Bernard Beckett, Genesis and some of the best teen fiction you will ever read!

Confession: I'm a little bit in love with Bernard Beckett.

Well, his books, anyway.

I first stumbled across Bernard Beckett when a friend gave me a copy of August for my birthday. Reading August was such a new experience – a YA different from any I’d ever read – that I immediately went out and bought Genesis, Beckett's best-known novel. It sounds stupidly simple, perhaps, to say that I am a fan because reading his novel was a 'new experience', but in the current market, finding a novel that offers something completely different, something surprising, is rare, and having read my second Beckett, I think I'm probably right in saying that rare is something he consistently manages.

If you've never read Beckett, you should know this: he writes unique books. 

These books are intricately-woven: stories about people and circumstances, love and hate, faith and religion, history and the future.

Take August, for example. On the surface, August is about a teenage boy and girl who are stuck in an upturned car following a crash, left to keep each other conscious all night by telling their stories. As we, and they, learn their stories, they start to weave inescapably together.

Underneath all that, though, is a brilliant mind at work. Beckett deftly weaves in complex discussions on philosophy, religion, faith and free will, all in a way that is necessary and relevant to the plot and characters. 

Genesis does the same sort of thing. The story centres on Anax, who is taking an examination in front of a board of her peers. If all goes well, she will find herself a member of the Academy. The book has an unusual format – it is essentially a transcript of Anax’s conversation with the Examiners. When I think about it, this format shouldn’t work at all! It shouldn’t be captivating or interesting or unputdownable, but it’s all of those things.

As the Examiners set about asking Anax a series of questions on her chosen subject, you get wrapped up in the history of the world she finds herself a part of, and you start to find out a little about what Anax believes her place in that world is.

The unusual format of Genesis

Her chosen subject is Adam. Adam was a man who brought about the downfall of an entire society, and Anax is endlessly fascinated by him. As she answers question after question, we learn more about Adam, but also more about Anax’s obsession with his life. Into this scenario, Beckett weaves a discussion on society, economics, government and Artificial Intelligence.

Even as I write those words, I wonder how Beckett has turned such a thing into a book so full of magic as Genesis, but he has. He is a clever, clever writer. Everything stitches together, everything adds up, and every sentence boils with intent and thought. As Patick Ness puts it on the cover blurb: “A very different Young Adult novel... that will make smart teenagers feel very respected." 

I couldn’t agree more. but I also think it's a fun, thrilling, absorbing novel, and I for one am off to find more like it!

Boys will be Boys - Four of the top guys in contemporary YA fiction

Let's face it: a lot of the recent big commercial YA fiction has been written by women. The ones you hear about in the news, I mean. The ones that turn up at the cinema. Stephanie Meyer, Suzanne Collins, Moira Young. What are the boys doing while all this is going on?

Writing some genius fiction, that's what.

When you step into the world of contemporary realism - gritty, honest books - you find that guys own a HUGE chunk of the limelight. Seeing as I blogged a few weeks ago on my favourite kick-ass girls, I thought it was about time I ventured into the world of boys! (Read into that what you will...)

So just for you, here are some of my favourite books written about guys, by guys.

Melvin Burgess, Phil Earle, Keith Gray and Dave Cousins - Masters of contemporary YA

1 Kill All Enemies, by Melvin Burgess. Melvin Burgess is a God amongst contemporary YA authors. He's a flipping genius - one of those authors most people know of, but haven't always read. (If you haven't read any of his books before, go and find one, even if it means stealing one from the nearest stranger.) Kill All Enemies is his most recent, and I loved it. The story is told by three characters: Rob, Chris and Billie. They're all stuck in various cycles, carrying them further away from the people they'd like to be and the lives they'd like to have. Burgess never goes easy on anybody. He throws stuff at these guys until you are gasping for breath at their fortitude and, well, balls. At the same time, he has a certain knack for pinpointing the humanity in everybody. People just like these characters exist - they're out there, fighting against the rest of the world, and that thought is terrifying - something Burgess isn't afraid to play on.

"Isn't it amazing how just thinking something can change your whole life? That's what a miracle is. Not flashing lights and choirs of angels and people coming back to life. It can happen in a moment and no one would ever know but the person it's happening to."

