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Here We Go...

Oh, heavens. It's happening again. I just finished a book that wasn't particularly lightweight in tone or topic but something about it tapped into that restless part of me that is just coming alive time of year when the weather is changing and everyone and everything seems to be going cuckoo for cocoa puffs. For a reasonably responsible adult, I am unbelievably susceptible to spring fever. It affects me to the core of my being, and I experience a period of total upheaval that dictates what I wear, eat, drink and, of course, read. I'm just so excited about my current queue, which includes not only the aforementioned Scott ARC but also:

Mary Pearson's The Adoration of Jenna Fox
Marc Acito's Attack of the Theater People
Maureen Johnson's Suite Scarlett
Maryrose Wood's My Life: The Musical
Hilary McKay's Forever Rose

Naturally that's only the appetizer for two seasons' worth of offerings that will surely tempt me to abandon all else for the sake of their alfresco consumption. And you know, I can live with that.

What's stoking the flames of your seasonal affect?

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

April is the Laziest Month

It's not that I'm uninspired when it comes to posting here... just preoccupied. I'm popping in today, really, to encourage you to do yourself a favor and read Elizabeth Scott's sharp, funny Perfect You. Ms. Scott is quickly blazing a trail as a favorite new YA author, and it is with glee that I also tell you that I also have my lucky little hands on the ARC of her follow-up, Stealing Heaven. It seems that "nyah nyah nyah!" would conclude that statement, but of course I am FAR too mature to rub my good fortune in your face like that.

Yes. Well. More soon.

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Exemplary

Thanks to my awesome book club, I've got a new-old addition to my slowly accumulating roster of books featuring gay teens whose portrayals don't make me want to hurt people. It's Dance on My Grave by  Aidan Chambers. I honestly had no idea that this book existed and it blew my mind. I made no secret of my strong aversion to Chambers's This Is All, but I can't automatically reject an author based on one book. That would be madness. In that spirit, I'm so glad I was prompted to give this one a chance.

Dance on My Grave is over 25 years old, so worrying about spoiling it seems ridiculous, yet I came in totally unspoiled and it made reading it that much more of an amazing experience for me. Really, what I want to know is, did everyone else know about this book all along, or is it a lost gem? I'm curious to hear. Right now, though, I've got a stack of other reading to attend to that is making me swoon, plus I have to do some retroactive homework and read this article (thanks to Amanda for the link) and maybe next week I'll be ready to get into the particulars of why this book made my YA honor roll.

Until then, Happy Opening Day - Go Sox!

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Gay Teen is the New Pregnant Teen

Would that I had read the two books sitting atop my library pile--Beth Goobie's hilariously named Hello, Groin and Peter Cameron's Someday This Pain Will be Useful to You--when I wrote that "Gay = Yay!" post. Both address homosexuality in very different ways, and both could have served as lovely accompaniments to help underscore my little manifesto. As in all things, timing makes such a difference.

I want to address Someday... first, because I was so taken by it, with the protagonist's unforgettable voice and the wonderfully drawn characters that surrounded him. James was entirely frustrating most of the time, but he felt real to me and (SPOILER ALERT)
.
.
.
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though his homosexuality came as no surprise to me by the time it was revealed by book's end, I love the way that it was incorporated as just part of him, a part of his makeup and possibly the one thing that didn't reduce him to a ball of angst.

Here's pretty much all you hear about it, after James's mother comes out and asks him if he's gay (p.192):

I knew she wanted to help me. I knew she was my mother and loved me and I didn't want to be mean, but there was something else inside me, something that was hard and stubborn that was mean. It just bugged me that she thought if I was gay she could do something to help, like give me a Band-Aid or something. And besides, being gay is perfectly cool these days, so why should I need help? And what help could my mother, whose third marriage only lasted a matter of days, be? I knew I was gay, but I had never done anything gay and I didn't know if I ever would. I couldn't imagine it, I couldn't imagine doing anything intimate and sexual with another person, I could barely talk to other people, so how was I supposed to have sex with them? So I was only theoretically, potentially homosexual.

Campbell is such a skillful writer. I admire his elegant and seamless way of making it known without making it an issue. Even though I read Hello, Groin first, I think my own mindset is so similar to James's that I couldn't help but be so impatient with Dylan (HG's protagonist) until almost the very end.

