by Brady Clark
Young Adult fiction and the subject of mental health go hand in hand. Many writers are finding new stories to tell as stigmas are broken, more about psychological illness is understood and the gateway for a discussion about depression, anxiety, bipolar disorder and other conditions is continually widening. More than this, writers are working to break the stigmas themselves and expand this knowledge gap by providing fictional versions of the truth to educate others and encourage empathy.
These stories are becoming increasingly popular for a number of reasons. People can relate. People want to learn. People are finding resolutions. Roughly a quarter of the world’s population will experience a mental or neurological disorder in their lifetime, and there is still so much more to understand. YA fiction can be an outlet, a guide and a champion for these realities.
These are four defining books of the genre, each tackling mental health with a unique voice and powerful tone that seeks to represent the internal battle many people struggle with.
Thirteen Reasons Why, Jay Asher (2007)
13 Reasons Why deals with the suicide of school girl Hannah Baker. We come to understand why she took her own life as friend and classmate Clay Jensen listens to a series of tapes that point blame at a number of people who caused Hannah hurt before her death.
Now likely more popular for the Netflix series, 13 Reasons Why hits hard. It’s unique structure and tough subject matter combined, leaves an irrevocable mark on the mind. But more than that, Hannah’s decline through the eyes of a naïve male lead is an emotional journey that starts with scepticism, toys with guilt and lands on understanding.
Asher is gifted in character development and unafraid in his approach. There has been criticism as to the necessity of detail in Hannah’s suicide, particularly given the graphic visuals on screen, but this is reality hidden in fiction. It casts a light on desperation and the path to hopelessness that many experience. Relatability and understanding will be there for many, and not just with regards to Hannah, but also those left behind and how they must go on.
All the Bright Places, Jennifer Niven (2015)
Finch and Violet both find themselves at the top of a bell tower, possibly ready to jump. Violet is struggling with survivor’s guilt from the car crash her sister died in, and Finch is depressed, traumatised by abuse and suffering from Bipolar Disorder. As they begin to understand each other and fall in love, one of them improves whilst the other spirals.
Niven’s YA debut is a very powerfully written novel. She navigates the complexity of the human psyche well, and doesn’t rush to define her characters’ complex psychological statuses. Instead, she finds a very real voice in both Finch and Violet’s perspectives, and manages the severity of anger, grief and loneliness masterfully.
Looking for Alaska, John Green (2005)
Less direct in its understanding of mental health, Looking for Alaska is split into two halves: Before and After. Whilst this is more obviously measured as before and after Alaska’s accident, it could also be considered a split between obliviousness and realisation. Thinking all is well and knowing something is wrong. Was wrong. Similar to Asher, Green includes an element of ignorance in his lead character, perhaps a tool in schooling the unfamiliar. Those who have not understood psychological pain the way Alaska does and how it contributes to her deterioration.
Miles ‘Pudge’ Halter is an intriguing protagonist as well as a unique viewpoint to understanding Alaska. His obsession with the last words famous people said before they die provides an interesting education. Social awkwardness and sexual inexperience make him real, though it perhaps takes the reader a while to warm up to Miles given the initial lack of substance to his character. But his immediate infatuation with Alaska is the most enticing aspect of the novel, their developing friendship and the complexities of teenage love.
Green is a heavy contributor to the sub-genre ‘Sick-lit’, not that this should be given credit as a legitimate term in the industry. It suggests a cheap and one-dimensional approach, one that people who dislike the YA genre have constructed seemingly to disparage popular and recurring themes that have provided a certain type of novel with great success. Green’s later novel, The Fault in our Stars, has been criticised for its ‘glorification’ of teen cancer. But surely Green is doing what any good writer of this genre does – shedding light on issues others are unfamiliar with and engrossing the reader in a world they do not yet understand.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephen Chbosky (1999)
Chbosky’s debut novel is a wonderful representation of the outsider, searching for a way in. Charlie has side-lined himself to remain in control. The unreliable narrator approach means we’re not quite sure what he has lost control of, though it’s clear he has had some form of mental break.
The introspectiveness of this book can make readers fear for Charlie. The build-up implies something terrible will inevitably happen, though it is harder to suspect the truth of the past. His story is one of trauma and overcoming this through the help of new friends.
It’s hard not to be sceptical of Sam and Patrick at first – the reader is protective of Charlie and uncertain of their motives. But Perks is, for the most part, about kindness and friendship. It shows that trauma shared, whilst not an exact fix, can help to find a way forward.
Perks doesn’t expressly state its intentions towards the subject of mental health, certainly not to the same degree as 13 Reasons Why and this works very well with the story it is trying to tell. It is warming but difficult. We are lonely reading about Charlie, but desperate for him not to stay this way as he is so likeable – he is protective and kind, fun and understated.
Whilst the number of novels in this sub-genre is becoming increasingly inexhaustive, the four in this list all contributed heavily to YA’s exploration into mental health and inspired others to write in similar styles. It doesn’t look like it’s slowing down any time soon which is great news for such a progressive genre, though there are undoubtedly many stories left to tell. YA can be imaginative and heartfelt, but most of all, personal. It can bring you to tears, but leave you with a far greater understanding of very real issues.
Brady Clark is a YA writer and Doctoral Researcher at Brunel University London. Follow him on Twitter @BradyRClark
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