Friday Reads: INVINCIBLE SUMMER, by Hannah Moskowitz

For some reason, perhaps my disappointingly secure and loving upbringing, I have a thing for stories about dysfunctional families.  If it comes down to a choice between a teenager with a mythical destiny and a teenager with a crushing sense of responsibility and loyalty to his or her family, well, I'll skip the destiny and go straight for the good stuff.  All the better if that teenager really is the only one holding things together (if anyone ever writes a grown-up version of the Boxcar Children, I will devour it).

All this is just to explain that I was a little biased when I opened up Invincible Summer.  See, I read Break (also by Hannah Moskowitz) because I loved the concept, and discovered a richly screwed-up family story in the process.  When I saw descriptions of Invincible Summer, I assumed - or at least hoped - that the themes of teenagers with too much weight on their shoulders would show up again, and Invincible Summer didn't disappoint.

Chase "Everboy" McGill, as he's nicknamed by a certain unfavorite character, is the second of four children, and even in the first summer of the book, at age 15, he's in over his head.  The older brother he idolizes, Noah, can't even show up at Chase's birthday; his eleven-year-old sister Claudia alternates between translating for their Deaf younger brother Gideon and trying to provoke police officers into charging her with public indecency (that's her on the cover of the book, by the way).

There's a girl, Melinda, because the neatest way to understand a teenage boy's emotions toward his family is to see them performed with someone else.  Any romance, though, is secondary to the sweeping and painful and real story of Chase's family, from his imperfect, loving parents to his siblings, each of which is clearly the star of his or her own story.  Melinda calls him Everboy, but he's a person with too much to carry, trying to cling to whatever of his childhood remains.

At its heart, this book is like all the best young adult fiction - it's about learning how to grow up, about the unfairness of shouldering a burden that shouldn't be yours in the first place, about stepping in because someone else can't or won't.  Naturally, it's also clever and funny and heartbreaking, because why should the author limit herself to perfectly capturing adolescence on the page?  Go get yourself a copy - this book sticks with you, such that I'm still turning it over in my mind more than a week after reading it.

Buy the book at Powell's or your local bookstore, show it some love on Goodreads, and check out Hannah Moskowitz's blog.

News, Changes, Revisions: A Filler Post

Guess what, guys?  I'm revising!  Again!  Yes, it makes for a dull blog, but right now I'm focused on a) revising CoYA (that contemporary YA novel I finished writing about a month ago) and b) writing a more-or-less adult novel.  I'll be moving to a once-a-week posting schedule, because let's be honest, it's silly for me to post three times a week saying "Revising.  Still revising.  Yup, STILL revising."

In fun news, I'm registered for SCBWI's summer conference in Los Angeles (in addition to Sirens in the fall).  My writing travel budget is long-since spent, but I think both will be loads of fun.  Let me know if you're headed to either one.

Real post coming soon.  Until then, enjoy some xkcd.

The Kids May Be All Right, But What About the Parents?

Crossposted at GayYA.org

Parents in YA literature tend to fall into one of two categories – absent or obstacle. If they’re absent, they may be dead or simply unaware; if they’re obstacles, they actively interfere with the protagonist’s attempts to achieve his or her goals.

YA lit with gay characters takes this tradition to a new extreme. Parents are either fearsome zealots or bigots who reject their children at the first sign that they’re not ruler-straight, or they’re well-meaning but ultimately out-of-touch smotherers who get so wrapped up in the cause of gay rights that they end up ignoring whatever personal struggles their child experiences. It’s hardly surprising that books about gay teens would feature parents who don’t understand, whether out of close-mindedness or simple lack of awareness, but that’s not the universal experience.

Where, in YA books, are the parents who’ve had their own struggles with identity? Where are the gay and lesbian couples raising kids, the transgender parents, the bisexual mom or dad who could understand and sympathize with how their teenagers feel? Parents are rarely the focus of YA books, and only infrequently are they allowed to be fully realized characters with emotional depth. They can lend such dimension to books, though, that it’s a shame they don’t get more development.

Certainly, in many parts of the world, including the United States, teenagers who come out face rejection by their parents. But there’s a whole host of responses in between “get out of my house this instant” and “I’m going to start a PFLAG chapter!” and it would be lovely to see that range better represented in YA fiction. What about the parents who love their kid no matter what, but worry that they’ll be bullied at school for coming out? Where are the parents who are uncomfortable with homosexuality but work to shift their worldview? Why don’t we get to see the fights between a concerned parent who doesn’t want their kid to be sexually active, no matter who he or she is with, and a teenager who asserts that it’s vital to developing his or her identity?

The religious family narrative can still be relevant, but let’s see something more complex than a knee-jerk anti-gay reaction. Why can’t one parent be supportive, and another uncomfortable? How about a religious parent determined to find biblical justification for gay or lesbian relationships? A church or temple where being LGBTQ is perfectly acceptable? Times are changing – fictional families should change with them.

What’s the most realistic depiction of a gay teen’s family that you’ve read?