Do you object to my cavalier attitude? Sorry, but I’m cynical. This happens every six months or so: some guy with a big mouth goes on a rant about OH NOES THE PRECIOUS CHILDREN OF OTHER PEOPLE I DONT KNOW. Then the internet hears about it and goes OH NOES THE PRECIOUS BOOKS IVE NEVER READ, and like boxes touching gloves at the center of the ring, that’s the signal for the big fight to start.

And for a time the WWW is a scene out of Braveheart or 300 There are swordfights and Spartan boasts and javelin impalings and dramatic final speeches and yadda yadda yadda, and somehow it all proceeds despite the fact that most of the time the internet has no opposing army. Just some loudmouth who ranted a bit at the start and then lost interest and walked away long before Paul Revere came trotting around on the drama llama. So it winds up being a bunch of Pikmin-like netizens against an army of very threatening strawman dummies, with the occasional boss fight against some lulz-seeking troll with powerful attacks but terrible AI. Yellers yell, criers cry, and the general public doesn’t really give a crap.

Then after a week or two, the Grand Crusade fizzles out and life goes on. Nothing changes, for good or bad. And then a month later it’s all forgotten. ‘Cause you know why people complain? Because there’s not a damn thing they can do about it. If they could do something, they wouldn’t talk about it, they would act. That goes for the people who try to dictate what shouldn’t be in YA fiction, and it goes just as much so for the people who immediately go into siege mode when someone’s wagging the finger at their favorite art form. It’s all useless screaming that drowns out content.

Calm down. Relax. Have some Ritz and Pepperjack.

I think the world is full of scary things, and the teen years are when a lot of people start realizing that the world isn’t always a happy, easy, safe place. I also think that there is so much terrifying stuff going on in the world these days that kids *need* an outlet to explore that in, and what better outlet than books? I can see why dystopian and post-apocalyptic stories are gaining popularity just by listening to the news. Sometimes it’s hard to know if society is even going to exist in fifty years with all of the doomsday predictions.

Besides, even though teenagers seem younger and younger every time I’m around them, I remember what that age was like, and they’re a lot more complex and grown up than we give them credit for.

We were all sure we were going to die in a nuclear apocalypse.
If that didn’t get you, AIDS or cancer would.
We felt powerless, relying on parents, school, etc. for everything, yet having no voice.
Pressures to get good grades, get into college, and so on were stifling.
Hormones, first crushes, and so on.
The pressure to be the same, to not be different was crushing.
Bullying was rampant.

These days, a nuclear end has been replaced by a terrorist end,
and you need to add in economic distress…but the rest haven’t changed.

I would have loved more literature about teens who navigate dark issues
with some success. They give hope.

I would have loved more literature where teens who were different found
their differences were a gift that gave them strength…gifts like magic,
etc. My differences giving strengths instead of weakness? What an idea.

I suspect those factors contribute to why paranormal YA is popular. Why take that away?

I have to admit, more often than not, I’m grabbing someone in an apron to point me in the right direction for a book. With such a wide spectrum of interest and themes found in YA, and considering how enthusiastic its readers are, the big-box stores need to do something about addressing the issue of easing and narrowing the browsing experience.

Shelf space is what it is. I don’t expect much change to happen there. But since most YA readers are practically computer engineers by age 10, and most are packing phones in their pockets more powerful than the computer I’m writing this on, you’d think someone might invent an app for that. Hey Apple, you listening?

So while I totally agree with Stephen that the mother should have been able to find something, the stores don’t necessarily make it easy or attractive. The question, then, is who needs to change the game–the publishers by supplying more variety, or the stores by better displaying said variety? Afraid there’s a chicken and an egg in that one…

I’d pay to see that and have popcorn ready for the ridiculous fallout.

But what offends me more than anything in that article is the story of the mother that left empty handed from the book store. How ignorant is that? There is always, ALWAYS a book waiting to be taken home from a bookstore that will enrich a child’s life. I mean, seriously. They’re not even hidden. Just ask one of the employees. #mamafail

This discussion makes me think about one of my favorite quotes, from GK Chesterton: “Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.”

But in the visceral reactions to Ms. Gurdon’s essay, at least in the pieces I’ve read, all the commentors have glossed over a critical, if only anecdotal fact: Mrs. Freeman “left the store empty-handed.”

Some of the people taking exception to Ms. Gurdon’s questions extol the value of having books that speak in an authentic voice to young readers. What I find ironic is that no one is bothered that Mrs. Freeman (who admittedly isn’t a young reader) didn’t find anything on the bookshelves that spoke to her or addressed her needs.

I, personally, wasn’t as offended by the WSJ piece as others because I read it as a call for greater variety. Why is dark the only authentic teen voice? Isn’t the fundamental point of those who object to Ms. Gurdon that we should have something for every one? If so, why are we so troubled when someone points out that the commercial side of bookselling seems inordinately focused on only one part of the spectrum?