Jill Ratzan

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Crossed begins at the point where Ally Condie's previous dystopian novel, Matched, left off: Our heroine Cassia is at a work camp in a province far from her home, hoping to find Ky, the boy she has fallen for, who has been sent to the Outer Provinces as a decoy in the war with the Society's nebulous Enemy. Soon Cassia and her new friend Indie, and Ky and his fellow decoys Vick and Eli, all find their way to the Carving, a vast network of cliffs and caves whose remote and impassible nature makes it the perfect place to conceal secrets. Some of these secrets concern the Rising, a hidden rebel group led by a mysterious Pilot. Others deal with the farmers who live in the Carving and preserve books and knowledge forbidden by the Society. Still others are secrets the Society has been keeping from Cassia, Ky and their companions—and secrets they have been keeping from each other.

Chapters alternately narrated by Cassia and Ky allow the reader to see both characters' points of view. Cassia continues to vacillate between the comfort she feels around her original Match, Xander, and the excitement Ky inspires in her. Ky, in turn, struggles with memories of his past that have left him feeling suspicious, angry and distrustful. Facing difficult choices about their respective futures, Cassia and Ky begin to question their long-held assumptions: Are the rules of the Society intended to protect its citizens, or to restrict them? Is the Rising truly any better?

Fans of the Matched trilogy will not be disappointed in this second installment, and will finish it eagerly awaiting the trilogy's conclusion.

Crossed begins at the point where Ally Condie's previous dystopian novel, Matched, left off: Our heroine Cassia is at a work camp in a province far from her home, hoping to find Ky, the boy she has fallen for, who has been sent to the…

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Traditional versions of the Minotaur legend often portray Ariadne as a tragic figure: After helping her lover Theseus escape the labyrinth, she is later abandoned on an Aegean island. Tracy Barrett’s retelling of the legend, Dark of the Moon, turns this image on its head. Barrett’s Ariadne is a powerful but socially isolated priestess, and the Minotaur who lives under her palace is no monster, but instead her beloved, deformed brother Asterion. Ariadne is confident in her hereditary role of She-Who-Will-Be-Goddess and the future it will bring her. But when she meets Theseus and his fellow tributes, she finds friendship for the first time, learns about the world beyond her palace and begins to question the role she might play in determining her own path.

Barrett both incorporates and undermines well-known aspects of her story, giving new interpretations to Ariadne’s ball of thread, Theseus’ interaction with the Minotaur and the reason for black sails on the Athenians’ returning ship. Details of the complex politics and rituals of her reimagined Krete abound, as do references to other people and places of Greek mythology. She does not shy away from violence, but the bloodiness always serves to establish the characters and setting and is never gratuitous. Chapters are alternately narrated by Ariadne and Theseus, allowing the reader to gain insight into the actions, thoughts and motivations of both characters. In the end, this tale leaves both its characters and its readers questioning the very nature of how stories are told and retold. Fans of mythological retellings will relish this fresh, feminist interpretation of the tale of Ariadne and Theseus.

Traditional versions of the Minotaur legend often portray Ariadne as a tragic figure: After helping her lover Theseus escape the labyrinth, she is later abandoned on an Aegean island. Tracy Barrett’s retelling of the legend, Dark of the Moon, turns this image on its head.…

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Willa lives a quiet life with her mother, stepfather and two stepsisters. She sings in the school choir and doesn't mind that her sisters can afford expensive vacations and tennis coaching while she hesitates to ask for voice lessons. Besides, she has a secret coping strategy: When she feels stressed, she cuts herself, letting the pain wash away the difficult feelings.

Willa's contentment is shattered when a phone call brings frightening news: Her birth father, Dwayne, has killed his current wife and two of their daughters and is on the run with the third—and may be making his way toward Willa's family next. Fearing for their lives, her family hides with friends and in motel rooms, watching the news and waiting for an attack. When the immediate danger is resolved, Willa finds herself drawn to her mother's hometown. She tells her family that she wants to attend the funerals of her father's victims, but her real motivation is to seek answers to questions that threaten to overwhelm her. Why has her mother never spoken of the time before she met Jack, Willa's stepfather? What family and friends did she leave behind? What might have caused Dwayne to solve his problems with violence . . . and how much like him is Willa herself? As secrets of her mother's former life are revealed, cracks also begin to appear in the perfect facade of Willa's blended family.

In Blood Wounds, Susan Beth Pfeffer's simple, direct writing style keeps her difficult subject matter accessible, and Willa's first-person narration allows the reader a window into her evolving emotions. The concluding scenes neatly tie together Dwayne's past, Willa's present and her family's future in an endingthat leaves the reader feeling satisfied and hopeful.

Willa lives a quiet life with her mother, stepfather and two stepsisters. She sings in the school choir and doesn't mind that her sisters can afford expensive vacations and tennis coaching while she hesitates to ask for voice lessons. Besides, she has a secret coping…

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In their debut YA novel Mothership, authors Martin Leicht and Isla Neal create an uproarious, action-packed tale narrated by an expectant teen mother at a boarding school in outer space. While those attributes alone should make readers curious about the book—the first in a planned trilogy—the best part of this futuristic adventure story is its pitch-perfect blend of the serious and the hilarious.

A chat with the authors revealed them to be just as funny as we hoped they’d be.

Teen pregnancy is traditionally treated as a serious topic in YA literature. What inspired you to take a lighter perspective?
Isla: Well, I think it was something we wanted to be silly about, while still treating seriously, if that makes any sense. What makes the humor in this book work, in my opinion, is that underneath it all there is a confused teenage girl, worrying about huge life decisions she never thought she’d have to face before. Plus lots of gastrointestinal jokes—always good for a laugh riot.

Martin: I’ve always felt that humor is an effective way to explore any serious emotional subject. Humor is how we deal with loss, hardship, death, etc. It’s not just how we cope with these things, but how we gain some perspective on them. With Mothership, we wanted to take the issue of teen pregnancy seriously, but have really strong, funny characters that deal with the situation in a realistic way so that it never came off as preachy.

Mothership blends the genres of science fiction, action and adventure, humor and romance. What sparked this genre mash-up?
Isla: It was all kind of born out of a joke that wouldn’t die—the idea to write a book that was “Juno meets Alien.” The project seemed like a natural collaboration for Marty and me, because Marty loves sci-fi and I love girly YA novels. And we both like to think we’re pretty funny.

"Humor is how we deal with loss, hardship, death, etc. It’s not just how we cope with these things, but how we gain some perspective on them."

Martin: I’ve always enjoyed cross-genre stories—in books, in film and on television. Humor can punctuate an action beat, romance can raise the stakes in an otherwise esoteric science fiction universe, and so on. I think it adds variety to the experience and keeps things fresh.

Elvie’s use of slang (new words like “blink” for “text message” and abbreviations like “obvi” for “obviously”) is part of what makes Mothership so much fun to read. How did you come up with her unique voice?
Isla: Elvie’s voice was one of those things that just sort of came out organically—it was completely unlike anything either of us had written before, and it just worked. I hate to be one of those infuriating authors who pretends like she’s merely channeling the voice of her character, but it really did feel like that for this book. We spent a lot of time tweaking the story and discussing plot ideas and story elements that needed to be enhanced or changed in revisions, but Elvie’s voice—that was there from the first sentence of the first draft.

Martin: There was a lot of discussion early on about Elvie’s use of “future-slang.” We didn’t want it to sound alien or silly. The book only takes place 60-some years in the future, so we wanted the way she and the other characters spoke to sound very natural and contemporary, so that it felt familiar to readers today but still showed an evolution of the language. It’s important that even if you don’t know a word Elvie is using, the context of what she’s saying will make it abundantly clear.

Mothership blends serious themes like individual vs. group priorities with genuinely funny moments, like the odd food combinations Elvie and Ducky (Elvie's best friend) eat. How did you work on achieving a balance between the serious and the hilarious?
Martin:
I think that if you have a firm grasp on your characters, especially your protagonist or narrator, they will give you that balance. You need to appreciate how your characters would feel in a given situation and make sure their reactions in each moment are believable.

