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Avi’s 2025 Summer Blog Series

Alan Gratz

From Avi: As I have for the last three sum­mers, (sum­mer of 2024, sum­mer of 2023, sum­mer of 2022) I’ve invit­ed 13 admired authors to write for my blog for the next three months. I hope you’ll tune in each Tues­day to see who answered this year’s ques­tion, which we hope pro­vides you with inspi­ra­tion. And by the end of the sum­mer, you’ll have new authors to follow!

What’s your favorite strategy for encouraging young people to read?
summer reading in a hammock

Teach­ers and par­ents often tell me that my nov­els are great for get­ting reluc­tant read­ers to love books. Which is very flat­ter­ing! I was a reluc­tant read­er as a boy myself, and I’m hap­py to bring like-mind­ed young peo­ple into the book-lov­ing fold.

I have a lot of strate­gies for keep­ing even the most reluc­tant of read­ers on the edges of their seats. Get­ting to the adven­ture as quick­ly as I can — in the first few pages, if pos­si­ble. Short chap­ters with cliffhang­er end­ings. Dynam­ic and unusu­al set­tings. Char­ac­ters who are at once unique and relat­able. High stakes sto­ries — real life and death stuff.

Beyond all those tech­niques though, there’s one over­rid­ing thing that has been a hall­mark of all my most suc­cess­ful books: I always take my young read­ers seriously.

As a kid, I couldn’t stand it when adults talked down to me, or didn’t tell me the whole truth. And I knew when it was hap­pen­ing. All kids do. They have a sixth sense for when adults are giv­ing them the run-around. And there is no sur­er way to lose a young read­er. Lie to them, or cov­er things up, and they’ll drop your book and nev­er come back. But tell them the truth — even bet­ter, the hard truth — and they will hang on your every word.

When I first under­stood as a young boy that I was mor­tal — that even­tu­al­ly this awe­some thing called life was going to come to an end — I was hor­ri­fied. I was so upset that I would stay up at night, afraid that if I closed my eyes I would die in my sleep. Even more scan­dalous to me was that all the adults in my life just accept­ed that they were going to die. How could every­body just be cool about this? Why wasn’t every­one freak­ing out every minute of every day?

My par­ents quick­ly grew tired of my fears. “You’re not going to die for a long time,” they would tell me — as if the fact that it was many years down the road was any con­so­la­tion at all! Dying tomor­row, or dying eighty years from now — what was the dif­fer­ence? It still meant that life would one day come to an end, and I just couldn’t accept that. But no one took my fears seriously.

Tuck EverlastingUntil I read Natal­ie Babbitt’s Tuck Ever­last­ing in the sev­enth grade.

I picked the book up as reluc­tant­ly as I picked up every oth­er book. But here, to my sur­prise, was a sto­ry about the cycle of life and death. About a fam­i­ly of peo­ple who’d actu­al­ly beat­en death — and wished they hadn’t. Win­nie, the main char­ac­ter, has a deci­sion to make: drink from a spring that will grant her eter­nal life, or expe­ri­ence life the way every­one else does, by grow­ing old­er and try­ing to enjoy every dis­tinct stage of it along the way.

Now, me, I would have drunk the spring water and become immor­tal in a heart­beat, no mat­ter what Ma and Pa Tuck told me. (And I still would!) But the impor­tant thing was that here, at last, was an adult tak­ing my ques­tions about life and death seri­ous­ly. I may not have agreed with the deci­sions of the main char­ac­ter, but I felt seen in a way that no oth­er book had made me feel seen before.

It was a pro­found expe­ri­ence, and one I’ve tried to dupli­cate every time I’ve writ­ten a book for young read­ers. I know that each new book I’m writ­ing won’t be that kind of sto­ry for every­one who picks it up. For most of my read­ers, my sto­ries will just be page-turn­ers they can’t put down. And that’s win enough! But some­where out there is a read­er who is strug­gling to under­stand the Holo­caust, or ter­ror­ism, or war, or refugees, or bul­ly­ing, or cli­mate change, or what­ev­er it is I’m writ­ing about, and for that young per­son, my book may be the first time an adult has said, “I see you. I hear you. I may not have all the answers, but let’s talk about it.”

That’s a big respon­si­bil­i­ty, and one I don’t take light­ly. Because even though kids want to know every­thing, and I want to tell them noth­ing but the truth (to bor­row a phrase), they’re often not ready for the truth. Not all of it. So I tell them what they can han­dle, and leave the rest for them to dis­cov­er as they get older.

Or, as the great Kate DiCamil­lo says, “Tell the truth, but make it bearable.”

That’s the best strat­e­gy I’ve ever heard for get­ting young peo­ple to read.

Particulars

Forth­com­ing books

War Games a Novel of 1936 Berlin

Alan Gratz is the #1 New York Times best­selling author of more than twen­ty nov­els, graph­ic nov­els, and novel­las for young read­ers, includ­ing HeroesTwo DegreesCap­tain Amer­i­ca: The Ghost Army, Ground ZeroRefugee, Allies, Resist,  Pris­on­er B‑3087, and Ban This Book. A Knoxville, Ten­nessee native, Alan is now a full-time writer liv­ing in Port­land, Ore­gon with his family.

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