Department of English
Complicating young adult LGBTQ narrative: A literary analysis of Rebecca Albertalli’s Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda
Nikta Chegini Bachelor’s Thesis Literature
Spring, 2020
Supervisor: Charlotta Elmgren
Abstract
Since they first emerged, young adult books have had five decades to come of age.
During these five decades many sub-genres have developed, including, not least, the LGBTQ sub-genre. This particular sub-genre has undergone a lot of change and development over the years, but the narratives within the sub-genre are still critiqued for strengthening stereotypes, being too one dimensional and being controlled by heteronormative discourse.
This paper aims to look at how aspects of Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda (Albertalli 2015), an example of a coming out narrative in the young adult fiction genre, compares to defining features of conventional LGBTQ narratives. Paying attention particularly to narrative structure, agency, heteronormativity, the coming out process and central plot conflicts, this paper argues that Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda complicates features conventionally associated with young adult LGBTQ fiction.
Michael Cart and Christina A. Jenkins research in the book The Heart Has Its Reasons will act as a baseline for what will be described as conventional LGBTQ narratives in this essay. With an understanding of what is typically the narrative for LGBTQ young adult books I try to decipher how a fairly recent example of LGBTQ narrative differs or coincides with conventional LGBTQ narratives.
Keywords: Queer narrative; young adult fiction; heteronormativity, Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda, Becky Albertalli, literature, young adult literature.
“It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected me with all the people who were alive, who had ever been alive.”
– James Baldwin (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 1)
It has been over 50 years since the birth of the young adult literature genre and in the decades since the first book, S.E Hinton's The Outsider, was published in 1967, it has grown both in popularity and in inclusion. Books in the 1960’s naturally featured a less diverse repertoire than books do today, and it is argued that the books today more often include people of different race, sexuality and culture. Since its start the genre has grown with its audience, making room for many different types of young adult literature and treating various topics within them. One important, but overlooked, sub- genre is the one centering on the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (below LGBTQ) demographic. Despite its undeniable progress, critics argue that the genre has not come far enough in the past 50 years and that minorities and outsider-groups are still overlooked by “white mainstream culture” (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 1-2).
To understand why a nuanced representation of LGBTQ characters is important, we must first understand why the young adult genre is important. Its importance can be discussed through many aspects; one of these is that books within the genre tend to be very popular among young adults and, often because of their relatable stories, young adult books have a way of reaching the young reader in a way that other books perhaps cannot. It is possibly because of this that young adult novels often treat topics such as friendship, re-evaluation of previous values, independence from parents and, of course sex (Konopka 298-300). In a paper for the journal New Writing, Sara
Hutchinson discusses how young adult authors can teach their readers about sexuality all the while avoiding the common overt didacticism sexual education otherwise featured (Hutchinson 2016, 317). It is traits like these that make the supporting side of young adult-fiction concur that the genre brings with it enormous teaching potential.
Because of said popularity, young adult fiction can be used in classrooms to teach students about the world around them. While the genre has historically been
dismissed for being juvenile and lacking depth, we can note that it now may contain the same complexity, both linguistic and cognitive, as any other genre and it
challenges the growth of its readers just like any other book (Hill 2014, 188). The promotion of growth and the challenging of opinions and minds is a particularly important task expected by the educational system, and not only do the young adult books do this, but they seem more suitable for the job than other literature because of their approach both in language and topic. Young adult literature steers the young readers towards some of the important topics of our time, and Crag Hill (2014) believes that young adult books have a unique way of “taking the pulse of the next generation” (Hill 2014, 188). Because of this, the books that teachers choose to teach carry a heavy burden when it comes to actually analyzing content and this makes the need for a broader, more multi-dimensional representation ever so important.
According to Cart and Jenkins (2006), James Baldwin’s quote in the epigraph above is a significant reason for why representation is important in young adult literature. They maintain that it is particularly important for outsiders to be featured in literature due to their invisibility in mainstream culture. Representation creates, as Baldwin put it, a sense of belonging, and he believed that “It was books that taught me that the things that tormented me most were the very things that connected” (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 1). However, since heteronormativity controls the discourse and privileges heterosexuality over homosexuality this leaves LGBTQ readers with little to no way to find themselves represented in literature and expand their understandings of their own world. The books that do exist still, even 50 years after the first young adult book was released, lack competition and depth (Banks 2009, 36), and if the narratives for queer literature continue to disappoint and being a result of a
heteronormative discourse, how helpful can the books be when trying to teach norm critical thinking to young readers?