Isla: Finding that balance was one of the really great things about collaborating with another author—which for me at least was a completely new experience. Marty and I took turns writing drafts of each chapter, and then we’d give our draft to the other person to look at, and that person would make changes, and then we’d swap again. Each chapter probably went through at least eight revisions, back-and-forth and back-and-forth. It was a little tiring, but the wonderful part about it was that you could just throw something at the page—a joke or a completely out-there idea or a sappy, touching moment—and you knew there was a talented, funny author on the other side who would either love it and keep it, or one-up it and make it even better (or, often, axe it completely). It felt a little bit like an improv show, where two comedians are really just trying to make the other person on the stage laugh. If we both liked something, then we figured it was probably worth sticking with.

What was it like working together?
Isla:
It was quite the experience! We are both fiercely loyal to our ideas and our words, which can be good but can be difficult, too. We seriously spent a good 40 minutes arguing over a single word one day. (Not to brag, but I won.) So it got a little exhausting at times. But I think our book is a trillion times better for having both of our voices in it. It’s definitely greater than the sum of either of our talents.

Martin: I still maintain that I was on the right side of that single word debate. Sometimes we would have very different ideas about what the thematic underpinning of a scene was, and our different drafts would reflect that. It’s very easy to be sensitive and protective of your work, and to have someone change it in a draft can sometimes be frustrating. What is important to remind yourself of is that if your partner is changing something you liked into something else (or vice versa), it isn’t because they hate your writing but because they have a different view of what’s important in the scene, or you’re simply not conveying what you think is important as effectively as you think you are. Then you get into more serious conversations, sometimes going on for days, but ultimately you end up with a much stronger passage.

Who was your favorite character to come up with and write?
Martin:
Elvie is the easy answer because she’s just a really fun character and would be a lot of fun to know in real life. But Cole Archer (the father of Elvie’s unborn baby) was great to write, too, because I enjoyed tweaking the cliché handsome boy character to make him something a little more relatable—and a whole lot funnier (one hopes). There are also a few characters that don’t get much page time in Mothership that I’m very excited to delve into deeper in the next two books.

Isla: Elvie for me, too, but a close second was Elvie’s dad. He’s more than a little bit based on my own father, who’s an utterly hilarious worrywart with a game plan for every ridiculous situation you can dream up. Several of the sillier moments with Elvie’s dad are actually based on real-life incidents with my dad. (Luckily, my father has a very good sense of humor and was tickled pink to have a character based on him.)

Elvie’s best friend Ducky is the epitome of a video game geek—while also being a loyal and dedicated friend. Is he modeled on anyone you know?
Isla:
I think he’s Marty.

Martin: There’s more than a little of me in Ducky, although he’s probably a bit nerdier than me in some ways. Not personality-wise, but he’s definitely better at video games than I ever was.

The ship on which Mothership takes place is “an old recommissioned low-orbit luxury cruise liner.” If outer space cruises were available now, would you vacation on one? Where would you go?
Martin:
I probably wouldn’t go because I’d get too motion sick, even in orbit. I have enough trouble getting on a cross-country flight.

If you could choose only a few “classic flat pic” movies for late 21st-century viewers like Elvie to see, which would they be?
Martin:
Oh, God, I could list a page of movies or more! I’m that annoying friend that’s always going, “You haven’t seen Such-and-Such? We have to watch Such-and-Such this weekend!”

Isla: (rolls eyes) He’s not kidding.

Martin: I’d want them to watch John Ford films like Stagecoach and The Searchers, and Hitchcock films like Vertigo and Rear Window. I think Elvie would love Jean Arthur in The More the Merrier and I think Ducky would have a major crush on Rita Hayworth in Gilda. I would want to make sure they didn’t miss underrated (or at least under-watched) gems like The Iron Giant, The Rocketeer and Serenity. I also think they’d be real big fans of television shows with strong characters and witty dialogue, so I’d include copies of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" and "Angel," "Firefly" and "Gilmore Girls." And yes, I totally love "Gilmore Girls."

Isla: I’d pick The Sting. One of my all-time favorites. So funny and smart and clever, and the performances are amazing. Plus, Robert Redford and Paul Newman are eternally charming. Elvie would have mega-crushes on both of them, definitely.

Martin: Wait! I thought of about 50 more . . .

Isla: Hush, now, Marty.

Can you give us any hints about what’s to come in the second two books in the Ever-Expanding Universe trilogy?
Isla:
Elvie is going to go from preparing to be a mother to actually having to be one, and the alien-human love triangle we saw sparks of in book one will get even more complicated. She’s going to learn some surprising things about her family and herself. We will also come to discover that there’s a much bigger threat to the world than anyone had heretofore imagined.

Martin: And the authors will finally find a way to use “heretofore” in a sentence.

RELATED CONTENT
Read a review of Mothership.

In their debut YA novel Mothership, authors Martin Leicht and Isla Neal create an uproarious, action-packed tale narrated by an expectant teen mother at a boarding school in outer space. While those attributes alone should make readers curious about the book—the first in a…

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Dystopias abound in contemporary young adult literature, but not all have received the attention—or garnered the fan base—of the Matched trilogy by Ally Condie. In the first two books, Matched and Crossed, protagonist Cassia Reyes learns about the dark side of her seemingly perfect world when she falls in love with a boy who isn’t her Society-approved Match. Reached, the trilogy’s much-anticipated conclusion, sets Cassia’s personal struggles against the backdrop of a larger rebellion. Will Cassia choose romance with her lifelong friend Xander, or leave him behind for the electrifying newcomer Ky? Will the Rising successfully topple the Society . . . and if so, at what cost?

BookPage talked with Condie about her trilogy’s timeless themes and what she would do if she lived in her characters’ world.

One major theme of Reached—and the entire Matched trilogy—is the conflict between freedom and security. What makes this timeless theme so relevant to today’s teens?

Teens are always fighting that battle of freedom vs. security—they are often more capable than we give them credit for, but we want to keep them “safe.” I remember feeling this way when I was younger and I see it in them now. But teens now have the online world, where there is (yet another) tricky balance between having the freedom to share vs. putting information out there for so many to see and manipulate, which isn’t very secure. Add all of that to a physical world that is exciting and volatile, and more global than any world in which we’ve lived before, and I think they have a lot to sort through, a lot of decisions to make about freedom and security and what it personally means to them.

In Reached, painting, sculpture, music and poetry become a call to action, a way to build community and a source of healing and strength. How have the arts been important in your own life?

I’m lucky because I’ve always been surrounded by people who valued the arts—my mom is a professional artist/painter, and my dad loved playing the piano. My grandmother loved poetry. And all three of them loved books. So I’ve always known that the arts are a place where you can turn when you want to feel or be more. I am terrible at music, but someone else’s song can take me away to another place. I think we’re all so lucky to be able to share these things with one another, and when you love the same something—same piece of music, same book, same poem—there’s an instant sense of camaraderie.

If you could choose, would you live in the Society, join the Rising or take your chances in the Otherlands?

I think I would take my chances in the Otherlands—but only if someone I loved could come with me. 🙂

I think we’re all so lucky to be able to share these things with one another, and when you love the same something—same piece of music, same book, same poem—there’s an instant sense of camaraderie.

Reached alternates between the points of view of Cassia, Xander and Ky. What was the process of writing in three different voices like?

It was exciting, because they each had part of the puzzle of the story. To keep in the mindset of each character, though, I would draft in a specific character each day, so that I could really get into their voice. Then I’d go back and iron out the logistics of the interlocking stories later.

Readers who’ve read Matched and Crossed have a lot invested in the trilogy’s major characters, but Reached also spends time developing minor characters—some from earlier books and some new. Who was your favorite minor character to write, and why?

