I didn't take notes on this one, because I was actually on it! But I can talk about what I can remember.
First, though, I want to mention a much narrower topic--the topic as I originally imagined it.
I've been thinking about children that literally never grow up: Peter Pan, for instance, or Dorothy Gale, once she goes to live permanently in the land of Oz. Children who stop aging before they go through puberty seem to me qualitatively different from people who achieve so-called eternal youth when they've already reached maturity. (Edward Cullen and Bella Swan are something in between, but they're closer to the latter thing, as they've already gone through puberty.)
Unaging children pile up experiences and can grow wiser for them (unless, like Peter Pan, they have no long-term memory), but they miss out on all the trauma/drama/excitement that go along with puberty. In some cases, as in some of
sartorias's stories, that's the whole point: you say a spell to remain a child until you feel ready for that emotional and physical firestorm.
Anyway. I think there's something paradoxical about gaining experience and yet remaining a child.
That's not what the panel was about, though. The panel had a much broader topic: how do children feel about growing up? From the panel description: Kids in their tweens and early teens often want the rights and privileges of adulthood while shying away from responsibility as long as possible. The attraction of growing up and the way it conflicts with the fear of leaving the safety of childhood is frequently addressed in YA literature.
There were **all sorts** of ways the conversation could have gone--I mean, we could talk forever and touch on a thousand things. Fortunately, our excellent moderator
deliasherman kept us on track.
People had such interesting things to say. Steve Popkes talked about the theme of coming into your power and the theme of shouldering your responsibilities. He said that in stories you often got both themes--but they don't *have* to go together. Anil Menon talked about how adolescence in India can extend into your late twenties. Ellen Klages talked about how, for girls, becoming adult traditionally meant giving up adventures and settling down into a caregiving role.
A number of really interesting points came up as a result of comments or questions from the audience. One person in the audience suggested that maybe one thing that YA literature did was encourage young people to grow in empathy. This prompted Anil Menon to say that in India, while *sympathy* was encouraged, *empathy* is tricky, because once you start empathizing, the whole caste system falls apart. He said when he wrote his YA novel (which is set in India in the nearish future), he originally gave his characters surnames, but the publisher made him remove them--because you can tell a person's caste from their surname, and (I guess, though Anil didn't say this directly) that would complicate the story.
Ellen Klages had said that she hadn't thought of her novel as being a YA novel--she had written the story she wanted to read--but that's how it had ended up being marketed. Perhaps in response to that, Madeleine Robins, who was in the audience, remarked that when To Kill a Mockingbird was first published, it was considered a book for adults, but then gradually it got moved on down to younger ages.
That got me thinking about how Scout, as a youthful narrator, can remark on racism and injustice in a very different way from an adult. Having Scout as the protagonist freed Harper Lee up to talk about the issues from a totally unexpected, and therefore revealing, perspective. I realize that's one reason I like young protagonists.
There was more--for instance, at one point Ellen Klages asked the audience a series of questions, like "How many of you felt like you were strange, when you were young?" with interesting results. (I wish I remember some of the follow-up questions. But it was enlightening that *EVERY* one had felt strange or like an outsider when they were young.
First, though, I want to mention a much narrower topic--the topic as I originally imagined it.
I've been thinking about children that literally never grow up: Peter Pan, for instance, or Dorothy Gale, once she goes to live permanently in the land of Oz. Children who stop aging before they go through puberty seem to me qualitatively different from people who achieve so-called eternal youth when they've already reached maturity. (Edward Cullen and Bella Swan are something in between, but they're closer to the latter thing, as they've already gone through puberty.)
Unaging children pile up experiences and can grow wiser for them (unless, like Peter Pan, they have no long-term memory), but they miss out on all the trauma/drama/excitement that go along with puberty. In some cases, as in some of
Anyway. I think there's something paradoxical about gaining experience and yet remaining a child.
