In news sure to set the hearts of 30-somethings soaring, the magnificent Judy Blume announced that she was adapting one of her lesser classics, Tiger Eyes, for the big screen and that her son, Lawrence Blume, would direct the film. How I remember reading this book, about a grieving girl named Davey transplanted to New Mexico after her Daddy was killed in convenience store robbery. Oh to be a girl with interesting marble-flecked eyes rather than my run of the mill brown! No boys named Wolf hung around anywhere in my stupid neighborhood.
So it’s with some trepidation that I anticipate watching Davey Wexler transition to the big screen. Judy Blume created some of my childhood best friends: Blubber‘s Jill and her stamp-collecting buddy Tracy Wu. My beloved Margaret Simon—so anxious about basement parties and training bras and her elusive period—and her reliable grandmother. The scoliosis-racked Deenie. Even dithering Katherine in Forever. Can I handle seeing these friends again on screen? Will Hollywood scrub them up too much, throw them in midriff shirts and flatiron them to death. This is why it’s such good news that Blume herself is handling the adaptation of Tiger Eyes. Protect your girls, Judy! Allow them their awkwardness and imperfections and corduroy pants.
Readers of the canon: Is this good news that a Judy Blume novel will finally make it to the big screen? Should the masturbation scene Blume was asked to cut before publication make its way into the movie script? How rabid of a fan were you of Blume and Beverly Cleary back in the day? I specifically remember being a fourth grade nothing, trying to check out Cleary’s Fifteen from the school library. The librarian, a priggish sort, looked at me with such disapproval. “Are you 15, young lady?” she asked, while holding the book out of my reach. Cow.