Once upon a time, I wandered into the YA fiction section of the bookstore and I never came out again... figuratively speaking, that is. It was there that I discovered fresh voices that were sharper and more in tune with everything. There were new stories about some pretty weird stuff, and genres mixed without divide. In some ways, it was like a little kid being set free in a toy store and told they could have anything they wanted. Time after time, I was enraptured with new characters and new story lines. I bought more books than I probably should have, considering the fact that I didn't have a job and was living off of holiday/birthday money gifts.
It was fantastic.
But these days? Well, let's just say that my gaze has taken to wandering once again.
The truth is, I've grown sort of bored with YA fiction.
A couple of months ago, I was going through the books in my room and I realized that there was one I had forgotten to finish reading. It was a YA fiction book that I had bought the year before and, almost immediately upon starting it, I grew very attached to it. In fact, I remembered raving about how much I liked it while I was reading it before. So, I decided to finish it up. There were only fifty pages or so until the end and I couldn't believe that I had left it alone in the first place.
Thirty minutes later, I was done with it and I was confused. Was that boredom I felt? Why didn't I care? A few months ago, that was one of my favorite books, so where were the amazing characters I had raved about? Where was the story line that had me hooked from the first page? Why did the ending -- the most important part of this particular novel -- feel like nothing more than sand slipping through my fingers? What, exactly, had I loved so much?
I couldn't answer those questions. So, I decided that I was having an off day and I put the book back on my shelf. Wrong time to read that, I thought. But then I looked at another YA book I had read earlier on, and I realized that I couldn't remember what it was about. I vaguely recalled a bossy secondary character and a club, but that was it.
From that point on, I made a point to observe what I felt after reading new YA novels. And, after another novel or two, I began to think that what I had felt and noticed that day was a fluke. I read new novels and I liked the characters and I felt empowered at the end of the book. But then, I noticed something new that I had overlooked before. A few days after I read the newest novel I had purchased, the details were getting fuzzy. I couldn't quite remember the character's voice and that great feeling I had after I read it had dissipated. My friend wanted to discuss the novel with me, and I found myself flipping through it just to find what chapters I had really liked. Only, what I really found was that nothing in particular had really stood out to me when I went back through it.
There were no lines that made me laugh. Not like the first time I read it. There were no characters with enough depth for me to really comment on. And the story line that I thought I loved when I first read it, well, that felt rushed and sort of flimsy. I am a little lost on what to say now, because the more YA novels I read, the more I'm finding that I have this reaction a few days later.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that all YA fiction has gone down the hole (There are still plenty of YA fiction books that I adore. For example, there's Sabriel by Garth Nix and Psyche in a Dress by Francesca Lia Block, both of which I will probably end up reviewing on here at some point.), but there is something in the YA market that is really losing me these days, and I can't quite pinpoint what it is.
If I had to take a guess, I would probably say that YA books tend to move a lot faster than other types of fiction. I think part of that is meant to keep the attention of the audience and to keep them wrapped up in the story, but I'm getting the feeling that these fast-paced, compact stories aren't capturing the weight of the plot, the characters and the details.
Of course, there's a chance that this is all just a phase for me. Granted, I haven't had any reemerging feelings of fondness for the books that have lost my interest so quickly -- even after several months pass -- but there's still a chance, and I'm willing to hang onto that for a while longer. Maybe in a couple months, I'll be back with a perplexed look on my face and a totally different opinion on this matter. But, for the moment, I am not sold.
What are your thoughts on this? Anyone else in the same boat?
PS: I'll still be finishing the 2011 Debut Author Contest. But after that is over, I think I'll be taking a break from reviewing YA books. I've got some wonderful other books that I would like to review for you, and I can only hope that you'll find enjoyment in other types of reading, too.
PPS: I have not reviewed books that are falling under this category of thought, so those authors whose books I have reviewed on here should not feel this is directed toward them. And, likewise, if I haven't reviewed a book that I said I bought, you can probably assume that I'm just busy and I haven't read it yet.
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