I was a plucky little girl, but I never related to the rough-and-tumble icons of children's lit, like Pippi Longstocking or Harriet the Spy. Even Ramona Quimby, who seemed cool, wasn't somebody who truly spoke to me. She was scrawny and scrappy, and I was soft and sarcastic. I connected instead to Miss-never "Ms."-Piggy; …







