I've written several posts about Young Adult (YA) fiction, in large part because it is one of the fastest if not the fastest growing category of books in print -- at a time when most categories are flat or declining.
What's in these books? Well, just about everything and especially, it seems, crest-of-the-wave social topics. If you are young, you want to be with it, right?
My previous post addressed the topic of sensitivity readers, or people hired by authors and publishers to read texts to make sure they don't offend groups an author might be writing about although not a member of.
I referenced an article on the topic published by Literary Hub, an on-line aggregator of articles about writing of all description, the people who create it and the people who bring it to market. To help illustrate the role played by sensitivity readers in YA fiction, Lit Hub, as it is known, took a look at the activities of an author named Becky Albertalli.
"When she was writing Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda, published in 2013, she hadn’t heard the term 'sensitivity reader.' But the book, which centers on a closeted teenager, passed through the hands of many gay men as part of the process of consultation. This was basically a form of sensitivity reading, although not formalized," the Lit Hub article explained.
Just a few years, later -- probably because the notion of identity groups has become more and more prominent in politics as well as in society (and especially on college campuses) -- sensitivity reading has become a new occupation.
So, when writing her next book, The Upside of Unrequited, to be published in April, Albertalli wanted to be more deliberate about the process, Lit Hub said.
The protagonist is a fat, anxious, cis (not transgendered), straight, Jewish teenage girl, which the article said is autobiographical for Albertalli and thus, one would presume, not subject matter for sensitivity readers because the author is presumably a member of the group. But no, it turns out. another Jewish person who read the text "mentioned something that didn’t square with her own experience—unsurprising, as there’s no one way to be Jewish (or bisexual, etc.). And, in particular, intersections of multiple identities make for combinations that can’t be easily reduced to a single affiliation," the article said.
The possibility of micro-aggressions, if not more major ones, lurk everywhere.
"Other significant characters (in Albertalli's new book) include women in relationships with other women: one who identifies as pansexual, for instance, and two moms: one who’s bisexual, while the other is a lesbian. Albertalli had people who shared these and other identities read the manuscript, adding up to a total of 12 sensitivity readers," the article said.
“I can’t even explain how grateful I am, because there are things I wouldn’t have thought of that are an easy catch for people who have lived through that experience,” Albertalli told Lit Hub.
Authors could, of course, stick to writing about people or subjects they know, but I suspect that isn't where the money is in many if not most cases.
But one could argue even there minefields exist. Consider the following:
"One example (of a possible micro aggression) came in the very first scene of the book—which Albertalli wryly notes was a high-stakes situation. Here the narrator mentioned outright that she was straight. A bisexual sensitivity reader critiqued the overtness of this, saying, 'That comes off as super ‘no homo’ to me.' Albertalli agreed. It was obvious by page two that this character was straight, and she realized that in aiming for political correctness, she had struck a false note. She reshaped the scene."
Lit Hub said Albertalli estimates that she made changes with regard to 100% of the serious suggestions made by sensitivity readers, and 90% of the more minor ones. If a writer is inclined to reject a recommendation made by a person who, unlike the author, has lived the experience of the character she’s writing, Albertalli feels that it’s worthwhile for the writer to get a second opinion.
How about men who write novels that have female characters, or vice versa, leaving aside the myriad of other subcategories of humanity that exist? Sounds like "sensitivity reading" could be one of those occupations offering lifetime employment.
I wonder what "Ulysses" might have looked like had James Joyce felt obligated to run it through a dozen (or perhaps several dozen in his case) sensitivity readers? Maybe the book would have emerged little changed since few would likely have had any idea what he was talking about.
By the way, readers interested in talking a look at my other posts on YA topics should click on "young adult fiction" in the list of labels to the right of this posting, or in the panel of labels below.
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