To be clear, I’m not listing those as reasons it is bad, just where it isn’t quite like what people think of when they think of YA. Similar to how Lord of the Rings actually subverts some fantasy tropes.

The Bible and its followers genuinely confuse me. I had to copy a lot of pages as a child [small Catholic school in the 90s, me with ADHD, nuns needing to punish] and had a good grasp on the material from a young age. So the first time someone told me abortion was about killing babies and against God's will my immediate response was a confused "I mean, not really? The Christian god kills a ton of children, babies, and pregnant people in the Bible." He specifically targeted them at multiple points!

But then I hear "well, when Jesus died it made a new convenant".

Okay, neat. Then why are you quoting Leviticus?

[Also the Bible was quite clearly written by multiple sources, translated and edited multiple times, and is kind of obviously drawing from shared myths and legends of the various regions that have been attributed to multiple deities] ["a great flood" oh gee, never heard that one before]

I can get rid of it by skimming or trying to see the words in blocks. But unless I consciously try to get rid of it or the book is so entertaining I skim and forget to savor it, the internal voice is there. I think you can read fast even with the internal voice though.

Anecdotes by a person passing along more anecdotes is not the most convincing basis for an article.

Here’s a study that actually has some data behind it. Seems like there was a much larger drop in teens than preteens according to this data. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if a big cause of declined reading is the increased curricular workload that is common nowadays. I know that when I’m tired and more busy I will rarely read for fun. Also, social media seems like it probably wouldn’t help reading rates, and I imagine/hope that kids aren’t getting on social media until their teens.

This is the only way.

All of your examples are things I like about it.

Wish fulfillment heroes are boring imo. Chosen one stories are boring. Hunger Games almost does what Dune does in that sense, and Dune is my favorite book. Obviously Hunger Games is nowhere near as good as Dune (which is fine, HG is more like candy than a French pastry), nor is Katniss as much of an inversion of the trope as Paul, but these themes are more interesting to me than the standard stuff.

Also, I hate love triangles. Hunger Games had too much love triangle stuff for my taste, but at least it wasn't so much that I couldn't read it.

Both, at the time, excellent and interesting authors of the genre, King's easy-going populism and Straub's literary mastery. Unfortunately, The Talisman exhibits neither of these qualities, remaining resolutely humdrum and bloated, and wholly unremarkable. Black House is, if anything, even worse.

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I guess I’m pretty lucky because my kid is super into reading. We will even read books together so we can talk about them.

Currently reading Out of the Dust with her and I’m surprised at how well she has handled some of the darker themes.

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Whatever you feel about the Hunger Games, it’s one of the few YA dystopians that actually have a point to make. And Collins toned it down just enough to be appropriate for her intended audience without watering down the themes and implications.

I'm line line with your friend- I rate based on how I feel, because it's my rating. That said, if I recognize something was well done I just wasn't into it, I'm nicer to it, because it's part of the whole picture. I love classics, but a classic does not get a good or higher rating from me just because it's a classic, for example. For example I understand and appreciate the impact and relevance of Ralph Ellison's Invisible Man, but man do I despise that book, thus it's a one star rating for me on Goodreads. When the differences come in as to "I understand and respect it, but I hate it" are seen and known in actual conversation with me, not in my Goodreads reviews, as those are just stars with no explanation.

Also obligatory we need half stars on Goodreads.

5 Stars - Loved it, adored it, will read it again multiple times (with rare exceptions and are unrelated to the original enjoyment or quality; some books I just can't read again even if great, for many reasons. i.e., I don't think I'll be able to read Call of the Wild again, because I've grown incredibly sensitive to treatment of animals and there's several scenes that I just can't read again). Will recommend to everyone. I could probably talk for hours about it.

4 Stars - Really, really liked it, very good, just didn't make that perfect rating for whatever reason. Strong candidate for re-reads later, but not a given. Will recommend to a lot of people but be a little more in tune to their particular likes and dislikes. I could talk for a long time about it.

3 Stars - It was solidly okay. Not offensive, but not great, lacking overall. Will not re-read, will only recommend if I know a particular person and know it totally aligns with their tastes. Mixed bag of if I'll remember I read it or not, and details will be slightly fuzzy, but I could probably hold a very basic conversation about it.

2 Stars - Well it wasn't terrible. I didn't like it, but I didn't hate it. I will likely forget all details of these and only remember based on reviewing my Goodreads rating and some key details of why will pop in, but not much. I might randomly remember I read it and was meh if it comes up, but details will be fuzzy.

1 Star - Hated it, would never read again, would never recommend, only marked this because didn't become a DNF but probably should have become one. Awful. Sometimes I wish I could give zero, but in absence of that it's a mix of zero, 1/2 star and one star. I will likely forget most of these except when reminded the pieces I truly hated and why, but only when reminded. Does not remain in my head otherwise and is gone shortly after explaining why after being reminded.

Who knows, you might like the series overall. As for me, I can't remember everything, as I read some of it quickly and then moved on. But off the top of my head, here's what I recall. Some are "holes," some are just weak storytelling, you can interpret as you like.

