I have a confession to make. I’m addicted to broken boys. Now before you start getting all “but can’t you see how BAD he is for you. You deserve better etc” let me clarify; I’m only addicted to fictional broken boys. My real life boy is actually a relatively unbroken grown man. When I was a broken girl I definitely had a predilection for broken boys but I outgrew that, along with my predilection for fingerless gloves and brown lipstick. But, oh how I love to wallow in books about broken boys. Broken boys are like cooking chocolate to me, dark and bitter, but sweet and addictive. I could read a broken boy book every day and still not be sad enough. I’ve read so many broken boy books of late that I think I’m becoming a leading expert in the field. I’m also starting to see some commonalities with my sweet little fractured heroes. That’s not to say that these books are derivative of each other – I love all these books and each is unique – only that perhaps the authors are tapping into some universal truth about boys and angst. Maybe there are some things teachers and therapists, probation officers and judges, social workers and doctors could learn from the broken boy book phenomenon. In this spirit I’d like to offer the below as a kind of introductory analysis of broken boys, both fictional and maybe real, for anyone who has boys, cares about boys or loves boys, broken or not.
Posted on: Sat, 18 Oct 2014 12:27:14 +0000