I also skewed towards “great” rather than “coming of age”-that is, if a novel was a perfect example of a genre, but just not that good, I might have eliminated it for one that was brilliant but less platonically correct. I rejected short story collections (even linked ones like Melissa Bank’s The Girls’ Guide to Hunting and Fishing) and stuck to one novel per writer (though sometimes I can’t help myself from throwing in an extra mention). I decided to discount anything written for children or young adults, which eliminates a few classics like The Outsiders, The Perks of Being a Wallflower, and Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, among others (but does not eliminate, say, The Catcher in the Rye, which Salinger wrote for adults). However, I do have some rules for this list. Or at least we know it once we’re on the other side. But does a coming of age novel require demonstrable maturity in the end? Does said coming of age need to be the primary focus-in plot, in emotional weight-of the novel? Does the main character have to be a literal adolescent in the beginning? Under 21, maybe? The answer to all of these, I decided, was “usually, but not always.” Like you-know-what, we all know coming of age when we see it. So, as we embark on a new one, the Literary Hub office put their heads together to consider some of the greatest coming-of-age novels ever written, for discussing in the halls and reading under the covers.įirst: what exactly is a coming-of-age novel? Of course, it’s a novel in which someone becomes an adult, literally or metaphorically. When you’re young, you don’t measure time in calendar years-you measure it in school years. You pushed your best friend out of a tree and he broke his leg and now you’re dealing with the guilt. Your parents discover your secret hiding place and turn it into a mudroom. Your new boyfriend starts pretending not to know you. The end of summer is traditional coming of age time.

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