- The whole massive 100+ level underground city was evidently run entirely by 4 or 5 people. No bureaucracy, no hierarchy beyond the top two people, no economics, no politics (though there is policy). This reminded me of the way TV shows depict government. There's an international diplomatic crisis and it's being solved by the President, their aide, and this one spy (Tom Cruise, Kiefer Sutherland, whomever). Very cartoonish and simplistic.

- The city has the ability to self-sustain, somehow. They extract and refine crude oil, they are producing, water, food, they have an IT division that sounds like it's pretty advance...and they don't have an elevator, or a ramp? (I was told this is explained later, but it made me not really interested in finding out.)

- I am pretty sure the gimmick/big shocker is about the outside being habitable after all, and someone, for some reason using technology to pull the "wool" over the citizens' eyes (I see what he did there). That's not a new narrative construct. That doesn't mean it can't be used, and maybe I am completely wrong. But again, I didn't feel like it was compelling enough to stick around for and find out.

Kudos to Howey for self-promoting and writing his way to success. I think that's good, and inspiring! But when I heard about the TV series being made from it, I thought, "Oh wow, next is the video game: a stair simulator!"

My 2 cents.

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Agreed. After I read the Hunger Games, I thought maybe I'm a fan of YA because I loved it. I tried a bunch of YA books after that, and didn't like any of them. It turns out I'm not a YA fan, I'm just a fan of Hunger Games. That book was really well done.

(Not that I'm saying YA is generally not well done. I'm sure there is plenty of great stuff, and my preferences are not a condemnation of the genre)

Yeah that’s their kids your kids phone usage is money in her pocket

*typed on an iPhone

It’s the inherent spirit of Walmart brand electronics.

Part of the reason I fell in love with reading was there was more room to have FUN reading in school. Class took a bi-weekly trip to the library with freedom to choose a book and write a few lines about what the book was about. Taught me what I liked and should continue to seek out vs. what I wasn't into.

That joy is taken away when kids are limited - my mom let me read whatever I wanted because she knew I wouldn't understand certain words, was at the limit of my own imagination. I tried reading Stephen King at a super young age because the allure of "mom's books" was so intriguing.

There are also a lot people who insist their kids don't like reading, but then insist that what their kids like isn't "real reading" and admonish choices like graphic novels, video game/movie tie ins that get them to buy in, etc. There are a lot of reasons "kids don't read."

I teach high school and a lot of my kids are also reading, just maybe less "traditionally." A lot of my students love fanfiction, creative writing, etc. It may not be perfect but they ARE reading. To the naked eye, I wasn't reading a lot for fun in high school (and I was a voracious reader too) but I also wasn't going to openly express I was reading horny fanfiction either. Sometimes kids ARE reading but might be a little embarrassed about what they're exploring.

I also have an internal voice while reading, and I read pretty fast. I don't visualize anything (aphantasia) so the internal voice is crucial for me to get immersed with what I am reading.

2 books actually.

Sand

Across the sand (2022)

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I honestly think they are the darkest books I've ever read. I don't understand when they are criticized for a lack of darkness, that doesn't resonate with my experience of reading those books. The movies glossed over or removed a lot of the darkest stuff but the books have some truly dark stuff.

I think there's room for criticism in any book. But I do think with Hunger Games there is a bit of an odd mixture of both the movies influencing people's perceptions of the books and inherent bias against YA books.

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I think one reason is, kids are forced to read things by other people. One of the quickest ways to get me to lose interest in something or actively dislike it, is to tell me I have to do that thing or else. Kids need more independence and time to discover things on their own.

When you're assigned reading and you hate it, that's what you remember. It will just be one of those things you had to do, that once you're in adulthood you're grateful you don't need to anymore. Kids need to be empowered to make their own choices about what to read.

f yo paywall

​

>These days, when I explain to a fellow parent that I write novels for children in fifth through eighth grades, I am frequently treated to an apologetic confession: “My child doesn’t read, at least not the way I did.” I know exactly how they feel—my tween and teen don’t read the way I did either. When I was in elementary school, I gobbled up everything: haunting classics such as The Witch of Blackbird Pond and gimmicky series such as the Choose Your Own Adventure books. By middle school, I was reading voluminous adult fiction like the works of Louisa May Alcott and J. R. R. Tolkien. Not every child is—or was—this kind of reader. But what parents today are picking up on is that a shrinking number of kids are reading widely and voraciously for fun.

The ubiquity and allure of screens surely play a large part in this—most American children have smartphones by the age of 11—as does learning loss during the pandemic. But this isn’t the whole story. A survey just before the pandemic by the National Assessment of Educational Progress showed that the percentages of 9- and 13-year-olds who said they read daily for fun had dropped by double digits since 1984. I recently spoke with educators and librarians about this trend, and they gave many explanations, but one of the most compelling—and depressing—is rooted in how our education system teaches kids to relate to books.