My favorite minor character to write, hands down, was Indie. Whenever she was on the page I knew she was going to mess things up, and it was actually really exciting as an author to feel that unpredictability.

What was the most surprising thing you learned about your characters over the course of the trilogy?

I wasn’t expecting some of the more minor characters (like Indie!) to have such an essential part of the storyline. I guess it’s true that in books, as well as life, once someone crosses your path, you can’t always know what they might mean to the rest of your story.

Reached features detailed descriptions of piloting, nursing, data mining and other specialized topics. How did you research these subjects?

I found people in my life who were experts in these areas and then bothered them relentlessly! My cousin is a licensed commercial pilot, and he was extremely gracious about all of my questions. I also consulted a nurse about the details of patient care and the words that might be used—she read the entire manuscript for me and caught a lot of little things. And for the Plague, I spoke extensively with a pathologist and an immunologist, both of whom were in my church congregation. They were great because they were willing to work through the technical and scientific aspects of everything with me, but they are also very creative and could see things as story elements too. I’m very indebted to all of these smart, versatile minds.

The spread of a virulent plague is a main plot point of Reached. What was the most interesting fact about epidemics you learned while writing these sections?

My favorite thing that I learned from Dr. Greg Burton (the immunologist friend) was what he called “the Goldilocks analogy.” He used it to illustrate how a virus survives—the conditions have to be just right. I ended up putting that into the book (with a slightly different name) because I loved it so much and thought it was a great way to explain the virology to a layperson.

What’s been the best part of writing the Matched trilogy?

As a former teacher, nothing means more to me than a young reader coming up to me and telling me, “I didn’t like to read before I read your book.” I can’t imagine anything more rewarding. Of course, the writing process itself is very fun too or I wouldn’t be doing it—I love the sense of discovering the story.

Now that the Matched trilogy is complete, what’s next for you?

I’m working on a project that I can’t say much about, other than that it’s another YA title. I’m also looking forward to the holidays with family. We adopted a baby this year, and all of us (my husband and my other three children) are so excited to experience all these firsts with her.

Dystopias abound in contemporary young adult literature, but not all have received the attention—or garnered the fan base—of the Matched trilogy by Ally Condie. In the first two books, Matched and Crossed, protagonist Cassia Reyes learns about the dark…

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Gayle Forman, acclaimed author of If I Stay, takes readers on a whirlwind tour of Paris in her latest novel, Just One Day. While on a summer trip to Europe, recent high school graduate Allyson Healey—who has never before considered herself adventurous—meets the attractive actor Willem and decides to take a risk and spend a single day in Paris with him. But one day of sparkling electricity with Willem soon turns into one year of revelations about herself that Allyson could never have predicted.

BookPage joined Forman to talk about Shakespeare, international travel and why the first few months after high school can be such a tumultuous time for a young adult.

Your own extensive travel experiences form part of the basis for Just One Day. Can you tell us a little about the traveling you did when you were Allyson's age?

When I was 16 years old, I decided to be an exchange student in England for a year, a completely uncharacteristic move because at that point, I was hardly what you’d call an adventurous soul. But I did it, and I came home from that year wanting more. So instead of applying to college, I sanctimoniously announced to my (very understanding) parents I would be foregoing college and matriculating at “The University of Life.” Senior year of high school, I got a job, saved money, and a week after graduation, took off with a one-way ticket and a Eurail pass, and some hazy plans involving Barcelona and wine-grape picking. I spent four months traveling through Europe, first with a friend, then on my own. I eventually landed in Amsterdam, where I got a job, made friends, had my heart broken—all mandatory requirements at The University of Life. I stayed for a year and a half, and I traveled off and on (had to refill the coffers) for three years before finally deciding to go a proper college (though even then, I took a semester off to travel some more). Later in life, my husband and I went around the world for a year.

I know I’m over-answering here, but there’s a point to it, because it all tracks back to that first year in England, which 20-20 hindsight has allowed me to see was a major crossroads. That was the year that changed me from the person I was on my way to becoming to the person I did become. Allyson has a very different experience from mine, though some of my travel stories became hers, but travel very much alters her trajectory, just as it did mine.

"When you move out of your comfort zone, you are actually expanding it, and this is how you learn to feel at home in the world."

Just One Day is full of details about international travel, from navigating public transportation to ordering in restaurants when you don't speak the local language. Did events in your own travels inspire these details?

Oh, yes, both directly—some of Allyson’s, and later Willem’s, tales come straight from my travel journals—and indirectly. People love to romanticize travel, because it can be so incredibly romantic. But it can also be enormously discombobulating, and little things—buying a train ticket—can feel enormously intimidating or equally triumphant. I have traveled so much and felt like an idiot so much that I wanted to include the whole spectrum of experience in the book. Not because I want to show the “downside” of travel but because I actually think the downside is often the upside. Delicious meals and famous paintings are wonderful to experience, but there is something about travel that takes you out of your comfort zone, and that’s when the shields come down and you start to see things and feel things you might not otherwise. And of course, when you move out of your comfort zone, you are actually expanding it, and this is how you learn to feel at home in the world.

The sights, sounds, smells and even tastes of Paris that you describe make your readers feel like they're really there. How were you able to translate these sensations into words?

Thank you. It was difficult. A love story in Paris is almost by definition a cliché so how to avoid that? Especially when I don’t know Paris as well as I do New York City (the backdrop for Where She Went) or Oregon (the setting for If I Stay). What made it both more challenging and rewarding was that I immediately knew, for a variety of reasons, my characters would be mostly staying out of central Paris, which was the Paris I knew. So, I took a research trip and spent a lot of time in the 10th, 18th, 19th and 20th arrondissements, getting to know areas like Villette and Belleville and Barbès-Rochechouart,and visiting art squats and hospitals and wandering along canals and graffiti-covered parks and endless staircases up to Montmartre. I already loved Paris, but this made me love it more. And this sense of discovery and being a little lost and a little in awe, it was a good reflection for how Allyson was feeling.

Shakespeare's plays—especially Twelfth Night and As You Like It—form an important backdrop for Allyson's story. What makes Shakespeare still so meaningful to today's readers?

What makes Shakespeare so meaningful is that Shakespeare is still so meaningful. I didn’t set out to write these books with lots of Shakespeare in them. I’d already named my Dutch boy Willem before I even knew there’d be a significant Shakespearean component. But then it just kind of happened by degrees. Allyson and Willem meet before a Twelfth Night performance. Allyson has a moment of awakening when she reads out loud during her Shakespeare course, and initially I assumed I would use Twelfth Night for that moment. But as I was “researching” for the book, I went to several plays, including an incredible Royal Shakespeare Company production of As You Like It, which had me with my heart in my throat for the entire play. I loved it so much I thought maybe I should use that play for Allyson’s moment. And then when I sat down and read it, I was shocked by how resonant it was—to the themes of shifting identity, of love and trust—and how perfectly it worked for my (and her) needs. It almost seemed tailor-written for both books. Which sounds incredibly self-centered but it’s really a testament to Shakespeare’s staying power.

If you could hang out with anyone in Allyson's life, who would you choose and why?

Dee is the smartest (as in most intelligent) character I’ve ever written, and hanging with him would be fascinating and fun. Also, his mama makes a really good peach cobbler and I would finagle myself an invitation for dinner.

If you had “just one day” to spend in the city of your choice, where would you go and what would you do there?

I would probably want it to be somewhere I’ve never been before so I could have that total joy of discovery and also a certain amount of surrender. With one day, I would know I couldn’t see it all so I wouldn’t even try. I’d just aimlessly wander, and eat. Ironically, if I returned to a place I already knew, one day would not be enough because I would be aware of what I was missing and I’d want to rush around and see my favorite spots. Ignorance is bliss, right?

Would you plan the details of your trip with color-coded schedules, like Allyson's mother might, or would you rely on spontaneity, like Willem?

