Day: September 22, 2025

Growing Up on the Page: Teaching Coming-of-Age Novels in Australian Classrooms

Coming-of-age novels have long held a central place in literature, offering rich terrain for both personal reflection and academic exploration. For educators working with adolescents, these texts are more than just stories—they are mirrors and windows into the complex journey of growing up. This post explores why coming-of-age literature resonates so deeply with teenagers, why it matters in the curriculum, and how educators can harness its potential to foster empathy, identity formation, and critical thinking.

Bildungsroman

Adolescence is a period marked by emotional intensity, identity exploration, and social upheaval. Coming-of-age novels, also known as bildungsroman, capture this liminal space with authenticity and nuance. Teen readers often see themselves reflected in protagonists who grapple with similar dilemmas: family conflict, peer pressure, romantic entanglements, and the search for purpose. These narratives validate the adolescent experience, offering reassurance that their struggles are not isolated but part of a universal human journey.

Moreover, the first-person perspective common in young adult fiction allows readers to inhabit the protagonist’s inner world. This immersive quality fosters emotional resonance and encourages teens to reflect on their own values, choices, and aspirations. As Biscontini (2024) noted, coming-of-age literature “provides young people with a relatable experience while offering adults a sense of nostalgia,” and often centres on the loss of innocence, self-discovery, and the struggle to adapt to societal expectations.

Why They Matter in the Curriculum

From a pedagogical standpoint, coming-of-age novels are invaluable tools for teaching literary analysis, thematic exploration, and cultural literacy. These texts often engage with issues such as race, gender, class, and mental health: topics that are both timely and timeless. By studying these works, students develop empathy and gain insight into diverse lived experiences.

Importantly, coming-of-age literature also supports identity development. For students from marginalised backgrounds, seeing characters who reflect their realities can be empowering. For others, these stories offer a chance to understand perspectives different from their own. As such, these novels contribute to a more inclusive and socially aware classroom environment (Federation of Egalitarian Communities, 2024).

Why Choosing the Right Text Matters—Especially for Boys.

“Puberty is merciless. Regardless of who you are,” Becky Albertalli in Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda

This sentiment that captures the emotional turbulence of adolescence with striking clarity. For boys, this period can be particularly complex, often shaped by conflicting expectations around masculinity, emotional restraint, and identity formation.

Potential reads

Choosing the right coming-of-age texts for boys is not merely about fostering a love of reading. It is about offering them tools for emotional literacy, ethical reasoning, and self-reflection. These stories help boys navigate moral ambiguity, understand the consequences of choices, and appreciate the nuances of human relationships. Crucially, they provide a safe space to explore vulnerability, fear, and belonging, which often occur before boys feel equipped to express these experiences in their own words.

Selecting texts that feature emotionally authentic male protagonists, whether they be sensitive, conflicted, resilient, or flawed; can disrupt narrow stereotypes and expand boys’ understanding of what it means to grow up. When boys see themselves reflected in literature, or encounter perspectives that challenge their assumptions, they are more likely to engage deeply and critically.

Incorporating well-chosen coming-of-age novels into the curriculum also supports literacy outcomes. The relatability of the content increases motivation, while the layered narratives encourage boys to interpret symbolism, character development, and thematic complexity. With the right texts, educators can foster not only stronger readers, but more thoughtful, empathetic young men.

How Students Socially Learn from Narrative Fiction

Recent research by Gasser, Dammert, and Murphy (2022) offers a compelling framework for understanding how children socially learn from narrative fiction. Their integrative review identifies three distinct mechanisms:

  • Getting the Lesson – where children extract and internalise explicit moral messages from the text.
  • Simulating Social Worlds – where readers imaginatively engage with fictional characters, enhancing empathy and perspective-taking.
  • Dialogic Inquiry – where students develop social reasoning through peer dialogue about complex sociomoral issues raised in fiction.

This framework is particularly relevant for educators designing literature programmes that go beyond comprehension and into the realm of ethical inquiry and emotional intelligence. It supports the use of coming-of-age novels as tools for cultivating sociomoral competencies in the classroom.

