I raced through the entire series, and I loved them even more than I did when I was a teenager.Īs it turned out, Betsy and I still had much in common. I spent the summer writing, making goal lists, and painting, but I found time to pick up the Betsy-Tacy books once again. I returned home the summer between my masters program and the start of my Ph.D for the longest period of time in five years. I read Heaven to Betsy a few more times in high school, but didn’t reread the entire series until I had college and a master’s degree under my belt. The limits of turn of the century Minnesota seemed too much for me. Even though Betsy was still devoted to her career, I wanted her to go to college, spend more time traveling the world, and immerse herself fully in her writing. I finished those books my freshman year of high school, devastated that Betsy married Joe and decided to spend her time keeping house. In some ways, those things are one in the same. I was never quite sure if I loved Betsy so much because I related to her or because I wanted to be her. When the going got tough, Betsy always found herself at a farm, soaking up nature, and writing in peace.
She wanted to wear more perfume, brush her hair 100 times every night, and devote herself to her writing. Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace, $10, Amazonīetsy, like me, was always trying to improve herself.
That year, I lived vicariously through Betsy’s crowd and vowed, at age 14, that one day I would have a home full of music, fudge, and people - just like Betsy.įor those unfamiliar with Lovelace, the series follows Betsy through high school and beyond, and bares witness to the annual Deep Valley High essay contest, Betsy's first short story sale, her yearlong voyage to Europe, and eventually, her marriage to Joe Willard, a stubborn, prideful writer. (“Betsy was always making lists” Maud Hart Lovelace wrote.) I had moved the summer before my freshman year in high school, and the transition hadn’t been easy. Like me, Betsy was stubborn, liked to talk, aspired to be a writer, and had a penchant for self-improvement. My mom handed me Heaven to Betsy by Maud Hart Lovelace, a novel about Betsy Ray, a freshman at Deep Valley High School in 1906. Even still, it was likely better than anything my Dad would choose, as he had a habit of picking up whatever had a pink cover at Wal-Mart (which led to me reading far too many Harlequin romances at far too young an age). My mom and I had very different taste in books, so I never knew what to expect. I met this surprise with excitement and a little bit of fear. I was a freshman in high school, when my mother came home from a shopping expedition with a bag for me from Borders in her hand.
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