One popular young adult book that changes the narrative is Rebecca Albertalli’s Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda first published in 2015. The book received
several awards and was listed by The Wall Street Journal as one of the “Best Young Adult Novels in 2015” (Feldman 2020) before being turned into a motion picture in 2018. In the book we follow the titular protagonist, Simon Spier, who is a closeted gay teenager being blackmailed by a fellow student who has found Simon’s email correspondence with another closeted teen at their school. This paper looks at how aspects of Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda, an example of a coming out narrative in the young adult fiction genre, compares to defining features of conventional
LGBTQ narratives. Paying attention particularly to narrative structure, agency, heteronormativity, the coming out process, central plot conflicts and character
development, this paper argues that Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda complicates features conventionally associated with young adult LGBTQ narratives. Features conventionally associated with LGBTQ narratives here include a lack of complexity, a stereotypical depiction of LGBTQ characters, an outdated way of looking at homosexuality, and narrative that treats sexuality as something inherently difficult.
Before analyzing selected passages of the novel, I will first look in depth at some theoretical aspects of LGBTQ young adult narratives. The sub-genre of LGBTQ young adult literature tends to destabilize what we otherwise know about the young adult literature narrative, giving us an alternative to the conventional “coming of age”
narrative that permeates young adult-books. The first book to shift the narrative and treat the topic of sexual identity was Jon Donovan’s 1969 I’ll get there, it better be worth the trip and since then books on the same topic have been released in a rather steady stream. As Michael Cart and Christine A. Jenkins point out in The Heart Has Its Reasons (2006), LGBTQ-characters in early young adult books were often
portrayed in a stereotypical way with a storyline always centered around the misery of being gay. In the 1970’s these characteristics also appeared in so-called “problem novels” (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 17), a type of fiction that solely focused on social issues amongst teens. These types of novels only offered a rather one-dimensional characterization, and were often used for didactic purposes, to teach children what to not become (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 17).
The sub-genre of LGBTQ young adult fiction is sometimes criticized for reinforcing stereotypes not only for homosexuals but also for heterosexual men and women (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 26). Another common criticism is the fact that homophobes are demonized while homosexuals are subject to “sanctification” (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 30). This becomes increasingly problematic because it makes the
stories less believable and enforces the link between being gay and being subject to physical violence. Another critique is that while characters in young adult books generally have few sexual encounters, LGBTQ characters seem to have even fewer.
And if we see sexual encounters between LGBTQ characters, we seldom see an emotional intimacy which can be found in young adult books with heterosexual protagonists (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 53).
As already mentioned, while we today have more books on the topic than we did 50 years ago, there is still little to no variation when it comes the narrative structure of LGBTQ narratives that might offer the same depth and complexity as heteronormative young adult books. The author of the article “Literacy Sexuality and Value(s) of Queer Young Adult Literature” William Banks argues that LGBTQ- characters either get killed due to their sexuality or run off to a separate town (Banks, 2009, 35). Banks is not alone in stating this; Frances Hanckel and John Cunningham also directed the same critique at four pioneering books in the LGBTQ genre, arguing that such books suggest that being gay either “has no lasting significance” or will
“cost someone a terrible price” (Cart and Jenkins 2006, 36). The problem with continually showing LGBTQ-characters in a one-dimensional way is that it sends a message to the reader that they are only useful to the story if they die or run away, unlike if you make them the protagonist and force the readers to understand them as human beings first, and LGBTQ-people second (Banks 2009, 35). As Bank states, assuming that LGBTQ-people can only have a struggle that centers around their sexuality or that this struggle is inherited with said sexuality is a belief that belongs in the past and does not resonate with the young readers of today (Banks, 2009).
If we once more look at how young adult-literature has the potential to teach young readers about the world and, more specifically, about norm critical thinking, teachers have to be mindful of the books they choose; this should be especially important for teachers who wish to design their assignments in a way so that they appeal to younger students. However, while reading young adult books for norm critical thinking can be a good thing, and a source for inspiration both for students and for teachers, one has to be aware of the pitfalls present to taking on such a task. It is important to take into account that when using young adult-literature in the classroom teachers bear a big responsibility to pick the “right book for the right reason” (Hill 2014, 189). This is often one of the more difficult parts of using young adult literature and stresses the importance of truly challenging what you think you know about a
topic, what the author calls “literary bias” (Hill 2014, 189), and really read and listen with your students. If young adult literature is going to be used as a way to challenge, or reinforce, the understanding of their students, the teacher needs to know what points are being made about the topic they are reading (Hill 2014, 189). By choosing older books from the subgenre teachers are, subconsciously, promoting an image we do not necessarily want to reinforce in the youth of today, and, moreover, the image might not match what young readers of today recognize.
