The Case for Dissident YA Literature
The revolution will not be franchised...
Young adult (YA) fiction is the victim of a cringe crisis! Can it be saved? VT52 makes a compelling case, instigated by the very same firebrand statements from “trusted tugger” which inspired a recent podcast episode amongst the Tooky’s Mag editorial board.
See the firebrand thread that sparked the conversation
Listen to the Tooky’s Side Bar Podcast discussion on this topic.
Enjoy!
The Case for Dissident YA Literature
The dissident right needs to be writing YA literature.
This seems counter intuitive since reading is on the decline, and it’s easy to imagine that the younger generation doesn’t read at all. But maybe this disenchantment with literature is caused by the fact that there is very little for a young person to grab onto in the realm of storytelling today.
During my own childhood, the older kids at school demonstrated their maturity and separated themselves from the younger kids by flaunting Warriors, a surprisingly violent series of books about warring tribes of feral cats. This series, and others like it, provided a sense of identity for those of us who were getting too old for books where nobody dies. I have a distinct memory of an older student showing me that his book had no pictures, and feeling like a total chump before rushing to get the first book in the series. Such novels allowed us to explore darker and more serious themes without needing to understand things like Victorian cultural norms, or carry books that were heavier than all our schoolwork combined.
Unsurprisingly, if you go into the YA section of a book store nowadays, you will find a barren wasteland of progressive slop. Neon covers with simple “graphic design 101” patterns, all named something like “Her Broken Ways'' or “The Girl Who Disappeared.” It’s easy to imagine their contents: a poor relationship with a misguided father figure, a misunderstood protagonist, a “realistic” depiction of a panic attack, a vague magical discovery that is probably a metaphor for lesbianism. I wouldn’t inflict it upon my worst enemies. Simply put, YA has a cringe problem.
Last Things recently wrote on the critical lack of quality YA fiction, and proposed an outline for the dissident literature we should be creating to fill this gap. It was a fascinating set of ideas, but I was particularly struck by his unapologetic tone. Yes, the protagonist is a handsome football-toting jock. Yes, the girl is just pretty. Yes, the weakling deserves his mockery. A “chad” embrace of the intense, cathartic, and universal is what used to make YA so appealing to its target demographic.
This rebellious energy inherent to youth oriented fiction is often misunderstood, and explains both the power of YA, and why it has been neglected in dissident spheres. The dissident right tends to be elitist in nature, and the idea of writing a novel that by design appeals to ineffectual teenage rebellion is rather unglamorous.
YA fiction exists at the confluence of many thresholds, and acts as a portal for non-adults to encounter adult concepts. These new ideas must be presented in a simple way, relying on archetypes and powerful symbols. Animals are often used. As are dragons, powerful armies, secret magic, urban crooks, deadly games, mythical creatures, terrifying technology, dystopia, and anything which has an immediate “cool” or “edgy” factor. The Hero, the Villain, the Girl, the Secret. These symbols are understood on a gut level, and the way they come together within the story presents an aesthetic vision of the world. What is heroic? What is evil? Who holds power? What is transcendent?
Critics may wonder why kids can’t just read regular books. Do I think we should encourage them to read simpler stories instead of the classics? Of course not, but reading proficiency is developed gradually, and in stages. I might be impressed that your home-schooled child has read Infinite Jest at the age of 7, but most of us had to start with Stuart Little. I disagree that books which appeal to young people must necessarily be anti-art, shallow, or crude. For example, most people would agree that Lord of the Rings is a deep and serious story with artistic merit, yet it’s also very appealing to young adults. What defines a good young adult novel then is not a lack of quality, but a specific style of embodied, straightforward, and highly visual presentation.
The simplicity of such stories is a strength rather than a weakness. It is difficult to lie when working with such universal and fundamental building blocks. A technocratic multi-ethnic democracy of animals screams out for an explanation, but a kingdom of rats is obvious and immediately believable. If the premise doesn’t pass a basic caveman-brain test, it falls apart—with no irony, unreliable narrators, or multi-layered metaphors to hide behind.
At this liminal stage where young men seek adult identity, the impactful style of YA is a foundation for the construction of a new shared cultural framework. Why do the Millennials call people Voldemort? Or compare the opposing coalition to the Empire? Because Harry Potter and Star Wars were the myths of their generation’s adolescence. For many of them, this was the model of heroism. More than just an intellectual exercise, the stories made them believe in what was possible.
Am I suggesting we brainwash the impressionable youth? No. It’s a simple fact that when boys reach a certain age, they ask for stories of heroism. And here is where “conservative” media usually fumbles the landing by instead providing them soapboxes, and outdated kitsch.
When a young man is looking for a story to inspire his heroism, he wants a real story with real stakes and real good and evil, and real beauty to fight for. He does not want to hear about why you hate liberals, or why socialism is a failed economic model.
As an aspiring writer myself, I believe we should elevate the reader in any way we can. But we should recognize that for many of us, going “back to basics” will force us to define our values in a way that’s actually felt and understood by the next generation. This is a far more productive endeavor than complaining that they don’t care for our platitudes or esoteric theories.
For our new culture to thrive, its youngest members must be brought up with stories that explain our way of life, and how we understand good and evil. These stories must be relevant, yet timeless. They must be unapologetic, thrilling, and yet deceptively complex in theme and character.
How do you cultivate greatness? The first step is to understand what you are aiming for. And that is the purpose of these stories: to demonstrate what is meant by greatness.
Underlying most great stories, is an aesthetic desire — a wish for the world to operate in a more beautiful way. This aesthetic desire serves as flag to rally around. A vision to enact. It is this desire which turns a story into the kind of phenomenon we fervently seek this magic in adolescence.
Strike while the iron is hot, and remember: victory is achieved when a child dreams of wielding the sword of one of our new culture’s fictional protagonists.
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Very good. I remember reading A Series Of Unfortunate Events as a kid, and the author flap simply explained that he really did just want to write a story where bad things happened to children. Yet somehow it was very popular. Kids have far more range than we expect of them, and that range should be exercised, as a muscle should be put through its range before working out.
The question in the room is then what are _you_ doing?
Hear, hear! One of the worst lapses of the "Conservative Right" was a treasonous departure from art. Possessing neither noble condescension or sensitive curiosity, they surrendered the artistic battleground to the mutant moral vision of aberrant fetishists. It is a high abdication of responsibility to allow even the lowest genre of art to languish in filth and squalor. As the article points out, YA fiction is simply too formative a category of art to hand over to the petty-souled barbarians hammering away at the pillars of civilization.