Apparently, there is a new genre being built called “New Adult”. For 20-26 year olds, with “more mature writing and ideas, but not full on adult stories.”
Here’s another explanation:
But what about “postadolescent” fiction? That’s a bit harder to articulate. We, the “new adults”, have some perspective on our lives, but scope? We’re not old enough, we’re not experienced enough, we’re simply not grown-up enough. Our lives have immediacy, just as a teenager’s does, but we also possess the wisdom to understand that this immediacy cannot last for long. It’s a curious place in life and Dan and I feel that not enough fiction (or nonfiction) explore this nebulous time of life. The “quarter-life crisis”, if you will.
As a devoted reader of genre and Young Adult fiction, I actually do not like the idea of this New Adult shizz. It smells like marketing rubbish to me. Trying to find a cash cow on both ends— authors who will write to it, readers who will buy those authors.
I like to think of Young Adult as a genre of its own. Like other genres, some YA books crossover, some books are marketed to an audience that doesn’t suit or even surprises, and some people will always think YA automatically means not quite as good. Creating a new genre is not gonna solve these typical genre problems.
Aside: How many “speculative fiction” aisles have you seen at the book store lately?
I feel like I’m going to turn the aisle at Borders and suddenly find a wall of graffiti fonts and Ed Hardy-esque logo ripoffs on every cover, with a big sign saying “New Adult”. And all the books will be about vampires.
Lately, I keep catching the same bus as the “Weeelllll,” guy.
When he talks to people, before he answers any question, he pauses. Takes a breath. And then, sighing, draws out a long “weeeelllllll,” followed by his reply.
No matter where I sit on the bus, I hear that “weeeeellllll.”
Once, he commented on how much he loves riding his bike around the city. Weeeelllllll, he’s been here, he’s been there, but he’s never been to Southeast because, weeeelllllll, he’s too scared.
Today, he climbed aboard wearing, I shit you not, an alpaca poncho. Exactly like those Peruvian flute players at the mall.
Weeeeellllll. Whatadouche, amirite?
#400. THE INTERNET. YOU CAN DO ANYTHING ON HERE. I THINK I JUST KILLED A MAN IN ZIMBABWE.
WHILE CHECKING MY CREDIT SCORE AND ORDERING A PET MONKEY. SHIT.
Reblogged from dearworldwtf