Most realistic (ie, not fantasy) YA novels with single-word titles are awesomely depressing. Moreover, they are frequently about hot-button social issues and are not uncommonly in verse.
Sold, by Patricia McCormick. Child prostitution is bad. In verse.
Cut, by Patricia McCormick. Self-mutilation is a serious issue.
Skinny, by Ibi Kaslik. Anorexia is sad.
Massive, by Julia Bell. Anorexia is still sad.
Smack, by Melvin Burgess. Heroin is bad.
Willow, by Julia Hoban. If you kill your entire family in a car crash, you will need lots of therapy.
Shooter, by Walter Dean Myers. Don't shoot up the school.
After, by Amy Efaw. Don't throw your baby in a Dumpster.
Exposed, by Susan Vaught. The internet is evil.
Trigger, by Susan Vaught. Suicide sucks.
Glimpse, by Carol Lynch Williams. Child prostitution is especially bad when your own mother pimps you out.
Crank, by Ellen Hopkins. Crystal meth is bad. In verse.
Glass, by Ellen Hopkins. Crystal meth is still bad. In verse.
Burned, by Ellen Hopkins. Mormons are sexist. In verse.
Identical, by Ellen Hopkins. Incest is wrong and creepy, especially if it involves a father and only one of his identical twin daughters. In verse.
Impulse, by Ellen Hopkins. Suicide, attempted murder, bipolar disorder, abortion, cutting, child abuse, drug addiction, an affair with your high school teacher, and prostitution are all bad, but not bad enough to provide fodder for a single book on each. In verse.
Only counter-example I can think of offhand: Prom, by Laurie Halse Anderson, about the prom.
Sold, by Patricia McCormick. Child prostitution is bad. In verse.
Cut, by Patricia McCormick. Self-mutilation is a serious issue.
Skinny, by Ibi Kaslik. Anorexia is sad.
Massive, by Julia Bell. Anorexia is still sad.
Smack, by Melvin Burgess. Heroin is bad.
Willow, by Julia Hoban. If you kill your entire family in a car crash, you will need lots of therapy.
Shooter, by Walter Dean Myers. Don't shoot up the school.
After, by Amy Efaw. Don't throw your baby in a Dumpster.
Exposed, by Susan Vaught. The internet is evil.
Trigger, by Susan Vaught. Suicide sucks.
Glimpse, by Carol Lynch Williams. Child prostitution is especially bad when your own mother pimps you out.
Crank, by Ellen Hopkins. Crystal meth is bad. In verse.
Glass, by Ellen Hopkins. Crystal meth is still bad. In verse.
Burned, by Ellen Hopkins. Mormons are sexist. In verse.
Identical, by Ellen Hopkins. Incest is wrong and creepy, especially if it involves a father and only one of his identical twin daughters. In verse.
Impulse, by Ellen Hopkins. Suicide, attempted murder, bipolar disorder, abortion, cutting, child abuse, drug addiction, an affair with your high school teacher, and prostitution are all bad, but not bad enough to provide fodder for a single book on each. In verse.
Only counter-example I can think of offhand: Prom, by Laurie Halse Anderson, about the prom.
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The book's basic message is: serial killers are bad. Yes, you.
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I still retain my personal solution to both problems, which is a gun, but I understand that this is anti-social of me, and that many people frown on it. Also, some people get upset later after they've had enough
brainwashingtherapy to make them understand that shooting their tormentors waseffectivewrong.edited to add:
oops, I forgot to say I read a lot of teen problem novels, actually (a lot of you were saying they were too depressing, so you eschew). I read them because even though dreadful things happen to the kids at first, there is hope at the end. This is actually why I stopped reading John Marsden's contemporary YA novels. It was SO MUCH TO TELL YOU that introduced me to the genre, and I love it still (it's even better in audio form). But I got to LETTERS FROM THE INSIDE, which turns out badly for BOTH girls, and CHECKERS (there's a dog--need I say more) and cried so much that my Spouse-Creature put a moritorium on me and problem novels for a while.
I'm a former social worker. I learn bad stuff. I need the hope from these books, and I need to read them to try to make sense of real-world yick. But you know what? Verse doesn't help me make sense of it, unless it's Karen Hesse's WITNESS, about racial prejudice in Vermont in the 1920s. Even then it's a little dicey.
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Letters from the Inside broke me into so many little pieces that I have never been able to reread it.
PS. Do you want to try to set aside a get-together time at Sirens, or shall we just snag each other on the fly?
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(Newbery Winner)Holes, by Louis Sachar. Don't break your promises, or your descendants will be cursed.