Diana Mitchell (2003) agrees with Hill (2014) in that while reading about diversity can be educational and a good source for understanding not only another culture or person but also oneself, finding high-quality books that can work in a classroom is only part of the challenge. Teachers must look, firstly, at how the plot and the characters develop, how settings work with the story and if the language is pleasant for the students; only after this can books be chosen based on their
teachability (Mitchell 2003, 2013). It seems to be particularly hard to find books that vary the narrative of the LGBTQ experience. One possible reason for the lack of queer narrative is the historical narrative on the topic, which until 1973 was diagnosed as a mental disorder and listed as such in the Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (Wikipedia 2020). With heteronormativity controlling the discourse, portraying LGBTQ characters in a positive light or gifting them with a happy ending would contradict the general opinion that the happy endings were reserved for heterosexual love (Nair 2019, 47).
Furthermore, when it comes to youth engaging in sex the topic is riddled with contradictory opinions. One of these contradictions is the ever-present belief amongst adults that young people lack the maturity to handle their own sexuality and sex, while the same adults judge young people when they make a “bad” decision regarding their own sexuality. Yet, while LGBTQ protagonists have suffered due to their
sexuality historically, we can now start to see a more open and accepting portrayal of queer sexuality (Bittner 2012, 357). This is argued at large to be the result of changing times and accepting societies, though Bittner (2012) argues that this has to do with an increase in the number of authors willing to write and publishers willing to publish stories featuring LGBTQ protagonists.
Albertalli’s book opens with Simon being blackmailed by a fellow classmate, Martin. Martin has stumbled upon Simon’s correspondence with his secret love- interest, a fellow student in their school going under the pseudonym Blue, and is now
asking Simon to help him get closer to Abby, one of Simon's best friends, in exchange for not going public with the information that Simon is gay. With this clear loss of agency and control Simon eventually agrees to help Martin, partly because Simon is scared not knowing how Blue would react if the e-mails were made public, but also because he rationalizes a good reason for helping Martin. However, when Abby finds out the truth and confronts Martin, he still outs Simon on the school’s unofficial website.
Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda (2015) stands out with its non-typical narrative. To begin, the book is told through a first-person narrative but then
alternates every other chapter with the e-mails between the two boys. This gives the narration a layer of duality when reading, and it gives the reader firsthand access to the inner workings of the two main characters. Beyond the narration, the story features a nuanced way of portraying a teenage boy first as just that; a teenage boy, and then secondly a homosexual individual. It gives the protagonist more profound dimensions and makes him relatable in many ways, using the language to make it feel truthful for the time it is supposed to represent. It also treats the coming out process in a different way than typical LGBTQ narratives might, with Simon being outed to his peers, but not his family, it shows the importance of LGBTQ-persons having agency over their own lives.
Let us first look at how the book stages the coming-out process. LGBTQ youth can experience a sense of loneliness, not uncommonly after being subject to harassment for either being out or “visibly gender nonconforming” (Rosenberg 2017, 1791). It is this alienation that, by extension, can lead to depression or in the worst case suicide, and here the author upholds, however, how important the communities can be to LGBTQ people, and how by having supportive surroundings, a positive effect can be seen in their self-esteem (Rosenberg 2017, 1791). It is therefore
important to note not only how Simon feels or acts but also how Simon's surroundings react to him and his actions. An example of this is when Simon feels inspired by the fact that Blue plans to tell his mother about his sexuality and decides to tell his friend Abby when driving her home one night. At a red light, Simon tells her he is gay to which she replies “Oh” (Albertalli 2015, 124) and a heavy silence fills the car; a few seconds later she asks Simon if this is the first time he tells someone and when he nods Abby says that she is honored to be the first one that he tells (Albertalli 2015,
124). After they pull over and talk for a bit Abby reassures Simon of her acceptance by saying that she loves him, and he drives her home.
