by Kay Weisman
When Louise Fitzhugh published Harriet the Spy in 1964, the world of children’s literature sat up and took notice. Here was a character unlike any other readers had ever met. Completely at home in her privileged Upper East Side Manhattan world of private schools and live-in nannies, Harriet Welch knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to do what it took to reach her goal. She was a feisty, in-your-face character, and she wasn’t particularly repentant when her friends discovered her treachery and shunned her. Certainly not every critic approved of audacious Harriet when she first made her appearance, but that didn’t seem to put off children. She was a hit with them 39 years ago, and generations of children have continued to accept her as their own.
Recently Random House acquired the rights to Harriet the Spy and its successors, The Long Secret (1964) and Sport (1979), and with the approval of Fitzhugh’s estate, they decided to go forward with a sequel to Harriet, something that could, it was hoped, stand alone and also be a tribute to Fitzhugh. The result was Harriet Spies Again (2002), Helen Ericson’s first novel for children.
The book begins at the close of The Long Secret, as Harriet is preparing to start seventh grade and her parents are about to leave for an extended trip abroad. Harriet is thrilled to learn that Ole Golly is returning to take care of her, but her dear old nanny has changed. There are secrets, and the ever curious Harriet is not one to let that pass. Ericson breaks no new ground here; Harriet-esque characters and imperfect parents are common in today’s children’s books. But clearly, Ericson has done her homework. She effectively weaves details and backstory from the original into her own tale, creating a piece that can both stand on its own and work as a companion.
Critical reception to the book has been mixed. Most print reviews were positive, but in April, the online children’s literature community weighed in, and the opinions were by no means as affirmative, with most of the judgments made by individuals who had not even read the book. One contributor wrote that she was “appalled” to see Harriet Spies Again in a bookstore. Someone else decried the publication as an expression of crass disrespect for Fitzhugh and criticized the publisher for mining the backlist. Names of other spin-offs and sequels were dropped as proof that one author should never try to continue the work of another. What caught my attention most, however, were not the opinions, but the questions raised by the discussion: Is it always a mistake for an author to create a work using a character established by someone else? Are there sequels that have worked? Does an author (even after death) still “own” a classic and its characters, or do they become part of the culture?
Most adults in the children’s literature community will probably agree that the field is littered with dreadful spin-offs. The Disney picture-book versions of Winnie the Pooh feature flat writing, cartoonlike illustrations, and barely recognizable, sugarcoated characters. The paperback Magic School Bus books exhibit none of the creativity or cleverness of Joanna Cole and Bruce Degens’ original picture books about intrepid Ms. Frizzle and her adventurous class. Sequels written by relatives are usually better tolerated, although their quality rarely measures up to the originals. Margret Rey, wife of H. A. Rey, wrote some mediocre Curious George spin-offs in the early 1980s to coincide with the release of a series of Curious George films. They were very formulaic, but they offered a fairly satisfying fix for the mischievous monkey’s insatiable fans. Laurent de Brunhoff continues to turn out Babar books for the series his father began, and Herman Parish penned several Amelia Bedelia books, some with his aunt Peggy Parish. Critics argue the merits of these books, but in my experience, since they end up shelved with the originals, most children don’t distinguish between them.
Some spin-offs have been very successful with both critics and children. Jane Leslie Conly continued the work of her father, Robert C. O’Brien, with several highly regarded sequels to Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of N.I.M.H. (1971). Brad Strickland finished several books for the late John Bellairs and then wrote some well-done titles of his own, using Bellairs’ established characters.
Then there’s the question of whether an author holds a right to stories and characters after death or when copyrights have expired. Most people accept an author’s reinterpretation of traditional material such as a folktale. Last year’s Caldecott committee regarded David Wiesner’s spin-off of “The Three Little Pigs” very highly, and the novelization of folktales has become a genre unto itself. Robin McKinley and Gail Carson Levine have made notable contributions; McKinley’s Beauty (1978) set high standards for this genre, and Levine won a Newbery honor for Ella Enchanted (1997).
Critics seem less comfortable with continuations of modern classics, such as the Little House books. Cynthia Rylant’s recently published Old Town in the Green Groves: Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Lost Little House Years (2002) is a good example. The novel is based on research, including Wilder’s own notes about the Ingalls family’s sojourn in Burr Oak, Iowa. Rylant sticks to the facts and makes a credible effort to emulate Wilder’s literary style, but enthusiasm for the novel is difficult to find. People cite various reasons for disliking the book (some having more to do with the profusion of Little House spin-offs than the quality of this particular one), but the bottom line is that such spin-offs are accepted with difficulty––even when a sequel is competently written. A similar scenario seems to be in play with the online criticism of Ericson’s novel.
Athough I have had some good responses among children in my school’s third-, fourth-, and fifth-grade classes, it’s too soon to tell if Ericson’s Harriet will be successful with kids. It’s obvious, however, that spin-offs can and do work. Certainly, such books deserve to be looked at with an open mind, with each one evaluated on its own literary merits as well as the way it relates to the original. If we as adult readers and critics don’t judge them fairly, the children we work with might miss something really good—and that would be a shame.
Kay Weisman is a frequent contributor to Booklist. Her review of Harriet Spies Again appears in the March 15, 2002, issue.
(Booklist/December 1, 2002)