I know, I know. I shouldn’t have written what I did about lack of American fiction. It’s all over my house now.
When I was young, Joyce Carol Oates was a poet. And I don’t do poetry much. But here’s this young adult book written by her, called Sexy. Of all things. I’ve investigated her a little, and it seems she writes a lot of a lot of things, including teen fiction.
Sexy is about a good looking sixteen-year-old boy and his (possibly) gay teacher. Again a very clichéd subject, but still quite enjoyable. It’s not a new book. I think it’s been out for a couple of years or so.
At this rate I’ll soon know all there is to know about American high schools. Maybe.