When Martin eventually outs Simon on the school’s website Simon finds out because his little sister Nora tells him to look at the website. The message inevitably forces Simon to tell Nora that the message is true, to which she responds that she figured, and continues to assure Simon that this is “obviously not something to be ashamed of, you know that right?” (Albertalli 2015, 160). With the momentum of being forced out of the closet before his friends and peers, Simon feels that it is time to come out to his parents and the rest of his family. However, Simon feels robbed of his coming out because it would not be happening quite yet if it was up to him and the fact that he feels rushed makes him feel like it is not his moment at all (Albertalli 2015, 163). When Simon eventually tells his parents, it is interesting to note his mother’s reaction; she says “Honey. That’s... God, that’s... thank you for telling us.”
(Albertalli 2015, 163). By not adding an adjective and instead simply thanking Simon for sharing with them, she manages to give Simon back some of the agency he has recently lost. Because by not valuing his coming out she allows him to decide how he feels about his own coming out. She creates a safe space for Simon, using a neutral language and showing him that she understands what he must have gone through to decide to tell them. After Simon's father tells a joke in poor taste, trying to lighten the mood, Simon's older sister steps in and calls him out for being inappropriate to which he responds with “What? I’m just lightening the mood. Simon knows we love him”
(Albertalli 2015, 164).
Continuing to look at the coming-out process, a central and sometimes
intimidating aspect of the coming-out process—referred to by Susanne Driver as “one of the main features of queer youth culture” (Driver 2008, 166)—is how it involves the complex encounter between the private nature of sexuality and its public and, sometimes, political contexts. The coming out moment has had different agendas throughout history; in the 1960s it was defined by creating a sense of belonging within the community, and in the 1980s it was used to represent the empowerment of the LGBTQ movement (Ridder and Dhaenens 2019, 44). Simon and Blue talk about coming out in one of their e-mails, concurring that by having a default sexuality, heterosexuals are exempt from having to come out and in talking about this they both reflect on their own identity and how it fits in the world (Albertalli 2015, 97-98).
Simon does not feel better after coming out, instead feeling exhausted and unhappy.
He later, in an email, tells Blue that it was the “the most epically weird and awful Christmas ever” (Albertalli 2015, 168), largely because of Martin outing him.
Another important aspect of the coming-out process is the notion of community. Albertalli has framed the community that surrounds Simon with what Cart and Jenkin (2006) describe as “queer consciousness” (, 31), meaning that he is placed in a loving environment and, with the exception of some unfortunate jokes his dad tells to lighten the mood, Simon’s family and friends are very accepting of him.
Simon, however, struggles with his internalized homophobia and weeks after coming out he apologizes to his father saying, “Sorry I didn't turn out to be much of a boy”
(Albertalli 2015, 250) and with this he manages to diminish his own sexuality and also confuse it with gender. He also shows the reader that beyond the pressure of adapting to his newly outed sexual identity he still struggles with the inherited burden of being a man. His father, who perhaps missed his opportunity to be the support he might have wanted to be when Simon first came out, is quick to reassure him that he has nothing to apologize for and that Simon is “an awesome boy”. This gives the father redemption and places him within the queer consciousness mentioned above.
Next we will examine how this LGBTQ young adult book deals with heteronormativity. Some quotes from the book clearly capture the heteronormative ways in which the homosexual characters think and act. When emailing one day Simon writes this to Blue:
And I’m guessing they’re [a type of candy] better than hetero sex, a.k.a. “intercourse” (per my mom). Non-hetero sex, though? I imagine it may be a little better than Reese’s. Is it weird that I can’t talk about this without blushing? (Albertalli 2015, 62)
While this quote at first glance might seem like innocent flirting, the passage shows that Simon, in visualizing that heterosexual and homosexual encounters are vastly different, has a rather heteronormative view on sex. He, like the world he is a product of, is guilty of repeating a way of thinking about sex that lessens the idea of sexuality.
Hill (2014) argues that some groups, amongst them LGBTQ-youth, are expected to have an understanding of sexuality on their own, while others, often heterosexual teens, are seen as more innocent and in need of adult protection. The fact that Simon’s parents do not talk to him about safe sex even after he comes out testifies to a
narrative that amplifies this theory that LGBTQ-youth do not need the same education on the topic as heterosexual teens do (Hill 2014, 39). It is, however, important to note that despite this, Simon’s surroundings (i.e. family and friends) do create a positive model for readers to find comfort in in other ways than perhaps sex education.
