Recommendations for Teens

As reported by the L.A. Times only a week ago, “Young adult continues to be the literary world’s fastest-growing genre.”  There are a lot of reasons for that, some discussed here, but one big reason is that, after fifty or so years of pretentious, plotless literary fiction, adults are lining up for good stories.  At the same moment, YA authors are pushing the limits both of content and treatment, so teen readers and twenty-something readers (or older) can meet in the middle.  The long-awaited movie version of The Hunger Games in March will probably only accelerate the trend.

There’s a lot of trash in the YA bin, and a lot that, while not exactly trash, isn’t especially edifying either.  But there’s some good stuff out there, too.  Here’s a new one worth a look, and I’ve also rounded up my top five from this year.

Ultraviolet, by R. J. Anderson.  Carolrhoda Lab (Learner Group), 2011, 303 pages.  Age/interest level: 13-up.

When Alison Jeffries wakes up in an unfamiliar place with a head full of screaming memories and arms scarred with angry welts, it takes a while to sort things out.  She’s in a psych hospital, and the police want to talk to her as a “Person of Interest” in a murder case.  Or rather, a missing person case: Victoria Beaugrand, the school’s ‘it’ girl, has not been seen or heard of since the two girls had a well-observed screaming fight in the parking lot.  Everybody wants to know what Alison knows.  What Alison knows, or at least suspects, is that she killed Tori.  But she doesn’t know how, or why.  How could she cause a flesh-and-blood human being to simply disintegrate?

Within the first few pages of this first-person psychological thriller, we know we are inside a remarkable consciousness. “As the oily slick across my senses thinned, color and shapes crept into my awareness.  Faint blue splashes of footsteps on tile, the dry hiss of air-conditioning, a silken ribbon of murmurs outside my door . . . a sandpaper rasp of ‘Nurse!’”  This kind of cross-sensory writing can be a case of author overreach, but justified here, because Alison has synesthesia.  Not even she knows what that is, until it’s explained to her: “All it means is that your senses are interconnected, or cross-wired, so that when one sense is stimulated one or more other senses respond at the same time.”  That’s why she can ascribe color to a number, why she tastes shapes and feels music.  It’s a neurological phenomenon, not a mental illness.  The person who explains this to her is a young researcher named Sebastian Faraday—or is he?  Almost as soon as she meets him, and (inevitably) starts falling for him, Alison has reason to suspect he’s not what he claims to be.  In fact, over the course of her stay in Pine Hills, she will be forced to reevaluate all her perceptions—not the sensory ones, but attitudes about her fellow inmates, nurses, orderlies, primary physician, and Tori Beaugrand.  “Everything you believe is wrong”: enemies may be friends, friends aren’t always friendly, and guys who act like jerks may deserve some sympathy.  And even girls with extraordinary perception can be mistaken: “I had been arrogant, and stupid as well.”

All this is somewhat familiar YA territory, but Anderson makes a bold move two-thirds of the way through, launching from psychological murder mystery to science fiction.  I can’t explain how without giving too much away, but at first it seemed like an end run to sensationalism.  The last third could probably have been set up a little better to avoid the jolt of shifting genres, and it seemed to lack full development.  But it’s worth sticking to the end, which will stretch not only Alison’s perceptions, but ours as well.  Then it will be fun to talk about the God factor.

Though Anderson deals with some gritty subject matter she gets the grittiness across with no bad language or graphic scenes.  For all Alison’s special gifts, she’s a typical teen with fragile self-image, mom problems, and romantic yearnings.  She invests far too much in a single young man but that’s something most young women have to learn through experience.  And he is rather outstanding . . .

Now, my top five:

Divergent – The first installment of one of the year’s best-received dystopian series.  Not my favorite genre, but this one stands out from the pack for its Christian themes. UPDATE: Be aware, though, the subsequent volumes of the series are disappointing, especially for rather graphic sexual content.

The Year We Were Famous –“Based on a true story,” this historical novel features a cross-country hike and one of the best portraits of a mother-daughter relationship I’ve ever read.

Entwined – A romantic fantasy based on “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”: a little too long, but with much understated charm and even some food for thought.

The Wingfeather Trilogy – three volumes, completed this year.  Tolkein-esque in its creation of a fantasy world where good ultimately triumphs.

Homelanders – four volumes, completed this year: nonstop action, an admirable protagonist, twists and turns and narrow escapes.  Don’t trust anybody!  Except God, your girlfriend, and your parents.

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