There is little plot and even less point to [Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself]; the writing lacks the wit and insight of her earlier books, and the rare moments of humor are aimed at adults. Sally's obsession with Hitler, while certainly plausible and understandable, does not fit smoothly into the context of the book, and is often unnecessarily violent in its expression. For example, one of Sally's daydreams goes as follows, "Hitler … gets his knife and slowly slashes each of her fingers … her blood drips onto his rug … 'Look what you've done, you Jew bastard,' Hitler cries hysterically. 'You've ruined my rug!'" It seems almost painfully obvious that this is autobiographical, but in exorcising the demons of her youth, Blume is ignoring her eager audience and forgetting what she does best. (p. 59)

Diane Haas, in School Library Journal (reprinted from the May, 1977 issue of School...