Here’s one of the questions I’ve been asked frequently aboutmy debut novel, ASHFALL: “Is it clean?” The first time the question came up, Iwas taken aback—what did he mean? I examined the stack of books on the tablebeside me—had I spilled my coffee and not noticed? After checking over a coupleof the books, I reassured the questioner—yep, they’re clean.
The librarian standing next to me was shaking her head.“He’s asking about the content,” she whispered. “Oh,” I replied, “it’s about an apocalypse, realistically depicted. It's violent.”
“That’s fine,” said the guy—a pastor—picking up a copy.
The librarian was still shaking her head. “There are, um,sexual situations in the book,” she said. The guy’s eyes widened, he set downthe book, and marched away.
You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought, any kind of violenceis okay but the mere mention of sex is not? ASHFALL has a scene in which Alex,the hero, knocks a man’s eye out of his skull. That’s better than two teensexploring their mutual attraction in a responsible, loving way? What exactlydoes that say about our culture? (None of the sex in ASHFALL is explicit, bythe way—it all happens “off-screen,” during the chapter breaks. But if it wereexplicit, so what? It's not an illustrated book.)
I thought the pastor might be an aberration, but sadly, hewasn’t. At one school I visited, the librarianprepared the students by reading the eye-popping scene out loud but scolded me for including fade-to-black “sex” scenes in the book.
I maintained my sense of indignation for months. Perversely,every time I was asked if ASHFALL was clean, I’d say no, it’s violent. I heldout hope that eventually I’d find someone who would turn away from my workbecause of the violence, not because of a responsible teenageromance—gasp—realistically depicted. But if those people are out there—thosewho value love more highly than war—they’re awfully quiet.
But this is the world we live in. A video of a father taking a .45 to his daughter’s laptop goes viral, winning the approbation of millions—butone of him punishing her in a reasonable way, then hugging her and reassuring her of his love, despite her ridiculous outburst,would probably have been met with yawns.
For a while I responded by objecting to the question. If anybook that mentions sex is dirty, isn’t the hidden assumption that all sex isdirty? Should we be burdening teens with that idea, rather than sharing the more truthfuland sane message that sex is special and worth waiting for? (One wag on Twittersuggested that if I thought sex was clean I was doing it wrong. I’ll admit thatpossibility—I’ve been married for 19 years and in a committed, monogamousrelationship for 25, so my experience is limited.)
Now I’ve decided to embrace the question. I still don’tlike the implications of ‘dirty’ versus ‘clean,’ but I doubt I can change theway others use those terms. So yes, I write dirty books. Dirty in the sense ofrich, fecund, and fertile. Dirty like this:
Not clean like this:
And we need more dirty books for teens. More books thatprovide fertile soil for growth. Dirtybooks accomplish two things: First, they can give a lifeline to teens who areexperiencing, or might experience, difficult issues. Second, dirty books canhelp redress the precipitous drop in guys’ reading that occurs between middleand high school.
My book, ASHFALL, is intended to entertain. But some dirtybooks save lives. Cheryl Rainfield’s brilliantly dirty Scars, for example, provides hope for kids experiencing the kind of sexual abuse she survived. A patchof good dirt in which a life can grow. Can even be saved, perhaps.
Sara Zarr’s Story of a Girl asks the question, “Whathappens after you make a mistake—have sex too early and with the wrong person?”It’s an important story—relevant to something on the order of half of all U.S.teenagers. How could that story even be told, if we limited ourselves toreading and writing “clean” books? If that were all we stocked in our schools and libraries? It’s a story that has to be dirty, and isappropriately dirty, in that it ends in growth, life, and hope.
This is part of the reason I’ve decided to embrace the dirtylabel, instead of continuing to struggle against it. Dirt makes our childrenstronger, in a literal as well as a figurative sense. I’m a writer now only becausemy parents had the foresight to take me out of a sterile, antiseptically cleanschool in fifth grade and move me to a chaotic, dirty school in sixth where Iwas—gasp—expected to read and write every day.
The noisy push for “clean” books is not only misguided, it’sactively harmful to kids—particularly teenage guys. 97% of teenagers play videogames (shocking, I know). 50% of teenage boys play games rated Mature or AdultsOnly, while only 14% of girls play games with those ratings. Why? Many guyslike violence and sex (again, shocking, I know). Does anyone seriously believe that reading abook—almost any book—would be worse for a typical teenage guy than playingGrand Theft Auto?
Part of the cause of the dramatic drop-off in reading amongteenage guys is because the publishing industry does not, by and large, produceyoung adult material that’s competitive with other forms of entertainment available to teens. Whydoesn’t the publishing industry produce more “dirty” material for the YA market?Because teens are not generally buying the books they read for fun. Adults are—primarily women. The books kids read for fun predominantly come from: 1) a schoollibrary, 2) a public library, or 3) a parent’s purchase (Mom's, 70% of thetime). And publishers—wisely, from a bottom line perspective—focus on producing books that the gatekeepers will buy.
There are two kinds of censorship. The good type is thenoisy, public, Mr. Scroggins-style book challenge. This form of censorship isexcellent because it gets people talking about books—often people who wouldn’totherwise engage with a book. I learned about and read Sarah Ockler’soutstanding Twenty Boy Summer due to this type of challenge. (Thanks, Mr.Scroggins!) By the way, if anyone reading this is interested in starting a loudcampaign to ban my novel ASHFALL, please contact me at mike.mullin.writer at gmail dotcom—I’d like to help! I can write scathing press releases, stuff envelopes withprotest mail, or even march with a picket sign if you like.
The second type is the bad kind—the censorship arising fromselection policies. The quiet censorship of the library that only puts “clean” books on the shelves. Ofthe school that only chooses to invite authors of “clean” books to visit. Ifyour library has nothing but “clean” books, how are you going to convince thehalf of your teenage guys who are playing adult games at home to pick up a bookoccasionally? The answer, of course, is that you aren’t. The themes that guysare interested in as middle graders—heroism, friendship, school stories,etc.—are amply addressed in middle grade literature. But as guys grow up, theirliterature doesn’t, so teen guys mostly either quit reading altogether ortransition directly to adult books. (There are other reasons many teen guys don’tread, of course. For a more thorough discussion of that topic, check out this post.)
We need dirt. We need dirty books. No seedling ever sproutedon a hospital floor. Minds grow when engaged and challenged. And that’s why I’mnot going to dodge the question “Are your books clean?” anymore. I’m going tosay, no, I write dirty books. And I’m proud of it.
