![]() You should read this." (She's never been particularly voluble about this sort of thing, a trait that may have been handed down I still tend to leave the room during movies featuring sex scenes if I happen to be viewing them with my parents.) Her lack of words was fine, though, even preferred, because the book said plenty on its own. I think my mom's words as she handed the thick paperback to me were something along the lines of, "Things are changing. At that time I was devouring biographies about real women-Clara Barton, Sacajawea, Harriet Beecher Stowe-as well as stories with fictionalized young female protagonists I could relate to but also aspire to become more like, and I looked at the gift eagerly as a new addition in my growing (still growing!) collection of books. literature-from the now nostalgia-infused stories we devoured as kids to more contemporary tomes being read by young people today.Īt some point in my early tweenhood, my mom ushered me into a room, just the two of us, away from my dad and younger brother, and presented me with a book. for Grownups is a weekly series in which we talk about Y.A. ![]() ![]() ![]() This article is from the archive of our partner. ![]()
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