I was 12 when I first read Judy Blume’s Deenie in which 13-year-old Wilmadeene ‘Deenie’ Fenner is diagnosed with scoliosis and has to wear a back brace, putting an end to her mother’s dreams of Deenie becoming a model. The book explores how Deenie comes to terms with her diagnosis and the ambitions parents have for their children while touching upon bullying and ableism. But what really stood out for me at that time, was that it also dealt with masturbation. “I touched my special place practically every night. It was the only way I could fall asleep and besides, it felt good.”
Blume’s candid handling of teen sex, puberty and masturbation in her books for young adults has made her one of the most challenged authors of the 21st century with many of her titles banned in schools and libraries. And as much as grown ups take offence to her books, readers routinely give them a thumbs up for being real and relatable.
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Young Adult (YA) books can be a wonderful way for readers between the ages of 12 and 18 to engage with topics they might not have an opportunity to discuss openly in their real lives.
Snehal Padhye, a Bengaluru based psychologist and therapist who works with children and adolescents, acknowledges that there aren’t enough safe spaces for young people to discuss these so-called ‘difficult’ topics. “If a child goes up to their parents with a question and hears ‘No, we don’t discuss such things’, feelings of shame can build up because of secrecy and unfamiliarity. I often ask the young people I work with what they’re reading and how the books make them feel, or how they reacted to a certain narrative. If a book shows for example, that being attracted to someone of the same sex is alright, then hearing their perspective is important,” says Padhye, adding that books offer a different kind of modelling for young readers and could help them normalise ‘difficult topics’ and build their own narratives about them.
‘We cannot shelter teens’
Bestselling YA book author Julie Murphy puts it perfectly: “Books are safe spaces to experience scary things.” Murphy is a former YA librarian and the author of Pumpkin (2021, Harper Collins), the third in a series of books set in a small, conservative town in Texas. Waylon Rusell Brewer is an overweight and openly gay teen who’s tired of the boy he likes keeping him a secret, of having to dress a certain way to blend in and of waiting for his ‘real’ life to start. When a video of him in drag leaks, Waylon’s name is submitted for Prom King as a joke. What follows is how Waylon makes a go of it, all while battling his feelings for the very good looking and annoying Tucker Watson. Pumpkin is deliciously fun and frothy without trivialising the very real emotions of the main protagonists.
I asked Murphy over email if she’s faced push back on the themes of her novels.
“I have experienced some, but I believe that we cannot shelter teens from these scenarios, and reading about big life decisions helps them consider how they might react in their own lives in similar circumstances,” she told me.
Andaleeb Wajid’s Mirror, Mirror (2021, Duckbill) is full of circumstances teens will relate to: mean girls, body image issues, romance and ugh, parents. After overhearing a friend’s nasty comments about her appearance at a birthday party, Ananya decides to become a new person — a salad-eating, exercising person who fits into the right clothes and doesn’t think of people from her former life — including the delectable Raghu. But the universe has other plans, and when her mother becomes pregnant (mortifying), Raghu and his mum reappear in Ananya’s life, making things not as clear cut as they were before. Wajid is an engaging writer, and she balances the more serious themes of the book with warm, humorous situations and some very satisfying romance. (I can hear my 13-year-old go, ‘Gross, amma !’)
What are ‘suitable’ titles?
But how comfortable are we as parents with YA books that go beyond some light petting and kissing?
Not entirely, if one goes by some of the posts on Facebook groups devoted to children’s literature. Concerned parents often ask if certain titles are ‘suitable’ for their child and some even censure books for including references to sex.
I asked Tanushree Singh — an author, professor of psychology, and the iron-fisted admin of one of these groups — how she deals with such posts. She admits to wanting to reach out across the screen and shake the living daylights out of some parents, but says she also understands their fears. ‘They grew up with subjects like sex and drugs firmly stitched under the carpet. When I see a post from a parent come up, I don the psychologist hat and gently break it to them that they would do a great service to themselves and their child by letting their guard down.”
One set of books that is often raked over the coals is Sowmya Rajendran and Niveditha Subramaniam’s Mayil series (Tulika Books) in which teenager Mayil Ganeshan shares her thoughts on everything from periods to popular culture to sex.
Rajendran reacts to criticism from parents with empathy. “Many of them have not grown up reading books that discuss sex openly. But we need to acknowledge that our bodies and minds grow gradually and constantly and that a child doesn’t start suddenly thinking about sex and sexuality only at 18. Children are curious and are going to seek out information and explore, whether you want them to or not.”
Of course, the internet is one place where kids are seeking entertainment and information. In It Has No Name (2021, Red Panda) by Payal Dhar, Sami has a lot going on — her parents are splitting up, she’s moved back to her mother’s hometown in the hills, she’s trying to make friends, all while coming to terms with her own sexuality. While she forges some friendships on the cricket pitch, she also goes online seeking community, and YouTube playlists of her favourite TV lesbian couples. One of the things I appreciated about the book was Dhar’s acknowledgement of young people as sexual beings who are curious about their desires and wants.
More to it than sex
I can see all you parents reading this and shaking your heads thinking, ‘Oh! But it’s all just sex.’ Not that there’s anything wrong with it, but YA books do tackle much, much more.
Jason Reynold’s A Long Way Down (2020) looks at gang culture, Postbox Kashmir (2021) by Divya Arya tells the story of this fraught region through letters between two friends, Bijal Vachharajani’s Savi and the Memory Keeper (2021) tackles grief and climate change, while Shabnam Minwalla had two edge-of-your-seat YA thrillers out this year — Saira Zariwala is Afraid (2021, Hachette) and Murder at Daisy Apartments (2021,Talking Cub) — the latter, a Covid lockdown murder mystery set in a South Bombay apartment, that gently riffs on Rear Window .
I remember a well-known children’s book author lamenting to me that YA books have become all about the three Ds — divorce, depression and dystopia — and that youngsters needed to be reminded that there is still a lot to celebrate in the world. And while that’s certainly true, we also can’t just bury our heads in the sand and pretend like these things don’t exist. Young people need to be able to have certain conversations with themselves or with the make-believe characters of the books they read. It’s an adulting of another kind.
I’m still thankful to Judy Blume for creating a safe space for me all those years ago where I could explore topics that were otherwise not spoken of at home or at school. To know that my feelings were normal and that other people felt the same way definitely made me feel less alone. Even if I could only find them in the pages of a book.
Menaka Raman is a children’s book author ( Loki Takes Guard ) and columnist.
