“It’s a view with a room — now you’ve seen it,” Judy Blume said, smiling and pulling shut the shade in her apartment overlooking Central Park West. It was morning and still bright inside her living room, done in soft colors and wood, with stuffed bookshelves and unpretentious modern art. Over the sofa hung a tasteful assemblage of female nudes. (Some were painted by a friend, Lincoln Perry, who is married to the author Ann Beattie. “But that is not Ann,” Ms. Blume noted.)
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