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Adrenaline-fueled, Male-Centered Contemporary YA Fiction

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With Eric Devine’s post on male violence and aggression, I could think of no better sort of list to write than one featuring contemporary realistic YA books that are male-centered and feature high adrenaline and, in most cases, violence of some kind. These books are gritty and intense. 

All descriptions come from WorldCat, and most of these titles were published in the last 5-7 years. I’d love to have more titles to add to this list, so if you can think of any, feel free to offer them in the comments. 

Crash and Burn by Michael Hassan: Steven “Crash” Crashinsky relates his sordid ten-year relationship with David “Burn” Burnett, the boy he stopped from taking their high school hostage at gunpoint.

Leverage by Joshua C. Cohen: High school sophomore Danny excels at gymnastics but is bullied, like the rest of the gymnasts, by members of the football team, until an emotionally and physically scarred new student joins the football team and forms an unlikely friendship with Danny.

Press Play by Eric Devine: While making a documentary to get himself into film school, Greg accidentally captures footage of brutal and bloody hazing by the lacrosse team, and he must decide whether to release the film or keep the secret.

Blade: Playing Dead by Tim Bowler: A fourteen-year-old British street person with extraordinary powers of observation and self-control must face murderous thugs connected with a past he has tried to forget, when his skills with a knife earned him the nickname, Blade.

Violence 101 by Denis Wright: In a New Zealand reformatory, Hamish Graham, an extremely intelligent fourteen-year-old who believes in the compulsory study of violence, learns that it is not always the answer.

Freeze Frame by Heidi Ayarbe: Fifteen-year-old Kyle believes he does not deserve to live after accidentally shooting and killing his best friend.

Dirt Road Home by Watt Key: At Hellenweiler, a reformatory for second-offenders, fourteen-year-old Hal Mitchell will soon be free if he can avoid the gang violence of his fellow inmates, but the real enemy may lie elsewhere.

Efrain’s Secret by Sofia Quintero: Ambitious high school senior and honor student Efrain Rodriguez makes some questionable choices in pursuit of his dream to escape the South Bronx and attend an Ivy League college.

If I Grow Up by Todd Strasser: Growing up in the inner-city projects, DeShawn is reluctantly forced into the gang world by circumstances beyond his control.

Dirt Bikes, Drones, and Other Ways to Fly by Conrad Wesselhoeft: Seventeen year-old dirt-bike-riding daredevil Arlo Santiago catches the eye of the U.S. military with his first-place ranking on a video game featuring drone warfare, and must reconcile the work they want him to do with the emotional scars he has suffered following a violent death in his family.

Unlocked by Ryan G. Van Cleave: While trying to impress a beautiful, unattainable classmate, fourteen-year-old Andy discovers that a fellow social outcast may be planning an act of school violence.

When I Was The Greatest by Jason Reynolds: Ali lives in Bed-Stuy, a Brooklyn neighborhood known for guns and drugs, but he and his sister, Jazz, and their neighbors, Needles and Noodles, stay out of trouble until they go to the wrong party, where one gets badly hurt and another leaves with a target on his back.



Blank Confession by Pete Hautman: A new and enigmatic student named Shayne appears at high school one day, befriends the smallest boy in the school, and takes on a notorious drug dealer before turning himself in to the police for killing someone.

Bystander by James Preller: Thirteen-year-old Eric discovers there are consequences to not standing by and watching as the bully at his new school hurts people, but although school officials are aware of the problem, Eric may be the one with a solution.

Run The Game by Jason Myers: A cocaine-addicted teenaged guitarist in a rock band falls dangerously in love with a fourteen-year-old prostitute.

Dear Life, You Suck by Scott Blagden: Irreverent, foul-mouthed, seventeen-year-old Cricket Cherpin, living under the watchful eye of Mother Mary at a Catholic boys’ home in Maine, has such bleak prospects he is considering suicide when Wynona Bidaban steps into his world.