Key Texts – Australian Coming of Age stories for Boys

Australian literature offers a rich and diverse array of coming-of-age narratives that speak directly to local contexts, landscapes, and cultural tensions. There are wide range of novels that can be utilised effectively in the classroom, however, these texts are particularly valuable for fostering national literary literacy and connecting students with stories that reflect their own communities.

  • Jasper Jones by Craig Silvey
  • Boy Swallows Universe by Trent Dalton
  • I am not really here by Gary Lonesborough
  • Rowan of Rin by Emily Rodda
  • Breath by Tim Winton
  • The first third by Will Kostakis
  • Scartown by Tristan Bancks
  • The Sidekicks by Will Kostakis
  • Ready when you are by Gary Lonesborough

Key Texts: Classic Coming-of-Age Novels

These canonical works have shaped the genre and continue to offer profound insights into the human condition. They are ideal for comparative studies and historical context.

  • David Copperfield by Charles Dickens
  • The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde
  • The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
  • The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain
  • To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee
  • The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton.

Key Texts: Modern Coming-of-Age Novels

Contemporary novels reflect the evolving challenges faced by today’s youth, including cultural identity, mental health, activism, and global conflict. These texts are especially relevant for engaging students in current social discourse.

  • The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas
  • Persepolis by Marjane Satrapi
  • Darius the Great Is Not Okay by Adib Khorram

Reference List (APA 7)

Biscontini, T. (2024). Coming of age in literature. https://www.ebsco.com/research-starters/literature-and-writing/coming-age-literature

Federation of Egalitarian Communities. (2024). What do coming-of-age novels teach us? https://www.thefec.org/news/what-do-coming-of-age-novels-teach-us/835/

Gasser, L., Dammert, Y., & Murphy, P. K. (2022). How do children socially learn from narrative fiction: Getting the lesson, simulating social worlds, or dialogic inquiry? Educational Psychology Review, 34(3), 1445–1475. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10648-022-09667-4

Sun, X. (2024). Teaching young adult literature in secondary L2 classrooms: A case study of The Outsiders reading programme. The Language Learning Journal, 52(3), 233–254. https://doi.org/10.1080/09571736.2022.2107694

The Greatest Books. (2025). The greatest coming-of-age books from 2020 to 2025. https://thegreatestbooks.org/the-greatest/coming-of-age/books/from/2020/to/2025

Book Review: Darius the Great Is Not Okay

Adib Khorram’s debut novel, Darius the Great Is Not Okay, is a beautifully crafted story that captures the emotional complexity of adolescence with rare sensitivity. At its centre is Darius Kellner, a teenage boy growing up biracial—half Persian, half white—in a world that often demands simple answers to complicated questions about identity.

Darius feels out of place in his hometown of Portland. He doesn’t speak Farsi fluently, struggles to connect with his Persian heritage, and feels alienated from both sides of his cultural background. When he travels to Iran to meet his grandparents for the first time, the story deepens into a moving exploration of belonging. Khorram doesn’t offer easy resolutions. Instead, he shows how identity can be layered, shifting, and deeply personal.

As a parent of biracial children myself, this novel struck a chord. I often worry about how my kids see themselves—whether they feel “enough” of either culture, whether they’ll be accepted, and whether they’ll find peace in the spaces between. Darius’s journey reminded me that these questions don’t always have answers, but they do deserve compassion. The book offers that in abundance.

What also makes this story so powerful is its honest portrayal of mental health. Darius lives with clinical depression, and Khorram treats this with care and authenticity. He very gently reminds the reader that mental health is often not viewed the same way across generations and cultures. I particularly found it endearing when Darius was taking his ‘medicine’ in front of his grandfather and being told that medicine is only for old people. This was said in such a matter of fact tone, you could almost hear the slightly questioning tone of a grandparent’s concern. However, Khorram keeps it calm. There’s no melodrama, just the quiet reality of what it means to live with a condition that many teenagers face but few feel safe talking about. The novel understands that mental health isn’t a side issue—it’s central to how young people experience the world and themselves.

