I never read The Giver until I was 30, and yet I somehow managed to get something out of it. I read Virginia Woolf’s Orlando when I was 10, and yet I somehow managed to get something out of it. I could read both now and get something totally different out of them. I’m much less embarrassed by adults (like myself) who read YA than I am by adults who defensively separate themselves from “stuff for kids” because they don’t think Farewell to Manzanar is sophisticated enough.
It’s my opinion that liking something that’s inaccessible because it’s inaccessible (or impenetrably symbolic, or graphic, or jarring, or relentlessly cynical and yes I am looking at you Cormac McCarthy) is a much more immature sentiment than just liking something genuinely, regardless of people looking down their noses at you about it. The Graham article reads a bit like that kid in high school who used to carry around War and Peace breathlessly waiting for someone to notice how mature their literary tastes were. Just saying. A precocious adult? Far less cute.
I’m seriously baffled by this kind of shaming towards adults who have print or learning disabilities who might have a lot more access to good literature via YA than mainstream literature. But of course the people writing articles like these can never be bothered to think about that, even though we’re talking about millions of people.
I also think we can and should do better… than assuming that our individual experiences, preferences, and abilities are universal, and that people who don’t share them should be ashamed.