What I remember most about reading in childhood was falling in love with characters and stories; I adored Judy Blume’s Margaret and Beverly Cleary’s Ralph S. Mouse. In New York, where I was in public elementary school in the early ’80s, we did have state assessments that tested reading level and comprehension, but the focus was on reading as many books as possible and engaging emotionally with them as a way to develop the requisite skills. Now the focus on reading analytically seems to be squashing that organic enjoyment. Critical reading is an important skill, especially for a generation bombarded with information, much of it unreliable or deceptive. But this hyperfocus on analysis comes at a steep price: The love of books and storytelling is being lost.

This disregard for story starts as early as elementary school. Take this requirement from the third-grade English-language-arts Common Core standard, used widely across the U.S.: “Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in a text, distinguishing literal from nonliteral language.” There is a fun, easy way to introduce this concept: reading Peggy Parish’s classic, Amelia Bedelia, in which the eponymous maid follows commands such as “Draw the drapes when the sun comes in” by drawing a picture of the curtains. But here’s how one educator experienced in writing Common Core–aligned curricula proposes this be taught: First, teachers introduce the concepts of nonliteral and figurative language. Then, kids read a single paragraph from Amelia Bedelia and answer written questions.

For anyone who knows children, this is the opposite of engaging: The best way to present an abstract idea to kids is by hooking them on a story. “Nonliteral language” becomes a whole lot more interesting and comprehensible, especially to an 8-year-old, when they’ve gotten to laugh at Amelia’s antics first. The process of meeting a character and following them through a series of conflicts is the fun part of reading. Jumping into a paragraph in the middle of a book is about as appealing for most kids as cleaning their room.

But as several educators explained to me, the advent of accountability laws and policies, starting with No Child Left Behind in 2001, and accompanying high-stakes assessments based on standards, be they Common Core or similar state alternatives, has put enormous pressure on instructors to teach to these tests at the expense of best practices. Jennifer LaGarde, who has more than 20 years of experience as a public-school teacher and librarian, described how one such practice—the class read-aloud—invariably resulted in kids asking her for comparable titles. But read-alouds are now imperiled by the need to make sure that kids have mastered all the standards that await them in evaluation, an even more daunting task since the start of the pandemic. “There’s a whole generation of kids who associate reading with assessment now,” LaGarde said.

By middle school, not only is there even less time for activities such as class read-alouds, but instruction also continues to center heavily on passage analysis, said LaGarde, who taught that age group. A friend recently told me that her child’s middle-school teacher had introduced To Kill a Mockingbird to the class, explaining that they would read it over a number of months—and might not have time to finish it. “How can they not get to the end of To Kill a Mockingbird?” she wondered. I’m right there with her. You can’t teach kids to love reading if you don’t even prioritize making it to a book’s end. The reward comes from the emotional payoff of the story’s climax; kids miss out on this essential feeling if they don’t reach Atticus Finch’s powerful defense of Tom Robinson in the courtroom or never get to solve the mystery of Boo Radley.

Not every teacher has to focus on small chunks of literature at the expense of the whole plot, of course. But as a result of this widespread message, that reading a book means analyzing it within an inch of its life, the high/low dichotomy that has always existed in children’s literature (think The Giver versus the Goosebumps series) now feels even wider. “What do you call your purely fun books for kids?” a middle-grade author recently asked on Twitter. A retired fifth-grade teacher seemed flummoxed by the question: “I never called a book a fun book,” she wrote. “I’d say it’s a great book, a funny book, a touching book … So many books ARE fun!!”

And yet the idea that reading all kinds of books is enjoyable is not the one kids seem to be receiving. Even if most middle schoolers have read Diary of a Wimpy Kid, it’s not making them excited to move on to more challenging fare. Longer books, for example, are considered less “fun”; in addition, some librarians, teachers, and parents are noticing a decline in kids’ reading stamina after the disruption of the pandemic. You can see these factors at play in a recent call for shorter books. But one has to wonder whether this is also the not-entirely-unsurprising outcome of having kids interact with literature in paragraph-size bites.

We need to meet kids where they are; for the time being, I am writing stories that are shorter and less complex. At the same time, we need to get to the root of the problem, which is not about book lengths but the larger educational system. We can’t let tests control how teachers teach: Close reading may be easy to measure, but it’s not the way to get kids to fall in love with storytelling. Teachers need to be given the freedom to teach in developmentally appropriate ways, using books they know will excite and challenge kids. (Today, with more diverse titles and protagonists available than ever before, there’s also a major opportunity to spark joy in a wider range of readers.) Kids should be required to read more books, and instead of just analyzing passages, they should be encouraged to engage with these books the way they connect with “fun” series, video games, and TV shows.

Young people should experience the intrinsic pleasure of taking a narrative journey, making an emotional connection with a character (including ones different from themselves), and wondering what will happen next—then finding out. This is the spell that reading casts. And, like with any magician’s trick, picking a story apart and learning how it’s done before you have experienced its wonder risks destroying the magic.