But why?

When I was in high school, I avoided convention the way most kids avoid detention. Maybe it was soul-preservation, sidestepping a popularity contest I was never going to win. My confidence was low, and losing felt… dangerous. So, I ran from pop culture faster than I ran track. As a result, I dismissed Judy Blume (don’t panic, I eventually found Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret), Harry Potter, and the 2000s Young Adult literature boom that followed.

Instead, I read Bukowski, Henry Miller, and other popular, lovable misogynists. To avoid shutting my brain off to the dissonance of the world and adopting a quiet, suburban mindset, I devoured beat poetry, Please Kill Me, Lust for Life, and became addicted to art. At 14, I OD’d on Last Exit to Brooklyn. It inspired me to move to Brooklyn at 17, which is probably why some educators would have handed me The Chronicles of Narnia instead. (No offense, Brooklyn. I love you!)

What I’m getting at is that I grew up too fast, and this blog is my do-over.

For all the young people out there feeling lost, bored, anxious, or othered, I want to have a book ready and a reason to recommend it. Literature can be life-altering, life-affirming, and even life-saving, and I’m rooting for you.

These examinations aren’t definitive. If you think I’ve misread a text or missed something essential, let me know in the comments.