When I was in either late elementary or early middle school, my library had a bunch of the Magic Tree House books. I wanted to check out, like, eight of them, and the librarian told me I was “too old” for those books. I responded that I liked them. She reluctantly let me, but told me to find something more appropriate for my age next time.
Telling someone to find books “for their age” is one of the dumbest things a person can do and will kill the passion for reading faster than you can blink. I’m 30. Guess which type of book makes up the majority of my shelves and which ones I read over and over again? Young Adult Fiction and Fantasy. J.K. Rowling, Rick Riordan, D.J. MacHale, John Flanagan, Sara J. Maas, Marie Lu, Suzanne Collins, Cinda Williams Chima, Cassandra Clare, Bryan Davis, Ted Dekker... I could easily keep going. Yes, I have several “age appropriate” books I thoroughly enjoy (I’m currently rereading Vince Flynn’s Mitch Rapp series), but I will always and forever love my YA novels. You can pry my post-apocalyptic dystopian page turners from my cold, dead hands.
Don’t tell people to find books for their age. Don’t make fun of people for what they read, how much they read, if they read at all. I’m not judging you for what is or is not on your shelves. I will never snuff your passion for reading or for watching movies or for playing board games or for cosplay. Whatever your passion is, embrace it wholeheartedly, and if others make fun of you for it, throw your cape about you in the most dramatic fashion you can, brandish your wand, hold your book up high, and tell them where they can place their needless opinions.
blakekathryn
yousharknotpass
izzy806
