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That’s what I kept on thinking as I read this article about James Patterson’s YA books in the New York Times.

There are a lot of choice quotes, like:

According to market research conducted by Codex Group on behalf of Little, Brown, more than 60 percent of the readers of the “Maximum Ride” series are older than 35.

Also,

Little, Brown has also asked booksellers to shelve hardcover editions of the new “Maximum Ride” title and “Daniel X” in the adult section. Six months after hardcover publication, it will release a paperback version for the young-adult sections of the bookstores, and six months after that a mass-market paperback edition for the adult shelves.

Another NYT article, about product placement in a new tween series, has been making waves. TadMack sums up the issue beautifully, so go read that.

And one more link to the Times. According to a new study, teenage boys’ motivation in relationships is not primarily about sex or physical attractiveness. Which, I must say, is really making me think about how guys and romantic relationships are depicted in YA books.

After reading Justina Chen Headley’s Girl Overboard, I was finally able to articulate exactly what my problem with most YA books involving Asian-American protagonists is. Too often, it seems like the protagonist’s race/ethnicity/culture matters only when it’s a problem.

The majority of books about Asian-Americans that I’ve read (or tried to read) seemed to me primarily about the protagonist’s identity as an Asian-American instead of being about a person trying to figure out they really are, with their ethnicity as part of their identity. I mean, they were books about people who were discriminated against, ashamed of their ethnicity and culture, or dealing with immigrant parents. They were books about characters who were Asian-American first, not books about a rich girl or a smart girl or girl in love, a girl who’s not struggling with her ethnicity but more universal concerns. Which is probably why I seem to be in the minority of bloggers who didn’t love Headley’s debut novel, Nothing but the Truth (and a Few White Lies). Headley’s second novel has just been published, and while I didn’t love Girl Overboard either, I did really like it. And I’m sure this is largely because Syrah Cheng’s problems don’t stem from the fact that she’s Chinese-American, but because her father is a billionaire.

This does not mean culture is ignored, because it definitely isn’t. The fact that Syrah’s family is Chinese is an important part of the story and Headley doesn’t skimp on cultural details. But I can easily imagine a book about a rich white girl dealing with the same problems—powerful and neglectful parents, hateful half-siblings, a male best friend she might have more than friendly feelings for but is in danger losing anyway despite not doing anything about those feelings, and a dream of making a name for herself as more than just Rich Guy’s daughter. And to me, the essence of Girl Overboard has nothing to do with Syrah’s ethnicity. While their Chinese heritage is an intrinsic part of Syrah and her family, it’s not a problem she has to overcome. Girl Overboard is a story about a girl finding herself and an inner strength she never knew was there, and discovering that she’s not as alone as she thought. The problems with her parents aren’t your stereotypical Asian parent problems, but your more stereotypical rich parent problems. It just so happens that those parents happen to be Chinese.

So there I was, pleased that I was finally able to put my finger on what bothered me so much about other books when I read a book with a hapa protagonist about whom you could argue race was the cause of her problems. Or at least the cause of tension. And I ended up enjoying that book, too.

In Sherri L. Smith’s Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, Ana Shen’s grandparents don’t get along too well. Her Chinese-American father’s parents and African-American mother’s parents will eat together. Just don’t ask them to cook together. But when Ana’s best friend spontaneously invites Ana’s crush, (the Japanese-American!) Jamie Tabata, to dinner at Ana’s house, disaster looms. Both her grandmothers are accomplished cooks, so of course both must prepare dishes for dinner. After all, it’s not every day that you celebrate your graduation from eighth grade. Ana loves both her grandmothers, but the competition between them, especially on her Nai Nai’s (Chinese grandmother) side, makes things difficult for the entire family.

Besides the gentle humor, and the fact that food is a major part of the book, I think what made Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet work for me is that the tension is not so much within Ana, but 1) between her grandmothers, and 2) between Jamie Tabata’s father and, well, basically Ana’s entire family. There was a moment where Smith had me worried about the direction of the story, but it quickly passed and I was very relieved that my fears weren’t realized.

Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet takes place over the course of one afternoon, so the scope of the story is not as large as that of Girl Overboard. I think this is the main reason I liked Girl Overboard more than Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet, but as different as the two books are, I still enjoyed and would recommend them both.

I suppose what I said at the beginning, that Asian-American protagonists’ race/ethnicity/culture seeming to matter only when it’s a problem, is still true, at least among books I’ve tried to read in the past. But I’m glad that I found a book where this is not the case, as well as a book I enjoyed, arguably despite this. I’ve got three more books I’m looking forward to reading with Asian-American protagonists (all about girls. Where are the books with Asian-American guys as protagonists?), so I really hope this trend of me being able to actually finish and enjoy these books continues.

If you’re looking for an actual review of Girl Overboard, head on over to Jen Robinson’s Book Page, Dear Author, or Bookshelves of Doom. Hot, Sour, Salty, Sweet has been reviewed by Little Willow.

