Back in middle school, my parents often told me that I should reach for more mature and educational books. I was infatuated with young adult fiction at the time, particularly fantasy, and regularly whipped through two or three books a week.

My reading material wasn’t the most sophisticated, which I admitted even as an avid fan of the genre. I often didn’t even like the books, at least in the traditional sense — frequently dishing out several two-star ratings a month. I loved them for how bad they were; they were ridiculous and cliché in the most entertaining way possible, and I couldn’t get enough of them.

Ming Wei Yeoh is a sophomore at Minnetonka High School. She edits and occasionally writes for the school paper. In her free time, she enjoys reading graphic novels, watching TV shows, and spending time with her two dogs. Her dream is a career in journalism and creative writing.

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