We went to visit my parents a short while ago, and while I was there I had a rummage through some cobweb-covered boxes of crap that they'd been holding onto. I came away with a bunch of cassette tapes (to use in the freebie hi-fi Andie acquired and restored recently), a selection of mixed floppy disks (which I will go through and report on at some point) and some books that I remember I used to enjoy reading.
I hadn't thought about a lot of these books for quite a while, but when I stumbled across them I thought "yeah, I wouldn't mind having those". So I took 'em. And now they are providing excellent toilet reading material that is far more enjoyable than just doomscrolling on the phone.
Among the selection I recovered was a collection of books by the author Judy Blume. I remembered really liking these books as a kid, but not a lot in the way of specifics. So I thought I'd read through them again; as novels intended for children, they're easy and quick to read, short and enjoyable, but I've come away from what I've read so far very impressed with what Blume did with her characterisation, narrative perspective and even some of the themes tackled in the books.
I looked her up on Wikipedia after reading Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, the first of the "Fudge" series, and discovered that indeed she has been both renowned and controversial over the years for the fact she was willing to compose stories for children that didn't really hold back from exploring things you might not typically expect to see in works for that age group.
Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, for example, concludes with the protagonist Peter's little brother "Fudge" literally eating his pet turtle and having to go into hospital until he either passes it or has it removed. The turtle, naturally, does not survive his time in a toddler's stomach, and the reaction of the protagonist to this whole situation is kind of fascinating to observe; he goes through a very believable series of emotions.
Having read all of Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing and most of its follow-up Superfudge, I do find myself wondering how much of an influence these books actually had on me. I vaguely recall feeling something of a connection with the protagonist Peter because we shared a name, though I (thankfully) didn't have a little brother like Fudge to deal with.
It was more than that, though; the way Peter thinks and talks is very familiar to me, because I remember thinking and feeling the way he describes various situations. I remember trying to be grown-up and mature and not quite managing it, and I remember having moments of childishness when things didn't go my way. These are all things that are still part of my personality now; seeing it laid out on the page like that really made me think "oh. Oh yeah."
I also find myself wondering how much of my general dislike of children stems from these books. Fudge is a terrible human being, and the amount of restraint both his parents and Peter demonstrate towards him is admirable, because I don't think I'd have been able to deal with the various things he gets up to. And the trouble — or rather the genius of Blume's writing — is that it's all so believable. In my own past encounters with children (both in teaching and otherwise) I've seen kids behave like Fudge; he's not an exaggerated caricature by any means.
Part of the moral of the stories, though, is learning to deal and cope with difficulties presented by situations like this. To a certain extent, Fudge's obnoxiousness stems from the fact that he is very young and still learning about right, wrong and an appropriate sense of boundaries — but you could probably also interpret his behaviour of being symptomatic of any one of a number of mental health conditions or special educational needs.
Blume doesn't say anything directly about this — it's a first-person perspective narrative delivered by Peter, after all, and since he's a nine year old when the stories begin, he would have no way of knowing about such things — but looking back on these as an adult… there are certain tell-tale signs, shall we say.
I'm actually curious to maybe pick up some of Blume's other books at some point. She's written both children's and young adult books, and some of them sound rather interesting. Plus, I won't lie, having not really spent a lot of time reading proper paper novels for a while (visual novels are another matter, of course), it's been rather pleasant to dig into something that is short, accessible and not at all demanding to read. Sometimes you just want to let the words wash over you.
So yeah. That's what I've been reading on the toilet of late, along with The Usborne Detective's Handbook and Peter Eldin's range of The [x]'s Handbook — I'll talk more about those another time. Thoroughly nostalgic and enjoyable, and much more fun to accompany a poo than the endless misery of Twitter, for sure. I recommend the experience.