Beverley Cleary writes about the every day, mundane life of children and somehow makes it interesting. There are no magicians, no elves, no talking animals, no magic treehouses, no princesses – just ordinary kid troubles and concerns.
I witness my children relating to these books as they listen to them, despite the generational gap, and I can relate to them now on a new level, as an adult parent looking back on myself and my exaggerated woes as a child. This time we opted for one with a male protagonist, for the sake of my four year old son, who has already been subjected to three Ramona books.
I did have to answer questions, however, such as, “Did kids used to be allowed to ride buses by themselves?” (Henry is in 3rd grade and riding about town to the YMCA and home and such.) “Why don’t parents let kids do things by themselves anymore?” and so forth. Well, I wish it were more common for 3rd graders to be riding their bikes one or two miles to a friend’s house as I once did, perhaps stopping off at a strip mall to buy a treat (or a bag of guppies), but if I send you out to do it, you’ll be the only one doing it anymore…and then I’ll get a phone call or a knock on my door…so we’ll see, when you’re in third grade, whether you have one iota of the freedom of Henry Huggins.
But, back to the book. A fun read. (Or listen, in this case.) I’m amazed by Cleary’s ability to make the everyday much more interesting to hear about than, say, a magic school bus that shrinks down and drives through a student’s heart. The closest thing to it today I’ve come across is the Junie B. Jones series, which are quite amusing but somehow don’t hit me quite the same.
I liked Henry and Ribsy - not nearly as much as I liked Ramona, but that's probably just because I'm a girl.