Judy Blume as Archie Bunker

Abstract

Judy Blume as Archie Bunker Jill P. May If you were to ask, "What's the difference between a children's book written by Lloyd Alexander and one written by Judy Blume" I might ask you, "What's the difference between the cartoon page of the local paper and the editorial page in the New York Times?" Each has a real function in our world; some would say that we couldn't do without either one. When I sit down to read the evening newspaper I usually read the comics first. After all, I've already done my serious thinking. What I really want to do is relax, and the best way to relax is to laugh at my own human failings. There they are, all ready for me to see. I can laugh at Hi and Lois because they seem to be facing the everyday problems that I sometimes face myself, whether it's raking the leaves, balancing the check book, or deciding who handles the children's schedules on Saturday. I laugh at their problems and their inane solutions because they remind me that I'm not the only one who pretends that silly solutions are quite sensible. I do not, however, take the comics seriously. I simply enjoy a familiar situation without feeling a need to reflect upon my behavior or to change my attitudes. A youngster choosing Judy Blume is choosing what Booklist once called the "good read," the contemporary story which shows her (or him) that others worry about physical development, family values, and peer acceptance. The young reader can laugh at the main character's inadequacies while at the same time acknowledging that this is an experience shared by many youngsters in that age group. Most children do not, however, take these books seriously. They are simply enjoying a familiar scene without experiencing pressure to change. When they meet their friends they will ask, "Have your read Judy Blume's new book?" They might even giggle over scenes that deal with subjects not often discussed by adults with children. But they won't sit down for a long talk about what Judy Blume really means. The book doesn't deserve that kind of consideration. When I turn to the editorial page I am looking for "guiding messages." I hope that the authors will give me insight that can help me sort out my uneasy feelings about the world as it is, compared to my projections of the world "as it should be." And so, I turn to Ellen Goodman, not because she tells me about solutions to great international crises or even because she suggests that government would be better run by women. Ellen Goodman reaches to my soul. She tells me about the injustices that I (or my daughters) will face in the daily world; she shows me the unsophisticated smugness that comes from supporting causes without facing individual human needs; she shows me that life in its day-to-day routine could be more ideal. When children turn to Lloyd Alexander they are turning to their guiding light. They do not expect that he will relate to their mundane existence as fifth, or sixth, or seventh grade students. They do not see his books as ones that will help them to understand the hard facts of being laughed at in class or to face the inevitabilities of physical maturity. And there are no juicy passages in his books that are worth sharing simply because "the elders wouldn't approve." Lloyd Alexander reaches for their souls. He tells them about the injustices that young heroes must struggle against; he shows them that truth, honesty and courage are worthwhile virtues; he shows them that to be a hero one must first be a human. And, in the end, he shows us a world that should be. I appreciate Ellen Goodman more than any other editorial writer. She helps me formulate my thinking, and she forces me out of my complacency as a wife, mother, and a career woman. She stirs me to action; she makes me talk up for women at cocktail parties when I should be quietly refreshing drinks. But I must admit...