasons why YAL can be a great teaching tool.

The pros:

Language levels are indeed more variable, but that makes YAL more adaptable to different age groups; not everyone has the language needed not only to read but also to make sense of a text, and teachers know very well how demotivating a text can be if not pitched at the right level. That does not mean pandering to the easiest, but it certainly means that you should always think about language as being a potential obstacle as ,much as it is a means of expression.

It is with YAL as with all types of literature: there’s some absolutely terrible stuff and some exquisite books as well, and as so often the case, the ratio is firmly in favour of the terrible. For any Patrick Ness (exceptional) there’s a thousand badly written, badly plotted, imitative dirge. For teachers, it means what it always means: don’t put on the list the one YA novel you’ve read just because it’s the only one – read many and decide for yourself whether it would serve you well in class, and for what reasons. Gems exist, there are many of them, and sometimes the hype is right and sometimes it’s completely off, so read, go in search of those gems, and you will be amply rewarded.

The narrative engine of a text is important: too slow and reluctant readers want to stop. Too obscure and they’re lost – and want to stop. YAL often uses strong narrative engines like science fiction, mystery or Fantasy, but alas! some teachers commonly confuse genre and text: the genre is a way to inscribe a text in a tradition and make use of tropes within that tradition. The text-in-itself may be an instance of that genre but it is also itself: as such, the only question is whether that text is valuable for you as itself. If it is, the question of genre is both totally secondary and practically relevant: if younger learners feel more engaged by a Fantasy story then give them some, but make sure the text-as-itself offers real value. Post-Modernism told us genre is a blurry and largely irrelevant boundary but unfortunately too many teachers have yet to catch up with that idea.

That also ties in with stylistic elements: YAL can sometimes be very cinematic in its descriptions, privileging action and movement against details and a slower pace. And yes, stylistically that can often be seen as bombastic and over-the-top, and experienced readers are likely to find that disappointing. But you must learn to walk before you run and all that, and an expressive, fast-paced narrative, while stylistically flat may yet give an entry-point into a text for younger, more inexperienced readers – something not to be sniffed at if you consider that it might lead to better-written works later. And let’s be honest: unless you’ve read a good deal, style is likely to mean little to you.

An obvious advantage of YAL is its usual focus on younger people, and how that provides readers with something to identify with, hang on to, compare with. There are obvious downsides to this as well of course (facility, clichés, all-teens-are-the-same-teen idea) but overall, inexperienced readers tend to value identification with a character, if only from the point of view of age. Again, if that facilitates the reading, why frown upon it? It might also remind older readers what it’s like to be a teen, to think like one, to have the expectations, the values, the dreams of one – no bad thing as you age!

Similarly, the introduction of moral, societal dilemmas may be made easier by YAL’s common approach to ‘big questions’: often broad, a bit unrefined and lacking subtlety, it can be this very specific approach that enables the slow, gradual introduction of subtle distinctions and more in-depth discussions.

Conclusion

Eventually, a question like ‘Is YAL good teaching material’ rests on the same implicit question adult fiction rests on: Does it help me reach my aims? Does it enable me to bring discussion points to the fore? Does the material give enough space for individual interpretations and thoughts? Choose the wrong material, whichever level it’s at and however many accolades it got from people, and your lesson won’t be what you wanted it to be. If you’ve got your aims right, if you’ve done the right preparatory work with your chosen novel, if you’ve considered carefully what you wanted to do with the text, and if you keep in mind the difference between teaching with a text and teaching history, culture, language or terminology, then the genre of text becomes much less important. What should drive your choice of text is all we’ve said above, and most of all of course, your aims and the alignment of those aims with material, types of questions and how many themes and topics you can address.

Let’s not a false sense of moral rectitude and intellectual priggishness determine our choice of text: YAL or not YAL, teachers must first focus on what they want to achieve and then select the text. Very few great texts make for good teaching material, so choose carefully and don’t let prejudice determine your choices.

You are in charge, not the text, not the genre, not the back pages of high-brow media or university professors: you.

 

 

Farah Mendlesohn. The Inter-galactic Playground: A Critical Study of Children's and Teens' Science Fiction. Jefferson, NC: McFarland, 2009