10 YA Novels Adults Should Read

There is a stereotype that books that are classified as Young Adult literature are not for adults. That if a story is appropriate for children, then it is also appropriate for only are suitable for children, or if it contains elements that children need to grow out of — fairy tales, magic, coming-of-age stories — there is nothing that can enrich the mind of an adult. Real adult.

This is bullshit, of course; you can find books with familiar plots, thin emotions, and easy prose in every genre people can think of. But it does mean that books written specifically for a YA audience, and books that are lumped into YA because of their subject matter, can get overlooked when looking for a story that will truly blow you away or offer solid ideas to chew on.

It’s in that spirit that Polygon has compiled this list: favorite children’s books that will surprise you with the depth they offer adults, hugely influential books that will give you a better understanding of their broader genre, and a new wave of diverse stories that expand on the usual coming-of-age tales.

When the movie is all you know The Neverending Storyyou don’t know at all. The 1984 film only adapted the first half of German writer Michael Ende’s novel, showing all the tropes and none of the subversion.

Ende, the son of an artist considered “degenerate” by the Nazi regime, tore up his draft papers and joined an anti-SS sabotage movement as soon as he came of age. His Never ending story is a fiery, questioning work of fantasy. It is not just a story within a story, but a novel that pushes the format of the medium itself, with elements such as a magical artifact that defines the reader’s point of view. And woven through everything The Neverending Story has to say is an essay about how a lonely, self-hating young man is radicalized into fascism by his love of fantasy, and the dangerous journey he undertakes to deradicalize himself. — Susana Polo

Granted, Leigh Bardugo’s first set of Grishaverse novels suffer from Bad YA Fantasy tropes: a perfectly normal girl who’s secretly the Chosen One, a love triangle, and a Big Bad who needs to be thwarted. But there was potential in her Imperial Russian-inspired fantasy world, and Bardugo took it all and truly shined with the Six of Crows books.

The duology follows Kaz Brekker, a criminal mastermind (who, yes, is seventeen, but let the teens have their fantasies) who’s recruited to pull off a dangerous heist. He calls upon some allies — old friends and unlikely newcomers alike. Each character is magnetic, their relationships compelling. And the world-building is gorgeous, woven seamlessly throughout the book to the point where you don’t even need to read the first three books to understand anything (though some of the cameos in the second book will make more sense if you do). Petrana Radulovic

Ursula K. Le Guin, 1968-2018

Before the Boy Who Lived went to wizard school, there was the Archmage Sparrowhawk, the central figure in Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea Cycle. “Wizard books” conjure up a certain image these days, whether it’s old white men with beards or speculated chosen ones — but Le Guin’s fantasy series, unsurprisingly, bends to very few genre norms.

Even in 1968, she approached her editor’s proposal for a children’s fantasy novel from a reactionary standpoint. Dragons, yes, but swords, almost never. A dark-skinned protagonist in a society where that was the norm, a distinct lack of dark lords, and a characteristically Le Guin-esque interest in the everyday lives of the people in her fantastical settings. She returned to Earthsea throughout her career, and together the series is a tour of the changing forces and interests of a towering talent, from her very first book to a broad audience to some of her last works before her death. — SP

Haters will say that John Green only writes books about sad nerds and manic elf dreams. Those haters are wrong (that’s another article).

Nothing proves that better than his latest YA novel. It starts with some standard John Green elements: an angsty protagonist (in this case, Aza), a strange, compelling hook (in this case, a missing billionaire), and a quirky best friend (in this case, she writes Chewbacca x Rey fanfic). But it’s a raw, unflinching look at one young woman’s struggle with OCD. Turtles all the way down is John Green’s most personal novel, and that is reflected in the way he writes about Aza’s mental health issues. The book never shies away from the darker sides of Aza’s illness, but Green also describes it with great care and empathy. — PR

The story of Bilbo Baggins’ journey there and back is in a distinctly different style from Tolkien’s The Lord of the RingA recorded version of the running bedtime stories Tolkien improvised for his four children, The Hobbit is unpretentious, relentlessly funny, and unconcerned with consistency of world-building or internal plot logistics. Less an epic and more a “New Chapter, New Monster” travelogue of Bilbo’s strange experiences, it was never intended to fit into the capital-R Middle-earth Romantic Fantasy category until it was completed and published, but it remains the genre’s cited foundation.