Equally important is the novel’s emphasis on friendship. Darius’s bond with Sohrab, a boy he meets in Iran, is tender, grounding, and transformative. For teenagers, friendships are more than social connections—they’re mirrors through which they begin to see themselves. A good friend can validate your experiences, challenge your assumptions, and offer a safe space to be vulnerable. In Darius’s case, Sohrab becomes that anchor. Their friendship helps Darius feel seen—not as a collection of contradictions, but as someone worthy of love and belonging. For teens navigating identity and self-esteem, these kinds of relationships are vital.

The thing is, I never had a friend like Sohrab before. One who understood me without even trying. Who knew what it was like to be stuck on the outside because of one little thing that set you apart.

This moment captures the emotional core of the novel. For Darius, friendship isn’t just about companionship—it’s about being truly seen. Sohrab’s presence helps Darius begin to accept himself, not in spite of his differences, but because of them. It’s a reminder that for teenagers, especially those navigating identity and mental health challenges, friendship can be a lifeline

Darius the Great Is Not Okay is a fantastic coming-of-age story because it doesn’t rely on dramatic transformations. It’s about small, meaningful moments: a friendship that feels like home, a conversation that bridges generations, a glimpse of self-worth. For young readers—especially those navigating multiple cultures or mental health challenges—it’s a gentle, affirming reminder that being “not okay” doesn’t mean being broken. It means being human.

Book Review – Wednesday

If Wednesday Addams were to write her own memoir, it’d probably look a lot like Wednesday: A Novelisation of Season One. This isn’t just a book—it’s a moody, macabre mirror held up to the Netflix series, with all the gothic charm and deadpan sass you’d expect. Written by Tehlor Kay Mejia, the novel dives headfirst into Wednesday’s psyche, offering a peek behind the curtain of her stoic facade. Think of it as the show’s inner monologue, scribbled in black ink and sealed with disdain.

Published in 2024, the plot follows Wednesday’s arrival at Nevermore Academy, a school for supernatural misfits where murder mysteries are part of the curriculum and socialising is a punishable offence. While the series gave us brooding cello solos and a wardrobe that screams “funeral chic,” the book lets us crawl inside Wednesday’s mind—where sarcasm is a survival skill and feelings are best left buried. Mejia nails the tone, balancing Wednesday’s razor-sharp wit with moments of reluctant vulnerability that feel oddly touching (but SHUSHH don’t tell her that).

One of the novel’s most delicious contrasts—and let’s be honest, Wednesday thrives on contrast—is the infamous dorm room split between her and Enid Sinclair. On one side: a monochrome mausoleum of black, grey, and gloom, where even the shadows look depressed. On the other: a rainbow explosion that looks like a unicorn sneezed on a Lisa Frank catalogue. It’s less “cohabiting” and more “cold war with glitter.” The book leans into this absurdity with Wednesday’s internal commentary, which is equal parts horror and reluctant fascination. Sharing a room with Enid is like bunking with a disco ball that talks. Their room becomes a battleground of personality—and somehow, a crucible for growth. It’s eerily reminiscent of Elphaba and Galinda’s dorm at Shiz University in Wicked: one half brooding misfit, the other half pastel chaos, and somehow, against all odds (and taste), it works.

Now, let’s be honest: like most movie tie-ins, this novelisation is fairly true to the source material but ultimately feels like a watered-down echo of the show. It’s a weak parody in places—more shadow than substance. An OK read, sure, but clearly aimed at teens and readers who don’t mind their books light on literary weight. Basically, it’s all frosting and no cake: sweet, stylish, and fun to look at, but don’t expect it to nourish your soul or challenge your brain.

In short, if you loved the series but wished Wednesday would open up just a smidge (begrudgingly, of course), this book is your poison. It’s witty, weird, and wonderfully introspective—like a love letter written in invisible ink and sealed with a spider. Just don’t expect hugs. She’s still Wednesday, after all.