by Mary Lenore ’26
My senior year of high school, I took a class on young adult books. Every week during our lunch hour, my class would meet and discuss the week’s assigned readings. We read a graphic novel one week; a fantasy-romance the next. But what is the point in reading these frivolous stories when compared to classic, highbrow literature? How can you call this glorified book club a high school course? Well, for one, the concept of “highbrow” is derived from the historical and cultural perspective of any given moment. That is to say, arbitrary. It’s a distinction that is often racist, classist, and in many other ways, biased. Zora Neal Hurston wasn’t “accepted” into the literary canon until years after her death. Now every high school class reads Their Eyes Were Watching God. One person’s trash is another’s treasure. There will always be haters. However you want to articulate it, there has to be some other way to quantify the hallmarks of good literature without deferring to the opinions of those far removed from us.
The qualities of a good book will vary from reader to reader, critic to critic. However, my teacher was of the opinion that books should serve as doors, windows, and mirrors. A book is a door when it captivates readers and convinces them to empathize with the characters. Books are windows when they give readers a peek into the experiences of others, and books are mirrors when the narrative reflects their own experiences. That being said, a teen literature class makes perfect sense as a high school course. Since these books are written for an adolescent audience and tackle themes of change and self-discovery, they are certainly mirrors for high school students. Imagine the difference these books, for worse or better, can have in shaping a teen’s sense of the world.
My favorite book we read during that class, now one of my favorite books ever, was Last Night at the Telegraph Club by Malinda Lo. To simply call it a historical fiction would be a disservice. Set in 1950s San Francisco against the background of the Red Scare and the Space Race, a young Chinese girl learns how to love in a world hostile to her existence. She struggles to maintain the expected appearances while exploring the things she desires. In so many ways, I saw myself in main character Lily. I had never read a queer story with an Asian lead, one who has to reckon with the intersection of race and sexuality. Seeing Lily, seeing myself, in this beautifully compelling novel was incredibly comforting. For me, this book was a door and a window, but most importantly, a mirror.
At twenty years old, I am outgrowing the target age demographic of the young adult genre. The tropes feel tired, the situations inconsequential. Still, I cannot deny the purpose the genre has served me and countless others. So don’t count out the teen section of your local bookstore and long reign the young adult novel.