I’m a bit of both when I travel. I’m all about having hotels booked when I arrive in places—even when I used to travel for long periods of time, I liked knowing I was arriving somewhere, because there’s nothing worse than showing up and having nowhere to go. But once I’m settled, I turn into Willem. I like to travel with as few plans as possible and make it up as I go along. I’m a big fan of getting lost, or “tooling,” as my husband and I call it. Just wandering and finding things, yes, by accident. That said, when it comes to being a mom, I see the logic of the color-coded calendar, even if I’m not there yet.

Allyson's relationship with Willem catapults her into a journey toward self-discovery that continues throughout her first year of college. Why did you decide to focus on this transitional time in Allyson's life?

This book came to me in a dream. I saw Allyson and Willem in an abandoned art loft type of place (what became the artists’ squat). I knew that these two people were abroad, that they’d just had this really intense day together and in my half-awake state, I started unspooling the story for myself. I remember thinking: “Too bad it’s not YA.” And then I snapped up, wide awake, and realized it was completely YA, that it would take place the summer between high school and college and lead into that first year of college.

That’s a long way of saying, it was automatic. There was no other way to tell this particular story, to take a character who had been shackled, have her in a situation in which she had a modicum of freedom, then give her a taste of true freedom, then take it away and thrust her into a setting where she is nominally independent, but still somehow controlled by her parents and watch her forge true freedom for herself. It had to be college.

?Many readers—both teens and adults—will relate to Allyson's struggle to define an independent identity for herself. This struggle is at the heart of many books for people in their late teens and twenties, which have lately been grouped together under the name of “New Adult” literature. Do you think that label fits your books?

I’m not sure what to make of that label. Does it have to do with the amount of sex scenes? How racy they are? Or does it have to do with age of characters? I will let people debate the raciness factor of my sex scenes, but if it’s just an age issue, then many of my books are supposedly New Adult, aren’t they? Even If I Stay dealt with characters trying to figure out how to navigate lives, post-high school. And Where She Went, the same characters are post-college age. That said, I still believe that I write young adult novels. Don’t “young adult” and “new adult” actually mean the same thing? Fledging adults, trying to figure their shit out. It’s what makes these books so fascinating, even to all of us old adults.

Two of your previous books, If I Stay and Where She Went, also focus on the events of a single day in the lives of your main characters. What is it about this focus on a particular day that appeals to you?

It’s just so inherently dramatic, to show those hinge moments in life when everything can change. In If I Stay, this was literally the case. Mia’s life changed that day. But the thing is, life may change overnight, but people don’t, or people need time to catch up to the whiplash of life. That message was implicit in Where She Went. The action took place in a day but it really concerned three years of emotional fallout from what had happened that one day in If I Stay.

In Just One Day (and also Just One Year) I was interested in the day as well. In what can happen to a person in a day, in how life can seem to change overnight. But this time, I didn’t want to stop there. I wanted to examine, on the page, not just the catalyst, the moment it all begins to change, but what it takes to actually change your life. And it takes work. And that can’t be accomplished in a day. So I needed to expand my timeline, to look at a deliberate transformation that takes place over the course of a year.

Willem gets a chance to tell his own story in Just One Year, a companion novel planned for fall 2013. Can you give us any teasers about what to expect in this second book?

The unexpected. And a lot of Willem.

Gayle Forman, acclaimed author of If I Stay, takes readers on a whirlwind tour of Paris in her latest novel, Just One Day. While on a summer trip to Europe, recent high school graduate Allyson Healey—who has never before…

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Matthew Quick may be best known for The Silver Linings Playbook and the Oscar-winning movie it inspired, but he’s never really stopped being a teacher. Writing for teens simply lets him send his intended messages to a wider audience. “If you care about kids,” he says, “teaching is the hardest job in the world.”

In Quick’s new YA novel, Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock, Leonard plans to celebrate his 18th birthday by using an old Nazi handgun to kill his former best friend and then himself. But first he has gifts to deliver to the four people who mean the most to him: an elderly neighbor with whom he trades Humphrey Bogart quotes; a classmate whose violin music soothes him; his completely out-of-reach crush; and his Holocaust studies teacher, Herr Silverman, who plays a crucial role as Leonard draws closer to what may be his final act.

Just as Leonard carefully chooses whom to trust with his secrets, Herr Silverman must decide what he’s willing to do to help a student in need. “I really wanted to show that conflict,” Quick says in a call from his Massachusetts home. “When you have to grade 80 five-paragraph essays for kids trying to get into Harvard, and some kid comes to you with some type of crisis and is crying, which do you choose? Do you comfort that kid or do you grade the essays? Or do you comfort the kid and grade the essays and tell your wife you can’t go out that weekend? I wanted to set up that relationship as something that was challenging. When is it time to break down those boundaries, play loose with the rules? How far do you go?”

Helping these students can save their lives, but as Leonard’s favorite teacher learns, it can also create a set of ethical questions without any easy answers.

“You can’t put a price tag on empathy.”

Quick—who left his job as a high school English teacher in New Jersey to pursue an MFA in creative writing—understands that teens want to be on equal footing with their adult teachers while still needing them to be dependable authority figures. Connections between teachers and students matter—and linger. Quick tells an anecdote about a lonely student who once approached him for advice. Quick told the young man, “You don’t know who you’re going to meet in five years. Your best friend could be out there, your life partner could be in some other high school, having all the same issues and the same problems—you don’t know who they are yet, but you’ll meet that person eventually.”

Quick soon forgot about the conversation, but his student didn’t. Eight years later, the former student returned to introduce Quick to his wife and told him, “You were right about that.” Quick was touched. “The things we tell teenagers are powerful,” he says. “They remember.”

So why did Quick leave the classroom for writing? Several reasons, he says, including returning to an earlier passion and “knowing how to find balance.” During his own teen years, Quick was discouraged from pursuing a career in writing, as it was considered “unmanly” in his blue-collar hometown. But Quick found that teaching, counseling, coaching and chaperoning left little time for writing—or anything else. Becoming a full-time author made him feel “fully alive” while also providing for himself and his family.

Leaving teaching was a risk, but one that paid off. Along with The Silver Linings Playbook, Quick is now the author of three books for young adults and the upcoming adult novel The Good Luck of Right Now, set to be published by HarperCollins in 2014. And since the success of The Silver Linings Playbook, he’s found himself with more readers, sales, translations and speaking engagements than he ever expected.

“But that’s not why I write,” Quick emphasizes. Instead, what drives his novels is the idea that everyone—even those who don’t consider themselves bookish types—can benefit from the increased sensitivity that fiction provides. “You can’t put a price tag on empathy,” he says.

Although most of Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock is told from Leonard’s point of view, a series of letters interrupts the narration from time to time. These letters come from a lighthouse on the edge of a post-apocalyptic world. No ships have been seen in decades, but the lighthouse keepers—a man, his wife, their daughter and the man’s father-in-law—faithfully maintain the beam anyway. The significance of the letters, and how they relate to Leonard, becomes clearer as the novel progresses.

“Leonard is damaged, angry—but wonderful,” Quick says. “He’s sending out light. He just wants to be loved, and no one sees it.”

According to Quick, the ambiguity at the heart of this novel was intentional—and any actual resolution irrelevant. Teens “will tend to exaggerate to make their point because nobody’s listening,” Quick says, and this sense of drama can kick into high gear on especially symbolic days, like birthdays. “Leonard has to take it to this crazy height and level to get people to see how much pain he’s in.”

But YA literature allows for unresolved conflicts and open endings just as much as hopeful, happy resolutions. Says Quick, “I don’t think that YA should be required to do anything except make kids think.”

Matthew Quick may be best known for The Silver Linings Playbook and the Oscar-winning movie it inspired, but he’s never really stopped being a teacher. Writing for teens simply lets him send his intended messages to a wider audience. “If you care about kids,” he…

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Most YA writers wouldn’t describe a story about Somali pirates as a “fairy tale.” But Printz Award-winning author Nick Lake is not most YA writers.