The William C. Morris YA Debut Award is a new award sponsored by YALSA and will be given for the first time in 2009. It “celebrates the achievement of a previously unpublished author, or authors, who have made a strong literary debut in writing for young adult readers.” I love the fact that, like the Printz, it is not limited to American authors and specifically states that “original young adult works of fiction in any genre, nonfiction, poetry, a short story collection, or graphic work” will be considered. But two things in particular about this award caught my attention. First, a shortlist will be announced in December, which I’m sure will fuel Printz Award speculation as three (four? does American Born Chinese count?) Printz winners have been debut novels and several other debuts received a Printz Honor. Second, take a look at the Criteria section at the bottom of the the policies and procedures page:

3. Popularity is not the criterion for this award, nor is the award based on the message or content of the book.
4. The book must have teen appeal or have the potential to appeal to teen readers.

One of the things I struggled with as I read the Cybils nominees was exactly this difference between popularity and appeal. Ultimately, this is what I came up with: books that are popular with teens obviously have teen appeal, but unpopular, or not yet popular, books don’t necessarily lack teen appeal. And just because a book has teen appeal does not automatically mean it will be popular. Appeal is based on what’s actually between the covers, but popularity can be influenced by more superficial things, such as covers. Some books are more popular in certain areas, but that doesn’t mean teen appeal is lacking just because it’s not circulating/selling in other areas. The way I see it, the teen appeal is still there, but there may be factors limiting its popularity in those particular locations.

So how do you, oh blog reader, separate appeal from popularity? And, yes, I know. If I was smarter, I would have asked this question at least a month ago.

Bonus link of the day: Meg Rosoff’s What I Was in the New York Times

In the next two months, at least five YA books featuring Asian-American or part Asian-American protagonists will be published. Shocking, isn’t it? I mean, that’s almost like a whole year’s worth of what typically gets published. Two of these books will be published by HarperTeen two weeks apart. At least, I think HarperTeen is publishing two books about Asian-Americans.

 vs.

Here’s Good Enough by Paula Yoo (February 5, 2008), the one that is for sure about an Asian-American:

How to make your Korean parents happy:

1. Get a perfect score on the SATs.
2. Get into HarvardYalePrinceton.
3. Don’t talk to boys.*

Patti’s parents expect nothing less than the best from their Korean-American daughter. Everything she does affects her chances of getting into an Ivy League school. So winning assistant concertmaster in her All-State violin competition and earning less than 2300 on her SATs is simply not good enough.

But Patti’s discovering that there’s more to life than the Ivy League. To start with, there’s Cute Trumpet Guy. He’s funny, he’s talented, and he looks exactly like the lead singer of Patti’s favorite band. Then, of course, there’s her love of the violin. Not to mention cool rock concerts. And anyway, what if Patti doesn’t want to go to HarvardYalePrinceton after all?

Paula Yoo scores big in her hilarious debut novel about an overachiever who longs to fit in and strives to stand out. The pressure is on!

*Boys will distract you from your studies.

And She’s So Money by Cherry Cheva (January 22, 2008):

Question: What do you get when you take . . .

1 overachieving girl + 1 insanely cute guy + 1 massive fine + 1 scheme involving a little dishonesty and a whole lot of cash?

I’ve always been the good girl—working seriously long hours at my family’s restaurant and getting straight As. And Camden King was always just that hot, popular guy I’d pass in the halls, whose ego was probably much bigger than his brain. I didn’t think there’d ever be a reason for us to actually, like, interact.

Then again, I never thought I’d mess up so badly that my family might lose our entire restaurant if I didn’t come up with a ton of money, and fast. So that’s where Camden comes in—he and his evil/genius plan to do kids’ homework for cash.

I know cheating’s wrong, but it’s better than being dead, right? Which is what I’d be if my parents knew about what happened. I never expected things to spin so far out of control. Or that I’d be such a sucker for Camden’s lopsided grin. Or that falling apart could be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Answer: The time of my life.

Okay, so there is no mention of race or ethnicity in the She’s So Money book description, but one of the Library of Congress subject headings assigned to the book is Thai Americans––Fiction, so I’m assuming that it is about an Asian-American after all.

Anyway, if there’s one thing guaranteed to make me not want to read a book (besides seeing the words vampire and/or werewolf on a romance novel), it’s a YA book that seems to be primarily about an Asian-American struggling with the high academic expectations of strict parents. So no offense to Paula Yoo, who I’m sure is a very lovely person, but my initial reaction to the Good Enough description and the Booklist review of it in the November 15 issue was, I may buy it for my library, but there is no way I’m reading this. Because, really, don’t we already have enough books like this? But then I read Little Willow’s review, and I think she just convinced me to give it a try. Especially because, spam. That does intrigue me.