That's not what the panel was about, though. The panel had a much broader topic: how do children feel about growing up? From the panel description: Kids in their tweens and early teens often want the rights and privileges of adulthood while shying away from responsibility as long as possible. The attraction of growing up and the way it conflicts with the fear of leaving the safety of childhood is frequently addressed in YA literature.
There were **all sorts** of ways the conversation could have gone--I mean, we could talk forever and touch on a thousand things. Fortunately, our excellent moderator
People had such interesting things to say. Steve Popkes talked about the theme of coming into your power and the theme of shouldering your responsibilities. He said that in stories you often got both themes--but they don't *have* to go together. Anil Menon talked about how adolescence in India can extend into your late twenties. Ellen Klages talked about how, for girls, becoming adult traditionally meant giving up adventures and settling down into a caregiving role.
A number of really interesting points came up as a result of comments or questions from the audience. One person in the audience suggested that maybe one thing that YA literature did was encourage young people to grow in empathy. This prompted Anil Menon to say that in India, while *sympathy* was encouraged, *empathy* is tricky, because once you start empathizing, the whole caste system falls apart. He said when he wrote his YA novel (which is set in India in the nearish future), he originally gave his characters surnames, but the publisher made him remove them--because you can tell a person's caste from their surname, and (I guess, though Anil didn't say this directly) that would complicate the story.
Ellen Klages had said that she hadn't thought of her novel as being a YA novel--she had written the story she wanted to read--but that's how it had ended up being marketed. Perhaps in response to that, Madeleine Robins, who was in the audience, remarked that when To Kill a Mockingbird was first published, it was considered a book for adults, but then gradually it got moved on down to younger ages.
That got me thinking about how Scout, as a youthful narrator, can remark on racism and injustice in a very different way from an adult. Having Scout as the protagonist freed Harper Lee up to talk about the issues from a totally unexpected, and therefore revealing, perspective. I realize that's one reason I like young protagonists.
There was more--for instance, at one point Ellen Klages asked the audience a series of questions, like "How many of you felt like you were strange, when you were young?" with interesting results. (I wish I remember some of the follow-up questions. But it was enlightening that *EVERY* one had felt strange or like an outsider when they were young.
- Music:Hank Williams: The Battle of Armageddon

Comments
... That's a real-life thing, though. You don't see that so much in novels. The novel I can think of involving a character who magically ages older (and is happy about it) is The Thief Lord. (Though, when I mentioned this, a person in the audience mentioned the Artemis Fowl books--which I haven't read, but does the protagonist magically age older? Or want to?
There's a lot of different things about childhood attitudes, some of which are safety as well as helplessness, responsibility, etc. So many issues. Mostly, though, I think, kids who play around with the idea of never growing up are looking toward endless play, while someone else provides food and a place to stay (preferably a kewl place)
The fear--or the seeming inevitability--of becoming one's parents can be a good motivator to remain a child because a child, by definition, cannot be a parent, nor is s/he likely to make the same mistakes or have the same situations and circumstances (including, but not limited to, adult responsibilities) thrust on them. That doesn't mean, though, that the desire to hurry-up-grow-up-and-get-away can't or doesn't cohabit with the wish to remain a child.
Edited at 2011-07-27 09:31 am (UTC)
But yeah, I quite agree: I can certainly see that not wanting to become like one's parents would be a good reason for wanting to stay a kid. Plus, even though being an adult can bring power, the smallness and unobtrusiveness you can have as a kid, and the free pass you get in terms of behavior, is something that you can want to hold onto. I loved that, as a kid, I could trespass places and it would be less of a crime than if a grown-up did it. (It's something I miss about being a grown-up now... though I still do wander into places, now and then...)
As I think you know, I never got into YA. What you say about the "notion that childhood is a safe and fun time" except when it's not - the presence of the creepy/macabre in childhood - is what I got out of the Victorian children's lit that I grew up with and loved (Peter Pan, the Alice books, The Jungle Book, etc.). What I remember most deeply about all those books were the most disturbing parts, but then again, I became a horror writer. I think that I actually found YA to be rather sedate in comparison, when I got to the YA age.
