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Beezus and Ramona

The 104th birthday of Beverly Cleary is approaching.

On her 100th, she faced a great deal of media attention; she was lucid and calm, and revealed that her plans for the day involved having a slice of carrot cake.

The Times recently asked novelists to name their favorite literary "comfort food," in these trying times, and someone said "Fingersmith," and someone said the poetry of Jane Kenyon, and Ann Patchett used the opportunity to try to promote a book that was just released (which seems a bit manipulative, and it's also something Patchett the bookseller does too frequently).

It seems to me that the best literary choice right now is the corpus of Beverly Cleary.

So I've been reading "Beezus and Ramona." If it's not Ramona's first appearance (I'm unsure, and she may have popped up in a Henry Huggins tale earlier), it's surely Ramona's first starring role.

The novel concerns Beezus and her tumultuous, confusing relationship with Ramona. On one hand, Ramona torments everyone; she writes on library books, invites loud guests without consulting her parents, drops egg shells in the cake batter, and talks at tedious length when no one wants to listen.

On the other hand, Beezus feels protective toward Ramona, and she can't tolerate the discomfort when Henry tries to scold the little rascal.

Famously, the novel ends with Beezus discovering that she doesn't have to love Ramona all the time, and actually she is entitled to her own private world of feelings, and no one--no one--will ever police that private world.

It's a perfect novel: profound, funny, briskly-paced, surprising, unpretentious. Siblings are a fine choice of subject--always, if you ask me--and you can see Anne Tyler ("Noah's Compass"), Sondheim ("Road Show"), Julia Glass ("I See You Everywhere"), and Frank Rich ("Succession") mining this vein, as well.

"Beezus and Ramona" dazzles on every page, but I especially love when Beezus quietly observes a conversational tic of her mother's. Whenever Ramona is around, Mom tends to speak with parentheses. "Well, sure, Howie can come over, but (Ramona, put that fork away) I really hadn't been...."

Unforgettable. That's my pick. Enjoy!
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