Feature & Follow is a weekly blog hop hosted by Parajunkee and Alison Can Read. This week’s post is about interesting bookish memories or experiences.
Break out your cookies and juice boxes, kids, it’s story time.
How My Bookish Ways Corrupted America’s Youth: A True Story
Once upon a time (way back in the olden days of 2015), I was wandering through the young adult section of Barnes & Noble. I stopped at the New YA Releases shelf. A teenage girl and her mother came up beside me to look at the books.
“These aren’t new releases,” the girl whined. “I’ve already read that one, and that one, and that one. They don’t change this shelf often enough. Where are all the new books?” She lifted a stack of books off the shelf like the new ones might be hiding.
“These are the new books,” her mother said. “You’re reading them faster than the publishers can publish them.”
The girl wandered farther along the shelf. “I’ve already read these, too. I read them months ago.”
“Maybe that’s a sign that you’ve outgrown this section,” the mother suggested. “Nineteen is too old for young adult books. You should get some books from a different section.”
The girl didn’t say anything.
The mother turned to me. “Don’t you think that nineteen is too old for young adult books?”
“Not at all,” I said. “I’m way older than nineteen, and I’m getting a master’s degree in children’s lit. I read a ton of this stuff.”
The mother’s mouth dropped open. Her eyes bugged out. “You can get a degree in children’s literature? What do you plan to do with that degree?”
I shrugged and started walking away.
“Wait.” The girl jogged over to me. “Did you just say that you’re going to college for young adult books?”
“Well, kind of,” I said. “There’s more to it than that. I started out studying—”
“There are colleges that let you read young adult books?” the girl interrupted. “Are you allowed to write your essays on them and everything?”
“Yes and yes,” I said.
“Oh my God!” The girl grabbed her mother’s coat sleeve. “Mom, I changed my mind. I want to go to college. I want to study young adult books.”
Her mother’s mouth was still hanging open. Her eyes bugged out even farther. She looked horrified. Seriously, I’ve only ever seen that expression on cartoon characters.
The girl wandered back down the shelf. Her mother trailed after her, looking slightly shell-shocked.
It all happened so fast that it took me a second to realize that I may have accidentally created a mini-me. At first I felt bad because the mother was staring at me like I was drenched in putrid roadkill slime, but then I decided that I should be proud of myself. I’m not ashamed of my love of young adult books, and no one else should be, either.
So, that’s the story of how my bookish ways corrupted America’s youth.
The follow part of FF Friday: If you are a book blogger and you leave a link to your blog in the comments below, I will follow you on Bloglovin’. If you want to be friends on Goodreads, Twitter, BookLikes, or G+, that would be awesome, too. Click the links to go to my pages on those sites. I’m looking forward to “meeting” you.