If you're perusing this website, it's probably safe to say that you have some interest in the YA genre. Especially science fiction/fantasy YA. YA is a relatively new genre in the history of literature, and if you have any literary training, you've heard the disdain in the voices of most literary scholars in regard to its popularity. Common criticisms revolve around its use of modern diction and sentence structure, its fast pace, and, perhaps unfairly, the narrowness of its scope. Where does this come from? Is it earned?
Considering the fact that I myself am writing in the genre, you might be able to safely assume that I will argue in its favor. And you would be ~70% correct. YA does deserve to be regarded with respect, but I will not hesitate to say that not all YA books were created equal. This is true of any book in any genre, but YA has had more exposure, and thus more cursory scrutiny, than many of the genres that preceded it. Therefore, among literary critics, its reputation isn't without some truth.
To illustrate both the artfulness and pitfalls of this beloved genre, I will do a series of blog posts examining the first few chapters of a few of my favorites from when I was in middle school and high school, many of which are well-known titles. To kick it off, I will begin with a book I consider to be in the upper-middle of the pack in terms of craft: The Maze Runner by James Dashner. If you happen to have a copy on hand, I encourage you to open it up as you read this post.
Let's start with the first sentence: He began his new life standing up, surrounded by cold darkness and stale, dusty air.
As far as first sentences go, this one is moderately gripping. It does not immediately suck me into the story so that I can't get back out without anguish, but it is very economical and sets a clear tone for the rest of what we'll read in this book. We immediately know that our protagonist is male, that the story will be told as if it already happened (via past tense), and that there was a stark before, and now an unfolding after, of this moment. The protagonist is somewhere that doesn't feel friendly at all, and the tone and level of description suggests that the protagonist is not familiar with this place. We're gripped because the protagonist is in a transitional moment in his life and is uncomfortable with that, and now we want to know why this transitioning is happening and what makes the new life so different from the old.
It's a very basic structure, a story built on the foundation of a significant change in the character's life, but it works for a reason. Often, the most powerful stories are about change because, still, after millenniums, we as human beings do not understand change, and because of this, still, we fear it.
As we read through the rest of the first page, I will note that this is a particular style choice, conscious or unconscious, of the author: a semi-colon ( ; ) is used three times on a single page. And this is not a criticism! I myself am fond of using sentence structures that require a semi-colon, but it's notable that most people, many authors included, do not know how to use a semi-colon correctly. To ever publish something with a semi-colon, you must be confident in its use; and James Dashner used it three times on the first page.
In case you didn't already know: a semi-colon is equally like a hard comma and a soft period, but it is NOT interchangeable with either. [Sentences are built with clauses]CLAUSE 1, [and]CONJUNCTION [clauses must be separated by punctuation]CLAUSE 2. It is the relationship between the clauses that dictates the punctuation.
In most cases of semi-colon use, you can get away with breaking up the clauses into two separate sentences without changing a single word, but it just reads a little funny. Why does it read funny? Because usually the ideas contained within the two clauses are so closely intertwined that it feels like a separation between them is too brutal. But a comma in its place would become a comma splice. Two of the three times Dashner uses a semi-colon are moments where two ideas in two separate clauses are happening at the same time. Usually the first clause is the one that impacts the protagonist more, but the second is still noteworthy. In the other use of the semi-colon, the clauses could technically read just fine as separate sentences, but the speed, and thus the rhythm, would not feel right.
Now what do I mean by that?
Rhythm, in writing, is what many writers use to reference the beat structures of sentences. It's your sentence structure, your diction, and the combination of both these factors across multiple sentences that determines rhythm. A sentence with good rhythm will use a sentence structure that utilizes the inflections on its words well, and a paragraph with good rhythm will have a mixture of short and long sentences that all use their inflections well. When it comes down to it, it's a breathing thing. If you've read aloud good writing and bad writing, then you know that the experience of reading the two aloud is extremely different and significantly impacts your experience of the content. When you're reading, do you run out of breath? Or does the punctuation fall exactly where and how you are breathing life into the words?
When I talk about using a semi-colon for rhythm purposes, I'm saying that we breathe semi-colons different than we breathe commas and periods. A comma is a quick pause and will almost never warrant an inhale, and a period, if you don't inhale, requires a significant pause at the very least. A semi-colon is the compromise between these. It is that medium length pause that has the effect of adding significance to the second clause, but because of the momentum of the sentence, the significance comes directly from the first clause. A period lends significance, but it will not, in most cases, draw any momentum from the prior sentence. A comma requires the significance of the first clause to carry over to the second, but the significance usually is very small, if not null, because the second clause is barely distinguished from the first.
Whew. If you weren't expecting a grammar lesson, then... well... I guess you're getting a good look into how I read books. And I share any of this because it is with appreciation that I note Dashner's skill and confidence in the craft as part of my analysis of why The Maze Runner earns some distinction for being an excellent example of good craft in the YA genre.
Dashner wields his skill with sentences to tell the story of Thomas, an amnesiac teen who finds himself in a strange place where only other teen boys live, and they live by very different rules from the human experience we are familiar with. The rhythm of the sentences lulls the reader when Thomas gets caught up observing his surroundings, then grows punchy when Thomas becomes agitated. Sentences lilt to Thomas' emotions, and then are roughly jerked around by the other characters, who use such thick slang that the reader feels confused in step with Thomas. For all my praise, however, Dashner's diction and pacing do not earn him a seat with some of the most revered authors of our time. His sentences are reflective of Thomas' experience, which is a delightful experience for the reader, but they do not transcend beyond that.
As we continue on this journey of exploring the merits and shortcomings of some of the biggest titles in YA fiction (albeit many from 5-10 years ago), you will come to see why there is disdain, but also why it is more often than not unfairly doled out.