I liked Hello, Groin--particularly the passages about sex and masturbation which I thought were positive and well written--but I didn't love it because I couldn't help wanting to throttle Dylan because of the way she dealt with her constant inner turmoil. That's obviously not fair of me, but I just wished she could see what a pill she was for letting the popular kids impose on the way she lived her life. She was brave and likable in a number of ways, but every third sentence all I could think was, "You know you're a lesbian. For the love of god just come out all ready!" I couldn't relate to how she could find it preferable to live her life in constant fear of catty idiots.

When she finally did get around to being honest with the people in her life is when I really started to enjoy the book. Her parents (particularly her dad, you don't hear much about her mom) were awesome, as was her girlfriend Joc's mom. Cam, her perfect, sensitive jock boyfriend, was so much more than the one-note he could have been, and I appreciated that. I was pretty meh on the "out of the mouths of babes" five-year-old sister, but that's also my perpetual axe to grind. I guess my real reason for being so critical about this book is because of what I touched on last post, that I think the world is increasingly becoming one where we don't need "gay issue" books anymore. But just because we might not need them as much doesn't mean they aren't still important, or have any less right to be written. In all, I guess I should be happy that Dylan gets a happy ending and nobody dies. And I am. But you can't blame me for hoping that such books are becoming a thing of the past, can you? If my reviewing process were informed by Highlights for Children magazine, Hello, Groin would be the Goofus of YA novels with gay protagonists, and  Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You would the the Gallant.

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Start Building Your Gay Bomb Shelters

In light of the recent hubbub surrounding Sally Kern and her Big Gay Panic tirade, I'd like to take this opportunity to re-state the purpose of this blog. Although I focus mainly on the treatment of female sexuality in YA novels (as well as, unavoidably, life off the written page), I do care deeply about everyone's right to love and respect and, er, not be compared to a terrorist by virtue of having the audacity to be oneself. I think that most reasonable, intelligent people feel this way, even if they don't make a point to write about it on the internet.

It's times like these that I can't understate the importance of authors like Nancy Garden, who blazed a trail, using the novel as the medium for the message to teenagers who question their sexuality (and what teenager hasn't?) that they are not alone, and more importantly, they are not bad or wrong because of their feelings. Ms. Garden paved the way for Brent Hartinger and David Levithan and James St. James, authors who are still given flack for writing gay characters, but have at least progressed to the point where the characters' sexuality is not required to be the lesson or the plot point. Books featuring gay/lesbian/bisexual/transgendered kids are not just problem novels anymore about being persecuted, but about kids growing up and having sex and falling in love and they just happen to be GLBT. Just a fact of life. These authors have that option, and that is golden. Is it indoctrination? Maybe - and maybe it should be. That's right: hey parents of two-year-olds, some kids in your child's nursery school class will turn out to be gay, and that's OK. Some of them have two parents of the same sex and they're not trying to spread the gay any more than you are trying to promote your hetero agenda. More likely they're trying to toilet train and get a full night's sleep, just like you.

I think it's safe to say that the anyone who reads this blog is not in need of that little lesson. But I'd just like to stress that I intend for this to be a forum for so much more than whether or not young women get a fair shake in the sexuality department. Sometimes I need to get my blood properly boiled before I remember to say things I meant to say all along. Just needed to get that out there.

Oh, but I just can't resist - the study about 1 in 4 teenage girls with STDs? I have three things to say:

1) yeah, it's scary, on the surface, but I'm waiting for a deeper exploration
2) maybe this is just the thing we need to get some more comprehensive education out there in schools? (I can dream, can't I?)
3) when can we expect the accompanying study on teenage boys? I'm waiting....

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Because I Know You Were All Wondering

I'm still alive!  I guess I've been experiencing a dearth of cranky/effusive sentiment that I rely on to inspire a post. I must also admit that I have not been reading much lately because I have been using my evenings to catch up on movies. I assure you it's a temporary condition-- I can never stay away from books for long.

With less sheepishness I will also report that I've been hacking away at the second draft of my WIP. And, as if I need more projects, I'm collaborating with my brother and sister on a rock opera. I have no idea what I am doing, but it's an adventure and lordy is it fun.