I was thinking about a future career from a young age, and knew early on that I would attend college in the U.S. no matter what. I've pretty much always wanted to grow up, probably because I was surrounded by grown-ups, not children.
I was *not* eager to embrace what seemed to me to be irksome responsibilities. It was only as I became an adult that I realized what freedom and power adulthood gave me.
I'm reading the real Peter Pan now. It's fascinating! There's a lot of puke-worthy stuff, but a lot of really funny stuff, and a lot of observations of childhood that really ring true.
I wrote an essay in college trying to argue that Peter Pan was colonial/post-colonial fiction. My professor wrote "I don't quite buy it, but nice try" or something to that effect. I'm pretty much obsessed with the end sequence where Peter puts on Hook's clothes and starts acting like him. My other theory is that Neverland is actually the afterlife (with all the "babies that fell out of their prams" and parents that lock their windows stuff). People don't much enjoy that one :P
I can see children not believing this of their peers (the idea that the "popular" kids could feel strange), but as an adult, having gained that experience you mentioned, I can totally buy it.
Interesting what Mr. Menon said about sympathy/empathy and how their usage seems geared (going from the explanation he gives) to defend a mentality that most modern-day "Western" literature tries to eradicate.
I'll try to come back later to discuss more but cranky baby is demanding attention...
Maybe part of the reason people come to feel like they're the only odd one is because, especially when we're young, it can be hard to express how we feel--so it's hard to make yourself understood, and that's isolating. Plus, our peers are wrapped up in their own problems, and can have a hard time seeing beyond their own internal dramas to understand and empathize with someone else--so again: isolation.
... well, those are just random thoughts and generalizations, though. There are lots of young people who are very empathetic, and there are probably people whose strangeness and alien-ness **is** really extreme (though most times, when people describe the really odd things they did, or thought, that they thought marked them as true weirdos or aliens, the things never strike me as particularly strange).
Each one of us is a very special snowflake, mmmhmm. But the flip side of that is learning that no one, no one at all, is going to have the same thought patterns as we do, is going to understand us as deeply as we want to be understood. And that does take a while to learn? Kids are shown and told all these stories of bestest best friends and, eventually, romance and soulmates, where people know each other almost better than the person knows him/herself. So everyone must have had those moments of even a trusted someone unexpectedly going "Huh? ...you're kidding..." and feeling suddenly, totally, strange and estranged.
"Can anybody ever love anyone so much that they will never fear
Never worry, never be sad
The answer is they cannot love this much, nobody can
That's why I don't mind your doubting"
--those lines really struck me, when the song came out. No love can take away all pain ... and I think it applies here, because no matter how much love we have for someone else, or they have for us, we are separate people--we'll never overlap in thoughts and feelings perfectly. Our souls/hearts can be a lonely place.
Of course, it still scares me a little, but at least I know how to do it. In theory. *g*
I'd always wondered about that particularly in regard to the eight-year-old vampire in Anne Rice's work. I can't think of her name right now, but I remember she was presented as an adult in a child's body, and I wasn't sure that would actually be possible, as her brain wouldn't have matured.
I also liked Klages' comment about kids (though adults do it too, I think) feeling like they were the only one not to get the instruction manual.
Definitely an interesting topic, and could have gone in all sorts of directions. One of the things I like about a good panel topic is that it makes me think of other ways it could've gone--the panel in actuality was interesting, but there are all these alternate-Readercon-panels that could have happened, too.
I remember when we lived in Japan as a family, there was one day when suddenly all our neighbors were out cleaning the drainage ditch that ran beside the road. It was obviously Drainage Ditch Clean-up Day, only somehow we literally hadn't gotten the memo. It was like a concrete version of the metaphorical thing Klages was talking about.
And yes about the alternate panel discussions that could have been! A good topic gets you thinking about all those other possible discussions.