Through our Banned Book Writing Prompts series, Teachers & Writers Magazine aims to push back against the growing movement to censor what students can read and to show what happens when we enthusiastically embrace banned works rather than fear them. You can read an introduction to this series by Susan Karwoska here, and you can find more Banned Book Writing Prompts here.

Born with a mild case of cerebral palsy and sporting a limp, I was not a very outdoorsy kid. Instead of riding bikes, I watched people. And then I made up stories about them. In my mind, Mrs. Brown, the kind older lady in my neighborhood who handed out candy year-round to kids, was a famous ballroom dancer wearing red flowing gowns, not a woman who shuffled slowly to the door and wore brown polyester dresses. 

When I wasn’t watching, I was reading. Reading enabled me to go places that I couldn’t easily get to myself. My father knew I loved reading and got me lots of books. My favorite was Harriet the Spy by Louise Fitzhugh. Harriet was a lot like me: curious, different, and a bit of a loner. I envied her ability to traverse fire escapes and ride up dumbwaiters as she spied on people in the neighborhood. 

I wonder if I would have given myself permission to tell uncomfortable truths without having read Harriet the Spy. Banning books such as this erases complex portraits of humanity and quells curiosity and empathy.

Harriet wrote down her frank observations about everyone she knew in a notebook she carried with her everywhere she went. For an aspiring young writer, this was catnip. I was drawn to Harriet’s intellectual curiosity and Fitzhugh’s broad depiction of human experience embodied by the people Harriet watched: a rich, bedridden old lady; an eccentric cat lover who crafts birdcages; an unhappy, silent, married couple who put up a happy front with friends; and a boisterous family that owned a grocery store. Harriet’s blunt candor was another draw. As a shy kid with a disability, I felt like I lacked a voice, while Harriet told the truth about what she saw, at least from her perspective. About a classmate she wrote:

MY MOTHER IS ALWAYS SAYING PINKY WHITEHEAD’S WHOLE PROBLEM IS HIS MOTHER. DOES HIS MOTHER HATE HIM? IF I HAD HIM I’D HATE HIM.

But Harriet’s entries didn’t always lack empathy. When Harrison Withers, the old man with 26 cats, has his cats taken away, she writes:

I’LL NEVER FORGET THAT FACE AS LONG AS I LIVE. DOES EVERYBODY LOOK THAT WAY WHEN THEY HAVE LOST SOMETHING? I DON’T MEAN LIKE LOSING A FLASHLIGHT. DO PEOPLE LOOK LIKE THAT WHEN THEY HAVE . . . LOST?  

When Harriet loses track of her notebook, it ends up in the hands of her classmates. They read the truthful/awful things she has written about them, and Harriet is subsequently ostracized. At the same time, she is forced to deal with the departure of her nanny and friend, Ole Golly. As a young reader, I identified with how traumatic change could be and how hard it was to survive the social demands of the schoolyard while staying true to yourself. But the very qualities that made Harriet such a compelling character to me are the same qualities that have made others uncomfortable with the book. A National Public Radio piece that ran in 2008 explained it this way:

Harriet the Spy was controversial when it came out in the 60s, says Anita Silvey, author of 100 Best Books for Children, in part because Harriet was a very flawed character. Some critics hated the book, and some schools even banned it. Harriet saw too much, said too much. She even threw temper tantrums and had to visit a psychiatrist. But Silvey says that that’s all part of Harriet’s charm.

As a young reader I learned from Harriet that it was OK to be different, to have opinions and feelings. After all, writers need to be truth tellers. And to be ready to depict the full range of human experience. Now, as an adult, having published a novel, a set of short stories, and two poetry chapbooks, I wonder if I would have given myself permission to tell uncomfortable truths without having read Harriet the Spy. Banning books such as this erases complex portraits of humanity and quells curiosity and empathy.

Harriet the Spy opened new worlds to me with its portrayals of human curiosity and frailty. The book also taught me the difference between being honest with myself and communicating my personal opinions to others in a constructive way. As Ole Golly told Harriet: “Little lies that make people feel better are not bad, like thanking someone for a meal they made even if you hated it. But to yourself, you must always tell the truth.” Harriet the Spy taught me to be curious about the lives of others, to love complexity, and to always tell my truth.

Writing Prompt

Like Harriet, we all draw conclusions about people just from seeing their outward appearance and actions. Make up a story about someone you don’t know well, a neighbor or the shyest kid in class. How do they spend their time? What are their craziest dreams or hobbies? Then engage them in conversation. See what you can learn about them and pay attention to how they sound and what they ask you. How do they differ from your imagined version of them? How does it feel to realize there is more to them than meets the eye?