In Lake’s new novel, Hostage Three (available November 12), 17-year-old Amy has just failed out of high school when she reluctantly agrees to join her banking executive father and new stepmother on a yacht cruise around the world. Her father plans to use the cruise as a way to break the cycle of bad decisions that have plagued Amy since her mother’s recent suicide. But when the yacht is boarded by Somali pirates—including one young and magnetically attractive boy—their pleasure trip takes an unexpected turn.

“I dreamed the plot,” Lake tells BookPage from his home in Oxford, England. “I don’t know why Somali pirates were rattling around in my subconscious.”

After listening to a radio documentary about Somali pirates, Lake was struck by the program’s focus on wealthy shipping firms, rather than on what would drive young Somali men into seizing seagoing vessels in the first place. “You’ve got a group of people who live in a place where there’s virtually no government, virtually no law and order, and virtually no other opportunities,” Lake says. “To me it would almost seem surprising if you were an 18-year-old man who lived on the Somali coast and you didn’t get into piracy.”

Lake’s long-standing interest in cultural globalization also contributed to his choice of topic. “I think there’s something very interesting about a group of people who are using the tools and the technology of Western business but turning them against Western business,” he says. For example, after boarding the yacht, the pirates in Hostage Three use cell phones to record a video of their conquest, which they then upload via satellite link.

So what makes Hostage Three a “fairy tale”?

“The stepmother angle,” Lake explains. “In a sense that’s really what the story is about—Amy reconciling herself with a new family.” The pirates and the action are essentially just the means to an end.

Hostage Three is Lake’s second literary thriller, after his 2013 Printz winner In Darkness, which is set in Haiti. His first books, the Blood Ninja trilogy, “didn’t come from inspiration”—instead, these tales of vampire ninjas were designed specifically to appeal to boys who wanted books like Twilight, only with more action. While Lake enjoyed this project, he reached a point where he wanted to explore new directions.

“I was probably finding my voice,” Lake muses. “The third person [point of view] didn’t quite work for me. As soon as I clicked into doing the first person in In Darkness, I thought, ‘This is what I should be doing.’ ” His agent agreed, saying, “I think you need to stop looking at the market and write something that comes from inside.”

Even when he’s actively eschewing a market perspective, Lake—who is also publishing director at Harper­Collins Children’s Books U.K.—brings considerable knowledge of children’s publishing to his writing. “Helping other people to shape and fashion stories kind of was an intensive creative writing course,” he says. “It did mean I was hugely aware of what’s out there and what other people are writing.”

The roles of writer and editor are different in some ways—“If you’re an editor, what you’re trying to do is be a loud hailer [megaphone] for the author’s voice”—but both are, to Lake, “an extension of the same thing, which is tinkering and playing around with stories.”

When asked if he ever considers giving up editing to write full time, Lake says absolutely not. “If you’re someone who loves books, I don’t think there’s much that’s more fulfilling and satisfying than working with someone on a story and getting it to where it can be the best expression of what the author really wants it to achieve. And also, you never know what’s going to come across your desk next. You never know when the next amazing thing is going to come in.”

Writing and editing young adult literature in particular resonates deeply with Lake. “So much of YA literature is about going from being one thing to being another. A lot of fiction for younger children is based around a more literal kind of quest narrative, but I think in YA literature the ‘quest’ is more about self-understanding and acceptance.”

This quest often comes with a message for teens, and Hostage Three certainly does. “At some point, something is going to come along and break you into pieces. But actually you can put yourself back together,” Lake says. “I’ve always found it interesting when people view In Darkness and Hostage Three as very dark, depressing books, because I very consciously wanted them to have that kind of feeling of hope and redemption and positivity. You’re put through hardship and deprivation, but then in the end, you achieve your quest.”

Most YA writers wouldn’t describe a story about Somali pirates as a “fairy tale.” But Printz Award-winning author Nick Lake is not most YA writers.

In Lake’s new novel, Hostage Three (available November 12), 17-year-old Amy has just failed out of high school when she reluctantly…

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In The Impossible Knife of Memory, author Laurie Halse Anderson demonstrates yet again her ability to define new directions for the YA “problem novel” genre. Teenager Hayley and her father, who suffers from PTSD, live with a past that threatens to swallow their future.

The title of your new book, The Impossible Knife of Memory, is quite striking. Why compare memory to a knife?

Not all memories are nice. The main character’s father is plagued by horrific battlefield memories. His PTSD rules the life of his family to such an extent that his daughter tries to push away her childhood memories, even the good ones, because it hurts so much to think about the life they had before her father’s spirit was broken. Memories can cut both ways.

What draws you to tackle intense subject matter like rape in Speak and PTSD in Impossible Knife?

I write about things that make me angry and confused. I don’t have to look far to find topics. If things like rape, anorexia and PTSD upset adults like me, what do they feel like to the teens who are trapped by them? That’s what I want to write about.

Why do you think teens need to read about these topics?

It’s not about what they need to read. It’s what they want to read. They know that life is tough and confusing and unforgiving. They want books that will give them insight into what’s coming. And—just like adults (who are flocking to YA books like never before)—they want to be entertained. I try to write books that give them exactly what they are hungry for.

“If things like . . . PTSD upset adults like me, what do they feel like to the teens who are trapped by them?”

Like in your other realistic fiction for teens, the difficult issues in The Impossible Knife of Memory are balanced by black humor. For example, Hayley’s high school places her in an ironic early morning “lunch” period and is (according to her) populated primarily by student zombies. Why is it important to include humor alongside such serious subject matter?

In Notes from Underground, Dostoyevsky said that sarcasm was “usually the last refuge of modest and chaste-souled people when the privacy of their soul is coarsely and intrusively invaded.” To that I would add that sarcasm is a tool of the powerless, an excellent blade to carry when life is beating you up. Teenagers understand this better than adults. They’ve just figured out the absurdities and hypocrisies of our world, and much of their sense of humor revolves around that.

Hayley’s high school has replaced its gym and library teachers with unpaid aides. It holds regular lockdown drills, and its classrooms are equipped with window blinds meant to deflect school shooters. Are these features intended to reflect the priorities of contemporary high schools?

I don’t know that they reflect the priorities of high schools today, but they reflect the reality in many schools. I continue to be amazed at America’s unwillingness to fund schools properly, to make them safe and to reduce class size. Children are born curious, but our education system sometimes seems hell-bent on destroying that curiosity instead of nurturing it.

Hayley’s friends and teachers encourage her to think about her future, but she has no particular plans. Did you have a firm direction in mind for yourself right after high school or did you, like Hayley, have no idea what you would do after graduation?

I had no clue what I was doing or where I was going. I spent my senior year in high school as a foreign exchange student, living on a pig farm in Denmark. When I came back to the States, I worked a dead-end job just long enough to realize that I needed an education. I found a job milking cows on a dairy farm and went to community college. I never thought I’d be an author; I just wanted to be educated enough so that I didn’t have to shovel manure the rest of my life.

Hayley knows a lot about American history and is constantly courting trouble by challenging her history teacher’s simplistic explanations. You’ve written several historical fiction novels for teens and tweens, including Fever 1793, Chains and Forge. Is there any particular historical event that you’d risk detention in order to explain correctly?

This is one of the best questions of all time! I’d risk detention and expulsion if I could explain the history of slavery in America. Our aversion to discussing our nation’s original sin perpetuates racism and damages all of us.

Your books have garnered significant critical praise, including a Printz Honor in 2000 for Speak and the Margaret A. Edwards Award in 2009 for your body of work as a whole. How has this recognition influenced your writing, your career or your life in general?

It’s been an incredible validation and an unexpected gift. I never thought Speak would be published, much less open the door to this wonderful life. I am a very grateful and lucky girl.

