Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret

A reread. I know I read this as a kid (and from the state of my childhood copy, probably more than once), and I remember having sort of lukewarm feelings about it. Others of Judy Bloom's (particularly [Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself]) were absolute favorites, but this one I don't think I liked as much. I mostly remembered the stuff the book is known for (frank discussion of periods and of the adolescent girl characters' desire for their breasts to grow), though there are other things here the book gives equal weight (the difficulties of being "no religion" for an eleven-year-old girl in 1970s New Jersey; family dynamics). I think as a pre-pubescent kid I didn't warm to the book because I looked on the looming changes of puberty show more with a kind of resigned dread. I might have wanted to grow up in order to have more autonomy and control over my life, but I had no interest in the physical changes that would come with it (and I *certainly* wasn't doing any dubious exercises to get my breasts to grow. Pain in the ass, breasts.) I was a kid who would have been thrilled if puberty had just held it's horses for a couple of years until I would have been more ready for it. Alas. So it was probably hard for me to relate to these girls who seemed solely focused on "getting it," and while as a kid I loved reading books about experiences that were not my own, this one just fed my suspicion (common, I'm sure) that I wasn't doing growing up and being a girl "right." Upon this reread, while I love the fact that the book talks about periods and developing bodies openly (and provides, through the experiences of the several girls in the book, a few different illustrations of what getting a period for the first time might be like), it struck me starkly how none of the girls in the book cares about anything else aside from puberty and boys. They have no interests. They don't talk about anything else. Then there's the other thing the book is about: Margaret's struggle growing up with parents who want her to choose her own religion (or continue having no religion) when she's older. This scenario came about because her mother was Christian and her father Jewish and there was a schism in her mother's family when she married a Jewish man. Margaret talks to God about this struggle and takes it upon herself to go to different churches and temple with her friends and paternal grandmother. But the examination of religion is completely surface-level. There's nothing about what anyone believes or what it means to anyone to have a religion. The closest we get is Margaret's maternal grandmother, in an ill-fated reunion with her daughter's family, declaring that you don't choose religion, you're born into it. But the hollow religious experimentation just sort of comes to nothing. It's a big question to deal with, especially in a short middle grade book, and I think it's appropriate for the age range the book is aimed at for there to be some ambiguity and sense that there may not be a right answer, but that isn't the feeling I was left with. It feels more like a null conclusion than an ambiguous one. I know this book has achieved classic status, and I think in some ways that is deserved. It's important for girls (and boys) to know about female puberty, and the implicit lesson here that periods are thing that you can talk about is vital. But ultimately, for me, it still felt slightly alienating and hollow. show less

Oh, Margaret, how you've brought back all those awkward, cringe-worthy, yet somehow endearing moments of my preteen years! Reading this in my mid 20's felt like opening a time capsule buried in the back of my childhood closet, right next to a stack of diaries with tiny locks and a collection of Britney Spears CDs.

Judy Blume, you've nailed it again with your uncanny ability to tap into the mind of an eleven-year-old, desperately trying to navigate the complex world of friendships, family dynamics, and that awkward first encounter with a menstrual pad (yikes!).

As Margaret converses with God, seeking guidance on everything from religious identity to the pressing question of when she’ll finally need a proper bra, I found myself laughing show more out loud, not just at her earnestness but at the memories of my own similar dilemmas. Who knew that the existential crisis of choosing between pads and tampons could be so hilarious?

Whether you're revisiting this book as a nostalgic adult or discovering it as a curious tween, Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret serves up a delightful mix of humor and heartfelt moments. It’s a reminder that while growing up is fraught with confusion, it’s also filled with moments of pure comedy.

So, here’s to you, Margaret. Thanks for reminding me that the journey to adulthood is a bit like a group project in gym class—awkward, occasionally embarrassing, but better with friends. And God? If you’re listening, a little heads up on the next embarrassing moment would be much appreciated! show less

Margaret has no religion, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a close relationship with God. It’s not until she moves from New York to New Jersey and begins hanging out with new friends does she realize it’s probably weird that she talks with God the way that she does. So, for a school assignment, Margaret sets out to do an experiment on religion and what that means for her.

