The discussion of genre is enough to send any lecture-attending literature student into a spiral of existential dread. We all know what a genre is and can give a rough description of what each genre means. If the story solves a murder case it’s a murder mystery, if it is set in a magical made up land, it’s fantasy, if it stars Matthew McConaughey circa 2004, it’s a romantic comedy. However, when we start to define the limits of different genres, and what makes one unique from another, these boundaries can become increasingly blurry, and the young adult (YA) genre is no exception. Most people have the concept of YA as teenage books, which is not incorrect, but if we press what exactly makes these books solely for teenagers, the answers become a bit more vague.
“Springing up between the dichotomy of adult and children’s literature, YA can be seen as a broad field, similarly to adult literature, that spans across genres such as romance, science fiction, fantasy, dystopian, historical fiction, and more”
“YA just means that the protagonist is under the age of eighteen,” Maureen Johnson tells me as we sit down to discuss the place of YA in the world of literature. “That’s all it is.” Having stumbled into young adult literature almost accidentally, as the current concept of the genre was being formed, Maureen Johnson quickly became a prominent player in the YA field. While the term ‘young adult’ has been around since the 1960s, the genre truly entered its Renaissance in the 2000s and 2010s. Books like The Hunger Games, Percy Jackson, and Johnson’s own Truly Devious series became hallmarks of this new phase, propelled by marketing strategies focused on getting books into the hands of teenagers — the age at which most people stop reading recreationally. Some scholars argue that labelling YA as a genre imposes too many constraints on its meaning. Springing up between the dichotomy of adult and children’s literature, YA can be seen as a broad field, similar to adult fiction , that spans across genres such as romance, science fiction, fantasy, dystopian, historical fiction, and more. YA also doesn’t shy away from tackling serious and broad topics analogous those in adult fiction, such as identity, love, loss and personal growth. “[YA novels] go through every genre,” Johnson explains, “they go through every form. There’s no structure to it, like every other body of literature it has a massive variation in form and style.” This leaves the defining feature that sets YA apart from other bodies of literature is its focus on young protagonists, those under the age of 18.
Using a younger protagonist is a very powerful tool for exploring life’s pivotal firsts —the ones that shape a person. “If you have a young protagonist, it means they’re going to be going through firsts,” Johnson explains. “They’re not going to have the same level of experience.” This approach allows authors to lay the emotional groundwork for new experiences. In a recent report on reading and wellbeing, Harper Collins found that many YA fans love the genre for its relatability and relevance to their own lives. This might explain why readers in their twenties part ways from YA , as they no longer feel they can relate to younger characters. However, the same report found that a significant 46% of YA readers are between the ages of 18–27, with older readers often returning to the genre for comfort, nostalgia, a sense of familiarity or a reprieve from the pressures of adult life. In her personal experience, Johnson doesn’t see a rigid demographic for YA books: “You see a lot of people [in their] teens and 20s, but then you see a little 10-year-old who’s here and someone who’s 70.” So, if there is such a wide age discrepancy in who is reading YA, why is there such a stigma around reading it in your twenties?
“Our lonely YA is diminished and dismissed from critical discourse. And this condescension doesn’t stop at the ivory towers of publishing or academia, it trickles down into the conversations of Trinity students today”
Unfortunately, I think the answer lies less within the covers of the books but within the people who trace their spines. Literature, unsurprisingly, is not exempt from the snobbery that pervades the humanities, with many books being banished outside the realm of serious fiction cast out into the cold along with popular genres such as chick lit and supernatural. Our lonely YA is diminished and dismissed from critical discourse. And this condescension doesn’t stop at the ivory towers of publishing or academia, it trickles down into the conversations of Trinity students today. With a reputation for elitism, it is no wonder why many Trinity students parrot the opinion that YA is not ‘real’ literature. Why waste time flicking through a poolside paperback when you can be slogging through Melville or wading through Joyce or fighting the existential uphill battle of Camus (cheap pun very much intended.) I’ve been in countless English literature lectures where YA books such as Twilight have been introduced but not without the pretence of being below serious discussion and something long outgrown. “There are good books and bad books all over the place,” Johnson says, “What is defined from literature is an outside eye looking for something to fit a box.”
“Has this opinion of YA as something to be outgrown permeated through us because we have all drank the Kool-Aid of what is and isn’t considered literature?”
“It’s without question that some books are better than others, but that is determined by others.” Has this opinion of YA as something to be outgrown permeated through us because we have all drank the Kool-Aid of what is and isn’t considered literature? In the end, perhaps the question isn’t whether YA fits into the narrow confines of what “real” literature is, but why we continue to let others define it for us. The truth is, whether it’s The Fault in Our Stars, The Mortal Instruments, or To Kill a Mockingbird, the themes explored in YA resonate just as strongly with readers of all ages. While certain books may be considered better than others, as Johnson wisely points out, that judgment is often shaped by who gets to decide what counts as significant literature. In the end, the real question may not be whether YA qualifies as real literature, but why we continue to let outdated definitions shape what stories we deem worth reading.
