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Cogent identity issues for adolescents
BY ANNE-STEFI TEIGLAND
What’s the difference between a book for young people
and one for adults? The question surfaces from time to time,
but finding an answer has never been easy, not easy at all.
In fact the question has been raised so many times that it
seems to have become pretty trivial. That notwithstanding,
it’s not going to go away, and it does cause some concern
when the boundaries between the two genres either merge or
dissolve from time to time.
For the younger readers of the books, the genre probably doesn’t
matter. With any luck most of them are crossing borders non-stop
on the lookout for new literary revelations. But for people
like us, compelled to have an opinion about genre labels like
‘literature for young adults’, selecting the criteria
can prove something of an ordeal. Several factors are involved,
the most conspicuous being that we happen to be living in
a world where adolescence and adulthood are themselves relatively
fluid states. So it helps to see books like Jon Ewo’s
trilogy about sixteen-year-old Adam: Sola er en feit gud (The
sun’s a fat god, 1999), Månen er en diger pudding
(The moon’s a gigantic pudding, 2000) and Jorda er tøff
og naken (The earth’s cool and naked, 2001). As I read
him, Ewo is pursuing what I feel lies at the core of literature
for young people, i.e. the transition from childhood to adulthood.
And his ability to do so is so perceptive and clear that we
never doubt that it is literature for the young.
Contract
We follow Adam through the three volumes as he searches for
an identity. He’s introduced to us in the first book
sitting on the top of a silo in a central district of Oslo,
totally fed up with his life. His girlfriend has ditched him
because he is too childish. Pining and depressed, Adam feels
he has reached rock bottom. He manages, however, to pull himself
sufficiently together to start acting. While up there on the
silo roof he draws up a contract with the sun and decides
to grow up – fast, in the course of a solitary summer
month.
What is so special about Ewo’s approach is that he lets
Adam take on his identity problems as a personal project.
In the first book, Adam is convinced that adulthood is the
answer, and he acts upon that conviction. In the next book
doubts start to emerge, and he decides growing up may not
be that pressing after all. Perhaps it’s a good idea
to keep hold of childhood for a bit longer? The third book
sheds light on a more personal solution. Adam has seemingly
become reconciled with himself, but realises, especially when
confronting the outside world, that standing still is no good.
If you’re ever going to become a full human being, you’re
going to have to grow and develop.
Drive
The trilogy summarises the thematic structures common to modern
youth literature. The difference is that Ewo decides to angle
the story from the point of view of the protagonist’s
self-reflection. Adam’s identity crisis is not buried
under layers of other problems. His home life is relatively
normal, his parents still together and obviously very caring,
a refreshing factor in itself. Many books for the young allow
parental failure to trigger the identity crisis of the young
central character. Not so for Adam. His frustration comes
from within himself, which makes him more convincing as a
character. Another conspicuous feature is his capacity to
take the bull by the horns. Adam really does something with
his situation, tackling life’s many trials with drive,
wit and self-irony. His problems are presented in a modern,
engaging way. Ewo is evidently an author interested in communicating
with his readers. He even lets the narrator speak to us directly,
we are referred to us ”brothers and sisters” in
all three volumes. The language is consistently humorous and
informal, it has a steady, rhythmic gait and its in-built
sense of self-irony gives a light touch of humour. We do not
laugh at Adam, but with him.
Ewo’s directness prompts us to reflect on aspects of
the literary process of communication. As readers we need
to relate to a protagonist who speaks on behalf of an author.
An author who, in an epilogue, speaks on behalf of himself
and to musical and literary references.
Sales figures
Trilogies are typical of contemporary adolescent literature.
Sequels, both of the free-wheeling and the follow-on types,
have practically become a distinguishing mark in themselves.
There is no doubt that it has something with the pleasure
of repetition, with meeting anew a protagonist we liked reading
about before. But it is also about sales figures. An already
glorified protagonist has more sales potential, despite eventual
dips in quality common to serialised products. Little is expanded
into much. This is true of Ewo too. The first volume, for
which he was awarded the Ministry of Culture literary prize,
is the best by a long chalk. In the second, composition and
story lines are looser. But in the third, he is back on form.
And as a set, the trilogy represents the best Ewo has done
so far.
In many ways then the books stand out as a compendium of youth
literature diagnostics. They are distinctive in their treatment
of identity issues, a well-known topic anyway, but they manage
never to sink into facileness. They follow the trajectory
of a lucid plot focused on Adam’s efforts to change
his situation. He takes his thoughts seriously, and he acts
on them. And it is written in language young people will understand.
These several aspects taken in their entirety confirm Ewo
as an author of books for the young. He has the ability, moreover,
to keep an intriguing sense of detachment without letting
us lose faith in Adam. Adam steps into the foreground as a
strong and independent personality, a young person with whom
we can identify.
Anne-Stefi Teigland is a Master of Arts
Translated by Chris Saunders
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