2 Being Billy, by Phil Earle.  I was given this for review, and it quickly (like, within about 20 pages) became one of my favourite debuts of 2011. Make no mistake, this is an AWESOME book. There's something unbelievably stark about this novel - you can't escape the hell that has become Billy's life. He hates it, and the worse it gets, the harder he fights. And boy, does he know it. You sense right from page one that Billy is just waiting for someone to offer to save him, but you also sense that as soon as they do, Billy will fight them all the way. Considering that Earle doesn't pull back from the tough stuff, he is capable of absolutely pummelling you with emotion. Every time Billy talks to his twin brother and sister, you want to leap right in, scoop the lot of them up and put them somewhere the world can't reach them any more. Surely even the most manly of manly men will be cuddled up with the kleenex by the end?

"My arm was sore. But, to be honest, everything aches after a restraint. Not just your muscles either, your brain, your guts, everything. It's difficult to explain. You feel lopsided, out of kilter, just wrong."

3 Ostrich Boys, by Keith Gray. I don't know what it is about Keith Gray. Every time I pick up one of his books, I get sucked in before I know what's happening. Ostrich Boys opens with Blake, Kenny and Sim hiding in a garden with a can of spray paint, desperate to do the right thing by their best friend Ross, who died after being hit by a car. They're angry - his funeral was depressing, not fit for Ross at all. So the three boys make a plan: they'll take Ross to Ross, and so begins the sort of adventure you'd expect when 3 teenage boys embark on a 250 mile journey carrying an urn full of ashes. There are a lot of surprises along the way, though. Blake, for a start, isn't your typical main character. He's seriously overweight and uncomfortable with himself, but he's brilliant, and as much as he puts himself down, you hope he isn't too far from seeing just how brilliant he really is.

"Our best friend Ross was ash in a jar. Ross was dead. Kenny, Sim and I were learning to live with it."

4 15 Days Without a Head, by Dave Cousins. Small confession. I got a review copy of this late last year (it was officially published earlier this year), and soon afterwards went on to meet Dave Cousins at a conference. If you are reading this, Dave, I apologise. I gushed. This book is GENIUS. I love it. I envy it. More than anything, I wish it had been around when I was a teenager. Fifteen Days is the incredibly well-told story of fifteen year-old Laurence and his little brother Jay (who thinks he's a dog), and the day their mum doesn't return home after work. They're left to fend for themselves - or rather, Laurence is left to fend for the both of them. This is a funny, genuine, heart-breaking window into the life of a modern teenager, and you won't want to put it down. Ever. (As a small side-note, the introduction to Laurence and Jay's mum is one of the best character intros I've read - seriously! I recently found myself surrounded by writers for a weekend, and that character intro is all we were talking about. Well, that and cake.)

"By the time I get to school, the playground is empty. I've missed registration and assembly has started, so I have to go to the office and sign the Late Book. I make it back just in time to join the queue lining up for first period - out of breath and sweating like a kebab."

It's summer - go and treat yourself to a new book! (Disclaimer: the sun was still shining when I wrote this. It may now, in fact, be chucking it down. In which case, go treat yourself to a new book.)

I'll Be There - A new perspective in contemporary YA fiction

It isn't very often that you come across something that feels entirely fresh and unfazed by the market. So, when those moments come along, you treasure them. Last week I was lucky enough to have Holly Goldberg Sloan's I'll Be There recommended to me, and it didn't take long for me to realise I wasn't going to be able to put it down any time soon.

I'll Be There is a love story, hidden deep in the folds of a family drama, and reading it really does feel like you are discovering something entirely brave and new. The story revolves around Emily and Sam, two teenagers who meet one day at a church. Emily's father has forced her into singing a solo, and she's dreading it - the only thing she is confident about it that she has a horrible singing voice. Hearing the pipe organ playing from the street, Sam walks into the same church, and takes a seat in the very back row.

From here, chance encounters and decisions made in the moment forge a path down which Emily and Sam are guided. This is a book written from an eagle-eye perspective, swooping down on character after character, each providing a small piece of the puzzle, from Sam's younger brother, Riddle, to his dangerously unhinged father, including along the way a black bear, a cattle driver and a hotel cleaning lady. Every character is observed in beautiful, subtle detail. Take Riddle, for example. Riddle is autistic, but we are never told. Instead, through scene after scene, we are shown how he likes to carry a telephone directory around with him in which he draws intricate diagrams of machines and engines, and how he bonds with Emily's family through the dog and her mother's 'dump cake'.

The story is told by a removed narrator who seems to have no emotional insight into the story he is telling. For some reason I cannot fathom, even after reading this book twice, I can't shake the feeling that this adds to the book's emotional depth. The perspective is so emotionally removed that the big scenes deliver a huge punch, more so than most first-person narratives, and if you're anything like me, you'll be dying to read it again soon after you've finished it the first time.