In The Impossible Knife of Memory, author Laurie Halse Anderson demonstrates yet again her ability to define new directions for the YA “problem novel” genre. Teenager Hayley and her father, who suffers from PTSD, live with a past that threatens to swallow their future.

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How do you talk about a story so shrouded in secrecy, its own heroine doesn’t know what’s going on? Here’s what we do know: The characters in E. Lockhart’s 10th novel are members of a privileged American family. We know that a private island is involved, on which both intense friendship and romance bloom. But anything else we think we know could be a lie.

Fortunately, Lockhart, author of the 2009 Printz Honor-winning The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks, is willing to tiptoe through some of the details.

We Were Liars is told from the point of view of 17-year-old Cadence Sinclair Eastman, when she returns to the island off the coast of Cape Cod where she and her fam­ily—and one special friend—spend every summer. But “summer seventeen” is marred by questions surrounding a mysterious accident that occurred two years ago, leaving Cady with unexplained injuries, including chronic migraines and selective amnesia. Why did she go swimming by herself the night of the accident? Why are her aunts and cousins acting so strangely? And what dark secrets lie beneath her family’s proud exterior?

It’s no surprise that Lockhart is good at keeping secrets, as her real name is Emily Jenkins. (“Lockhart” was her grandmother’s maiden name.) She has written several children’s books and two adult books using her real name, but has found something special writing for teens.

“I really like being a member of the young adult fiction community,” Lockhart tells BookPage from her home in the New York City area. “There are issues around which the community galvanizes: literacy issues and freedom of speech issues. I never found that kind of public-minded dialogue and enterprise in my short time in the adult fiction world. As a maker of literature, or a writer or artist . . . as a person, it was a much better fit than anything I had done before.”

In her latest YA novel, We Were Liars, the suspense-laden narrative is interrupted by flashbacks and snippets of fairy tales such as “Beauty and the Beast,” elements that gradually become more connected to the main story.

“All of the fairy tales begin, ‘Once upon a time there was a king who had three beautiful daughters,’ ” Lockhart says. “I took a lot of those fairy tales and used them, and variations of them, to tell the story of this family.”

Although no actual royalty lives on Beechwood Island, the Sinclair family patriarch, Cady’s grandfather, fills a parallel role. His three beautiful daughters compete for his affection—and for the best parts of his inheritance. As the fairy-tale daughters profess their love and ask for gifts, the Sinclair daughters turn to increasingly desperate tactics to claim the island’s choicest sections for themselves. And as unsuitable suitors find their way into the fairy tales, Cady also finds herself in love with a boy of whom her grandfather intensely disapproves.

"You’re seeing more YA books that are influenced by postmodernism, in a playful, fun way. Young people love it—they’re ready to go forward with a new narrative device.”

As her mother and aunts squabble for their share, Cady struggles to fill in the missing pieces of summer fifteen. Flashbacks provided a challenge to Lockhart, both in terms of their content and their placement within the primary narrative. “Those could be moved and then reworked depending on where they settled. Those were rearranged many, many, many times,” Lockhart says. Readers will undoubtedly want to revisit Cady’s reminiscences, looking for clues as to what really happened that fateful summer.

Cady’s debilitating migraines echo the real-life experiences of people Lockhart knows, forming an important aspect of her storytelling. “I was interested both in the way that chronic pain affects one’s sense of oneself, and the way it would feel to live a life where you’re often taken out of your own life story for days at a time—and then have to reinsert yourself into it.” Similarly, Cady’s pain forces her to periodically retreat from her own storyline.

Ever since Robert Cormier, an early pioneer of YA literature, penned I Am the Cheese in 1977, unusual narrative forms and unreliable narrators have found a welcome home in YA fiction. Cady’s narration both echoes and elaborates on this tradition.

“I think we’re seeing a lot of formal experimentation and play,” Lockhart says. “There are lots of hybrid novels, mixing graphic and traditional storytelling. . . . You’re seeing more YA books that are influenced by postmodernism, in a playful, fun way. Young people love it—they’re ready to go forward with a new narrative device.”

These shifting formats involve “asking a lot of the reader,” but that works fine with Lockhart’s conception of teens: “Readers [of YA lit] might be reading about, learning about or experiencing certain things for the first time. But that doesn’t mean disrespecting or devaluing their intellectual or emotional capabilities.”

For many teens, including Cady, summers constitute entire separate worlds, distinct from regular school-year life but every bit as meaningful. In fact, readers see so little of Cady’s school year that it almost seems not to exist. Only her summers, peppered with intense architectural and culinary detail, seem real.

Lockhart has an abiding interest in these sorts of immersive environments, ranging from her love of the eccentric, iconic NYC restaurant Jekyll & Hyde Club to wax museums. “They are creepy,” she admits. “But I like artificial environments and any kind of fictional spaces. There’s a story in every waxwork. I like the dioramas the best, where there’s a narrative being created. I like that mix of reality and unreality.”

Lockhart holds a doctorate in English literature and loves the connections between her academic work and writing for teens. She argues that both academia and fandom are valid ways to connect with literature. Reinterpretations of contemporary works, such as fan fiction, fan art, board games and video games, “are interpretations of popular texts that might say something different [from what] a classic college reading of those same texts would generate.”

In the end, Lockhart says, writing for teens is about “just trying to write the story and tell the story truthfully.” Truthfully? Well, maybe with a few lies thrown in here and there.

 

Jill Ratzan reviews for School Library Journal and works as a school librarian at a small independent school in New Jersey. She learned most of what she knows about YA literature from her terrific graduate students.

This article was originally published in the May 2014 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

How do you talk about a story so shrouded in secrecy, its own heroine doesn’t know what’s going on? Here’s what we do know: The characters in E. Lockhart’s 10th novel are members of a privileged American family. We know that a private island is involved, on which both intense friendship and romance bloom. But anything else we think we know could be a lie.

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Katherine Howe’s new YA novel Conversion alternates between two narratives. In one, contemporary high school student Colleen Rowley’s senior year at the high-pressure St. Joan’s Academy for Girls is interrupted by the outbreak of an unexplained illness. In the other, set at the beginning of the 18th century, a woman confesses to the role she played as a teenager in perpetuating the Salem witchcraft panic of 1692. Taken together, the two stories dare their reader to rethink the differences between past and present, rumor and truth, and science and magic.

BookPage caught up with Howe to find out more about her writing process, her most influential book and her unusual family history.

Conversion is based on a real-life, recent incident at a New York high school. What about this event intrigued you most?
When I first stumbled upon the story about the mysterious ailments at the high school in Le Roy, New York, I was in the middle of teaching The Crucible to my historical fiction seminar at Cornell and an hour’s drive away. The parallels struck me immediately. Most strikingly, in each case—Salem on the one hand and Le Roy on the other—a group of adults developed their own agendas about what was happening, while the teenagers at the center of it were having their own experience that I didn’t think was being fully explored. I was interested by the fact that the symptoms and behaviors are best understood as an expression of the intense stress and pressure under which adolescent girls must live in our culture. In many respects it was much, much harder to be a teenager in the 1690s (especially if you were an indentured servant or a slave). But I think it’s important to talk about the fact that even with all our scientific advances and technology and feminism and progress, teenage girls are still under so much stress that sometimes their bodies literally can’t take it. I wanted to write a story that would give us a way to talk about this.

You are a direct descendent of two of the women accused of witchcraft during the 1692 Salem witch trials. How has this impacted your identity and your career?
Three, actually, I just learned! Serves me right for messing around on the Internet instead of working. Most women who were accused as witches in the early modern period were accused because they were out of step with their culture in some way—they were argumentative, problematic, opinionated, sometimes angry. I certainly feel a kinship or solidarity with women who had that set of traits at a time that sought to punish them for it. The biggest impact on my career is that my first novel, The Physick Book of Deliverance Dane, looks at Salem from the witch’s point of view, just as Conversion looks at Salem from the afflicted girls’ point of view. I’ve spent most of my career thinking and writing about witches in North America.

