When sixteen-year-old Tamara Goodwin’s father commits suicide, he leaves her and her mother bankrupt and forced to move away from their posh Dublin lifestyle to a remote country village at the foot of a ruined castle. Housed by her uncle and “possessive” aunt, Tamara quickly finds herself bored, causing trouble to pass the time. To make matters worse, Tamara’s mother’s grief seems to have moved beyond simple sadness and into something much darker — she’s nearly catatonic, and only Tamara thinks this is a problem.
Things become more interesting, however, when Tamara discovers that all is not what it seems; life in the country is shrouded in secrets — both within her family, in the community, and in history of the ruined castle. Compounding the mysteries is a journal Tamara finds which reveals what will happen in the future. To save her mother, Tamara must uncover the truths of her family and her own origins.
Re-reading this synopsis, I realize that this seems like pretty typical YA fare … but I can assure you, it’s not! Ahern’s writing is good — no drivel-y, angst-ridden teenage dialogue here. What’s more impressive, though, is Ahern’s crafting of the central mystery. Although there is nothing spectacularly unique about the plot of this book, the way she carefully unfolds the mystery keeps the reader hanging on. By page 184, I was getting brief glimpses of the truth, but I didn’t have it all figured out yet. To keep me surprised – that’s a good story!
I am always thrilled to read a good young adult book; let’s be honest, while huge strides have been made in the genre, it’s a rare treat to put your hands on one that is worthy of recommendation. I will be recommending this one to my students.
Still, this book raises for me many of the perennial questions surrounding contemporary young adult literature — namely, what makes a YA book have real literary merit? How much obscene language is okay? If it has obscene language, can I send it home with a student? Put it on the summer reading list? If it involves smoking, drinking, and sex — is that okay? And does a YA book have to have these things in order to be popular with teenagers?
In some ways, I suppose these questions aren’t relegated solely to the world of YA. These are debates inherent to the teaching of any literature. Just look at Huckleberry Finn. And if you asked me if that novel is suitable for teenagers, you would hardly be able to stop my chorus of resounding “YES!”-es. Not only should studnets have the opportunity to read Twain, I would argue they need to read it — not simply for the literary merit but because of the controversy! They need to understand it.
So why do I have trouble extending the same rationale to contemporary young adult literature?
Philosophically, I would absolutely make the same argument for any book that I would make for Huck, but when it comes to putting it in the hand of a student as required — or even recommended — reading, I falter. I suppose it’s because it’s a stretch to compare much of what is available in YA to Huckleberry Finn. Twain wrote literature. I wouldn’t recommend much young adult literature for the same reasons I also wouldn’t recommend Danielle Steele to a teenager.
And there is young adult literature with potentially-offensive language that I would fight for as necessary and important — for instance, almost anything by Chris Crutcher or Fallen Angels by Walter Dean Myers.
Ultimately, a few instances of “fuck” in The Book of Tomorrow will prevent me from putting it on our school’s summer reading list or using it as a literature circle option in class. Which is a shame because it’s a really good book. Still, the language in this book doesn’t strike me as narratively-necessary … and, so, I wouldn’t fight for this one.
What do you think? Am I a censorship-hypocrite (as I fear)? Can really popular, but literary, young adult fiction be written without all of the sensational stuff that makes teachers cringe?