So, maybe a post with substance soon, like, next week. Or maybe I'll have taken up pottery by then.

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Misappropriation-o-rama

This is a little outdated, but still on my mind.

I recently read this article--about a proposed TV series that is said to be "Juno-esque"--which caused my hopeful little heart to go limp with disappointment.

In case you couldn't pick it out, I'll pull the offending bit:

"Fifteen-year-old Amy Nicholson, pregnant after having one uncomfortable sexual encounter with the school's Don Juan, Ricky, tries to figure out a way to deal with her dilemma, as all around her peers face the reality of their own sexual (or non-sexual) choices."

One. Uncomfortable. Sexual. Encounter.

I have not seen this show, as it technically doesn't exist yet, so I can only make speculative judgment about it. I've also never seen 7th Heaven, so this is probably not fair to say, but I am familiar enough with the show's overall tone to know that the creator of both shows is trying to project a deliberate morality when it comes to premarital sex.

Having actually seen Juno, I will use it to illustrate why the idea of this show, and the comparison it draws to the movie, makes me so queasy.  I liked Juno a lot, I really did. But that doesn't mean I didn't have some problems with it, namely that Juno and Bleeker--two otherwise preternaturally smart kids--failed to use protection. However, without that little pregnancy detail, there wouldn't be a movie. So with that, I'll move on. Juno's pregnancy was a consequence of her actions, of course, which she freely accepted. Her protecting Bleeker from similar scarlet-letter fallout bugged me, but it did feel true to her character (and, in all honesty, even if it was openly acknowledged that he was the father of her baby, the stigma is just not applied in the same way in the real world). Still I never got the sense that she was being punished for having sex, or, more to the point, she is allowed to enjoy it.

Juno becomes pregnant as a result of having sex with a boy she adores. She wants to, it is her idea, and even though the pregnancy occurs her first time, she goes on to describe the experience as "magnificent." Throughout the movie the character is met with the disapproval of many others due to her condition, but she is always supported by her father and step-mother (two of my favorite characters in the film) as well as her awesome--and apparently responsibly sexually active--best friend (my absolute favorite). It's not the quirkiness or the instantly quotable, pop-culture rich dialogue, but this air of plain old level-headedness and reason that made the movie so honest and refreshing to me. After everything that she goes through, Juno is never looked upon as "ruined" and it's obvious that the screenwriter wants you to know that she goes on to have a fulfilling life, sex life included, and never for a moment is it implied that she is deserving of anything less.

That this TV show, where the female character isn't even allowed any enjoyment, is likened to Juno, makes me crazy I feel that the creators (or at least the reporters) are totally missing the point. Maybe the comparison arises simply because she's a pregnant teenager and that's so hot right now?  I'll have to wait and see until it gets its network debut, but in the meantime it doesn't stop me from lamenting the perpetuation of teenage sex statistic.

Getting back to actual YA Lit now, here's something to put in the nyah nyah nyah! files: I got an ARC of the Lockhart/Mlynowski/ Myracle joint, How to Be Bad. It was delicious fun (I don't want to out myself as an E. Lockhart superfan or anything, but I knew which character she wrote from the get-go).

Next up: Beth Goobie's Hello, Groin. Now what's all this about a sequel to Hard Love?

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Anyone Remember Fun?

This is less of a review of Restless Virgins than an examination of my reaction to it. Is that technically what "review" means? Perhaps, but for clarity's sake, know that this post will address the book's subject matter and how that made me feel versus being an actual critique.

I have conflicting emotions when it comes to the interconnected story of the class of 2005 at Milton Academy. Part of it is that deep down I share the same pearl-clutching dismay about the current state of adolescent sexual politics as the the book's two authors. They are frank about the impetus for Restless Virgins, which asks the question--in the wake of the 2005 oral sex scandal at Milton that saw the expulsion and criminal trial of several hockey players and the mysterious wild card that is the sole female participant--how things could have changed so drastically from their not-so-long-ago day at this prestigious private school. I've often found myself shaking my head at the way things seem to be going in regard to young women in their teens and early twenties, not specific to this one incident in this one school but what seems to be a widespread change in what is accepted or even expected sexual behavior that, to me, feels like backlash in what isn't even a full generation after I came of age.

