"If books show us the world, teen fiction can be like a hall of fun-house mirrors, constantly reflecting back hideously distorted portrayals of what life is." So claims Meghan Cox Gurdon in the Wall Street Journal this week. YA, or young adult literature, is a flourishing area in the United States and, increasingly, around the world. And the claims made in the article are not new to those of us in the teen fiction world. The argument appears to be:

1. YA literature is becoming too dark.

2. Darkness in YA literature is inappropriate, and denotes a slipping of moral standards.

The unsubstantiated point number one is used to argue the specious point two – namely, that talking about bad things normalises or even encourages them. The evidence offered for the first point is a walk through a bookstore with a confused parent. As for the second, the idea that "darkness" doesn't belong in stories makes me wonder if the author of this article has ever read any Poe, Dickens, Shakespeare, Hemingway, Tolstoy or … almost any other author, ever. Or the Bible, for that matter. Or the news. For non-dark, age-appropriate reading, she chooses Fahrenheit 451, a lighthearted romp that features suicide, teenagers who run cars into people, mechanical hounds that hunt living creatures for blood sport and nuclear war. It's a fantastic book, but its inclusion implies that the author of the article has a slippery definition of the term "dark". The fact that she breaks this list into books for girls and books for boys is another subject entirely.

An article in a newspaper such as the Wall Street Journal carries weight, and Cox Gurdon is one of their children's book reviewers. Those who want to ban books, or support the closing of libraries, will cite articles like this one. YA is often the gateway to these challenges, as would-be book banners and library closers can wave the "think of the children!" flag. "Alas," Cox Gurdon cries, "literary culture is not sympathetic to adults who object either to the words or storylines in young-adult books."

Well, yes. People who create YA books do tend to object when one person tries to make decisions for all, based on their individual taste and standards. We are thinking of the children. That's why we fight back. "No family is obliged to acquiesce when publishers use the vehicle of fundamental free-expression principles to try to bulldoze coarseness or misery into their children's lives," she writes. Perhaps we have a different understanding of the word "bulldoze". In Cox Gurdon's case, it seems to mean "the existence of things I don't like or understand".

There isn't a YA writer alive who is out writing books to corrupt youth. No one writing about self-harm is teaching how to self-harm. No one writing about rape is providing instructions on how to rape or how to be raped. I know this seems a ridiculously obvious point, but this is the argument that comes up again and again.

If subjects like these are in YA books, it's to show that they are real, they have happened to others, and they can be survived. For teenagers, there is sometimes no message more critical than: you are not alone. This has happened before. The feeling that you are feeling, the thing you are going through – it is a known thing. Articles like this one grossly underestimate the teenage reader's capabilities. Kids know how to process a story. Moreover, this article completely ignores the broad scope of YA (which merely indicates a book with a suggested readership of 12-18, a wide range). The term covers all genres. Cox Gurdon might as well be saying: "All food is Italian food, and I don't like Italian food, so it should not exist. The fact that it does exist means the food industry is forcing it on my children!"

But what of these books that touch the dark? The other night, after the Wall Street Journal article was published, I suggested on Twitter that people share their stories of how YA has changed their lives by using the tag #YAsaves. Within hours, there were over 15,000 responses. The topic became one of the top worldwide trends. Those responses tell the story far more eloquently than I can. The Wall Street Journal itself compiled some of the replies.

So, to Meghan Cox Gurdon – those books you and those like you are so glibly dismissing … maybe you don't like it. That's fine. But that may be a book that changes or even saves someone's life.