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3.88 AVERAGE
3.88 AVERAGE
Hmm. My 11-year-old self read this book about 100 times. Unlike all the blonde, middle class, sweethearts that overpopulated tween books of my generation, I could relate to Harriet. She was smart. She was bookish. She was odd and didn't fit in. In fact, she was quite lonely. I felt like she was a friend who knew what when I felt like I was the only dorky, awkward tween in the whole wide world (HAHAHAHA! Right? But that is how you feel at age 11).
This time around though... Man, Harriet was actually not very nice! She wrote such mean things in her notebook. The moral of the story was that you need to lie to people if you want friends... I guess it's true, but it was peculiar that Harriet seemed to feel very little remorse for being so nasty. Honestly, I didn't like her very much at all!
Then again, she had really absent parents who hardly seemed to notice her. She lost her main caregiver, ole Golly, who was a bit of a cold fish, too. Harriet was also one of the first young characters to visit a psychiatrist, which would have been groundbreaking in the 60s, when the book came out. So, I guess there is depth to Harriet's character, and an explanation for her mean streak. This complexity of character is lovely to see in a book for younger readers, which tend to have goodies and baddies and not much in between.
This time around though... Man, Harriet was actually not very nice! She wrote such mean things in her notebook. The moral of the story was that you need to lie to people if you want friends... I guess it's true, but it was peculiar that Harriet seemed to feel very little remorse for being so nasty. Honestly, I didn't like her very much at all!
Then again, she had really absent parents who hardly seemed to notice her. She lost her main caregiver, ole Golly, who was a bit of a cold fish, too. Harriet was also one of the first young characters to visit a psychiatrist, which would have been groundbreaking in the 60s, when the book came out. So, I guess there is depth to Harriet's character, and an explanation for her mean streak. This complexity of character is lovely to see in a book for younger readers, which tend to have goodies and baddies and not much in between.
I recently revisited this via audiobook to see if it held up. I've decided this is a really good example of a book that can be great and yet is also okay to leave in its time. It's not evergreen, but for what it was, when it was, it was undeniably formative to a number of people, and I can see that too.
Harriet is an aspiring writer and a bit of a lonely kid who finds an outlet through pretending to be a spy and documenting absolutely everything in her notebook. Harriet sees things through an unflinchingly honest lens, and her notes reflect that, which becomes a massive problem when her observations get leaked and she has to deal with the fallout.
The genius of Harriet then, and even Harriet now, is that it isn't afraid to be morally complicated. Harriet, for some of us, was our first true antihero. By the end we get a small window into Harriet's logic, but even then, it's hard to justify everything she does. And the people she wrongs aren't wholly innocent themselves. Even if you disagree with Harriet, the memory of the swift and harsh social repercussions she faces afterward leave an imprint on you long after you've finished the book. "Kids can be cruel" is so cliche at this point it's rarely said without some level of irony, but like most cliches, there's at least a shred of truth in it. Fitzhugh was an author who clearly had insight into the dark side of childhood. Anyone who has ever experienced that "outsider" feeling in school can feel a little bit seen and relate. I know a number of Autistic people who have said they feel that the character of Harriet is Autism-coded and that they saw themselves in her. I'm not qualified to say if this is true, but I can absolutely understand where they're coming from.
All that said, it's not for all time. There's a lot that doesn't hold up to contemporary scrutiny. There's some particularly ugly fat-shaming in the scenes with Ole Golly's mother. Harriet's visceral hate for the helpless Pinky Whitehead feels just as cruel and more senseless than anything visited on Harriet. And there's just a lot that isn't relatable.
I'd forgotten how much privilege Harriet comes from. Her family employs a full-time nanny and cook (the latter Harriet only refers to as "Cook"--I wondered at one point if Harriet knows even part of her actual name, and decided it was unlikely). Her parents feel like caricatures of mad men characters. Her dad comes home aghast if his martini isn't at the ready. Her mother goes to play bridge during the day (presumably with fellow Ladies Who Lunch) while Harriet is primarily raised by the help.
In those ways it feels like a very particular period piece--a bell jar over a very particular type of upper class city kid at a particular time and place. And in those moments it's easy to detach. But for what it does well, for the kids that it spoke to when there weren't a lot of examples for that sort of difference (whether you choose to interpret it as neurodivergent, or non-gender conforming, or just misunderstood and a bit weird), I'm grateful that it exists. Not every writer who writes for children actually "gets" them, and I think for Fitzhugh, she really did.
Harriet is an aspiring writer and a bit of a lonely kid who finds an outlet through pretending to be a spy and documenting absolutely everything in her notebook. Harriet sees things through an unflinchingly honest lens, and her notes reflect that, which becomes a massive problem when her observations get leaked and she has to deal with the fallout.