Sloan invites the reader to judge characters by their actions, not their thoughts, and there is something incredibly admirable about that. By viewing Emily and Sam's world from the clouds, Sloan is able to trace fate's path through their lives, examining each and every person who makes an impact on their stories.

I'll Be There seems to me an extremely important and interesting addition to the world of contemporary realistic YA, and I've spent the last few days heartily recommending it to EVERYONE.

So, you know, go read it. Go love it, go pass it on. You won't be able to resist. Promise.

The Great Meg Rosoff - Where Better To Start?

It should be said that I like all kinds of children's books. Whilst I prefer the serious ones - stories which tackle questions in life bigger than 'I wonder if he's going to bite me' - I'll read most things. (Except Stephen King. That guy's books just freak me out.) I even read Twilight once upon a time.

Being reasonably widely-read in children's fiction helps on the occasions that I help out at my local bookshop. I am steered away from the grown-up section lest I accidentally recommend Jodi Piccoult to someone who's come in asking for something similar to Jo Nesbo. But in the kids section, I'm allowed to roam free.

The most common question I've had whilst standing admiring the shiny foil insets on covers and the newest sparkly Big Thing, is "My daughter is addicted to vampire books. I'd like her to read something a bit different - something a bit more... erm... you know. What would you recommend?"

This is followed by a short Q & A session along the lines of:

Q: "What else does she like?"

A: "Nothing."

Q: "Oh, right."

A: "Well, she likes Harry Potter."

Q: "Hmmm."

There are a couple of options for responding to a request for something that's like Twilight but isn't Twilight, and something that's like Twilight but not as... erm... you know. Of course, you could recommend another paranormal book, but where's the fun in that? Besides, Mum wants something a bit different - something Daughter will like, but that will ultimately get her thinking about something other than where it might be possible to find a house full of vampires living in Oxfordshire. (Not that that isn't fun.)

Given no other information about Daughter, the first person I point Mum towards is Meg Rosoff. Even if I do have Daughter knowledge, I still tend to look to the same place, because there's a Meg Rosoff for everyone. (And yes, that includes all you grown-up people.)

Here's why. Meg Rosoff writes absolutely awesome books that mean something. They're a little bit special. I suspect if anyone pitched one of her plots, they'd get raised eyebrows and something along the lines of "Are you serious?" She's written five novels so far, gathered several awards and a loyal set of followers. All of her books are written for teens, but her adult fans must be just as numerous.

Meg Rosoff writes about teenagers in a unique and brutal way. She understands them, doesn't patronise them, swears like a trooper and doesn't care for rules. As Daisy, the main character in How I Live Now, says, "This is one of the things I most dislike about nature, namely that the rules are not at all precise." Rosoff allows you to think she's following the rules, then twists away, leaving you as vulnerable as her characters.

As for her characters, they're never obviously strong. They're led by many things, but rarely other people, in the manner of a lot of teen fiction. Emotions, sure. Need, want, desire, fear, sure. But they have their own minds, wherever that winds up taking them, good or bad. They're spiky, resilient, funny, sharp - the teenagers you always wanted to be. They're extraordinary, but haven't got a clue how to be, and aren't in a position to bother giving it a go anytime soon.

When you pick up one of Rosoff's books, you never expect to find a teenager having to save the world. There's no baddies (apart from hormones perhaps, and nobody likes those) and no convenient escapes. Pretty much like everyone else's experience of the world, really.

Oh - and nobody has especially sharp teeth.

Where better to start with teen fiction than that?

p.s. If you haven't ever read any Meg Rosoff - well, why the hell not? Go and fetch yourself a copy of How I Live Now. After that there's another four to choose from, you lucky thing: What I Was (my personal favourite), Just In Case, The Bride's Farewell and There Is No Dog. How I Live Now is currently heading down the movie path, too. Just in case you wanted to know.

August, by Bernard Beckett

"Tristan found a new feeling taking hold of him, something lighter than happiness. His thoughts drifted more and more from the present to the future. Hope. That was it, even if he couldn't name it. Hope lifted his gaze and floated his mind. He had no idea what lay ahead of him, but he knew it was something."

Beckett is an author I hadn't heard of until recently, when I was given a copy of 'August' as a gift. (This is just one of the many advantages to having a bookseller for a friend - they always know just what you'll like!)

August is the story of two teenagers - Tristan and Grace - and the things that have brought them together. Not just any kind of together, though - certainly not the nice, happily-ever-after together - but the kind of agonising togetherness that could go either way.

The book starts with virtual strangers Tristan and Grace flying from the road in their car and tumbling part-way into a valley. Landing upside down, they are trapped. It's the middle of the night, and there's no chance they'll be spotted from the road. Bleeding and in excruciating pain, they're in this for the long haul, and they know it.

