Take a photo of a barcode or cover
3.88 AVERAGE
3.88 AVERAGE
there's something so beautiful in harriet being my childhood comfort character, and me knowing what i know now about us.
adventurous
inspiring
lighthearted
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
For me, this is the opposite of the childhood fave that doesn’t hold up. I remember not liking it much when I read it as a kid, but looking at it now, I think it’s really smart.
As a kid, I think I got stuck on expecting this to be a mystery, and it just isn’t. It’s schoolyard politics, it’s observing a neighborhood, it’s watching how families and relationships and people operate. It’s not the Boxcar Children, and it’s not Nancy Drew. It’s simpler on the surface (kid goes about her daily life and faces kid-level problems), but it’s a lot more emotionally complicated. And a lot more real.
I also remember struggling with not much liking any of the characters – feeling, perhaps, that Harriet deserved some wrath for the many mean-spirited things in her notebook. I expected a grand apology of some kind – marching back into class and addressing everyone, or something eloquent in her first column for the school paper. The resolution is far more subtle than that. And a lot more real. I’m still not sure I found it entirely satisfying after all the adolescent angst: The book ends just on the cusp of life settling back into normality and I always want a glimpse or two once the new normal is fully in place. (Admittedly, it turns out there are sequels??, which I never knew, but a book should stand on its own merits.)
Spying for Harriet, is a way of exploring what it might be like to be another person – to put herself in her neighbors’ various shoes. At face value, it’s pretty extra of her – peeping in windows and even hiding in someone’s dumbwaiter! – but as a way to explore a perfectly normal adolescent process of figuring out emotions, relationships, purpose in life? Pretty smart. Through the first half, we see how Harriet functions when things are normal. At the halfway point, she loses her guide, and just as she seems to be acclimating to that change, she loses control of a notebook, prompting an all-out war in the sixth grade, Harriet against everyone else.
The focus on “why do people acting the way they do? What are emotions even?” also makes me think it might be fair to read Harriet as being on the autism spectrum. Then I found this, which makes the argument very compelling. I don’t think you have to read her as on the spectrum, but I think it makes a lot of sense. (It also fits well into the counterargument to "where are all these autistic kids coming from, no one had autism when I was growing up?!" but that's a different soapbox.)
What I didn’t understand at all as a kid in the ‘90s was the broader context of society in the early 1960s. I had no notion of how radical it was to have Harriet running around the neighborhood in pants, or for her friend Janie to be so focused on her scientific aspirations. I missed the more subtle ways that they are dismissive of feminine expectations. And while the classmates they hate the most still read clearly as mean girls or queen bees, I’m sure I missed the significance of their setting up a bridge club, one of the mysterious pastimes Harriet’s mother also engages in.
Speaking of whom, I want to share my favorite line from Harriet’s mother. When told that going to school is her job, Harriet counters, “What do you do?” The answer is “A lot of unseen, unappreciated things.” Mrs. Welsch has a lot of awful moments, but here, even she gets to deliver a feminist dig.
An element that has not aged well is the body shaming — people are ugly, people are fat, and the narration throws around unkind descriptions as much as Harriet does. The worst example is right at the beginning, where Ole Golly takes Harriet to visit her elderly mother. The portrayal is grotesque — it’s a rough way to open the book. Harriet’s eleven-year-old reaction is one thing, but there’s no mitigation or attempt to remind her of this woman’s humanity, no matter her appearance or the state of her mental faculties. Ole Golly is trying to show Harriet something about how poor people live, but she sails past the rest of it.
Would I recommend it to a kid? Dunno. It’s rich for discussion, but I don’t see it as a must-read.
As a kid, I think I got stuck on expecting this to be a mystery, and it just isn’t. It’s schoolyard politics, it’s observing a neighborhood, it’s watching how families and relationships and people operate. It’s not the Boxcar Children, and it’s not Nancy Drew. It’s simpler on the surface (kid goes about her daily life and faces kid-level problems), but it’s a lot more emotionally complicated. And a lot more real.
I also remember struggling with not much liking any of the characters – feeling, perhaps, that Harriet deserved some wrath for the many mean-spirited things in her notebook. I expected a grand apology of some kind – marching back into class and addressing everyone, or something eloquent in her first column for the school paper. The resolution is far more subtle than that. And a lot more real. I’m still not sure I found it entirely satisfying after all the adolescent angst: The book ends just on the cusp of life settling back into normality and I always want a glimpse or two once the new normal is fully in place. (Admittedly, it turns out there are sequels??, which I never knew, but a book should stand on its own merits.)
Spying for Harriet, is a way of exploring what it might be like to be another person – to put herself in her neighbors’ various shoes. At face value, it’s pretty extra of her – peeping in windows and even hiding in someone’s dumbwaiter! – but as a way to explore a perfectly normal adolescent process of figuring out emotions, relationships, purpose in life? Pretty smart. Through the first half, we see how Harriet functions when things are normal. At the halfway point, she loses her guide, and just as she seems to be acclimating to that change, she loses control of a notebook, prompting an all-out war in the sixth grade, Harriet against everyone else.
The focus on “why do people acting the way they do? What are emotions even?” also makes me think it might be fair to read Harriet as being on the autism spectrum. Then I found this, which makes the argument very compelling. I don’t think you have to read her as on the spectrum, but I think it makes a lot of sense. (It also fits well into the counterargument to "where are all these autistic kids coming from, no one had autism when I was growing up?!" but that's a different soapbox.)
What I didn’t understand at all as a kid in the ‘90s was the broader context of society in the early 1960s. I had no notion of how radical it was to have Harriet running around the neighborhood in pants, or for her friend Janie to be so focused on her scientific aspirations. I missed the more subtle ways that they are dismissive of feminine expectations. And while the classmates they hate the most still read clearly as mean girls or queen bees, I’m sure I missed the significance of their setting up a bridge club, one of the mysterious pastimes Harriet’s mother also engages in.
Speaking of whom, I want to share my favorite line from Harriet’s mother. When told that going to school is her job, Harriet counters, “What do you do?” The answer is “A lot of unseen, unappreciated things.” Mrs. Welsch has a lot of awful moments, but here, even she gets to deliver a feminist dig.
An element that has not aged well is the body shaming — people are ugly, people are fat, and the narration throws around unkind descriptions as much as Harriet does. The worst example is right at the beginning, where Ole Golly takes Harriet to visit her elderly mother. The portrayal is grotesque — it’s a rough way to open the book. Harriet’s eleven-year-old reaction is one thing, but there’s no mitigation or attempt to remind her of this woman’s humanity, no matter her appearance or the state of her mental faculties. Ole Golly is trying to show Harriet something about how poor people live, but she sails past the rest of it.
Would I recommend it to a kid? Dunno. It’s rich for discussion, but I don’t see it as a must-read.
I'm sorry if I'm upsetting people about their favorite children's book but what's the moral here? Harriet is a thoroughly awful person that doesn't seem to learn her lesson at the end, so I'm scratching my head
adventurous
funny
lighthearted
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
hopeful
informative
lighthearted
reflective
Fun, easy to read and quite timeless
This book has not aged well. I’m assuming there might have been a time when Harriet’s spying was the act of a mischievous girl- you know, “kids will be kids” - but I couldn’t get it happening today. I couldn’t figure out where it was all going so I stopped reading halfway through.
funny
hopeful
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
I love Harriet so much. I loved her when I was a kid, and I may love her even more now, but in a different way.