The genius of Harriet then, and even Harriet now, is that it isn't afraid to be morally complicated. Harriet, for some of us, was our first true antihero. By the end we get a small window into Harriet's logic, but even then, it's hard to justify everything she does. And the people she wrongs aren't wholly innocent themselves. Even if you disagree with Harriet, the memory of the swift and harsh social repercussions she faces afterward leave an imprint on you long after you've finished the book. "Kids can be cruel" is so cliche at this point it's rarely said without some level of irony, but like most cliches, there's at least a shred of truth in it. Fitzhugh was an author who clearly had insight into the dark side of childhood. Anyone who has ever experienced that "outsider" feeling in school can feel a little bit seen and relate. I know a number of Autistic people who have said they feel that the character of Harriet is Autism-coded and that they saw themselves in her. I'm not qualified to say if this is true, but I can absolutely understand where they're coming from.
All that said, it's not for all time. There's a lot that doesn't hold up to contemporary scrutiny. There's some particularly ugly fat-shaming in the scenes with Ole Golly's mother. Harriet's visceral hate for the helpless Pinky Whitehead feels just as cruel and more senseless than anything visited on Harriet. And there's just a lot that isn't relatable.
I'd forgotten how much privilege Harriet comes from. Her family employs a full-time nanny and cook (the latter Harriet only refers to as "Cook"--I wondered at one point if Harriet knows even part of her actual name, and decided it was unlikely). Her parents feel like caricatures of mad men characters. Her dad comes home aghast if his martini isn't at the ready. Her mother goes to play bridge during the day (presumably with fellow Ladies Who Lunch) while Harriet is primarily raised by the help.
In those ways it feels like a very particular period piece--a bell jar over a very particular type of upper class city kid at a particular time and place. And in those moments it's easy to detach. But for what it does well, for the kids that it spoke to when there weren't a lot of examples for that sort of difference (whether you choose to interpret it as neurodivergent, or non-gender conforming, or just misunderstood and a bit weird), I'm grateful that it exists. Not every writer who writes for children actually "gets" them, and I think for Fitzhugh, she really did.
adventurous
funny
reflective
medium-paced
This is a fantastic middle grade book. Harriet is so taciturn, and I am here for it.
lighthearted
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Harriet the Spy - Louise Fitzhugh
This is one of those rare books that doesn’t just stay with you, it forms you. First published in 1964, Louise Fitzhugh’s brilliant, unflinching novel about an eleven-year-old girl who wants to be a writer is as emotionally honest and daring now as it was then. It’s funny, poignant, a little dangerous, and quietly revolutionary.
This is one of those rare books that doesn’t just stay with you, it forms you. First published in 1964, Louise Fitzhugh’s brilliant, unflinching novel about an eleven-year-old girl who wants to be a writer is as emotionally honest and daring now as it was then. It’s funny, poignant, a little dangerous, and quietly revolutionary.
Harriet M. Welsch is no typical kid. She carries a notebook with her everywhere, scribbling down observations about the world, often with brutal honesty. She spies, she eavesdrops, she writes what she sees, and she refuses to apologize for her curiosity. It’s a book about truth: about seeking it, writing it, hiding it, and paying the price for it when it's exposed.
But what makes "Harriet the Spy" feel especially radical is the way it gives children space to live outside societal norms. Sport, Harriet’s best friend, manages the household for his struggling writer father, he cooks, cleans, and keeps their world afloat. Janie, Harriet’s other close friend, doesn’t want to be a wife or a mother; she dreams of blowing up the world (in a science lab, not a tantrum), and becomes a vision of ambition and rebellion. Fitzhugh doesn’t moralize these characters. She just lets them be, a message to every young reader that there is no single right way to grow up.
And Harriet herself, who writes with a voice so direct and uncensored it sometimes alienates her classmates, experiences a kind of social exile when her private diary is discovered and read aloud. The trauma of having her inner world exposed is intense, and in many ways, it reads as a powerful allegory for coming out, especially poignant given that Louise Fitzhugh was a lesbian writing in an era where that part of her identity had to be hidden. Harriet’s raw self is too much for others at first, but she learns how to live with it, and how to hold on to it. The arc of her story mirrors the struggle of being seen, misunderstood, and eventually reclaiming one’s voice.
Personally, "Harriet the Spy" changed everything for me. It was the book that got me to start keeping a journal. It was the first time I saw writing not just as something you did for school, but as a tool for understanding the world and yourself. Harriet made me believe that writing could be a way of life, a kind of armor, and a declaration of who you are.
At its core, this is a book about a deep, abiding love of writing. Not just the polished, published kind, but the messy, unfiltered, often secret kind that starts in a notebook and burns inside you. Harriet’s world is often uncomfortable, and her truths sometimes hurt, but Fitzhugh never flinches. She trusts her readers to grapple with complexity, and to love Harriet not despite her flaws, but because of them.
This isn’t just a children’s book. It’s a blueprint for young creatives, an anthem for outsiders, and a lifelong companion for anyone who ever felt like their thoughts were a little too big for their world.
adventurous
emotional
funny
inspiring
lighthearted
reflective
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
challenging
funny
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
adventurous
funny
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
No
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated