Writing, Young Adult Fiction

Writing YA Dystopia: Two different opinions

6 Comments 11 January 2011

In a couple months I have to teach a class about writing dystopian fiction, so I’m reading as much as I can on the subject. The question that everyone seems to be asking is: why do teenagers love it so much?

While I don’t think that there’s a single answer, and I don’t mean to claim that all readers have the same motivations, some answers seem much more likely to me than others, and one answer in particular bugs me.

Before I start pulling out the quotes from other stuff I’ve been reading, let me tell you my theory (which, admittedly, isn’t terribly original):

Dystopian fiction is almost always about oppression and control, and there is no group of Americans who views themselves as more oppressed and controlled than teenagers. They’re at an age where they are becoming more and more capable–physically, mentally, etc–and yet they’re still not allowed to make many choices about their lives. They are in a very structured environment, moving every hour at the ring of a bell to a different room where they learn things they’re required to learn, whether they want to or not. Depending on their school, they might not be able to wear what they want, sit where they want, or even set foot off campus during a certain period of time. After school they may work at a job which gives them responsibility, but still no real choices–they can use their minimum wage salary to buy some consumer goods or some fast food, but they can’t use that small amount of money to change their situation in life. At home they have to follow their parents’ rules, continue studying things they don’t appreciate, and do chores–forced labor–for a system they have little or no say in (kind of a taxation-without-representation scenario).

I’m not saying high school or parents or homework are bad. I’m just saying that it’s easy to see how teenagers view themselves as oppressed and controlled.

I remember when I was in high school we’d protest everything. The school was less than a mile from the state capitol building, and there was more than one occasion when students would walk out and march up the hill shouting something or other. And it seemed like I was school board meetings every couple of months, joining my friends in the only way we could make our displeasure known. And lest you get the wrong impression, I wasn’t much of a hooligan–half the time I was protesting in favor of the status quo, protesting against other protesting teenagers. But the point is: teenagers want to fight for something. They want choices, and they want a voice.

Consequently, it’s not at all surprising that teens suck up books like Matched and The Maze Runner and The Hunger Games as though they were the last drops of water in the desert. These books are metaphors of the teenage condition, yet they all have heroic teens who break free from their oppressor’s controls.

So, that’s my theory about why teens love dystopia.  Here’s the theory that bugs me:

As author Paolo Bacigalupi put it in a recent New York Times article: “I suspect that young adults crave stories of broken futures because they themselves are uneasily aware that their world is falling apart.”

As my brother, Dan Wells, put it on his blog: “Dystopia is huge right now, especially in YA. This is probably due to the fact that we live in one–or, more correctly, this is due to the fact that YA readers are finally paying close enough attention to realize that we live in one.”

I have no quibble with either Bacigalupi’s assertion that the world is falling apart, or Dan’s claim that we live in a dystopia. Both of those claims are subjective, but I’d tend to agree with both, to some extent. No, my complaint is with the idea that our political and cultural climate is what’s turning teens on to dystopian fiction–and I especially worry that if you write a story with that mindset it could easily lead to pedantic, plot-driven fiction.

Teens may be paying more attention to world events, with knowledge more readily available at the click of a button, I think they’re also more media savvy, and if there’s anything that teens DON’T want, it’s to be preached to. I have many friends who read James Patterson’s Maximum Ride series with pleasure, until it became clear that the book’s underlying message was about the dangers of global warming, at which point they quit reading (and some of these friends are environmentalists themselves).

It’s not that this second theory about dystopia (from Dan and Bacigalupi and others) is wrong–it’s that it’s a dangerous mindset for authors to have as they approach their writing, because it implies the most important aspect of the book is the plot: that teens want to read dystopia because they want “What If?” scenarios and extrapolated futures. And I think that’s just plain not true. Above all else, most readers want (and teens especially) to be able to relate. They want an emotional connection to characters and situations. They want to say “This character is like me!” not “This corrupt government is like my corrupt government!” If that’s lacking, then no amount of frightening, not-too-distant-future dystopia will make the book worth reading.

Disclaimer: both Paolo Bacigalupi and Dan Wells are both fantastic, award-winning authors who write great books with great characters, and I’m sure they’d agree with me that emotional connection is extremely important. I’m merely saying that, as advice to authors, I don’t think you should approach YA dystopia with that kind of top-down look.

Media Consumption, Writing, Young Adult Fiction

Two Ways to Hunt Monsters

No Comments 08 October 2010

Several weeks ago I compared two books that were very similar in premise but very different in execution. One was Life as We Knew it, a YA apocalyptic novel about a teenage girl and her family hiding in their home as natural disasters dramatically change the world around them. The other was In a Perfect World, in which a 30-something woman and her family hiding in her home as an epidemic dramatically changes the world around them.  The premises are extremely similar, yet the books are surprisingly different in tone and style. Both are enjoyable, and the fact that they’re similar doesn’t diminish either.

So, after having written about that, it was with great delight that I stumbled upon two more books with similar premises, but with extremely different executions.

The first is Paranormalcy, a YA paranormal romance by Kiersten White. The story follows Evie, a sixteen-year-old girl who works for the International Paranormal Containment Agency (IPCA). Evie has the remarkable ability to see through other paranormals’ glamours: instead of seeing a suave and seductive vampire, she can see the shriveled, skeletal undead creature underneath. Since she’s seemingly the only person on earth with this power, Evie is a highly-prized and powerful monster hunter. She can pick paranormals (vampires, werewolves, hags, etc) out of a crowd easily, and ambush them.

My favorite part of this book, hands-down, is the voice. The first-person narrative is irreverent, sarcastic, and sassy–but also vulnerable and self-conscious. Evie, despite her job, is still a teenage girl. (Her taser is pink, and she names it Tasey.)

The other book is Monster Hunter International, by Larry Correia.  The premise is similar: there’s an international agency tasked with capturing and killing paranormal monsters (including many of the same ones Evie fights: werewolves, vampires, etc), and the main character is a star member of the team.

The difference is that Monster Hunter International is written by a gun nut, for gun nuts. (Larry told me that while he may not be a bestseller in New York, he’s a bestseller in Baghdad.) The main character, Owen, is a former professional (underworld) fighter, a gun aficionado, and he manages to kill a werewolf with his bare hands in the first chapter. Rather than the IPCA’s attempts at capture and containment (in Paranormalcy), Monster Hunter International is more inclined toward machine guns and flame throwers.

Evie’s taser is named Tasey. Owen’s automatic shotgun is named Abomination.

And both books are phenomenally fun. I’m not sure which one I liked more–I loved them both.  It just goes to show–once again–that two authors can take similar ideas and create two entirely different (and fantastic) stories.

Media Consumption, Young Adult Fiction

Mockingjay: Good End to a Great Series

14 Comments 31 August 2010

This blog is filled with spoilers, from one end to the other, so stop now if you care about that kind of thing.

SPOILERS! SPOILERS!

Well, now that those people are gone, we can talk about things openly. (Man, I hate those guys.)

First, I just need to make a complaint. I like to support bookstores and such, but I ended up trying to buy this book at Walmart (because I work in a cultural wasteland that has no bookstores, and I was buying this on my lunch break). (That cultural wasteland is: West Valley City.) Anyway, Walmart failed me. They didn’t have Mockingjay anywhere–no displays, no shelf space, no anything–and this was the day after the book came out! I had to go next door to the Sears Grand, if you can imagine. They seemed shocked to have a customer (and rightly so, because their shelves were mostly empty). But, they had Mockingjay, and I purchased it, and the fourteen dollars I paid doubled that store’s revenue for the entire week.

But on to the book.

I loved it, and it bugged me. But mostly I loved it.

My loves are many, but the biggest thing that I liked about the book is that it was written honestly. Mockingjay was the natural conclusion to The Hunger Games. Any society that would treat it’s children as is protrayed in the first book, would do equally cruel things elsewhere, and overthrowing that society would reveal the worst elements of it. So, while some people have complained about the gore and the shock, I think they were absolutely necessary, and I really couldn’t imagine the book without them.

But as far as natural conclusions go, I think Suzanne Collins excelled far beyond the requirements of the setting. Elana Johnson and I were recently talking about Hunger Games, and how the dystopian world was created. One worldbuilding technique for dystopia is to take a troublesome aspect of our culture, extend it out to it’s furthest, most dangerous conclusion, and look at the consequences. Using this model, I simplistically said that Hunger Games is an extension of our love for reality TV and voyeurism. Elana looked at it much deeper: it’s not just about reality TV, but it’s about using the media to control people.

Collins took that theme–controlling the populace through propaganda–and took it to its natural conclusions as well. Katniss has been a propaganda puppet in every book, though managed in a different way. In Hunger Games, she’s somewhat independent, but controlled by Haymitch, who teaches her how to perform on camera (and rewarding her when she creates the right TV story). In Catching Fire, she’s controlled by Snow, performing on camera to prove that she’s not a rebel leader–she’s just a girl in love. And in Mockingjay, she’s now controlled by the rebel government (which isn’t so much good, but the lesser of two evils), and she’s followed from photo-op to photo-op by stylists and producers.

(It’s worth noting that every propaganda campaign is foiled when Katniss rejects the control of her puppeteers–attempting suicide, destroying the force field, and killing Coin. She did all of it on camera, taking temporary control of the propaganda message being spread.)

So, to me, all of this kind of thing is what really makes the book work. There are smaller aspects of the plot and characters that I questioned, but it’s this ongoing consistency of the deeper themes and messages that really make Mockingjay a great conclusion.

I’m only going to quickly touch on the characters, since I didn’t really have any issues with them. I think that Katniss is also the natural continuation of Katniss–she’s exactly how we should have expected her to be. I think that there was a feeling among fans and internet forums that this book was going to be the romantic culmination: Team Peeta vs. Team Gale. But, while that is an interesting element of the book, I don’t think anything in the previous two books have led us to expect romantic happy endings. Katniss has been Katniss since the first chapter of the first book, and her actions and motivations have remained very consistent.

(Sidenote: From a storytelling perspective, I’ve never understood the Team Gale crowd. While Katniss liked him, he’s never had enough significant screen time for the readers to get to like him, and a romance where the readers don’t feel emotionally connected is the touch of death. So, I think that most Team Gale people were deluding themselves. They were Team Gale because they didn’t like Peeta; they liked the idea of Gale, not the actual character.) (TAKE THAT, TEAM GALE JERKS.)

(Another sidenote: I thoroughly enjoyed Peeta rediscovering Katniss and learning that she’s kind of a jerk. He’s always put up with her crap, because he’s in love with her, but when he’s no longer in love with her, he realizes that she’s always treated him terribly. I found that phase in his recovery delightful.) (This is not to say that I dislike Katniss. I just think it was a clever turn.)

A few problems:

I have two main complaints with Mockingjay, and they both have to do with the final third. First, it was hard to suspend my disbelief with all the “pods” in the Capitol. To have so many of them, and so creative and wacky, all over the place would have been insanely expensive and logistically impossible. (For example: the Meat Grinder or the street that opens up–when did they build those massive crazy things? How did they keep it a secret from the populace? How did could they afford them all (because, presumably, there are wacky, enormous things like the Meat Grinder all over the Capitol).

Second, and more important, everything that happens in the final third–from the point where Katniss enters the Capitol and heads for Snow–is ultimately a failure that doesn’t accomplish anything and costs a lot of lives. The government would have been overthrown just as effectively if she hadn’t gone (because the rebels get to Snow at the same time Katniss does). I have no problem with her failing; I just didn’t like that her failure didn’t mean anything. Nothing was gained, and the losses were only chalked up to “War sure stinks”, not “Katniss wasted all their lives for nothing”.

But, all of that said, I think this was a phenomenal book, and a really groundbreaking series. It’s always nice to see dystopia do well, but this one brought a whole new audience to the genre, and then kicked the genre’s butt.

