What comes to mind when one thinks of a “crime story” is probably something that’s thrilling and gritty, involving police detectives and yellow tape and pulse-pounding excitement. But because the spectrum of crime is so broad, encompassing everything from vandalism to murder, the array of crime stories on offer has become appropriately diverse—and one unexpected source of crime fiction happens to be the young adult coming-of-age genre.
For example, I’ve written a young adult novel called Pride or Die that follows a group of ordinary high-schoolers who find themselves wrapped up in an attempted murder mystery. In addition to this, there are scenes of our protagonists illegally purchasing alcohol and throwing a wild party, which are criminal acts inspired not by Agatha Christie, but by Superbad.
It’s not often talked about, but criminal activity is kind of a hallmark of YA as a whole: kids breaking into buildings, beating one another up, cutting class, stealing, sneaking out past curfew, and the list goes on. The most iconic scene in The Perks of Being a Wallflower involves a misdemeanor traffic violation. Ferris Bueller’s whole thing is chronic truancy. It’s just rare that these teen crimes are actually addressed (or appropriately punished) within the narrative. In fact, with the Superbad example, the police are so desperate to seem cool that they not only let the teens get away with their crimes, but commit more crimes, offering up their guns for the leads to play with. It’s like the screenwriters created this alternate universe in which the law doesn’t exist solely so that criminal behavior can exist as a fun new consequence-free way for teenagers to rebel.
Breaking the law is a form of standing up to authority, which tends to be a major aspect of any coming-of-age narrative. It’s all about seeking autonomy and independence, even if mistakes are made along the way. It makes sense that teens committing crimes is a more interesting and dynamic way to express that point than, say, a series of repetitive “but Mom, I swear I’m old enough to go to the mall with my friends!” arguments. It’s just funny how trivialized crime can be in these stories while acting as a major source of tension in others.
It’s actually challenging for me to think of any recent coming-of-age media that doesn’t include a crime of some sort. Even Heartstopper, known for its sweetness, depicts underaged drinking (even for the UK) and mild violence. Part of this is because certain crimes are considered to be more widespread and/or acceptable than others, even something intrinsic to the process of growing up. Flirting with danger is almost a rite of passage in life; perhaps we only learn where the boundaries are once we’ve properly tested them. But of course, Heartstopper only reflects the lighter end of these stories. Many of them are much angrier.
Understandably, the sociopolitical landscape of the 2020s has only amplified these feelings of powerlessness in teens. Civil arguments do little in the face of obstacles like pandemics, recessions, and rampant fascism, and a lot of young people are furious right now. As Havana Rose Liu says in Bottoms, “I’m getting revenge. I’m gonna f— up some football players and I’m buying a gun.” While youthful joy is also something to be cherished and nourished, coming-of-rage has been steadily gaining popularity, and rightfully so.
I’m often asked how I tackle the combination of mystery/thriller and teen comedy, but this discussion illustrates just one of the many reasons why that seemingly-paradoxical pairing is actually perfect together. Pride or Die centers around a group of teens who are dealing with injustice and mistreatment from the authority figures in their lives. The further one goes up the ladder of power, the more likely one is to have to dismantle the “rules” entirely to create change—in this case, it’s a school principal at the forefront. Adding in a more classic crime for the mystery genre (attempted murder) doesn’t change much—while this act requires heavier involvement of law enforcement and adds an undercurrent of fear for the protagonists, the core of the story remains the same. The characters being accused of committing attempted murder only amplifies the same struggles that they’re already facing—being villainized and otherwise mistreated due to bigotry.
While Pride or Die does get a little darker and heavier than Ferris Bueller, there’s still fun to be found in stories like mine. Breaking the rules often leads to hijinks, and what might be scary in a different context turns humorous under the right circumstances. There’s Jennifer Lawrence beating up a bunch of teenagers in No Hard Feelings and getting into a weird naked police chase. Even those douchey football players being impaled to death in Bottoms gets a lot of laughs. Either the protagonists are the ones inflicting negative consequences upon themselves, or their victims “deserved it.” Often enough, the victims in mysteries and thrillers “deserved it,” too. The main distinction is how far separated we are from the act; a story that’s outrageous and irreverent puts distance between us and those consequences. If the media itself doesn’t care about a character who was harmed, we’re less inclined to care, either. At the end of the day, it’s fiction. It’s a form of catharsis. It’s a safe way to say “eff it!” to the man while knowing nothing bad will happen to you in return. And again, I think that’s also why it’s so appealing to teenagers.
There are few places where a teen can just scream in peace. Each example I’ve given in this essay is, to me, its own scream. And maybe a scream isn’t enough to scare away the world’s cruelty, but at minimum, it’s a release. It’s a cry of “I’m here, and I’m angry.” So, whether we’re talking about kids smoking weed in a cheesy rom-com or committing mass murder in a thriller, I get it. A lot of these feelings are coming from the same place—it’s just a matter of how we choose to express them. As for me, I’m feeling more pissed-off by the day, and I’m sure I’m not alone. I would love for there to be a day when a completely joyous and innocent PG narrative is in fact the most authentic way to represent being a teen, but this isn’t our reality. For now, I’ll keep writing kids doing crimes, and I look forward to others doing the same.
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