Diary of a Witness by Catherine Ryan Hyde: Ernie, an overweight high school student and long-time target of bullies, relies on his best friend Will to watch his back until Will, overwhelmed by problems at home and guilt over his brother’s death, seeks a final solution.

Period 8 by Chris Crutcher:  Paul “the Bomb” Baum tells the truth. No matter what. It was something he learned at Sunday School. But telling the truth can cause problems, and not minor ones. And as Paulie discovers, finding the truth can be even more problematic. Period 8 is supposed to be that one period in high school where the truth can shine, a safe haven. Only what Paulie and Hannah (his ex-girlfriend, unfortunately) and his otherclassmates don’t know is that the ultimate bully, the ultimate liar, is in their midst. Just about everyone else who stops by the safe haven of the P-8 room daily are deceived. And when a classmate goes missing, all hell breaks loose. 

Break by Hannah Moskowitz: To relieve the pressures of caring for a brother with life-threatening food allergies, another who is a fussy baby, and parents who are at odds with one other, seventeen-year-old Jonah sets out to break every bone in his body in hopes of becoming stronger.

Cracked by K. M. Walton: When Bull Mastrick and Victor Konig wind up in the same psychiatric ward at age sixteen, each recalls and relates in group therapy the bullying relationship they have had since kindergarten, but also facts about themselves and their families that reveal they have much in common.

The Necessity of Violence: Guest Post from Eric Devine (Author of Press Play, Dare Me, and Tap Out)

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To kick off Contemporary YA week here at Stacked, let’s hear about violence — male-led violence more specifically — from author Eric Devine.





Eric Devine is the author of multiple works of Young Adult fiction, most recently, Press Play, which was published in October. He is also a veteran high school English teacher who spends as much time teaching as he does completing field research for his novels. His work has been listed by YALSA and Booklist for reluctant readers and for Best in Sports. He is married to his high school sweetheart, and his wife and he have two wonderful daughters and two not-so-wonderful Labradors. Find out more at ericdevine.org, facebook.com/ericdevineauthor, or Twitter: @eric_devine









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The punch being thrown in the image above is one of the most positive outlets for the young man pictured. He is Michael, and his violence was one of the best things I could have experienced.

I am sure many will look at this picture and see nothing but aggression, nothing but anger. That is true. But there is also the release of tension, a catharsis. Michael was abused and he grew up violent. Without this mosh pit and his ability to hit people in a constructive way, he would have killed someone. However, I did not grow up abused and in a violent household, so why was being around him such a positive development for me?

For many adolescents there is a very real desire to take shit out on things and people. I needed someone to tell me this was okay and not to hate myself for feeling such. I wasn’t alone. I had a friend who fought not only people, but telephone poles and trees. I’ve known others who have abused animals and themselves. If I were a psychologist, I might have the answer about why this occurs, but I’m not and so I don’t. What I can tell you is that the desire is real and is not something that ended with my grunge-era generation. As an educator, I see boys hitting each other all the time, slamming each other into lockers, and sometimes breaking out in real fights. And, to a degree, this is perfectly fine.

Constructive versus Destructive

There was a tradition, a kind of game among my friends, which we would play in a basement. Typically, we were emboldened by illicit substances, and at some point the fight would be suggested. Then the music was cranked, and weapons were grabbed. Someone would yell, “Doorknob,” and the game was on. The goal: get to the doorknob at the top of the stairs. But to succeed, you had to cross a battlefield, where it was every man for himself.

Bottles were smashed into faces, golf clubs swung into legs, and a thousand punches were thrown. And, yet, we all liked each other. We fought like this, game after game, until everyone was too exhausted to continue. This was before the publication of Fight Club, and as crazy as it sounds, our fights focused on the exact desires explored within the novel. This was a safe way for us to test our mettle. We could beat on one another and come to know just how much we could take, which would be important if it were ever someone else doing the beating. And we learned how to fight back, a skill I still see as valuable.