Un-reciprocated oral sex is the tip of the iceberg of what disturbs me here, but it's a powerful symbol of the current climate, and it's the place where I'll start. According the ten or so students they interviewed who were seniors during the 2004-2005 school year, from before the time they started high school, it was common for boys and girls hook up freely, usually without any kind of commitment or intention of commitment and the one constant seems to be that girls perform oral sex on the boys with no expectation of reciprocity. Based on actual testimony, I have no reason to believe that this isn't true and that it doesn't happen with adolescents everywhere. I don't have much to say about the whole hooking up phenomenon - what interests me exists outside of any kind of judgment about whether sexuality belongs outside of love or committed relationships.

The thing that strikes me again and again is not necessarily the act itself and the casual attitude toward it, but  the overall inequality of the situation. What are these girls getting out of these interactions? Why would they willingly be party to something that smacks of exploitation? Jones and Miley, from the interplay of testimony from an almost equal number of boys and girls, draw up the dichotomy that these girls are usually seeking social status when they randomly and willingly engage in oral sex with boys. Not necessarily love or affection, though that is sometimes the case, but many of the subjects of Restless Virgins suggest otherwise. On the surface, it seems clear how the boys benefit, but there's also a by-product of them being on the receiving end which is that they have stories to share with their friends, as if every hook-up is done for the purpose of locker room fodder.

Using sex as a means to power is a theme as old as the hills and I don't doubt that there is truth to this version of how things are the way they are, particularly in the status-mad world where scholarship kids mix with the old moneyed. What truly disturbs me is that these young people seem to be very much aware of their motivations, they are already jaded and even their first forays into the world of sexuality are joyless. I can count on one hand the number of times that an incident is described as the result of mutually respectful exploration or just in the spirit of fun or pleasure. I know that adolescence is prime time for self-consciousness and low self esteem, but even the boys, whom you might believe to at least be following a societally condoned pursuit of id seem compelled more by what the experience will do for their standing than for their physical enjoyment. Frankly, I can't think of anything more depressing.

Though the Milton Academy students' experiences definitely have roots in the universal teenage experience, there are factors to be considered that inform the story of how Restless Virgins came to be. For example, Milton Academy is a community filled with the hyper-smart kids, leaders who are often legacies who feel that have images to project and reputations and expectations to meet. This can work against a healthy, fulfilling sex life because everyone is so preoccupied with their image, the future they envision and how they think things should be and what they should be doing. One of the subjects in particular, Reed, embodied this-- he came from an upper-middle class background and so aspired to the luxury that many of his friends and classmates were born into that his choice of sexual partners as well as what different things he would do with each one was carefully premeditated in terms of how it would affect his reputation. Even with all this consideration, it's clear that any of his transgressions would have been forgivable as long as there was a story behind it. Which leads me back to that old chestnut that might as well be the permanent subtext for this blog: the sexual double standard.

Of all the young women whose senior year was chronicled in the book, I can't think of one who didn't compromise herself sexually as a matter of course. These are all smart girls, the cream of their respective crops, yet one after the other they engaged in humiliating or unsatisfying trysts for no really good reason other than attempt to improve their social standing or boost their self esteem. Even bad girl Whitney, who was clearly the most  in touch with her own capacity for sexual pleasure, seems to fall short of subverting the paradigm-- she repeatedly cheats on her "true love" Nick, but even as she racks up a pile of meaningless conquests, she admits that Nick is the only one with whom she has enjoyable sex (even though she admits he was too squeamish to perform cunnilingus).

Part of the extreme frustration I felt with the girls profiled in the book was due to my own knee-jerk feminist impulse to defend them and their right to make choices. I believe that they are just as free as the boys to test out the waters and make mistakes in judgement while still being entitled to respect. But even with this, I am guilty of expecting so much more from them-- why did these otherwise shining stars allow themselves to be at the mercy of the guys? Instead of owning their sexuality, they use it as a shield, and some as a weapon. This conundrum--coming to terms with my personally held double standard--made me uneasy. My inability to reconcile my own biases will the number one reason why this book will haunt me for some time.