If you want to understand how we arrived at this genre of knights in shining armor, magic spells, and heroic deeds, you have to look where it started: with an unlikely, out-of-shape (dare we say cowardly?) little weirdo living in a hole. — SP

Terry Pratchett, 2003-2015

If you’re a Discworld fan who’s overlooked the Young Adult books set in the universe, fix that immediately. Tiffany Aching, the witch-in-training star of Little Free Men and its sequels, is one of Terry Pratchett’s best-developed protagonists, rubbing shoulders with the likes of Granny Weatherwax and Commander Sam Vimes.

Tiffany’s five-book subseries is packed with Discworld cameos, with Pratchett’s witchy characters obviously playing the biggest roles, but they stand on their own for any new reader, following her from her pre-teen adventures (including some not-so-subtle jokes on that subject). other (British fantasy series about witches’ school) to her responsibilities as a young, practicing witch.

There is a vivid sense of love and care in the way Pratchett describes this pragmatic, clever, kind-hearted girl, from her childhood to her first loves to her first jobs, and that sense permeates everything in the books. They keep his love of English farming communities on full display, measured, as in every Discworld book, by his frustration with conservatism and prejudice, and his keen understanding of human nature. — SP

Okay, so I started this piece by talking about the tropes that John Green accidentally became known for and how that’s not really true – but I have to say I kissed Shara Wheeler is in fact a homosexual repetition of his Paper citiesin which a popular girl disappears a few weeks before her graduation, leaving only cryptic notes to three people she kissed in the days before her disappearance.

Except instead of a sad boy realizing that putting pretty girls on pedestals isn’t okay, it’s a queer community coming together in the South. Casey McQuinton’s YA debut is filled with the same warmth and humor that made her adult novels so incredibly appealing. I kissed Shara Wheeler is deeply funny, but also deeply hopeful. (And I have to emphasize this — Red, White and Royal Blue is NOT a young adult novel!) — PR

Benjamin Alire Saenz, 2012

Benjamin Alire Sáenz’s queer coming-of-age story is achingly poignant and beautiful. Set in the 1980s, the novel is narrated by Aristotle Mendoza, a Mexican-American teenager who forms a fast and deep friendship with a boy named Dante. Ari’s narration is the foundation of the entire book. He’s the kind of protagonist who thinks more than he acts, and the result is a book that really captures the psyche of a specific character. And Ari’s narration often twists and turns like a knife, as he battles his own self-doubt and ultimately his repressed sexuality and feelings for his best friend. It’s beautifully written, with enough grit to keep it grounded and enough hope to make it worth the pain. — PR

Maggie Stiefvater’s atmospheric books draw you into their surroundings, regardless of your age. The Scorpio Breedsis however the most timeless story of all her novels: at its core it is a horse girl book. And horse girl books always stay with you.

In this case, however, most of the horses are man-eating horses that rise from the sea — that qualifies as a “taming a dangerous beast.” Every November, a deadly race takes place on this small island, and it’s one girl’s chance to win the cash prize and save money for her family. But while she’s a great rider, all she has is her scruffy little pony. As the first girl to ever do so, the odds are stacked against her. She’s managed to befriend the reigning champion, a brooding boy who’s really only in it because he loves his horse so much.

Admittedly, my plot description leans a little too much on clichés, but I really can’t do justice to how beautifully this book is written, how rich and dynamic the characters are, and how vividly you can imagine the small island of Thisby, as grey waves crash against the rocky shores. — PR

Peter S. Beagle did not write The Last Unicorn for kids. That’s not to say that kids won’t enjoy the bumbling wizard and the menacing King Haggard — but most of The Last Unicorn will at best fly over their heads and at worst seem bewildering.

Beagle writes for an audience familiar with fantasy elements, but not as satire: The Last Unicorn is a fairy tale in which everyone knows the genre and no one is happy with their role. The elegiac quality extends not only to the world but also to the characters, almost all of whom struggle with the idea that they’ve missed their chance. Children may not really understand why Molly Grue cries with sadness and rage when she meets the Unicorn, but for any adult with a tinge of regret for what might have been, it’s one of the most powerful scenes in the genre. — SP