The last time we played this game is the first time I got knocked out. One of my friends punched me so hard in the back of the head that I fell to the floor and stayed there for a few minutes, out cold. I saw this man just the other day and congratulated him on his second child. There’s no ill will. He taught me a powerful rule in fighting: never let anyone get at your back. My father couldn’t teach me this; he didn’t know. But my friends could, and those beat downs served me well in college and beyond.

This is all to say that violence can be and is constructive. Mike moshed and fought with us and released all his rage so that he didn’t hurt anyone more than was acceptable. He knew enough about himself to seek this. I will never stand in judgment of someone who knows his needs and finds a constructive way to fulfill them. Mike may have “To Thine Ownself Be True” tattooed on his body now, but he was living the adage, then, and in turn, teaching us a powerful lesson.

Destructive

The conversation about teen violence should always focus on the destructive end, the place where males, particularly, do not have the outlets they need to channel this energy, and therefore, do so in grossly inappropriate ways.

Fighting is not the problem. The display of power is. My friends and I fought each other, but we never tried to dominate, we sought to learn. When boys fight for revenge, bring weapons into school, assault and rape their girlfriends or boyfriends, we should all be alarmed. This is unacceptable. This should be addressed. And beyond the obvious education necessary, one way would be to provide a safe environment for boys to work out their aggression.

Boxing gyms used to be as popular as MMA gyms are today. They served an outlet, often after school, and often free to troubled youth. Every person I know who participates in some violent discipline, like martial arts or boxing, talks about the respect of it, the way they know they don’t have to fight, but can if need be. My friends taught me the same. And post-basement brawls, we were the least aggressive males on the planet. Fighting was out of our system, and it felt good to have it gone. It didn’t make us want more.

Yet, unfortunately, we also played football together. This may seem contradictory, because aren’t sports a perfect venue to channel this negative energy?

As violent sports go, football does not teach you discipline. In fact, it just became another place for us to release our pent up violence, and we were often rewarded for our ability to hurt people. It doesn’t need to be this way, but often sports like football and lacrosse and hockey offer very little beyond the inducement to be violent. Because aggression and a violent propensity can make you an all-star. And we live in a society that rewards such, on and off the field.

Therefore, something that allows teen males to “blow off steam” in a safe way, without reward for being nasty, with only a goal of being constructive with anger, is a potential solution. There is no one-size-fits-all answer for what that looks like, and that’s okay. Just ask the teens what they want; they’ll let you know.

Fact versus fiction

In all of my novels there is at least one fight scene. Often there are more. Some might dismiss the authenticity of my stories, feeling that I have a limited perspective because of my upbringing, and not a true reflection on American culture. That notion is wrong.

I write what I see and hear, predominately from my students. I even had them respond to a journal prompt so I could better inform myself for this article. The “boys will be boys” adage came up time and again. And as frustrating as that was to see––because as an adult male, I loathe that easy excuse––it also makes sense. Every one of my forty-eight students polled had something to say about violence. Had I asked them to write about love, the connections might not have been so handy.

We live in a violent world. My students see this and know that “boys throw punches, and girls talk shit behind your back.” Yes, this is a very stratified notion of gender behavior, but it is still illuminative. This is what teens see. Boys who need to express their anger and frustration, punch. Girls who need to, use manipulation more than overt violence. They are all being socialized into roles with violent implications, and there is a social desire for them to uphold the framework.

So let them blow it up. Literally. Give teens more outlets, physically and emotionally. Let them climb into a ring with gloves and head gear. Let them work it out. Then guide them toward books that speak about violence and let them talk about how they resonate. Give teens a safe context in which to explore and you will see less violence, not more.

I know that may seem like a lofty conclusion, but based on my experience, and from what I see every day, there’s little harm in trying to see if I’m right. As a species, we are a violent animal. Simply because we can communicate better doesn’t mean we are always going to. However, it should be the goal. Yet, to reach it, we might need to reframe how we look at violence. Much like with the picture above. Possibly what we see is not a roadblock, but rather, an appropriate step toward a better path.