Liars and Saints

Buddy died, and Beverly buried him, and then she set off toward Lake Clara. She went the back way, through the orange groves. When she cut out onto Palmetto Lane, she saw her cousin Joe Travis Joy standing out in front of his mother's house.... This is how Kate DiCamillo begins her newest children's book--"Beverly, Right Here"--called the best book of her (DiCamillo's) career. There's much to admire in these lines; you sense the writer is doing her work with a small smirk on her face. Who is Buddy; what is the emotional impact of the burial? The way DiCamillo skips right past the emotions--right to the orange groves--sets up a small mystery right away. And what caused the death? Was this a sudden event? There's also the sense of a journey--a literal journey. We're "setting off," "going the back way," "cutting through the orange groves." The novelist Ann Patchett reads DiCamillo for inspiration--and I think wha...

My understanding about Kate DiCamillo is that she moved to the midwest at some point in adulthood--and, bored, wrote a novel to begin entertaining herself. (Correct me if I'm wrong.) I think--also--that that novel was "Because of Winn Dixie," which won awards and launched DiCamillo on her career. Gripes first. DiCamillo is a bit sugary. She is not the master of subtlety that Kevin Henkes is. She has never made me laugh, as far as I recall, and so she is not Beverly Cleary. But there are several things DiCamillo does very well: *She underlines life's randomness. In "Winn Dixie," a little girl meets a stray dog at a grocery store; store name becomes dog name; the story begins. In a somewhat hackneyed way, Winn Dixie's travels through a new town help the girl to meet a ragtag group of friends, and the struggles of these friends become the novel. *DiCamillo makes lively characters and gives them high-stakes situations. The narrator of "Winn Dix...

My neighbor--a three-year-old--visits. She hands my son a polite missive: "HELLO BABY JOSHUA I AM NORA." My son sits quietly; his expression is neutral. And this seems OK with Nora; she decides to head home. *** At the bookstore, a woman points to the contents of my Bjorn. "That's a tiny baby!" she says. "I hope his mom is home napping!" Startled, I search for a response. Should I insist that I *am* the mother? Should I give a speech about gay history in America? Instead, I murmur, "Mom's at work...." Clearly concerned that I needed so long to form a simple sentence, the woman nevertheless smiles at me. "Good luck to you!" she says. She wanders off. *** At the hospital, after the delivery, a midwestern nurse approaches us. I'm on-guard; where and when will I detect homophobia? Am I ready for combat? The nurse beams. "You know," she says. "My son is gay. He is fifteen." My husband and I a...

I have new admiration for the children's writer Kate DiCamillo: We left in the middle of the night. Granny woke me up. She said, "The day of reckoning has arrived. The hour is close at hand. We must leave immediately." It was three a.m. We went out to the car and the night was very dark, but the stars were shining brightly. Oh, there were so many stars! And I noticed that some of the stars had arranged themselves into a shape that looked very much like someone with a long nose telling a lie--the Pinocchio constellation! I pointed out the starry Pinocchio to Granny, but she was not at all interested. "Hurry, hurry," said Granny. "There is no time for stargazing. We have a date with destiny." So I got in the car and we drove away. I did not think to look behind me. How could I have known that I was leaving for good? I thought that I was caught up in some middle-of-the-night idea of Granny's and that when the sun came up, she wou...