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Judy Blume is a literary legend. Her career has taken her across age ranges, from books for very young readers to adult readers, as well as, of course, young adult readers. This year, two biographies of Blume hit shelves, and they’ve been eye-opening into the life of one of the groundbreakers in youth literature.
I’ve spent the last several weeks listening to Judy Blume by Mark Oppenheimer, performed on audio by Molly Ringwald. But right before I got deep into the audiobook, two different articles came out that have altered how I think about the book as I listen. First was this piece in The New York Times, published two days before the book’s release, that discussed the relationship between Oppenheimer and Blume. It explores the dynamics between writer and subject in biography, and it raises a host of interesting questions, including what kind of relationship is expected. Oppenheimer had access to pieces of an unpublished memoir by Blume that helped build his story, and Blume, upon reading the biography, provided dozens of pages of notes in return. A New Yorker piece, published after the book’s release, talks about the fallout between the author and subject, as well as what the biography accomplishes (and what it does not).
It’s been a unique reading experience for sure. Am I able to listen to the book fairly? Am I pausing every so often to think, “Is this something Judy didn’t like mentioned?” I’m certainly thinking about her comments that she thought her biographer should be female, and where I do (and do not!) agree with the statement. I’ve been unable as of yet to get my hands on the picture book biography Blume does wholeheartedly endorse, but I’m looking forward to reading Selina Alko’s Otherwise Known as Judy the Great: A Poetic Ode to Judy Blume as soon as I can.
That all said, Oppenheimer’s book is compelling, and I’ve enjoyed listening to it every chance I get. The writing is immersive, and it’s been really fun to learn new things about Judy Blume. It certainly doesn’t hurt that Ringwald’s performance is well-done, either. There are so many things that I want to talk about with others who’ve read the book and/or who’ve grown up admiring Blume. But because the book is still new and because many who read YA alone may not venture into a lengthy adult biography and/or may be taking their time, given how Blume herself feels about it, I can’t help but want to pull out some of the most fascinating facts and experiences of a YA legend.
Here are seven interesting things I’ve learned about Blume from the biography.
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- One of the few opportunities that Blume took on as a writer outside of her own books was in updating a pamphlet about menstruation called “Growing Up and Liking It” from Modess, a company that produces personal products. The booklet she wrote was published in 1972, for which she was offered $5,000 (about $39,000 today). It took on a very different tone and direction from the company’s previous pamphlets. Blume did not, however, include her name as the author, given how the connection between that work and her own books may be viewed. She was and remains fiercely protective of her name and her literary work. You can check out this pamphlet if you’re interested, thanks to the Museum of Menstruation and Women’s Health–the comment that this reads like a “wooden” version of Blume’s Are You There God? is interesting, since it WAS written by Blume.
- In the early 80s, Blume was being pursued by merchandisers. They wanted her to lend her name to any number of products because they knew she had a positive reputation with young people and that those products would sell. Some of the products were wild–bras and underwear–but Blume said yes to one product. That was The Judy Blume Diary. There wasn’t much that made the diary feel like something particularly unique to Judy Blume’s work, aside from some quotes from her books. The reason she said yes to the diary? She wanted to put the royalties from its sale into a trust for Kids Fund, Blume’s own charitable project that supports programs nationwide that work to strengthen communication between children and their parents.
- Before she found a knack for writing books, Blume tried her hand at other endeavors. One of the first was in felt art. She purchased felt at a local craft store and, with glue, affixed different shapes and designs to a cotton fabric background. Eventually, she settled on a set of designs that featured some shapes, along with a customizable space for a child’s name. Blume then took that creation to Bloomingdale’s department store, aiming to sell it to their buyers. The first buyer “took pity” on Blume and passed her along to the children’s accessories buyer. As she made clear was a surprise, the buyer agreed to purchase a number from her for $9 each, and they were sold in stores for $18 each. The felt art career was short-lived, though. Bloomingdale’s ended their contract with Blume after six months.
- Forever … which is beloved as a work of honest young adult fiction centering a girl’s first coming-of-sexuality experience was originally published and marketed to adults, not teenagers. The publisher indicated on both the front and back covers that the book was written for adults. This wasn’t Blume’s decision, and in fact, she was surprised to learn about it after the book was published. It also made her angry, as she’d envisioned the book’s reader as 14. Sure, some adults might be interested in the book, but it would be teenagers for whom it would be vital and influential. Knowing reader reception, the marketing to adults scaled back, and since its publication in 1975, Forever … has been viewed by readers (and Blume herself) as a classic of the young adult form and readership.
- Given the topics explored in Forever…, as well as its early mis-marketing to adults when, in fact, the book was for teenagers, there’s likely not much surprise in learning that it was challenged or banned in libraries across the country almost immediately. Blume, who’d up to this point earned a reputation for her frank depictions of everyday challenges young people experienced, including bodily changes like menstruation and erections, stepped into her role as an advocate for honesty in writing to this audience. But it wasn’t her first foray with censorship–and she wouldn’t let the censors push her around. Reading the censorship stories from the 1970s and 1980s in the biography was like reading censorship stories from today. Indeed, Blume saw herself included in one National Enquirer story called “Why You’d Better Look at Your Children’s Books,” which sounds like so many fear-mongering stories seen today (alas, this story seems not to be digitized!). In the years following her massive output of literature, Blume would be highly engaged with the National Coalition Against Censorship.
- Blume earned a lengthy profile in People magazine. Oppenheimer compares the obsession with Blume to that of Elizabeth Taylor or Barbra Streisand at the time, in that Blume was more famous for being Judy Blume than for her creative work. The People piece generated plenty of opinions–it came out right after the release of her first book, actually written for adults, Wifey, which had generated a lot of buzz (for better or worse!). The 2,000-word People profile was written by John Neary, whose wife, Joan, took a series of photos to accompany it. Those photos caught reader attention. In them, Blume isn’t shown with what one might associate with writers, like a desk or an office, a typewriter or a pen. She’s instead wearing a lacy teddy. The profile wasn’t quite what one might expect, either. Certainly, it discusses her book, but it also includes details like her weight and youthful appearance.
- Though it’s perhaps lower-stakes than some of the above-listed insights, this little fact about Blume is charming. During her senior year of high school, when she worked as the feature co-editor of her high school paper, she changed the spelling of her name. She wasn’t Judy. She was Judie. She’d return to the “y” spelling after her first marriage, though the wedding album still said “Judie.” It’s a reminder of how adolescents operate: they experiment with who they are and who they wish to become.
Will we see a Blume memoir? That’s a question that can’t be answered, but between Oppenheimer’s biography and the story of the relationship between writer and his subject, I really hope so. The insights gleaned from the biography, drawn from the pages of the shelved memoir, left me wanting more.
If you’re a big Blume fan like I am, I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy this cover retrospective of Forever…, as well as the Zero to Well Read podcast episode about that book. You can hear me talk about Forever in a bonus episode of the pod on its Patreon page, where I share numerous insights about the book’s censorship legacy.