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| bruni.blogs.nytimes.com |
I knew starting out how popular the Green brothers
were; their channel has over 600,000 subscribers. But somehow I was still
mentally expecting fifty quiet, well-behaved readers between sixteen and
twenty-five, sitting quietly in the audience while he read aloud from his book
and answered a few questions about the development of his characters. Instead,
my friend Kelly—a fellow nerdfighter—and I were greeted by more than 700
screaming, dancing, singing teenagers.
For most of the night, I
was angry. Whenever the brothers began to speak, the audience would scream so
loud, often they had to stop and wait to continue. During a timed question and
answer game, people kept asking questions like “will you be my friend?” and
“can I have a hug?” instead of thoughtful and intelligent questions like “how
do you stay emotionally distanced enough from your characters to put them
through some really terrible situations?” (I never did get to ask mine…). My
frustration wasn’t helped when Kelly and I had to wait for more than three
hours in the loud auditorium to get our books signed. I just wanted everyone to
sit down and be quiet.
Somewhere, though, between
reading the first and last page of The
Fault in Our Stars, the magic of the event hit me. I am a junior in college
and have hopefully moved past the most awkward and confusing years of my
adolescence, but I was one of the oldest people in that room. The hundreds of
middle and high school students there were still in the thick of the challenges
that the characters of John’s novels are facing.
Reading a book, especially
a young adult book, is internal. We see a character struggling or succeeding,
and we identify with their struggles and triumphs. We find ourselves in the
stories, and that makes the books part of us and ourselves a part of the book.
We do this all on our own. It is strange, then, to see such a huge mass of
young people, all gathered together, chanting the name of an author, and all
getting equally excited when he shares a bit of extra information not given in
the book. It takes something that happens silently on the page and individually
in our brain, and throws it out into this room for all to see—one collective
connection to a story.
This is what is beginning
to happen with many of the popular young adult series of recent. The Harry
Potter series, for example, sold millions of pre-order copies for the seventh
book. Stores hosted midnight costumed release parties, and who wasn’t stoked
when their Pottermore email arrived? I remember several nights of my college
suitemates gathered near each other as we each took our sorting quizzes.
(Ravenclaw for life!). Harry Potter has brought millions of the young and young
at heart together to celebrate something fantastical.
Young adult novels give
readers this ability to focus less upon finding themes and symbolism and more
on finding themselves. It’s no secret that growing up is alienating, but
connecting with each other over a common investment in a book can be so
special. Of the 700 people packed into the Wellesley auditorium, many were
probably feeling lost, alone, sad, self conscious, and awkward. But as soon as
the show began, all of them began to chant ‘John! John! John!’ together.
Instead of 700 awkward teenagers, young adults, teachers, and parents, there
was just one large group of friends, there to celebrate books. I was so focused
on being mature and thoughtful at the event that I forgot about the importance
of connection we see in so many young adult books, especially John Green’s.
Young adult fiction has the power to bring people together, and, for young
people, that may be the most important thing a book can do.
Written by Briana Loewen
