I hadn't read a Ramona book since... third grade? I loved them, of course, and there are chapters and trouble-makings I've not forgotten since, but I had no recollection of the writing itself, of whether it was something I could still enjoy as an adult. I was a little nervous to pick it back up, afraid that it would be as mushy as something like The Penderwicks seems to me now, or that the "problem" of the novel would be too simplistic and bore me.

Fortunately, I was wrong on both counts. Ramona, aside from a few dated references and word choices (which themselves still shouldn't throw kids today for much of a loop), very much holds up over time. I was actually surprised, after finishing the last page, when I flipped to the copyright information at the front of the book and found it was published in 1955. FIFTY-FIVE. I thought 1970, maybe. I had no idea. So bravo, Beverly Clearly, for writing a book that shows four year old behavior and the love-hate sister relationship so timelessly.

Up next... a rereading of Superfudge.