I have always taken great pleasure when I look around a terminal filled with adult travelers reading YA. A few years ago, I giggled every time I saw someone reading one of the "Twilight" books. Now, waiting in Atlanta for the last leg of my trip, I'm sitting across from a young woman around my age reading "The Hunger Games". It's amazing the power of certain books to jump the age boundaries: Harry Potter, Twilight, and now the Hunger Games are all series that have made that leap.
I know it isn't unprecedented: Twain wrote "Huckleberry Finn" as adult satire and it is now taught in high school classroom across the country (don't get me started on the new sanitized edition), but usually the age jump is when an adult book slips down the ladder to a YA audience. I revel in children's books hitting the adult market with equal force. These instances create a dialogue between readers of all ages and types, and this unification is a step towards a real cultural respect for adolescent literature as a genre.
There's a gentleman across from me reading on an e-reader, and I am going to imagine that he is gleefully following the exploits of Jason in "The Lost Hero" by Rick Riordan. I just finished reading that myself, and I was happy to read a book with all the stylistic earmarks of the remarkable "Lightning Thief" series.
I guess I should stop stalking my fellow travelers and get back to my own reading: a biography of author Louisa May Alcott. It's making me long to return to my beloved copy of "Little Women". Viva children's literature!