She was fiercely intelligent, hilarious, insecure, brave. She was my age. She wanted to answer the telephone by saying, “for whom does this bell toll?” (Awesome or what?) She was obsessed with psychology and Sigmund Freud. She was everything to me.
I discovered Anastasia Krupnik in the books of Lois Lowry, one of my favorite young adult authors growing up, but I truly believed that she could be found on her surburban street somewhere, hanging out with her brainiac parents and her annoying little brother, Sam. She was so real to me. This morning, as I read a feature about the recent boon in young adult novels, I broke out into a silly grin when I turned the page and saw an interview with with Ms. Lowry herself, in which she discussed how she loved writing the Anastasia books. (The series has since ended, to my chagrin. Apparently, her publisher felt that the series was “outdated,” being that Mr. Krupnik, at one point, used a typewriter. What-ever.)
I decided this morning that I want to revisit the world of Anastasia. (A few years ago, I ignored the curious looks of a few kids who watched as I nonchalantly sauntered over to the young adult section of the library and commenced with squealing as I looked through those old books.) The article in the paper reminded me of the joy those books brought me, and as I remain a sucker for nostalgia, I resolve to go back in time.
The Anastasia Krupnik Series
Anastasia At Your Service
Anastasia, Ask Your Analyst (my personal favorite)
Anastasia On Her Own
Anastasia’s Chosen Career
Anastasia At this Addressen the special “he” wants to meet her.