She’s So Money, on the other hand, I’ve been totally looking forward to since I first read the book description, before I even knew that it just might be about an Asian-American. I’d like to think it’s because it just sounds a lot more fun and that, even though the protagonist is smart, her parents are mentioned only in the context of them owning a restaurant. You know, nothing about them wanting their daughter to attend HarvardYalePrinceton or become a DoctorLawyerEngineer. But I do wonder, if Good Enough didn’t mention the fact that Patti is Korean, would I be more inclined to read it? Because while I do want to read more books with Asian-American characters, combine Korean (or Chinese or Japanese or any other kind of Asian) with parental expectations of the academic or professional sort and I immediately lose interest. I personally would much rather read about a character who just happens to be Asian-American, or who may be a stereotypical smart overachiever after all, but whose problems have less to do with parental expectations than, well, anything else. Something else. And She’s So Money simply seems more like that type of book.

So there you go. Two ways to get me to read a book about an Asian-American. 1) Downplay the whole race/ethnicity issue, or 2) Make sure spam is an important enough part of the book that two different reviewers mention it. Or, you know, if a book actually meets all five points I mention here.

At the Nonfiction Matters blog, Marc Aronson asked why people weren’t listing non-fiction among their favorites of this year, and if they even notice the omission. So, here’s why there is no non-fiction on my favorites list right now.

But first, a little background. I used to read a lot more non-fiction than I do now. The decline started pretty much ever since I stopped going to the main library, which has a lot more of the non-fiction I’m interested in than the branch library I work at. And especially since starting this blog, which is my own fault, because I’m the one who didn’t want to write about adult books here. Even then, though, I read only adult non-fiction, so even if I still was reading a lot of non-fiction, I’m not sure how many titles would go on a list of favorite YA books.

Getting back to the original question, most of the YA non-fiction I’ve read this year are rather lacking in the narrative department. I could be like Gayle and put Aranzi Aronzo’s The Cute Book on my list, but… Nothing against Quick Pick-type non-fiction, and maybe my standards are too high, but I personally need some sort of narrative to call a book a favorite. Arbitrary, perhaps, but hey, it’s my list so I can follow my own criteria. The Cute Book is definitely, well, cute, but do I like it as much and does it matter as much to me as the fiction that I comfortably call favorites? At this point, no. In a few years, maybe it will be elevated to favorite status. But right now, I can’t say I’ll be as enamored with it in the future as I currently am. All the fiction on my list, on the other hand, have had a larger impact on me than the creation of a few felt mascots, whether by broadening my literary horizons or having something that simply blew my mind or simply by being a book I know I’ll read again because I loved the writing and/or characters. Non-fiction is capable of doing this as well, but not when a book consists solely of instructions, anecdotes, etc. There is a place for Quick Pick-type non-fiction on some lists, but they don’t measure up to the fiction and narrative non-fiction books I love best, and hence don’t make my favorites list.

The second factor is simply that I don’t have the opportunity to read all the non-fiction I want to. I want to read books like Who Was First: Discovering the Americas by Russell Freedman and Muckrakers: How Ida Tarbell, Upton Sinclair, and Lincoln Steffens Helped Expose Scandal, Inspire Reform, and Invent Investigative Journalism by Ann Bausum. But considering that these type of books barely circulate at my library, not like those Chicken Soup for the Soul or getting into college books, or the majority of the fiction and graphic novels we have, it’s hard to justify buying a book that will likely only get borrowed by me. Yeah, I do have books like With Courage and Cloth: Winning the Fight for a Woman’s Right to Vote, Let Me Play: The Story of Title IX: The Law That Changed the Future of Girls in America, and Dear Miss Breed in my collection, but I can hardly make an exception for every book I’d like to purchase. I therefore don’t have all the non-fiction I want in my collection, and because I don’t have it, I can’t read it and put it on my favorites list.

Now, as to whether people in general making favorites list notice the omission and what they think about it if they do, I’m not exactly sure. I wonder if part of the answer is the amount of quality non-fiction that’s published for adults and how many of us bypass YA non-fiction in favor of the adult stuff. And I do think that most YA non-fiction is tarnished by a school taint. If it looks anything remotely like a book you’d have read to write a report when you were in school, it would have to be a pretty amazing book to get you to overlook the association with school and make it on to a favorites list (though maybe not a Best of list). Given the choice, I would always pick the adult stuff, even back when I was a teen and borrowing books for school assignments. Plus, I’m not sure all the adult non-fiction I’m interested has YA equivalents. I mean, can you imagine Cocaine: An Unauthorized Biography, which is one of my favorite adult non-fiction books, as a YA book? And there is a children’s version of Salt: A World History (can you tell I’m a sucker for microhistories?), but no YA version. I do have high hopes for the Groundwork Guides series, though, so once Cybils season is over, and the books are finally cataloged, maybe I will have some YA non-fiction to add to my favorites list.