Variant, Writing, Young Adult Fiction

Stop Worrying If Your Vision Is New

2 Comments 27 July 2010

Not too long ago I blogged about how authors can waste a lot of time speculating about the market. When we sit down to write a book we’re making such a big investment of our time that we want to make sure, from the very beginning, that the concept is as bulletproof as possible. There are few things so disheartening as to work on a story for months only to discover that someone else is writing something with a similar premise–and theirs was finished first! Now yours will never sell, or worse: you’ll look like a plagiarist!

We authors tend to be neurotic anyway, and things like this only make our mental problems worse.

I recently read two novels with a very similar concept. The first was Life As We Knew It, by Susan Beth Pfeffer.  The story follows a teenage girl as the world around her is falling apart; a massive asteroid hits the moon, knocking it closer to earth. The change in the gravitational pull causes all sorts of problems: tsunamis, volcanoes, earthquakes. Civilization begins to crumble, and the main character and her family hole up in their house to ride out the devastation and try to survive.

The other book was In a Perfect World, by Laura Kasischke. This one was adult fiction, not YA, but the premise was similar: the main character (a flight attendant) has to hole up in her house as civilization collapses around her. The catastrophe this time was a worldwide epidemic–the Phoenix Flu–rather than earthquakes and volcanoes, but the results are the same: massive depopulation, disintegration of government and infrastructure, and the resulting survival scenario.

Both books have a similar setting: they both take place almost entirely in their homes, and we very seldom see the outside world or hear the news (since the power is out and the radios run out of batteries quickly). So they’re both very insular and claustrophobic, dealing with day-to-day survival rather than the typical flashy Hollywood disaster scenarios.

But here’s the cool part: the books are completely different. The writing styles are wildly unique. In Life as We Knew it, the book is written in first person as a diary, in simple teenspeak. In A Perfect World is third person and beautiful and literary (the author is a poet). The former is straightforward and stark, while the latter is non-linear and intricate.  The conflicts are different, one being all about character issues while the other being mostly plot.  And both books are good.

Several months ago, when I finished reading James Dashner’s The Maze Runner, I emailed him to assure him that I hadn’t plagiarized him in my upcoming novel, Variant. On the face of it, the premise of mine is very similar to his: both are Lord-of-the-Flies situations where the characters are captured but don’t know why (though they know they’re being observed).  Sure, reading that synopsis makes the two books sound extremely similar. However, the stories, characters, setting, writing styles and themes are completely different.  As James pointed out in his reply: “Neither one of us came up with the premise; we were just smart enough to create really awesome versions of it.”

There’s a great line in the musical Sunday In The Park With George (about the painter George Seurat). George is discouraged about his accomplishments as an artist:

-Dot-
Are you working on something new?

-George-
No.

-Dot-
That is not like you, George.

-George-
I’ve nothing to say.

-Dot-
You have many things.

-George-
Well, nothing that’s not been said.

-Dot-
Said by you, though, George?

I think that a lot of us writers can get so discouraged or worried about whether we’re truly original and new that we limit our opportunities to create.   In the two books I mentioned above, the premises are basically the same, but the authors each created a unique, enjoyable book.

Dot’s advice later in her song applies just as well to writers as it does to painters:

-Dot-
Stop worrying if your vision is new.
Let others make that decision–
They usually do.
You keep moving on.

About me

I'm Robison Wells, the author of the YA dystopian-ish novel, Variant, released October 18, 2011 from HarperTeen.

Coming Soon!

United States
October 18, 2011, HarperTeen

France
Fall 2012, J C Lattès – Editions du Masque

Germany
Fall 2012, Fischer Verlag GMBH

Norway
Summer/Fall 2012, CappelenDamm

Poland
Release Date TBA, Wydawnictwo Amber

Portugal
Fall 2012, Planeta Manuscrito

Spain
Summer 2012, Destino

Taiwan
Winter 2013, Sharp Point Press

Turkey
Fall/Winter 2012, Artemis Yayinlari

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