Few things make me think of "Xmastime's Childhood in the 1970s!" like Judy Blume; I don't know what's happening lately but I've noticed suddenly there's a lot of interest in her. Maybe it's the latest season of dipshit Republicans wanting to ban books? Anyways, to whit:
Today’s 12-year-olds have the entire internet at their disposal; they hardly need novels to learn about puberty and sex. But kids are still kids, trying to figure out who they are and what they believe in. They’re getting bullied, breaking up, making best friends. They are looking around, as kids always have, for adults who get it. They—we—still need Judy Blume.
In honor of gee-I-hope-we're-not-in-a-Judy-Blume-death-watch Judy Blume, I will now list the Judy Blume books I read as a youngster:
Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing
Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great
Superfudge
Iggie's House
Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.
Then Again, Maybe I Won't
Freckle Juice
It's Not the End of the World
Deenie
Blubber
Forever (kinda more as a class project in 7th grade, really)
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