First buddyread with my middle child, who actually was already an excellent reader. But he was not confident in his ability, so I hoped that reading a fun book side by side and my lavishing lots of praise on him would help him over the hurdle into independent reading.
I thought Socks would appeal to Ned, an animal lover, because of how cleverly it tells the story from a cat's perspective. And maybe it did appeal. Our experience of reading the book, like many school assignments, alternated between sweet togetherness and power struggles. More often that not, he complained about the book, but a few minutes into reading it, he usually seemed absorbed and genuinely delighted by the story. I don't think Socks's psyche captured his imagination as much as I expected, but he did relish the parts where Charles William comes into his own, especially his baby onomatopoeias, which Ned pronounced dramatically and to perfection.
I read a good deal of Beverly Cleary (including Socks) in my later elementary years, but this was the first of her books I've reread as an adult. My appraisal hasn't changed at all, though now I have the vocabulary to express it—her writing is admirably realistic and detailed, her style flawless, but there is a lack of enchantment to everything, a steadfast refusal to romanticize, that has always turned me off. I much prefer the older writers (like Elizabeth Enright or Astrid Lindgren) and even the modern realistic writers (Kate Albus, Maria Parr) who aren't afraid to play up the beauty and the glory of the quotidian.
I'm not sure if this means that my plan backfired or that it succeeded beyond my expectations, but about halfway through Ned informed me he'd rather read the book to me instead of with me, so we finished it that way. I don't think he liked buddyreading very much, but it seems the buddyreading served it's purpose!