"I think it’s important to talk about the fact that even with all our scientific advances and technology and feminism and progress, teenage girls are still under so much stress that sometimes their bodies literally can’t take it."

While they’re doing homework one day, Colleen’s friend Deena expresses disinterest in history (“Who cares? It already happened.”). You obviously disagree, as a running theme of Conversion is the complex relationship between the past and the present. Why do you think studying history is important?
I don’t want to recycle the Santayana chestnut about those who do not study history being condemned to repeat it, but I do think that only by studying history can we really understand our present. When I was in high school I felt the way Deena does; I thought history was just about memorizing a long list of battles and dates and who was president when, and who cares? But it’s so much more than that. History explains our conflicts, illuminates our ingrained assumptions and can bring depth and nuance to our mythologies. History tells us not only who we are, but why, and how.

Colleen’s study of The Crucible influences the way she thinks about what’s happening around her. When you were a teenager, was there a book in your life that shaped your thought process in similar ways?
To be honest, as a high schooler I was profoundly influenced by Huis Clos (No Exit), the well known play by Jean-Paul Sartre. It depicts three people—two women and a man—trapped in a room that is decorated only with three Second Empire sofas, a mantel clock and a letter opener. It turns out that they have all been damned, and that hell is just this—a room, with other people. I loved the way that this work of fiction reconceived our assumptions about a cultural trope—what hell is like, with pitchforks and imps—while at the same time advancing an existential philosophical position. I have Huis Clos to thank for the reading I went on to do in existentialism in high school, which led to a philosophy major in college. I went on to other study, in art and American history specifically, but I’ve never fully moved away from the philosophical habits of mind that I learned as a teenager.  

Your descriptions of academic life at a prestigious high school are spot-on, from Advanced Placement courses’ nicknames to the awkwardness of Harvard alumni interviews. You attended the Kinkaid School in Texas, a school similar to St. Joan’s. How was your high school experience similar to, or different from, Colleen’s?
While there might be a few similarities between Kinkaid and St. Joan’s, they’re really quite different. For one thing, St. Joan’s is a Catholic school, and my own school didn’t have a religious affiliation, so I had to interrogate some Catholic school alum friends for details. Another big difference is that Kinkaid is co-educational, and some of my closest friends from high school were (and still are) guys, while Colleen is in an intense single-sex environment, which winds up being an important part of her story. New England and Texas also have very different regional personalities; I doubt that Colleen and her friends heard George Strait at prom. But they are similar in that I was fortunate to attend a school that placed a high value on academics, and encouraged the students to express themselves and their intelligence to their full potential. I think that curiosity, and the ability to satisfy that curiosity, is the most important skill to acquire in high school. I’m lucky that Kinkaid did that for me.

Colleen and Ann, the two narrators of Conversion, live in very different times and speak in very different ways. What was it like to write in two such distinct voices?
I really enjoy trying to find authentic voices for my characters. One way to do it is to learn as much as I can about slang and everyday speech for whatever period I’m writing in. Ann wouldn’t use words like “cool” or “awesome” unless she were describing temperature or religious revelation. But that doesn’t mean she would speak formally like a character on Masterpiece Theater. She was a teenager, and she would use slang, just like Colleen would. Trickier is that teenagers also use language that I might not want to necessarily write; I cussed like a sailor when I was in high school, but I don’t think that adds to a story necessarily. So for her voice I spent a lot of time listening to the college students in my town, trying to absorb their rhythms and turns of phrase.

Can you tell us a little about how you researched Ann’s sections, and how you incorporated historical sources into your fictional interpretation of her story?
The cool thing about the Salem witch crisis is that so many of the historical records not only still exist, but have been scanned and made available online for anyone who wishes to see them on a web archive maintained by the University of Virginia. When the magistrates were examining witnesses, they wrote down everything that was said, just like on an episode of "Law and Order." So many of the courtroom scenes in Conversion are actually adapted from what the people really said. The same goes for Ann’s apology; I reproduce that verbatim. On September 30, Penguin Classics will release an edited primary source reader that I put together called The Penguin Book of Witches, which contains many of the documents that I used to research this novel. For people interested in learning more about the reality behind the fiction of witchcraft in North America, it will be a fascinating read.

A major motion picture based on Conversion is in the works. Can you tell us anything about it?
I’m sworn to secrecy at this point, I’m afraid. But I will say that it’s tricky to type with crossed fingers.

What projects are next for you?
I’m finishing up a new novel, tentatively called The Appearance of Annie van Sinderen, about an NYU film student in present day New York City who meets and falls in love with a mysterious girl who needs his help. Together they have to solve a historical crime, but it turns out the girl is more involved than they could have imagined. That book should appear from Penguin Teen in 2015. I’m also starting to think a lot about pirates.

 

Author photo credit Laura Dandaneau.

Katherine Howe’s new YA novel Conversion alternates between two narratives. In one, contemporary high school student Colleen Rowley’s senior year at the high-pressure St. Joan’s Academy for Girls is interrupted by the outbreak of an unexplained illness. In the other, set at the beginning of the 18th century, a woman confesses to the role she played as a teenager in perpetuating the Salem witchcraft panic of 1692. Taken together, the two stories dare their reader to rethink the differences between past and present, rumor and truth, and science and magic.

BookPage caught up with Howe to find out more about her writing process, her most influential book and her unusual family history.

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Teacher/artist Renée Watson makes her YA debut with This Side of Home, a novel about African-American teenage sisters navigating friendships, relationships, school politics and future plans. The sisters' identities are intertwined with issues of class, race and gender, allowing Watson to explore all of these issues through their eyes.

BookPage spoke with Watson about her new book, the growing pains of gentrification and school reform, and "dealing with reality—sorting through the good and bad—trying to make sense of it all."

Your previous work includes children’s poetry (A Place Where Hurricanes Happen), a picture book (Harlem’s Little Blackbird), a middle grade novel (What Momma Left Me) and articles for educators about multiculturalism and arts education. What inspired you to branch out into YA fiction?
I’ve worked in middle and high schools for several years. The pains and joys of adolescents are moments I witness on a daily basis, so I think their stories are always with me as I write. The lives of my high school students are interesting—they are always changing. Their conflicts are more dramatic, and there’s just so much to sort through. All of this makes for good plots and complex characters so going with YA for this story made the most sense.

But besides those more practical reasons, my motivation to write young adult novels comes from a desire to get teenagers talking. I hope my books are a catalyst for youth and adults to have conversations with one another, for teachers to have a starting point to discuss difficult topics with students. Though my writing is fiction, it is definitely not for escaping reality. It is all about dealing with reality—sorting through the good and bad—trying to make sense of it all.

Maya and Nikki live in a Portland neighborhood where gentrification is rapidly changing the downtown landscape. They plan to attend a historically black women’s college, a decision that their community activist parents support. How similar are the twins’ circumstances to those of your own teenage years?
I see both Maya and Nikki in myself. I grew up in Portland, Oregon, and like Maya, I was on student council and very involved in my high school. I also had dreams of going to college (in New York) and wanted so badly to make my mother and community proud. Unlike Maya, I wasn’t totally against the changes that came to Portland. I am a lot like Nikki in that way.

I started noticing changes in my neighborhood—the same neighborhood in the book—my junior year in high school. For me, the change was not that rapid. It took about 20 years to see the fullness of gentrification in North East Portland. Gentrification was not a word I knew at 15, but I knew the feeling of not belonging. There was something about the changes that made it seem like they weren’t for the people who already lived there but for the people who were coming. Yet, even with that feeling, I still wanted to go out and enjoy these new places. So for me, I have both of their perspectives—I want the change, appreciate it even, but I don’t appreciate the push out that often comes with it.

