I just finished reading All the Light You Cannot See. It was incredibly well written with a compelling story. I love reading. Even when the stories make me cry, and not in a good way.
My husband read it a while ago and said it was uplifting and he loved it.
It wasn't uplifting at all for me. Perhaps it just reinforced my fears about the nature of humans.
A while back, I read The Book Thief. To me they were quite similar.
World War II tales, not from the American viewpoint.
Both about young adults growing up during this awful era.
I didn't know that The Book Thief was a YA novel. I finished it and was curious that the two main adolescents never consummated their relationship. Not even close. Then I found out why.
Not in a YA.
The same could be said of All the Light. There was no sex except for a short rape that was quietly described.
In that sense, it could have been a YA.
Most of the novels I read have adult relationships in them. I suppose that has to do with my choices. And no, I'm not counting the Romance and Erotica novels that have sprouted up like unruly weeds since 50 shades.
It has made me think.
Most of the young adults I know or have known in the past 20 years are having more sex than I was even aware of at their age.
I'm really talking about teens who I suppose are like young adults?
In any event, why is it that the novels they write have love and unconsummated relationships when in the non-fiction world they are screwing like indiscriminate bunnies?
Who then is reading this fiction? And I do mean fiction?
The books are great. I've taken to reading them too.
Theory?
Books are categorized by what we would like them to be. Not what they really are.
it seems very much like the history books. The winner writes the story as they want it to be told.
Perhaps we think, if we see it in print it's real and true. The world the way we want it. Not the way it is.
For those of you who are following this blog, and reading my posts, I deeply thank you. Whether you respond or not. You are appreciated.
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