Dangerous Neighbors: Yes, But what does it mean? AND a Savvy Interview

One of the most frequently asked questions about my Centennial novel, Dangerous Neighbors, has nothing to do with plot or character and everything to do with the title.

What, I am asked, does it mean?

Today a kind student from St. Joseph's University wrote in search of an answer.  I said that I would share my thinking here.  This second post for my day also gives me a chance to give another shout out to dear Serena, who has posted a You Are My Only interview on her blog today, and packaged it with a darned generous contest.  Please go visit Savvy Verse & Wit to find out what I think about the Emmy vs. Sophie debate, what kept me awake at night, and the things I do or do not do to maintain some kind of balance.  Follow the rules, and you'll be entered into the contest.

Thank you so much, Serena.

And now — back to that Dangerous Neighbors question, that confounding title.  There are several pairs of dangerous neighbors in the book.  Primarily the title refers to the neighborhood in which the action takes place—there, on one side of the avenue, is Shantytown and there, on the other, are the fairgrounds.  The past and the future, vice and invention, showcase and (on one day) fire.  Dangerous neighbors.

But we also class divisions in the novel—William and Katherine, Bennett and Anna.  The twins have been warned, but they find themselves leaning toward away from their "own proper" social realm.  What happens?

And finally, some 10 million people visited the Centennial fairgrounds over the course of six months, many of them hailing from all around the world.  They brought change to Philadelphia—new languages, new cultures, new ways of seeing.  Some Philadelphians viewed those folks as dangerous.  They were suspicious of their temporary new neighbors.

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Still thinking about sentences (and Pablo Neruda)

Last night, my enormously gracious hostesses at St. Joseph's University—Ann Green and April Lindner—shared their students with me.  Some had read Dangerous Neighbors.  Some had read You Are My Only.  All of them, many in the graduate program, spend their days thinking about words and writing.

I talked about the future of young adult literature.  I also continued to talk about sentences.  Why they matter.  How they are crafted.  What we put at risk if we, as a nation, a culture, foist only plots upon one another, and not song.

Yesterday on this blog I shared some of my own sentences in the making—a beginning place, a mid place—as well as a reminder of a NaNo contest I am conducting.  Last night, at St. Joe's, I read from that same James Wood essay in The New Yorker that I celebrated here not long ago—that lesson in beautiful writing. 

Today I mean only to share these few words from a Pablo Neruda poem.  These are simple lines, simple words.  No pyrotechnics, no self-conscious gloss, no unnecessary intricacies.  Good sentences, I am saying, don't have to be complex.  But they must always be true.

From Neruda:

Only the shadows
know
the secrets
of closed houses,
only the forbidden wind
and the moon that shines
on the roof

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What's Next in YA? Tell me what you think. (And come see me live.)

Yesterday, my gorgeous niece Claire called, as she will, from time to time.  She had a school project on the docket, questions for my husband about his life in architecture, but I got to talk to her, too (it was part of the deal).  Claire is the niece who shares her love of books with me.  The sixth grader with a huge vocabulary and a very empathetic heart.  She'd just acquired a handful of new titles from Borders.  I sat on my deck, phone pressed to my ear, as she read the jacket flaps to me.  Together, and quite craftily, we speculated.

Not long ago, at a cocktail hour, someone said, indicating me, "Oh, don't talk to her.  She just writes kids' books for a living."  It was half a joke, but I suspected it wasn't really.  It was a prejudice I thought we'd snuffed, this ghetto-ization of YA writers.  I think of dear Claire whenever I think of those who want to make YA books a lesser category.  I think of the giants of the craft.

I'm going to be thinking out loud about the YA genre—the rise of fantasy, paranormal romance, dystopia, and steampunk, the ever-continuing importance of contemporary realism when handled by those who care about kids and about craft—during a few upcoming appearances.  I'm going to be talking about what I think is next.  In the meantime, I'd love to know what you think is next.  What you think is necessary, what is called for.  What trends are over and done for you?  What stories do you miss?  What books would you give my bright, loving, beautiful niece Claire, if you had the privilege of being her aunt?

Please let me know here.  And please come, too, to one of the following events, where I'll be talking about all this and more, while also reading pages from You Are My Only.  I want to see you.  Live, and in person.  It's about time for that. 

Wednesday, October 26, 4 PM - 6 PM 

Rutgers-Camden Visiting Writers Series
Young Adult Lit: It's Not Just Kids' Stuff Anymore
(details here)

Thursday, October 27, 7:30 PM

You Are My Only/Book Launch Party
Radnor Memorial Library, Radnor, PA
(details to come)

Monday, November 7, 6:30 PM
You Are My Only/Lecture and Reading
Haub Executive Center, St. Joseph's University
(details here)

Wednesday, November 9, 7:00 PM

You Are My Only/Reading and Signing

Chester County Book & Music Company

975 Paoli Pike
West Goshen Center, West Chester, PA

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