Sweet Valley High covers. Images: <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/">Goodreads</a>
I was a child who read too much, and am now an adult with the same habit. I worried for years about scurvy, consumption, and other old-timey maladies I learned about in novels. I was also certain I’d marry a best friend, not a romantic love. That’s just how things work out for smart, savvy, literary girls.
But the books I read in elementary and middle school have stuck with me. Though I’ve read thousands of books since 1990 at a rate of about 100 a year, these titles are ones that stand out in my memory.
Wait for Me, Watch for Me, Eula Bee by Patricia Beatty: A child is kidnapped by Native Americans. Spoiler alert: she’s rescued eventually. Life back with all these white folk is weird.
What I Learned: Wouldn’t it be great to get kidnapped? Yes, you might be a little sad, but basically it would be a great adventure. Native people are very attractive.
I Am Fifteen — And I Don’t Want to Die by Christine Arnothy: Before I got into junior high and became obsessed with depressing Holocaust memoirs, this was my gateway drug. Hungary, World War II. Living in the cellar while bombs go off above. They buy black market flour but it isn’t really flour, just paste!
What I Learned: My life is so sedate. Freedom fighters are dreamy, suffering makes you cool, and goulash sounds disgusting especially when you make it from a dead horse nearby. I can trace my claustrophobia to nightmares of living in the cellar with all these people.
How to Be a Teen Model by Jane Claypool Miner: It's been so long since I read this I began to worry that it was just a figment of my imagination, but thanks to the Internet I have tracked down this book, complete with classy 1984 girl on the cover. I bought this book from the Scholastic Book Club, even then ashamed to be choosing it. But I wanted to be pretty and it seemed like the way to go. I do recall that the tips were not too helpful, even for a third grader.
What I Learned: I will never be a model, teen or otherwise. My hair will never poof just right and my layered socks will always be an attempt at coolness rather than trend-setting. I’m 37 and these truths still hold.
Sweet Valley High, particularly the one where Regina dies!, by Francine Pascal: My sister and I are just 12 months apart, so the issues of twins Elizabeth (also my sister’s name) and Jessica hit a little close to home. Those girls, how can they be so different and yet so close?
What I Learned: If you do cocaine, just once, you will die. Size and hair and pendant information are much more important than deeper issues, and need to be rehashed every time you start a new adventure. High school will be amazing and full of conundrums at every turn.
Mrs. Mike by Benedict and Nancy Freedman: A young woman marries a virtual stranger — a Canadian Mountie — and lives in the cold North with plenty of suffering and romance.
What I Learned: At. Home. Amputation. I read this one over and over with my sister. Today I can only remember dying children, snow, and the claws of a bear trap that haunted me.
Homecoming and Dicey’s Song by Cynthia Voigt: A mother leaves her pile of kids in the parking lot of a store and never comes back. Savvy oldest moves them across the country to live with a vague relation.
What I Learned: I am pretty sure I could get by without any money, though I’m not nice enough to bring all my siblings with me. As the oldest of six kids, I identified with the Tillermans so much that I would have dreams about getting food on the sly from coolers in a park. Now that I’m a mother, I’m much more sympathetic to a woman who just couldn’t take it anymore. Not saying I’d leave my kids in a parking lot and hope for the best . . . just saying that I can understand the impulse.
Sometimes I wonder what kind of woman I would have grown into if I’d read different books in those formative years. I never went for mysteries or fantasy — if I had, would other parts of my brain have developed? Without so much frontier living adventure, would I live in a city? Would I be a scientist? I’m a middle-aged writer with kids living in the desert — plenty of citrus, so no worries about scurvy here. It isn’t fancy, and certainly not the life Anastasia Krupnik planned in her turret room, but it works for me.