So, I’m going to blame the fact that I didn’t read this novel until my 30’s because I was at such a high reading level as a kid, I basically skipped reading middle grade books for the most part and went directly to Young Adult. I totally should have read this as a kid because a lot of the novel is something nearly every young girl can relate to show more (minus maybe the religious parts of it).

It brought back a lot of memories as a young girl growing up. Exceptions for me: I didn’t want to wear a bra and fought my mom and older sister about it until I basically had to. And, when I got my first period, it was at the public library’s restroom, I shouted to my friend in the next stall I started, to which she replied, “Can I see?!” before I told her “NO!” and to “Go get my Mom!”

This book also talks about a young girl’s relationship with religion and how that affects her. Her parents are trying their hardest to raise her as nonreligious, so that she can choose a religion when she’s older. But, all of Margaret’s friends have some relationship with God, through Christianity or Judaism, and she feels almost like she’s left out.

Even though this book was written and set in the 1970’s it still applies to everyday pressures young girls still face. Margaret is trying to figure things out for herself but runs into a lot of misinformation or more of people’s opinions rather than facts. I remember a lot being a problem growing up.

Overall, I wish I knew of this book growing up. I think it would have helped me feel seen and know the fact that almost every preteen/sixth grader probably went through a version of the exact same thing. show less

I thought I was running late for Banned Book Week, but turns out I'm running early, as it doesn't start until Oct. 1 this year. Regardless of my timing, here's a book that's been banned and challenged frequently by the closed-minded over the last fifty years. Through secondhand knowledge, I always thought the bans were just because it mentioned menstruation, but in reading the book I find also that the main character is an agnostic who struggles with her exploration of organized religion and the varied opinions of her friends and relatives.

Menstruation and religion, now there's a cocktail that book banners are gonna choke on.

The book itself is quite fine, giving its topics a reasonable if too-short examination. It perhaps crams in a few show more too many other things -- bras, rumors, classroom dynamics, estrangement -- and forces the plot to exactly fill a school year (one of my biggest pet peeves with children's literature) rather than letting the story find its own rhythm. But there were some chuckles, some drama, and a warm feeling of happiness upon finishing.

I look forward to checking out the recent movie adaptation now. show less

Godamn, this book... What a fucking rollercoaster of societal pressure and pretty damn accurate account of white, suburban, religious teenagehood while being raised female. Dangerous romanticization of what it "should" mean to become a woman. I learned a lot from this book as a kid, which was good, but I also gleaned an understanding of what U.S. society expects of women that was unhealthy, unrealistic, and limiting for me as an individual.

Margaret may not be what would be termed "religious", but is she is by far the character with closest relationship with God in this book, mainly because of her honesty and plainspokenness in her prayers, and as a result of this real relationship, He gives her exactly what she wants. Spirituality aside, this novel is down-to-earth and genuine about all the myriad anxieties and problems pre-teen girls go through and Blume is not afraid to blatantly say what she thinks and reveal things as they are, inappropriate as they may seem to some stiff-necked readers. I may not be the one to say it, being a guy and all, but I think any girl struggling with the twinges of puberty may find calm and understanding with this book, and know that she show more isn't alone. I think it would also be of great benefit for boys to read it too, if you could ever convince them of it. show less

Somehow I never managed to read this growing up, so finally did. It's thought-provoking, funny, and relatable, and brings back a lot of memories from that era in my life. Blume frankly discusses subjects that still aren't all that openly discussed (something I understand she thrives on, which is awesome).

I was also intrigued by Margaret's growing up in a basically nonreligious household, with one parent raised Christian, the other Jewish, and neither practicing now--and yet she wanted to participate and believe in something. Her quest was endearing and relatable. (I also frankly love her Jewish grandma.)