Maya wants to pursue a career in journalism, in part because she’s “always liked asking questions, finding deeper reasons and meanings for things.” Why did you choose this particular career interest for your main character?
It seemed like a natural desire for Maya to have. At first, I thought she was a lover of music and that maybe she should pursue a music career, but the more I wrote her character, I realized that what she’s passionate about is history and connecting history to the present. She is full of questions and wonder. Journalism seemed like a good fit.

Richmond High, where Maya and Nikki are seniors, has a new principal this year. His intentions to promote academic success are good, but he’s out of touch with many of the real needs and concerns of the student body. School reform agendas similar to Principal Green’s are in the news a lot these days. What do you think are some of the pluses and minuses that school reform might offer a community like Richmond?
What I love about Principal Green is that he wants the students to be accountable to each other, he promotes unity, and is pushing students to excel outside of the stereotypes they are often rewarded for exceling in. My frustration with him is that he lacks a sincere appreciation and understanding of the community he is working in. He comes in with a savior mentality and imposes his ideas on the student body without ever asking a parent, teacher or student, “What’s working? What’s not? How can we work together?” To me, the most effective school reform agendas include input from the actual people of the community and takes into account their particular needs and traditions. Once the principal understands the community then s/he is ready to think about how different theories and educational practices might work in this particular setting. The action always has to match and be designed for a specific community. Generally programs without those considerations just won't work. 

As student council president, Maya takes a stand against replacing her school’s traditional Black History Month celebration with a diversity assembly intended to be “for everyone, not just the black students.” Why was it important for Maya’s character—or for you as an author creating her voice—for her to advocate for this point of view?
I think one of Principal Green’s mistakes is believing that black history is only relevant to African-American students. By changing the assembly, he once again makes a decision without fully understanding the importance of the tradition and not just that, but the necessity for all students—from all backgrounds—to learn about black history, which is an integral part of American history and therefore relevant for all students.

I know students like Maya who advocate for themselves and at a young age consider themselves activists. I wanted to have a main character be passionate about something other than some of the cliché things some adults think all teenagers care about. It was important for me to have Maya stand up for something she believed in—even if it didn’t get the results she wanted.

OK, this is a minor detail, especially in view of the serious issues raised in your book, but I was thrilled to find that Maya’s student council board includes not only the standard offices of President, Vice President, Secretary and Treasurer, but also the position of Historian. What does a student council historian do?
The historian is responsible for recording the events of the school year, to put on record—through photos and writings—the important things that happened so that future classes can look back and see what was going on at the school in any given year.

Can we expect a follow-up novel chronicling Maya’s next steps? Or are you working on other projects that BookPage readers might find interesting?
Right now, I’m busy traveling for the book tour. Instead of a writing project, I’m telling stories through photography. I’ll be capturing different cities and the places I call home and sharing them on Instagram. I’d love for BookPage readers to join in. All they have to do is take a photo of a place that makes their home special and post it using #ThisSideOfHome. My Instagram handle is @harlemportland, and I’d love to connect with readers and learn about the places they love.

Teacher/artist Renée Watson makes her YA debut with This Side of Home, a novel about African-American teenage sisters navigating friendships, relationships, school politics and future plans. The sisters' identities are intertwined with issues of class, race and gender, allowing Watson to explore all of these issues through their eyes.

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Andrew Smith almost gave up writing for teens in 2011, when an article in The Wall Street Journal blasted his work as being too dark for teen readers. But fans of his previous novels (including the 2015 Printz Honor-winning Grasshopper Jungle)—and those who pick up his latest offering, The Alex Crow—will be glad that he stuck to his craft.

And “craft” is the right word here, because all of Smith’s books, especially the four intersecting narratives of The Alex Crow, grow out of a unique and detailed writing process. “I write differently from anyone else I know,” Smith tells BookPage from his home in Washington, D.C. “I don’t outline. I wanted to start in all of these different places that seemingly were absolutely disjointed and impossible to connect, and have them all come together into a really small point at the end. It’s kind of like solving a puzzle, kind of working my way out of a maze.”

“To lump all 14-year-old boys into this narrowly defined expectation of what they’re capable of doing and what they’re capable of expressing, feeling and thinking about, is exactly the problem.”

Speaking of mazes, The Alex Crow opens with a violent scene in which teenager Ariel survives a terrorist attack in an unspecified war zone. Ariel’s narrative then breaks into two pieces—one in the present as he and his adoptive brother Max laugh their way through a technology-detox summer camp for boys, and one in the recent past, describing how Ariel came to be adopted by Max’s family. Both narratives are interrupted by two additional tales: An increasingly insane trucker makes what may be the world’s strangest road trip, and a stranded 19th-century sailor records some startling discoveries in his journals. These four threads gradually knot their way into one larger story in a strange way that only Smith could weave.

Scenes in The Alex Crow are a mix of profound, grotesque, violent and hilarious, with some moments following directly on the heels of another. “That’s kind of how I see the world,” Smith says. “One minute you can be completely horrified by something that’s taking place in front of you, and then within a few moments or so you’re laughing at something that’s just absolutely absurd.”

The multidimensional plot may be the most notable aspect of The Alex Crow, but arguably the most interesting elements are its characters, especially 14-year-old Ariel. Smith aims to write characters that stand out as individuals rather than relying on archetypical characters and cookie-cutter expectations of adolescence. “To lump all 14-year-old boys into this narrowly defined expectation of what they’re capable of doing and what they’re capable of expressing, feeling and thinking about, is exactly the problem.”

With characters that are so intensely relatable, a further issue bubbles to the surface: Smith has been called sexist or worse for articulating the thoughts of a 14-year-old boy. But as Smith points out, no one would accuse Thomas Harris, author of The Silence of the Lambs, of being a cannibal.

“The emotional distance that readers feel when they’re reading young adult [literature] is so, so narrow compared to the emotional distance that readers feel when they’re reading what would be called ‘adult literary fiction,’ ” Smith explains. “They sometimes kind of blur the line between the author and the characters in the story. . . . But a young adult author is very often targeted or accredited with the actions and the attitudes of what are, generally speaking, pretty immature and impulsive characters.”

For all these characters’ flaws, they’ll resonate with boy readers, but will The Alex Crow appeal to girls? “I’m definitely very strongly outspoken against the idea of genderizing books,” Smith says. “I don’t believe there are such things as ‘girl’ books and ‘boy’ books.” Teenage girls are just as mystified by teenage boys as boys are by girls, so reading Smith’s books—even as an adult—gives female readers a glance into the minds of these foreign-seeming creatures.

Smith’s books have been described as boundary-pushing, and his thoughts on this label extend to YA lit in general. YA, says Smith, isn’t limited to 12- to 18-year-old readers. Instead, “it’s a genre that deals with essential adolescent experiences, which I think is the most significant period in a human being’s life.”

For this reason, adult readers can appreciate YA on a different level. “When we get beyond that period in our lives, and we can distance ourselves emotionally from the immediacy of the turmoil of adolescence, the ability to go back and read something that examines those sorts of pressures and issues and problems . . . helps to clarify that experience.”

Smith goes on, “We’re definitely seeing a big change in young adult. . . . I think that publishers are more eager to take risks and to break away from the rut [that] YA has been in the last 20 years. And so we’re seeing a lot of delightful new offerings that break the mold, getting out of the constraints of what has been a preconceived, very formulaic category of fiction.”

In the end, Smith’s writing goals are as simple as they are profound. “I just try to put as much honesty as I can, and entertainment, on the pages, and by doing that maybe give somebody a glimpse into some perspective that they hadn’t been that accustomed to seeing.”

 

Jill Ratzan teaches research rudiments in central New Jersey. She learned most of what she knows about YA lit from her terrific grad students.

This article was originally published in the March 2015 issue of BookPage. Download the entire issue for the Kindle or Nook.

Andrew Smith almost gave up writing for teens in 2011, when an article in The Wall Street Journal blasted his work as being too dark for teen readers. But fans of his previous novels and those who pick up his latest offering, The Alex Crow—will be glad that he stuck to his craft.

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