Judy Blume’s radical honesty changed literature for ever

A new biography traces the life and career of a trailblazing novelist

LIKE MANY shy children, Judith Sussman spent a lot of time on her own, reading and inventing stories. It never occurred to her to become a novelist, though. In New Jersey in the 1940s and 1950s, many of her female classmates aspired to be secretaries, typing up other people’s words rather than their own.

She did not give literary pursuits any thought until she was in her late 20s. Judith—by then Judy Blume, and a frustrated housewife with two small children—sought a creative outlet. As she cleaned up after dinner, she devised tales and envisioned herself as “the nextDr Seuss”. (Her husband, meanwhile, told friends that writing was a hobby that “keeps her out of Saks”, a department store.)

Mark Oppenheimer, a journalist and academic, chronicles Ms Blume’s life in an enjoyable, though rather studious, new biography. He charts how she became a blockbuster author—if not quite of Dr Seuss’s stature, then at least known across the world. Ms Blume has sold more than 80m copies of her books to date, more thanJoseph Helleror Douglas Adams have.

She grew up in a progressive Jewish family. Even as a youngster, she wanted gritty realism: she imagined her paper dolls had been in terrible accidents and she was the surgeon in charge of their care. Ms Blume’s parents demonstrated an unabashed attitude towards sex and the body. The author remembers an awkward yet straightforward conversation with her father about sperm’s role in pregnancy.

So it did not take long, once she started writing, for her unsuccessful imitations of Dr Seuss’s rhyming style to give way to her own “frank, candid, earthy” voice. “Judy’s innovation…was not to describe menstruation, first kisses, or teenagers’ orgasms; she had grown up reading about these things,” Mr Oppenheimer observes. “She just thought these topics didn’t have to stay sequestered in books for grown-ups.”

In books such as “Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret” and “Deenie” she explored puberty, self-discovery and masturbation. In “Blubber” she examined fat-shaming. “Forever…” described a 17-year-old girl’s first sexual experiences. (The well-worn copy in your reviewer’s school library would fall open to the page read most often, where Michael formally introduces Katherine to “Ralph”, his penis.)

Young readers found Ms Blume’s candour electrifying; among adults, it sparked contention. Her sales caught fire. Ms Blume’s personal life was turbulent—she has been married three times—yet she became a kind of agony aunt to her fans, receiving thousands of letters a month. Many of them, sadly, came from fans who were depressed or being abused.

“Judy Blume: A Life” is best enjoyed as an overview of a tremendously successful career. Despite having interviewed Ms Blume at length, Mr Oppenheimer concedes he struggled to get the true measure of her as a person. And something about the book seems to have vexed the novelist: having reviewed a draft and offered corrections, Ms Blume then distanced herself from the project. This book illuminates the problem ofbiography, particularly when it concerns a living person. Writing an account that is honest, perceptive and acceptable to the subject is a tricky feat.

The book also casts a light on the chasm between adolescents and their parents. For as long as children have loved Ms Blume’s writing, reproving adults have feared it is leading their offspring astray. Many have tried to have Ms Blume’s work censored. In the 1980s a school district in Iowa groused that “Forever…” describes things “God didn’t intend to explore outside of marriage”; in the 1990s one in Illinois fretted that it was “basically a sexual how-to-do book for junior-high students”. In 2025 “Forever…” was still one of the most banned books in America’s public schools.

Such efforts are woefully misguided. Adolescence is a confusing time—teens feel curious, embarrassed and misunderstood—and stories that help them make sense of it should be celebrated, not censured. Ms Blume deserves her flowers.■