Andy Sherrod on Teen Male Aliteracy, Part One

Below is part one of my email conversation with Central Texas’ own expert on teen, male aliteracy, Andy Sherrod.

BPW: I first met you when you gave your Boy Book Seminar at the Brazos Valley Chapter of the SCBWI. I still use the little ruler you handed out. It came in handy just the other night to describe the difference between boy books and girl books to the guy who installed my floors. Thanks for making such a clearly understandable tool.

AS: I’m pleased you still have that ruler. I designed it to be a book mark for adults to use as they evaluate books for young readers to see how those books “measure up.”

Andy Sherrod’s Ruler

BPW: Can you start by talking about aliteracy vs. illiteracy? And then define the term ‘boy book’ for those who haven’t attended your lecture on the subject.

AS: I first ran across the termaliteracy when I was doing research for my thesis and I latched on to it. It is exceptionally descriptive of the attitude some people have toward reading. An aliterate reader is one who CAN read without difficulty but chooses not to engage in active literacy in lieu of other activities. Illiterate readers, of course, either can’t read or do so with great difficulty.

I have found that many people shy away from using the terms ‘boy book’ and ‘girl book.’ I can understand that to some extent. If a boy likes a book labeled a ‘girl book’ then he risks ridicule.  The point is that males and females are different and so are their interests (I’m speaking broadly here). Educators will tell you that it is mostly boys who are aliterate and cite various reasons as to why that is. In deciding my thesis topic I wanted to explore this condition and see if there were identifiable literary components which attracted male readers, the knowledge of which would bring educators (and parents) one step closer to engaging boys in active literacy. There are, indeed,identifiable literary components which attract the attention of most male readers! When those literary components are compiled into one book, it becomes a boy book.

[I talked about Andy’s list of components in my my last post.]

BPW: The topic of male teen aliteracy has been a focus of yours for years now, since graduate school. Are more boys reading now than when you first started your inquiry? Specifically, are any more boys reading prose fiction? Can you elaborate on why you think this has or hasn’t changed?

AS: I am a writer and promoter of reading. The arena in which I earn my living, however, is far removed from the literary world. Upon reflecting on your question I wrote several of my friends who do interact with children and reading on a day-to-day basis and, though anecdotal, there seems to have been a definite shift in the last few years. The publishing industry made a concerted effort to push more boy books and the boys have responded, not so much in the number of boys engaged in voluntary reading but in their choice of reading material. Whereas boys used to be attracted to adventure-type books like Gary Paulsen’sHatchet (and many still are, by the way) they are now reading more science fiction and graphic novels. Though I am not completely up to date on current science fiction, that which I have read still contains the literary components of a good boy book.

One of the Quintessential Boy Books

BPW: We’ve established that your interest in aliteracy goes pretty far back. It was the topic of your critical master’s thesis. Do I remember correctly thatVermont College of Fine Arts requires a creative thesis as well? If so, was yours a boy book?

AS: VCFA does, indeed, require a creative thesis. You ask if my book is for boys. It has all the literary components of a boy book, so I assume that it is. But I always encourage writers to write from the passion that is deep inside them. Otherwise the story comes across as superficial or forced. As for my creative thesis; it’s historical fiction based on the story of Gideon found in the book of Judges. In one scene Gideon commands his eldest son, Jether, to execute the vanquished princes of Midean. We are told that Jether  “…did not draw his sword, because he was only a boy and he was afraid.” I wondered why he was afraid, so I wrote his story.

Look for part two of my conversation with Andy Sherrod in two weeks where he’ll give some suggestions for further reading about boy books and aliteracy.

Defining the Boy Book via Andy Sherrod

I volunteered for the Writers’ League of Texas last Saturday at the Texas Book Festival. I had a great time and met lots of interesting writers at all stages of personal development. One of the many WLT board members who also manned the booth that day was romance writer Evelyn Palfrey. She asked me what I was working on, and I told her a YA adventure novel. It was a conversational opening I had participated in dozens of times by that point in the afternoon. But then she surprised me by asking if I was writing my book for boys or girls.

I am writing a boy book. What’s a boy book? How is it different from a girl book? These are great questions that usually generate interesting discussions among YA and middle grade (MG) writers. Ms. Palfrey’s question last Saturday certainly did just that, even if I was the only one present who wrote for a teen audience. We ended up talking a little about Andy Sherrod, mostly because I dropped his name into the mix.

If you’re not familiar with Mr. Sherrod, he’s one of theVermont College of Fine Arts mafia, and he’s been studying and writing and talking about the issue of young, male aliteracy since graduate school.(Aliteracy is the state of being able to read but being uninterested in doing so.) I met him a couple of years back when he gave a highly informative presentation defining the term boy book. I had to drive an hour and half to Bryan (the seminar was sponsored by the Brazos Valley SCBWI), but I’m glad I did.

