The Excruciating Ruminations of Lisa Chellman

I love that there are bloggers out there tracking trends in children’s and YA literature, because a lot of these things slip right by me.

For example, there’s been a lot of blog discussion the past couple years about the trend of novel cover art with photographs of feet, or female models cropped at the chin. Jacket Whys is my favorite blog for following children’s cover art trends.

Then there are more obscure patterns that crop up in terms of plot—patterns that only someone who spends a whoooole lot of time reading a huge number children’s books would notice. Fuse #8 points out many of the year’s bizarre trends in her annual Golden Fuse Awards. For example, 2006 was the year of children getting their arms mangled by machines. In 2007, math was a startlingly prevalent subject for novels.

But some trends are so glaringly obvious even I can’t miss them. And one of them is the basis for this post: the trend of calling middle grade and YA novels The [Blankety] [Blank] of [What’s-His/Her-Face].

Any of these titles ring a bell?

1. The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane
2. The Secret Life of Sparrow Delaney
3. The Puzzling World of Winston Breen
4. The Daring Adventures of Penhaligon Brush
5. The Very Ordered Existence of Merilee Marvelous
6. The Extraordinary Adventures of Alfred Kropp
7. The Invisible Rules of the Zoe Lama
8. The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney
9. The Golden Dream of Carlo Chuchio
10. The Virtual Life of Lexie Diamond
11. The Secret History of Tom Truehart
12. The Amazing Flight of Darius Frobisher
13. The Loud Silence of Francine Green
14. The Marvelous Misadventures of Fun-Boy
15. The Secret Blog of Raisin Rodriguez
16. The Silver Spoon of Solomon Snow
17. The Midnight Diary of Zoya Blume
18. The Rising Star of Rusty Nail
19. The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
20. The Astonishing Life of Octavian Nothing

And that’s just a selection of applicable titles from the past three years. I didn’t even include books called The [Blank]—no [Blankety] —of [What’s-His/Her-Face] (The Invention of Hugo Cabret, The Adoration of Jenna Fox, etc. etc.).

So what’s the deal with this trend?

The matter of the main character’s full name appearing in the title is nothing new. Anastasia Krupnik. Silas Marner. Titus Andronicus. What makes a character’s name a good title? Perhaps, in the case of a character-driven novel, nothing better encapsulates the story than simply the character’s name.

Likewise, “The Adventures of” is an age-old (well, at least, 19th century on) title convention: The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, The Many Adventures of Winnie-the-Pooh. What’s curious to me is the addition of the qualifiers. It’s not enough that characters these days have adventures (or journeys or flights or what-have-you). They must be “extraordinary,” “daring.” Lives must be “secret,” “astonishing.” Etc.

I suppose the idea is these energetic adjectives will make books more attractive to readers from the get-go. The problem is that I, at least, find myself taking them less seriously. In fact, I feel a bit manipulated. I feel like I’m being told that not only is Edward Tulane’s journey miraculous, so is the book—which, of course, is a matter of opinion. Also, with so many titles (apparently) clamoring to stand out in this particular way, the net effect is diminished.

What if every title were constructed this way? We might have…

• The Blinding Hubris of Oedipus Rex
• The Impossible Dream of Don Quixote
• The Blasé Day of Clarissa Dalloway
• The Heart-Wrenching Trials of Oliver Twist
• The Miraculous Adventures of Jesus Christ (sorry)

Anyway, I’m not passing judgment on books with titles fitting this formula. Many of them are terrific books. And there’s a perfectly legitimate, plot-based reason for The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks to be called that. Ditto Francine Green’s loud silence. Ditto Raisin Rodriguez’s secret blog. And so on.

I’m just saying there’s a pattern I’ve noticed. And if I’ve noticed it, it’s got to be big. And if it’s that big—maybe it’s losing, rather than gaining, impact.