'‘Who keeps his mind of childhood, keeps his mind,' writes Antonio Porchia. If any writer did, it's Beverly Cleary, who would have turned 107 today (and who passed away only two years ago). Cleary is an author who, as a child, just struck me as an enjoyable read, but who, as an adult, I consider one of the very best children's writers out there. I have been re-reading the Ramona series lately, and waves of nostalgia have washed over me which are never stirred by re-reading Dahl or even Rowling. Cleary's brilliance is that rather than reaching for the fantastic, she works exclusively with the small, the simple, the everyday marvels and injustices of life. The temptation to squeeze empty an entire tube of toothpaste or pull out a boxworth of Kleenex; being stuck with a home-made costume or a haircut by your mother (the soap doesn't get into your eyes when the hairdresser washes your hair, notes Ramona, n a highly relatable observation); being told to be nice to- or worse, entertain- another child whom you dislike; wanting to become rich and famous like children on TV commercials. It's not all so light-hearted, though; Cleary weaves in with great astuteness and compassion the financial struggles and occasional domestic flare-ups of the Quimby family (to this day I remember Mr Quimby's sad smile as he brings home a pack of gummy bears for his children on the payday he loses his job). The overall effect is a vividly three-dimensional portrait of Ramona's world, with ingenious attention to the little things of life, and all described in limpid, unpretentious language, and through the eyes of a bright child; Cleary, happily, never talks down to children.
I'd also like to pay tribute here to Alan Tiegreen, my favourite illustrator of the Ramona series, whose drawings always prompt pangs of nostalgia. Rough-edged and cozy, they match Cleary's prose to a tee.
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