The FAQ section of Andy’s site opens with the four major factors he uses to define the “gender” of a YA or MG story. I pulled the following from there. It has been edited for layout purposes:

1. In a novel the gender of the protagonist makes a difference…to a degree.  Boys like to read about boys but there ARE good boy books with engaging female protagonists.

2. Boy readers want a protagonist that acts more or less alone in a secondary territory (away from familiar places like home and school) engaged in a physical pursuit, a journey on foot, so to speak, rather than a journey of the heart.

3. This involves the proper handling of emotions, particularly sadness or grief.  Some authors handle this in a way that keeps boys’ attention and some don’t.

4. Boys love facts but there is a difference between fact books and factual books.  Fact books don’t necessarily lead to active literacy, factual books do and can encompass all genres from non-fiction to fiction to science fiction.

In his presentation, Andy also touches on some of the positive male archetypes successful boy book authors deploy. Some examples include The Pilgrim, who is a wanderer/searcher filled with hope, whileThe Patriarch is a masculine form of caring responsibility/emblem of nobility and self-sacrifice. Sherrod defines ten of these archetypes in his lecture.

He also shares his belief that writers have a responsibility to engage with young male readers. He stands against the prevailing school of thought which says young American male aliteracy is inevitable. To quote Andy Sherrod,

“Boys will be interested in books … when books interest the boys.”

I read as a boy. I know boys who read. When they’re related to me by blood or close friendship, I often impose on their parents to let me use them as beta readers. There are and always have been boys who read. Lots of boys read plenty of things. Just not fiction.

Andy Sherrod’s right: if we want to get teen males to read fiction, we have to make fiction appeal to teen males.

I’m out of space here, but look for more on boy books in future posts.

The Book Thief Did Not “Make My Heart Race”

I finally got around to reading The Book Thief. It’s mind-bogglingly good. Its author, Markus Zusak, does everything right. Perhaps the most striking thing about the book is the voice of the narrator. This omniscient but reticent observer expresses most of his opinions and sympathies through seemingly simple verb choices and elegant descriptions. I haven’t had that kind of emotional reaction to a novel in years. If you haven’t read it, stop what you are doing and go out and get it. Don’t wait for the movie. I’m serious. Move it to the top of your reading list right now.

But I’m not here to write another rave review of The Book Thief. I only mention it because it’s a perfect example of what can happen when a writer pushes through those first, easy word choices, refusing to settle on the merely adequate. I don’t pretend to know Zusak’s writing process. But the great lesson I took from his novel and am striving to apply to my own writing is this:

If my word choices feel like they’re coming easily, then that’s a sure sign they’re not very interesting.

A couple of books I went on to read after The Book Thief are examples of what I’m talking about. They too were YA. And the authors each did fabulous jobs constructing well-paced, compelling plots. But they undercut all the great action in their stories by constantly using their hero’s hearts as emotional indicators instead of digging deeper to try to find a more perfect verb or describe a less worked over bodily function.

Early on in my editorial career, I had a conversation with a veteran managing editor. This is the person who gave me one of my earliest shots. She assigned me to work one-on-one with a YA novelist on a full rewrite. During one of our check-in meetings I confessed my frustrations with my assigned author’s reliance on cliché cardiopulmonary metaphors. My mentor agreed that the pounding heart was used way too much in YA fiction but then went on to excuse it as a necessary evil. She described it as a type of writerly shorthand that allows an author to communicate a high stress emotional state without getting bogged down trying to come up with a new way of describing it.

I chose not to argue. Who was I to tell this much more experienced editor that she was wrong? But I have to say that conversation broke my heart a little (yes, I realize that’s a cliché word choice, but this is a blog post, not a novel). Ever since, I’ve struggled with whether or not what she said was true. I don’t think it is.

Isn’t coming up with new and singular ways of expressing truths at least part of why we write?

Great writing is great writing whether it’s in a picture book or a historical monograph. Readers respond to it in profound and unpredictable ways because it changes them. Sure, using shorthand word choices is easier and it basically gets the point across. It’s just not as good. And writing which relies on shorthand and cheats can never rise to the immortal greatness of The Book Thief because it doesn’t create a different reality the way relentlessly crafted-down-to-the-last-word fiction does

Like pretty much everything, if it comes easy it’s probably not worth the effort.

Five Basic Critique Group Rules

Over the years I’ve taken part in a lot of critique groups. I’m a big fan of them. They provide writers of all levels with a forum for finding honest and supportive feedback, assuming everyone knows the general rules of critique group behavior. Few things are worse than getting stuck at a table with a writer who doesn’t play well with others. This is one of the reasons why I prefer open critique groups to be moderated by someone with lots of writing workshop experience.

Unfortunately that’s not always what you get. So today’s post is all about the basics of critique group etiquette. It’s a few ground rules to help everyone get what they need from the experience, regardless of whether it’s moderated.

My first critique group rule is the most important. And it’s really more of a foundation for all my others. It’s an attitude that all participants really need to adhere to in order to make a critique group function properly.