Obviously I want to expect more from the boys. What the book describes is a microcosm of a culture that rewards them for the same reasons the girls are punished, and it's a culture I've long railed against. But I find it all the more interesting when it comes to the crux of the book-- when several hockey players are expelled (and most of them are put on criminal trial) for engaging in what appears to be consensual oral sex with one underage female student, who comes to whose defense? And what's the difference between the sanctioned, official fallout and the general response? It is no surprise to me that the girl is vilified by most students for causing the boys' expulsion while she suffers no really legal or administrative consequence.
She is not held accountable by the school and is even allowed back, which I guess is due to her age.

The scandal erupted not because it was so unusual (clearly there were many, many similar incidents in which many other participants were involved if you believe the testimony of their fellow students), just that this particular group got caught and there was no longer a way to deny the reality of a very broken system. What everyone wanted to know was, what was going on in this girl's head when she agreed to or possibly proposed the idea of servicing several boys with no apparent prospect of reciprocity? Nobody really cares why the boys would do it because, well, they're boys. But how could someone have so little self respect? How does something like this come to be? That's the reason the book was written, to try to approximate an answer to these questions. Without the testimony of the young woman or that of the others involved, nobody will ever really know. But by writing this book and getting the candid, extensive point of view of those who made up the community at the time, have we come any closer to an answer? And is the very exposure and exploration enough to get to the heart of the problem and make a change? If, by addressing the disconcerting state of affairs, can we begin to break the cycle?

I have no idea. I hope so. I will say that I didn't put this book down feeling entirely hopeless about the state of today's teenagers. For one, teenagers are my favorite. I still refuse to ascribe to a hysterical mindset; I can't let the contents of one book make me think that they're all doomed just because some of them make me want to pull my hair out. I appreciate that there is an epilogue wherein most of the participants--even the boys, which I thought was especially important--attribute much of their behavior to the crippling insecurity that comes with one's high school years. Most said that they were much happier in all aspects once they moved on to college and away from their small, stifling, clique-riddled community at Milton, and that included healthier and more enjoyable sex lives.

It'd be a dream come true for me if that dark time was something we could find a way to prevent altogether. And the more we write about it and talk about it and educate kids I don't think it's an impossible dream. Here are some totally amazing people who are way ahead of me in that aspect (a small reprimand for my readers - how long have you known about The Midwest Teen Sex Show and not told me about it? How could you?).

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

Kindred

I've been so, so, so behind (I apologize to The Misfits - I do dearly wish to weigh in on recent discussions. Please don't take me to be a permanently delinquent member). It seems that award season has passed me by entirely. How? But I feel, as of today, that I've finally, hopefully, maybe gotten caught up and can get back to my life of reading and then analyzing to death what I've read.

First up: Abigail Jones and Marissa Miley's Restless Virgins.  It's not YA fiction, but it counts for my purposes. I'm sure a lengthy post will follow.

My "to-read" pile is miles high as it is, but I have to say I am beyond psyched about the roster of books being released this year (Portman and Zarr and Green, oh my!).

I will close by confiding my vain blogger's hope that just one person besides me read Wendy McClure's awesome article about Superbad in the most recent issue of Bust and thought of me. I feel my first ever letter to the editor is in the works....

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman

For Pup

Hello, out there, and Happy New Year. 2008 has gotten off to a decidedly rotten start for me, as I lost my beloved grandfather on January 3rd. He was my favorite person in the entire universe, and will miss him with all my heart, forever and ever.

One of the many wonderful things about my Pup is that he was unconditionally proud of his grandchildren, and supported our dreams no matter how confounding to him they might be. So I dedicate this year to his memory, and with renewed focus I vow to buckle down, finish revising my WIP, and get the thing published already. Easy as pie, right? I'm absolutely serious, though.

I'm also thrilled about being invited to take part in a new online book club which will not only be  fun and stimulating for it's own sake, but I think will also inspire more thoughtful posts on this here thing. I don't do New Year's resolutions, per se, and I'm more than a week late for that anyway, but it's nice to have a vague plan for the coming year. That will have to do for now.

Written material © 2008 Dawn Emerman