To keep each other conscious, they tell their stories. And that's what this book is: it's a story about stories, and the ways in which they weave in and out of each other.

Tristan and Grace take it in turns to talk, slowly revealing how they ended up in a car together that night. We follow both through their childhoods and their quests to find adulthood, each step along the way bringing characters as rich and varied as any you could wish for, and each time their stories move on, we are constantly left wondering where the fault for their misfortune lies.

Beckett cleverly weaves good and bad with uncertainty and circumstance, and it is truly difficult to blame anybody for their actions, even if you spend the entire book wishing you could do so.

But the thing I most admire about August is the way it takes its time. There is no rush here. Beckett lets you take your time, allows you to absorb every word of his winding sentences, and lets you feel your way forwards. The build up of tension is incredible, and as Tristan and Grace get closer to understanding the ways in which their lives have crossed in unstoppable and sometimes unforgivable moments, you egg them on with everything you have, even though you suspect you don't want the full story to come out. Very little in their lives has been good, and you feel that life isn't going to start being good to them now.

"Time is passing," Grace replied. "And we are not. It's the best we can hope for."

August is an intense read. Beckett deals with some big philosophical ideas, and as with everything else in this book, he takes his time in doing so. Then again, he handles everything with such ease that it feels just right that you should be reading about the arguments surrounding man's free will one minute, and watching Tristan slowly manipulate a broken tooth to the front of his bloodied mouth with his tongue so that he can spit it out the next.

August is part thriller, part love story. These are two teenagers who time and time again have broken free from their constraints only to find new and darker ones. Every time life turns on them, you can't help but wish for better for them both, especially as they are often one word, one glance over their shoulders away from better things. As a reader, your only hope is that through telling each other their stories, they can figure out a next move that will take them someplace better, and even as you are nearing the end of this book, you won't be sure which way it's going to go. But either way, it's worth going along for the ride.

The Fault in our Stars, by John Green

Seeing as this is a blog about serious teen fiction, what better way to start than to review one of the books of the moment? I should warn you that I started reading this book at around 5pm yesterday, and I finished it three tubes, one train, a hurried walk home so I could start reading again and seven hours later. I may have been close to slipping into unconsciousness by the time I finished this last night, but apparently not close enough to stilt its impact. Not that I cried or anything.

The Fault in our Stars is a book everyone who hasn't been living under an especially large, hibernation-inducing rock has heard about. Like a lot of teen fiction at the moment, it's everywhere, and its following is only growing. And yet - it doesn't have a UK publisher.

How does a book not yet published in the UK gain such a huge following over here?

Because it's freaking awesome, that's why.

Teen fiction does a lot of things. It has strong characters who suck you in, twisting plots that spit you back out and hooks you could hang a blue whale on. Serious teen fiction, however, does something else: it delivers a punch you rarely find in more commercial fiction.

It's often character-driven, for a start, which means that if you wrote down the (action) plot, point by point, you'd often have almost nothing written on the page in front of you.

What's left behind, however, are the characters, and their voices. And boy, does John Green deliver some voices.

Take Hazel, for example, the main character. Hazel is precocious. She's curious. She feels for her place in the world, and then takes the time to stand and admire it. Oh - and she has cancer. The inoperable kind. In fact, it's pretty much the can't-do-anything-about-it kind.

When Augustus Waters turns up at her cancer support group (held in the Literal Heart of Jesus), I'd like to say that everything changes for Hazel, but I don't feel that it does. You could say that it opens doors for her, but Hazel isn't the kind of girl who goes storming through open doors. Quite frankly she'd be happier reading a book. You could say it shows her the breadth of humanity, but Hazel is well aware of how strange and diverse people are. You could say she grows up during the course of the story, but Hazel is already 16 going on 30.

What it does do, is show us the world through the eyes of a dying teenager. It shows us how Hazel feels to find her first love, and how she feels as the world widens and then collapses around her to the sound of the BiPAP that keeps her breathing at night. It shows how she deals with knowing that the moment she dies, the people around her will be left behind to cope with changed lives. And let me tell you, she isn't exactly soppy about it.

Hazel is the kind of character that teen fiction exists for. She's resilient, but not fearless; gutsy but not heroic; curious but not all-knowing. She's the kid sitting on the bus next to you or the girl that lives down the street. She talks like a teenager, processes the world like a teenager and dreams like a teenager.

Which all means that when The Fault in our Stars reaches its end, we feel none of the characters have reached theirs, whatever and wherever they might be.

And that is what I love about serious teen fiction.