(sound of howling husky)

Louise Fitzhugh's The Long Secret is not a sequel to Harriet the Spy. This is the only thing I knew about it, when I picked it up; I'd put it on my TBR list because Lemony Snicket had mentioned it in Poison for Breakfast, and it had sounded interesting. Could I remember what sounded interesting? No I Could Not. But it was available as an audiobook at my local library, and I needed a new one, and the last Snicket-recommended kids book had gone well, so, why not, I guess? (More on that tomorrow, probably.) 

The good news is the reader was phenomenal, so that was a win immediately. The book takes place in Water Mill, Long Island, where Harriet and her friend Beth-Ellen ("Mouse") are spending the summer with their families. There are a several sources of friction: 

• Harriet and Beth-Ellen aren't really friends during the school year, and their summer friendship is clearly one of necessity. Their personalities, from time to time, definitely make each other Worse;
• Beth-Ellen wants to go look at the middle-aged piano player at the hotel, Bunny, while Harriet wants to spy on the newcomers to town and write stories; 
• Someone Is Leaving Pointed Notes in Red Crayon for the people of Water Mill. We're introduced to this when the mean grocer gets one that says "Jesus doesn't love you," and she goes into hysterics. Harriet is consumed by finding out who is doing it. Beth-Ellen could not be less curious; 
• The town newcomers, the Jenkinses, are Southern, poor, and very religious, and extremely capable at bless-your-heart-ing Harriet into an apoplexy; 
• What Is Religion, Actually? 
• Beth-Ellen's flighty, socialite mom, Zeeney, is coming back from Europe with her new husband. Beth-Ellen has not seen her mom since she was a baby. Beth-Ellen Would Prefer Not To. 

At first, I didn't know what Snicket meant when he said this book is not a sequel. Harriet is there! She's trying to solve a mystery! I don't remember very much about Harriet the Spy! 

But it became clear that not only is Harriet not the protagonist, I'm pretty sure the pacing and tone of the book is markedly different than that of Harriet. We spend some time with Harriet, and in Harriet's mind, but the book is Beth-Ellen's, and Beth-Ellen is deliberate and unsure; polite and reserved. Harriet, through Beth-Ellen's eyes, is bluster and explosions. Harriet yells at her frequently. Topics include but are not limited to: not being curious; for taking too long; for wanting to be a housewife; wanting to go see Bunny; saying that she (Beth-Ellen) goes to Sunday school when Harriet didn't know that; making fun of Harriet with Jessie-Mae Jenkins; and that Beth-Ellen (12) gets her period when Harriet (11) has not. 

Harriet, experienced this way, is excruciating. It's a really affective portrait of a certain kind of friendship! Even as I cringed every time Harriet talked over Beth-Ellen or told her how to feel or not to feel, I felt appreciative of 1) a companion book that is like hey remember our fun protag? she kind of sucks; and 2) the close observation of how children can relate to each other. Beth-Ellen shrinks from Harriet; she gets mad at her; I think I remember her saying she hates her; and she also articulates her tremendous gratitude for Harriet's bluster and the kind of peace it gives her; she takes Harriet's opinions and questions seriously, particularly about what she should do with her life; and there are two distinct ways, toward the end of the book, where Harriet offers Beth-Ellen much needed support. I feel as if one could as easily imagine Beth-Ellen and Harriet remaining good friends for the rest of their lives based on this shared history as one could imagine them drifting apart once they didn't share proximity. Both possibilities feel live.

The book, published in 1965, is at least in conversation with the problem novel if it isn't one itself. (I do not read enough 1960s books to know for sure.) It's certainly intended to be instructive, and some of the Instructive Scenes are the least successful, I think, particularly the menstruation conversation, when Fitzhugh has Janie (in town for the weekend), tell Beth-Ellen and Harriet to Remember That the Older Generations Thought Different Things Than We Did (But Lord Above There Are No Rocks in Your Uterus); and the conversation Beth-Ellen, Harriet, and Jessie-Mae have with the Preacher, a Black, southern ex-preacher who lives on his own in the woods, about religion as a tool that can fail. 

In that second, it's not so much that I disagree, as that it's a little funny in context. Both Beth-Ellen and Harriet think about their relationships to religion a lot, particularly Harriet, who hasn't been raised with any. In fact, one of my favorite scenes in the book is her asking her dad about it; their conversation, notably about religion, does a tremendous job of being about marriage and about childhood, in terms of the things Harriet's dad says and what Harriet hears. A feast of doing three things at once! But it's notable that Harriet's dad doesn't have religion and doesn't know whether her mom prays. Her mom, when Harriet asks, says she does, and she believes in God, but since neither she nor Harriet's father are church-going, they decided to let Harriet make her own decision about it as she got older. They're good scenes. I just do find it Revealing that Fitzhugh has the ex-preacher explain to Jessie-Mae, who is planning on starting her own church, that he lost his job as a preacher down south because religion stopped being enough for people. Again! I do not! Disagree! I just also think! Fitzhugh! Has a particular take! That is largely individual-forward! 

The book's ending fully executes on the promise of Beth-Ellen and Harriet as foils, and I liked it very much. (I was surprised by who was leaving the notes.) That said, the book's pretty atrocious about fat people, and its depictions of the poor and the One Black Person in the Book are mixed at best.