Although Simon’s surroundings are generally quite supportive and
understanding there is one scene where the narrative pushes a heteronormative agenda once again. When Simon’s friend Abby finds out that he has secretly been trying to pair Martin with her, she is upset with him. Arguably she is entitled to feel upset by the news, but her anger feels misdirected when she calls out Simon saying “It's just, you know. I get that you were in a difficult position, but you don't get to make the decision about my love life. I choose who I date” (Albertalli 2015, 253). Before Simon can intervene, and explain to her what has really been going on, she adds “I would think you would understand that” (Albertalli 2015, 254), and finally, after finishing Simon’s make-up for the play, tells him that he can find someone else to do his make-up henceforth. This encounter makes Simon feel terrible, and the narrative quickly supports Abby’s critique by having Simon feel “worse than a shitty friend”
(Albertalli 2015, 255). By having the narrative side with Abby in this conflict the reader is once again met with a narrative that supports heteronormative discourse over a LGBTQ one.
This leads us to look at how the book narrates the topic of agency or rather our protagonist’s loss and lack of it. By showing this conflict through Abby’s perspective the narrative allows her to equate what happened to her with Martin with the
systematic oppression of LGBTQ love, Simon once again loses his agency, taking the full blame of what happens even though a book where he is the protagonist could have pushed a narrative where he stood up for himself to shine a light on the importance of LGBTQ agency in their own coming out.
Simon eventually regains some of his agency when he confronts Martin for what he did in a passage where Martin walks up to Simon in an attempt to apologize;
Simon cuts him off and yells at him for trying to downplay his actions:
“And you know what? You don’t get to say it’s not a big thing. This is a big fucking thing, okay? This was supposed to be—this is mine. I’m supposed to decide when and where and who knows and how I want to say it.” Suddenly, my throat gets thick. “So, yeah, you took that from
me. And then you brought Blue into it? Seriously? You fucking suck, Martin. I mean, I don’t even want to look at you.”
This part of the novel is important, because it reestablishes Simon's agency and control. When Martin posted on the school website Simon's reaction was reactively muffled and he acted as if he had been waiting for exactly that. Now, when some time has passed, he has had time to think about the whole thing and in telling Martin off he realized this has meant more to him than he might have understood. In telling Martin off he not only stands up for himself, he teaches both Martin and the reader that it is not up to Martin to decide if this was a violation or not, and that he did in fact rob him of a moment that is supposed to be his.
Next we will look at how the book uses the structure of the narrative to
foreground emotional connections. One point made by Cart and Jenkins (2006) is that emotional connections seldom make an appearance in queer narratives. However, in Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda it is specifically the emotional connection between Simon and Blue that is prominent. The two boys who e-mail with
pseudonyms seem to have a very deep connection and plenty of examples in the book testify to this, for instance one of Simon’s biggest worries in being blackmailed by Martin is that he cannot share what is going on with Blue. Not being used to keeping secrets from him, but rather keeping the secret of him, they have come to share their innermost secrets with each other. With every other chapter being their e-mail
correspondence, the reader experiences a feeling of safety and comfort whenever they return to the chapters with their dialogue. By using the letters as a framing deceive the narrative creates another, parallel, world which they can both escape to when their real world is not enough, and after some time Simon begins to long for their e-emails so much so that he can’t really decipher what is the real world and what is his made- up one created with Blue, where he can be the best, and most honest, version of himself.
Lastly, we will look at character development, which is often central in young adult books and coming of age stories. As Banks (2009) argues, when we give
LGBTQ people the role of the protagonist, we understand that they are complex individuals having the same thoughts and feelings as any other person. Though the inner conflict regarding Simon’s sexuality is a big part of the book many other topics are treated in it. The central conflict is actually the one between Simon and Martin,
and besides that Simon has to navigate falling in love, meeting his secret infatuation all the while having over-interested parents and a group of friends with their own set of issues. As previously stated, Banks (2009) argued that by only depicting LGBTQ- characters in one way we allowed the reader to assume that they are only capable of having one central issue, their sexuality. By putting Simon in a context that all, not only LGBTQ, young adults can relate to in one way or another the author manages to show a LGBTQ-person that is relatable to a broader audience. By sometimes breaking the story and shifting its focus from Simon specifically, the narration gives the reader some time to reflect on, and relate to, his everyday life. This brings us back to
Banks’s (2009) initial hope, that LGBTQ people can be portrayed as having other problems in their life besides their sexuality, moving away from the inheritability of it and putting LGBTQ characters in a more mainstream context.
