Winnie and The YA's

I promised myself I wouldn't do it. I wouldn't jump on the Defend-Realistic-ContemporaryYA bandwagon (as if it really needs defending.) However there have been some folks squawking over the content matter of the books meant to entertain our youth. Not the Itty-Bitty's but the older, on the verge of adulthood crew. How dare we poison their innocence with our tales of sex, drugs and rock and roll? But seeing as how this is my genre of choice these days, I figure I'd toss my couple pennies worth in the ring. And here they are:
Please. Stop.
Since the dawn of time writers have been reporting the so-called dark side of teenage life. And by some stroke of fortune the large majority of kids made it to adulthood with little or no emotional scarring. Is it any wonder? I won't bother to mention Shakespeare, even the Bible where one can find a plethora of stories rated PG or above. (Oops, mentioned it didn't I?)
It's important for books to provide an escape from reality. But it's equally important for all readers to have something to relate to - a touch stone. A "this could be me" moment when their personal circumstance springs forth from the pages and ignites their senses. Let's face it, life at any age comes with trauma, grit, heartache and hopefully enough love and laughter to balance it all out.
Hey, to each his own. If it's too hot in the kitchen you can use your God-given legs to step outside and cool off. Read some Winnie-the-Pooh. It was Winnie that said:
“If the person you are talking to doesn't appear to be listening, be patient. It may simply be that he has a small piece of fluff in his ear.”
(Awwe. I love that bear.)

What Big Teeth You Have

It's June. You know what that means. Graduates stuff themselves into their caps and (wrinkled) gowns. Moms stock the freezer with ice pops and compile lists of things to do all summer to keep the kids from killing one another entertained. For many its a time of the infamous Family Vacation - those special days meant for bonding with the ones we hold near and dear. Ours is coming up in less than a month. We are heading down to the shore. What's that you say? White sandy beaches, clapping waves, smell of coconut sunscreen. Naturally.
And don't forget the sh-sh-sh- shARK.
 It's all Peter's fault. Peter Benchley, the writer whose novel created such a panic when it arrived on the silver screen with the likes of Jaws. Don't tell me you can't hear that menacing music the second somebody mentions the name.
I'm a land lover my friends. More so ever since that Great White with a Vengeance. I'll admit my fear is largely unfounded, centered around the distinct possibility of one of those massive man-eating maniacs showing up in such places as the bay, the bathtub, the baby pool. (Hey it could happen.) While the majority of our group is planning to participate in various death-defying feats including jet-skiing, para-sailing and otherwise frolicking in the ocean, I'll take my chances on dry land - thank you very much.
Is it true that sometimes sharks can tunnel up from under the sand? Don't answer that.