Beverly, Right Here

I never came across Kate DiCamillo’s work as a child. I haven’t read so many of her more famous books—not The Tale of Desperaux or Mercy Watson or any of those. I did read Because of Winn-Dixie with my book club, though, and we loved it!

And now, I read Beverly, Right Here, another book that aches with tenderness and vulnerability.

It takes a while to get into the story because Beverly, at the beginning, isn’t a likeable character. Life has taught her to shield herself from love because things you love go away. Like her dog Buddy.

The story opens with her burying Buddy and deciding that there’s nothing left for her in her town. So she gets a ride—with someone she doesn’t like—and strides off into an unknown future with no plans and no money. And Beverly, right here, begins to discover herself.

Determined not to commit to anything, Beverly refuses to think about anything that could anchor her to a new life. There’s no point in making connections or promises, and yet, slowly, people chip away at her armour. She gives a coin to a child who wants to ride a mechanical horse. She discovers poetry in a phone booth.

And despite herself, she discovers companionship, and even friendship, which remind her that there are people who care about her, people from whom she’s run away. She’s done to others exactly what people have done to her, and it is time to make amends.

Beverly, Right Here is a story about self-discovery and self-worth. As Beverly begins to shed her thick skin, she grows into someone who is willing to be vulnerable again, willing to give life a chance. The story unfolds beautifully, leaving us with a sense that there is kindness and love in the world. If we’re lucky, and if we’re willing to give it a chance, it will find us.