Another interesting aspect of character development is the development of the antagonist. Sometime after their encounter in the parking lot, Martin writes Simon an apology via e-mail, where he admits that he was in the wrong, that he cannot believe what he put Simon through and that he is very sorry. This final apology from Martin works as a second climax of the story as narratives have historically not featured such a dimensional way of looking at conflict between homophobes and homosexuals. As Cart and Jenkins (2006) already stated, it is rather something that often becomes somewhat one dimensional with the homophobes being the demons and the
homosexuals being the angels. This book actually lets the antagonist have as much dimension as the protagonist, which amplifies the feeling that homophobia is something that you can wean off. While the apology might leave the reader feeling conflicted, because feelings of resentment might still be present, it undeniably fits the description of coming of age that the book aims towards by its sheer nature.
Conclusion
The result of this essay shows us that Simon vs. The Homo Sapiens Agenda (2015) in many ways transfigures conventional LGBTQ narrative, all the while still having similarities with the conventional narratives. It complicates what we normally
associate with the genre and continues to come of age with its readers. As previously mentioned, features conventionally associated with LGBTQ narratives have consisted of a lack of complexity, a stereotypical depiction of LGBTQ characters, an outdated way of looking at homosexuality, and narrative that treats sexuality as something
inherently difficult. The narrative of this book, however, is not one-dimensional and does not portray the protagonist as a stereotypical homosexual teen with his sexuality as his only worry. Simon is first and foremost portrayed as a teenage boy who lives a fairly average life, and this brings us to what Bank (2009) wished to see more of when it comes to LGBTQ-narratives, a relatable protagonist that readers, of all sorts, can sympathize with. The book also gives us a more nuanced view of an antagonist, narrating neither the antagonist, nor the protagonist as pure good or evil but as human beings capable of making mistakes and regretting said mistakes.
If we agree with the premise that one way of relating to our world is to see yourself portrayed in that same world; books, movies and tv-shows play an
increasingly big part in that representation. Not only can LGBTQ young adult books help someone feel less alone, but they are also an important tool to teach not only young adults but everyone reading them. This increases the need for books of this genre to feel authentic, to represent the world they were written in and to give voice to the otherwise overlooked. This could naturally give the genre unrealistic expectations to represent a very broad variety of people within the LGBTQ community. However, upon close reading this book some findings were unforeseen, not the least of which the fact that a book published so recently and with a clear LGBTQ agenda still conforms to heteronormativity. While it would be easy to blame the author’s lack of research or experience on the topic; it might also have something to do with the low expectations we conventionally have placed on young adult books as a genre. Perhaps we cannot expect one book to meet the expectations gathered from all the years where LGBTQ people was overlooked, but rather have to see this book for just that; one book on the topic that treats it differently from others. It complicates the conventional narratives and sets a new narrative that future books may build on or further
complicate.
Furthermore, the close reading demonstrates how some passages of the book are in direct conflict with conventional narratives while others could be likened to the ones presented by Cart and Jenkins (2006). The latter reveals itself in passages that are sometimes narrated in a heteronormative way and sometimes written out of the story completely. By analyzing the book as a whole we can for instance note that while Simon continuously claims that his sexuality is not a problem, the narrative is pushed to have the reader believe it is. Were it not for his sexuality there would be nothing to blackmail him for, so in a way his sexuality is the biggest conflict of the
book. And the fact that the protagonist did not stand up for himself immediately after being treated badly could testify to his agency being written out of his own story.
However, Albertalli’s novel also presents passages where we can note that it stands out from conventional LGBTQ narratives. A few examples of this can be found in our close reading, such as the fact that neither the antagonist nor the protagonist is pure good or evil, but rather nuanced characters that young adult readers can relate to.
Furthermore, Simon’s coming out is relatively easy in large part because of a welcoming family and supportive friends, which is a direct contrast to what typical LGBTQ narratives often feature. The book also ends on a happy note with the two boys becoming a couple and being able to be out as a couple which is also rather rare if we look at Cart and Jenkins (2006) research.
This essay offers additional perspectives to an already established research field. Future research could investigate how recent LGBTQ young adult narratives have progressed. The work could then perhaps look at more books published from the past five years to see how they evolve. The topic of sexual identity is a dynamic one and changes with each generation, thus giving future authors of LGBTQ young adult books a broad spectrum to work with.
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