From Camp Half-Blood to Narnia, literary worlds filled with mythical creatures and magic are something many consider to be best left behind in childhood. Young adult authors spin together magical worlds that many use as a form of escapism; whimsical fantasy can be as much a warm blanket of comfort for children as an exciting adventure. In the realm of adult fantasy, however, magic tends to take a darker turn. A simple change in audience age often comes with a breadth of new themes, many of which are more serious in tone compared to the adventure and humor-filled stories of YA novels.
Political intrigue is frequently explored in fantasy, but YA and adult subgenres handle it in different ways. While YA novels can discuss serious issues, some believe their reach is limited or even problematic because they often prioritize plot and characters over themes to increase entertainment value for younger readers. However, my experience with them proves otherwise: They shaped my formative years and their stories helped me understand myself. They inserted me into a story, often on the back of a dragon or running from an evil sorcerer. At the time, I — like many YA readers — didn’t think about these stories in the context of the real world, but in my adulthood, I see clearly how they subtly influenced my current beliefs.
Now, as news headlines increasingly resemble those I’d previously only imagined to find in fantasy contexts, I’m struck by the parallels between our society and those of fiction. Looking back at my childhood, I don’t remember the world seeming to resemble fantasy. I’ve since realized that perhaps it isn’t the world that has changed, but me — and more importantly, my approach to these books.
Adult fantasy takes on a different audience, but its core pillars remain the same as its more juvenile counterpart. In spite of their structural and literary differences, the collective progress they urge is one and the same. For example, adult novels often use their characters as representations or products of specific societal problems within the fantasy world, foregoing censorship for the sake of an audience. Young adult novels may discuss war and the grief it brings to the main characters, but understandably avoid explicit scenes of the sexual assault, racism and biological warfare that accompany it, especially when they might be beyond the scope of their audience. The younger version of me focused on relatability, making consideration of broader systemic issues out of reach. In adult fantasy, however, the characters lean more toward serving the author’s purpose than the wish fulfillment and escapism of young readers. They are still integral to the story, but less personal.
Fantasy novels especially have begun to feel more rooted in reality. Oftentimes, reading them even teaches me about the real world. Topics these books address — politics, war, systems of oppression — all have proven to be present in our reality, especially with the rise of red pill content in the media. Adding adult fantasy to my to-read list, turns out, was a powerful way to check my morality and reduce my own bias when it comes to modern political issues. When fantasy discusses topics like racism or geopolitics, many quickly dismiss it as “just fiction,” but I have tried to challenge myself to understand its implications and how I may be ignoring my own political blind spots. I had scarcely considered the long-term implications of the Opium Wars before reading “The Poppy War,” or the things that a government can hide from you before reading The Hunger Games. Fantasy, in both YA and adult contexts, is a tool to inspire our reality just as much as it is a genre that mirrors our everyday life. The characters in these stories stood up to injustice and should remind us of our own power.
Many children have fond memories of the first time they read Suzanne Collins’ The Hunger Games. The very lens through which we look at the series, however, changes with age. When I was younger, I wanted to identify with Katniss Everdeen. She projected strength and resilience and, above all, stood up for people who couldn’t do so for themselves. It was her character that I connected with, not the systemic issues that Collins examines. Because I wanted to be like her, I sought out opportunities to stand up for my beliefs. I was loud and outspoken, and though I didn’t know what I wanted to do when I grew up, I knew I wanted to help people. As an adult, I realize that Katniss is one of the characters that unknowingly provided me with the foundation for my beliefs. When rereading years later though, I was able to focus more on the political dynamics and the eerily familiar structures of oppression throughout. I found it more profound that Katniss as the “mockingjay” was the purpose of the novel, not just a plot point used to bring Katniss to a position of reverence the way I had imagined as a child. Understanding these things added a logical and analytical supplement to the things I already felt. These emotions were always important, but now, I had the words to describe them.
For this reason, The Hunger Games remains a crucial piece of political commentary despite being geared toward a younger demographic. Although adult novels are allowed the space to forgo the subtlety, the political nature of these books has always been evident. Maybe it is the audience that needs to grow into the world around them to understand just how significant these stories are. As I have grown, my tastes expanded to include adult fantasy, and from there, I started an entirely new journey.
The adult novels I read often took direct inspiration from real issues; I explored fantasy worlds alongside characters and came away having learned more about our world’s systems as well as the fantasy’s. R.F. Kuang’s The Poppy War trilogy takes inspiration from Chinese history and mythology, placing its characters in the unique social hierarchies that existed in that time. Rin, the narrator, comes from an ethnic background that is considered “lesser than” and “unattractive” in the eyes of her lighter-skinned classmates. Unlike her, Rin’s peers are all wealthy and privileged, which highlights the isolation she faces. These personal politics are directly paralleled with the larger-scale tensions between their countries of origin. Rin experiences colorism as a darker-skinned woman within her country; and in a broader context, war leads to the death of her people outside of it. Power imbalances and conflict are justified by racial and social differences, leading to horrible tragedies. The trilogy does not shy away from these difficult subjects. In fact, its commentary on colonialism and the atrocities of war are more central than the characters, whom Kuang often uses as tools to help her make said commentary.
Reading stories like this one allows us to remove modern context from fiction and look at characters with more compassion and understanding instead of as a news headline or a history textbook. When I return to the real world, the elements of fantasy stay with me. I ask myself: Do I see this in real life? Is the author trying to test our understanding of reality? In doing so, perhaps the magic of fantasy novels is the only true separation between your life and those of the characters in your favorite stories.
Young adult fantasy novels are a beautiful way for children to learn to love reading. Their grown-up counterpart — adult fantasy novels — can be a learning experience rivaling nonfiction’s engagement with real-world issues. Our youth will continue to learn about who they are from the fiction they read, the same way I did in my childhood. These books teach us the basic difference between right and wrong by using truly good protagonists — protagonists that their readers can both relate and look up to as they come of age — to take down truly bad people and systems often meant to mimic the evil we see in our own world. In fact, all books, YA or adult, are inherently political. In the realm of banned books, having inclusive and diverse stories is essential for building a future with empathetic people, a radical act in itself.
I remember my childhood shelves with fondness, even more so when I see how they have grown over the years. Young adult readers may look back at their favorite books and realize how true their messages remain to this day. Similarly, adult novels address complexities we may not be able to understand in our everyday lives. For this reason, fantasy should not be left behind in our childhood, but rather brought into our adult lives as a tool that can continue to educate in subtle and magical ways.
This writer has asked to remain anonymous for safety and protection of privacy. They can be contacted at arts@michigandaily.com.
