A children's literature professor recommended this book in a class I took years ago, and I wish I had read it then. At first, I compared it somewhat unfavorably to newer YA novels I've read, perhaps because the plot starts out relatively slowly. I once took a personality test that determines whether you are a nerd, geek, or dork, and while I'm not going to disclose my results, I'm pretty sure Owen, the protagonist, would have gotten all of the above. And back in the seventies, before nerd pride and geek culture were widespread on the internet, all three words (or at least the related concepts) were equally insulting. Initially, I thought Owen's angst over living a boring suburban life with parents and classmates who don't understand his intellectual interests was rather petty compared to the issues discussed in contemporary YA literature. (I somehow overlooked the ominous foreshadowing found in the allusions to the Bronte family.)

Midway through the novel, the plot picked up, and I was pleasantly surprised to find an author who understands what it's like to be a teen with only one friend you can really talk to. What it's like to stop caring about the things you once valued most in life. What it's like to create a world you want to live in, very far away from anywhere else. Instead of existing only to "save" the main character or help him check a rite of passage off his to-do list, the female lead, Natalie, has values and goals of her own, and the ensuing conflict turns the plot from bland to compelling. Despite the occasional instance of dated slang and the dreary mid-twentieth century suburban setting, this novel has a depth that is often lacking in the "controversial issue of the week" genre of teen literature.
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A wonderful book about friendship and love. ( )

Another short one I picked up on a whim at a book store for $1.

This is an incredible story. It will leaving you feeling both empty and full. I can't explain it better than that. Just read it. ( )

This is a delightful, short novella, and very clever. The language is aimed at a young adult readership, and some of the phrasing (“neat”) may not have aged as well as it could, which is inevitable, but it would still appeal to the same readers, i think, as well as to adults. Like much of Le Guin, parts are deceptively simple. The book follows just after The Dispossessed, and many of the same themes run across here, just in a less overt form (the same could be said of the Earthsea series as well). For instance, our young narrator is thinking about musical form for his friend while also saying his interests are in psychology and the nature of consciousness, but of course the book itself is quasi-stream of consciousness, so she’s really pointing the reader to the text itself here. Likewise, the protagonist’s imaginary world is so much like Le Guin’s own Orsinia, and she gives a very firm backhand to toxic forms of masculinity and against Robert Graves’ The White Goddess that influenced so much of the fantasy genre that her own novels try to change. I suppose that I mean to say, this is perfectly charming novel about growing up and becoming more and more oneself even as that self is forever changing, which is to say it’s about the same things Le Guin is always about: power, identity, selfhood, freedom, and subjectivity. Yet, beautifully, the reader never needs to think of the book those terms either. ( )

In many cases, the term "Young Adult" can serve as a warning label--"ATTENTION: This Book is Simplistic and Didactic. May cause irritation."

Very Far Away From Anywhere Else seemed, at first glance, very much in that mold. But as I read further, I realized two things. First, the simplicity is somewhat deceptive. While it is almost entirely written in simple declarative sentences and filled with very basic observations, the structure becomes more complicated as it progresses. Seemingly banal plot points start to tie together, and by the end the work as a whole is greater than the sum of its parts. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that's a good structure for a Young Adult novel to have. Young young adults get a simple story, older Young adults get something more.

So then I thought maybe the problem was that I'm not a Young Adult. One could easily retitle this book "Teenage Angst: Theory and Practice". Frequently, my response was something along the lines of 'tell me something I don't know'. I read Catcher in the Rye (et al) a long time ago. I remember, very distinctly, what being a teenager was like.

But of course, I had forgotten one thing: teenagers don't know what being a teenager is like. When you're that age, the experiences you later realize are ubiquitous and cliche are all new and fresh cut. The callouses, the scar tissue, haven't formed yet. They've happened to thousands of people before you and will happen to thousands more, but, very importantly, you don't realize that yet. The particular pain of that time of life is, in effect, the realization, the first awareness, of the pain itself. I had forgotten, and this book reminded me. So that's the second thing.

I wish I had read this book when I was younger. I would probably have remembered it fondly. But for now, I would only recommend it Young Adults, to those who remember what it was like to be a Young Adult, or those who feel the need to be reminded. ( )