Critique Group Rule #1: Never forget you’re there to support each other.

A critique group is not a competition or a showcase. It’s a place for writers to help other writers write better. (Yeah, that last sentence was on purpose! Leave a comment and tell me how you’d handle it in a critique group.) It must start with acceptance and respect coming from all participants.

Critique Group Rule #2: Start your feedback with a compliment.

If you cannot find at least one thing good to say about the work, then don’t say anything at all. Period.

Critique Group Rule#3: Critique the work, not the writer.

Often this boils down to phrasing. For example, “Your metaphor doesn’t work” can be interpreted by the hearer as a general assessment of a writer’s ability to use metaphor in general. But if you say “That metaphor doesn’t work,” you’re just talking about the words on the page. It’s a fine distinction, but it can mean the difference between a comment being perceived as constructive or destructive.

Critique Group Rule#4: Don’t Defend Your Work. Not even a little.

This can be incredibly difficult to pull off, but you have to do it. Otherwise there’s a good chance you’ll twist the discussion into a debate about your authorial intentions. And that’s not helpful to anyone, especially you. Remember, your intentions are ultimately irrelevant because you won’t always be there to explain what you meant to your readers.

If questions or clarifications occur to you, note them as your work is being is critiqued. Then, once everyone’s given their opinions, you can ask any follow-up questions you feel you need to.

Corollary to Rule Number Four:

When you verbally justify your writing, you tend to get trapped in one-on-one discussions that usually end up wasting everyone else’s time. That’s not respectful.

Critique Group Rule#5: Don’t mess around on your phone while a writer is reading her work.

I can’t believe I even need to say this. But this very thing happened during a recent unmoderated critique group I participated in. It’s rude! There’s no excuse for it! And it sends a clear and unequivocal message that you hold those around you in contempt. If it’s an emergency, then excuse yourself and leave the room to take care of your business.

Sorry to get a little strident there, but that kind of self-absorption angers me. There is never a good excuse for it.

… Okay, I’ve taken some deep breaths, and I’m better now.

Just remember, critique groups are all different, and there are as many ways to structure them as there are writers who take part in them. But these five rules are pretty much universal. And they all grow out of what should be the basic organizing concept of any critique group:

Respect Each Other

Irony: Misunderstood and Misused

I know it’s been said, but, as this is one of the most misused words I run into, it never hurts to go over it again:

According to my forty-year-old dictionary:

Irony IS the use of words to convey the opposite of their literal meaning. It can also refer to a situation, utterance, or literary style that is marked by such a contrast between expected and perceived meanings.

Then it gets a bit muddy, because the definitions of irony also include the incongruity between expectations and results, itself, as well as any circumstance notable for such an incongruity.

Irony Is Not a funny coincidence or an interesting paradox. And it’s not necessarily the same as sarcasm. Though sarcastic statements are often ironic.

For all of my fellow geeks out there who have shouted “Aha!” and curled your fingers into typing position to begin your rebuttal: I am deliberately leaving dramatic and Socratic irony out of this discussion. But, by all means, feel free to comment with your definitions of those two specialized definitions of irony.

Jonathan Swift

One of the most famous examples of an ironic literary work isJonathan Swift‘s A Modest Proposal. If you haven’t read it then you’re missing out. Briefly, it’s a 1729 essay from an Irish writer/social commentator suggesting (ironically) that the best way to solve the problems of rampant Irish poverty and unemployment was for the upper class Irish to eat the infants of the Irish poor. Incidentally, he added that their soft skin would also “make admirable gloves for ladies, and summer boots for fine gentlemen.”

Gruesome but effective use of irony.

As Swift’s example teaches, irony rocks for pointing out the ridiculousness of a situation, even a really horrifying one.

Bob Harris

So what’s an example of the misuse of the term. Well, Alanis Morrisette‘s famous song “Ironic” is the most glaring contemporary one I can think of.  And, apparently Bob Harris agrees. In his2008 NY Times essay he sums it up beautifully, so I’ll just quote him:

Alanis Morissette

“Alanis Morissette’s song “Ironic” is equally useful.If it rains on your wedding day, that’s a coincidence, not an irony. If you win the lottery and drop dead before claiming the money, it’s good luck followed by bad luck. If you meet the man of your dreams and then meet his beautiful wife, it’s a bummer. But if a song called “Ironic” contains no irony, is that in itself ironic? Nope.”

In closing, please forgive my pedantry, but, while it’s annoying to misuse the term irony in conversation, as Harris points out when he quotes the NY Times style guide, the “use of irony and ironically, to mean an incongruous turn of events, is trite. Not every coincidence, curiosity, oddity and paradox is an irony, even loosely.”

Remember, writing ironically is difficult and, again quoting the Times manual, “where irony does exist, sophisticated writing counts on the reader to recognize it.”

So, please, for the sake of pedants like me, make sure you actually are being ironic if that’s what you’re trying to do.