This is something I mentioned a while back too. The titles we have at the moment are almost like a rating system now, but it also turns away a greater audience.
I know many people who wont read YA because they see it as aimed at young teenagers. New Adult almost sounds insulting to me.
A rating system would work, and also open up more work to more readers. IF it was done considerately. IE, not age rated.
You could use old terms such as C for childrens books, U for universal, no sex, no swearing, no gore. R (restricted )or some limited stuff, RA (restricted adult) for swearing, sex, violent stuff, and X for erotica.
It just lets people know what they are in for, not to be 'enforced'. I think it would encourage a larger audience for works that put people off by getting labelled with a target age group.
That 'RA (restricted adult) for swearing' might be a bit of a problem.
I'd imagine it would be based on the appearance of certain words in the text. But there are books that have, on one page or another, every single word considered '
taboo' by the dictionary - they're called dictionaries. Restricting dictionaries to adult-only use?
Kids these days seem to care little about spelling. They have no sense of the shame they should rightly feel when they make some semi-literate and ungrammatical contribution online, oblivious to the multiple millions of net users around the planet seeing their misspelled and insanely-punctuated efforts as the product of thick, gittish and unintelligent dunderheads being produced by the obviously-failing, finance-starved and deep-in-terminal-decay education system that totally missed the point with these lard-brained, know-nothing wastes of skin who consider such blatant and self-inflicted stupidity to be the very height of cool.
"Juss keepin' it real, man."
That you are - real ignorant, cretinous, vapid, imbecilic, doltish, vacuous, moronic, inane, obtuse, asinine, dim, idiotic, risible, dull-witted, and simple-minded, you utter sh*t-for-brains. Who's going to tie your shoelaces, wipe your backside and change your nappy when you reach the age of majority and you're alone, the contents of your faecally-impacted skull facing the impossible tasks of surviving in a world full of vastly more-intelligent people than yourself, and of understanding anything at all going on around you?
I give you no more than 90 seconds if you happen to be near a road - you don't have the intellectual capacity to grasp basic toilet training, so you aren't about to master concepts such as acceleration, velocity, impact forces, mass or pressure before a bus plasters your worthless, useless and lifeless corpse into the road surface for the local council's street-sweepers, and any passing Corvids, to tease bits of you from between the tar-embedded stone chippings of the asphalt over the ensuing few months.
Lets see your texting thumb, your godawful music, your baseless, pointless and useless moodiness and your silly hairstyle rescue you from that. Still, your contribution to humanity, and the fertilizer (your minced remains), is noted and commemorated on an inscribed ice cube stored in the main blast furnace of your local refuse incinerator. Hurry, last chance to s.....ah, well. Never mind, not that you had one anyway - mind, that is.
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