Shana Youngdahl is a poet and author of the YA novel As Many Nows as I Can Get. She also teaches writing at Lindenwood University in Missouri. Here, Youngdahl reflects on her new book for teens, A Catalog of Burnt Objects, inspired by the real-life destruction—both environmental and emotional—of wildfires.
The recent LA fires were horrible. Sadly, many had seen the destruction of catastrophic fires before. The resilience of fire-impacted people and communities can provide a roadmap to not only enduring the immediate aftermath of tragedy, but for finding a way forward.
I know. My hometown is Paradise, Calif., and in 2018, the Camp Fire decimated 90% of the town’s structures, displaced 50,000 people, and 85 people tragically died. The fire was sparked by a badly maintained PG&E power line during red-flag winds. I wasn’t living there at the time, but like all who love Paradise, my heart broke that day. Writers know that the best landscapes are characters. And Paradise was a character in my life. It formed me as much as my family and the life-long friendships I forged hiking along the Feather River Canyon.
Writing my new novel, A Catalog of Burnt Objects, was a way through my own sadness over what happened to a community I love. It was also a way I could offer a story to the world that shows teens coming through catastrophe and surviving. It wasn’t easy to take on this topic, and I wasn’t sure I could do it. But in the aftermath of the fire, some of my friends asked if I might write a poem to thank their child’s teacher for reopening preschool in her home. The response to that poem made me believe that I could write something that not only honored my friends and what they’d endured, but also helped all people understand the scale and scope of these tragedies. In witnessing the impact of the fire on the lives of many friends, and learning of their different choices to rebuild or relocate, I witnessed the resiliency of individuals alongside the importance of community in the wake of mass tragedy.
This book grew out of my love for my hometown and its people, yes. It also grew out of my concern for our world in the face of our collective failure to adequately address climate change. It tells the story of 17-year-old Caprice Alexander as she navigates what she thought would be a regular senior year and her continued countdown to escape her tiny, town of Sierra, Calif.
Sierra is a fictionalized Paradise, a decision I made for several reasons. One was that I needed artistic space from the catastrophe emotionally, and I needed the creative freedom that not being tied to actual events allows. But the main reason I chose to write Sierra, and not Paradise, was because I knew that in the time it took to write the book, more catastrophic wildfires would occur. More communities would be leveled. And the last thing I wanted in a world facing the new normal of catastrophic wildfire was for readers to feel like they were reading about a historical event, especially teen readers for whom 2018 is already half a lifetime ago.
These fires are not historical. As the events of this winter show, they are not just our past; they are also our present and future. Learning how to live with, respond to, and approach the aftermath is a crisis we are all facing. One of my fire-survivor friends, an educator who worked with kids in the aftermath of the fire, recounted how a trauma specialist shared the image of a bullseye as a way to illustrate the impact of events like these on communities. The people at the center are those directly impacted, those who have lost their homes and workplaces—but the impact of these traumas is also felt in rings extending outward. It is felt by the surrounding communities that suddenly take in thousands of residents. It is felt with the loved ones of those impacted. It is felt by anyone who loved the place.
Or to put it another way, when a beloved city like L.A. burns, we all feel it. When a community is impacted by fire, all who love that community are impacted. In a world where catastrophic disaster is on the rise, we will all find ourselves inside that bullseye eventually. And we can all learn from those who have navigated such catastrophes. We can learn from stories that attest to the possibility of something beyond survival. Fiction invites us into conversations and questions. The characters in A Catalog of Burnt Objects are wrestling with how to live in a world on fire, a world where corporate interests outpace human interest, and corporate neglect results in errors that demolish whole California towns. How, in such a world, do we build a meaningful life? How do we focus our energies and mobilize for change? How can we center kindness and humanity? Is change even possible? These are questions that many of us struggle with.
But the thing is, in the wake of disaster, human kindness and humanity is on display everywhere. Most people want to help. Most people feel deeply for one another. Many lend a hand.
As a writer for young people, I believe one way of working toward a better world is by writing narratives that explore questions, illuminate problems, and invite young people into the conversation. The culture talks a lot about PTSD in the aftermath of tragedy. With Burnt Objects, I wanted to write a love story of many kinds while also writing a post-traumatic growth narrative. Those who experience PTG have initial, strong reactions to a catastrophic event. Their growth isn’t easy. It’s not something they would wish for. But it attests to the resiliency of humanity and the possibility to grow and change under all types of situations.
I hope that Caprice’s post-traumatic growth experience, and her journey through many different loving relationships, can provide all readers hope that humanity will still find a way to address the challenges of climate change. All of us will have friends and family, communities, and places we love impacted by the many increasing climate disasters of our new normal: floods, rising tides, hurricanes, tornadoes. We must find a way to connect, to work together, to love and to hope, and to build a future we all can be proud of. One step toward that future is through writing and sharing stories.
A Catalog of Burnt Objects by Shana Youngdahl. Dial, $19.99 Mar. 18 ISBN 978-0-59340-551-2
