Jason Pettus's Reviews > Henry and the Clubhouse

Earlier this year, on the day of her death, I ran over to the Chicago Public Library website and checked out as many random ebook titles by children's author Beverly Cleary that I could get my hands on, which turned out to be eight volumes spanning her entire career that I got done reviewing a little while ago (full list at the bottom of this review). But I realized that my middle-aged reassessment of Cleary would never be truly complete without revisiting the entire series of the one character I cared about as a kid way more than any other, which is our perpetually put-upon tween hero Henry Huggins. He was the protagonist of her very first book, after all, written while working as a public librarian in Portland, Oregon, and hearing little boys in there constantly complaining about the badly outdated Victorian "Little Lord Fauntleroy" nonsense constantly being crammed down their throats at school; and he would remain Cleary's "main character" from his explosive start in 1950 all the way until the mid-'70s, when as a grandmother she embraced the new wave of "young adult" writers like Judy Blume and Betsy Byars, and took her former impish devil Ramona Quimby and aged her up to a tween herself in order to write stories more emotionally revealing and bittersweet than the Huggins books earlier in her career.

But that's okay with me! I loved the Huggins books as a kid, especially that magical age between seven or eight and twelve to thirteen, and would re-read the entire six-book series seemingly every summer* (including 1950's Henry Huggins, '52's Henry and Beezus, '57's Henry and the Paper Route, '62's Henry and the Clubhouse, and '64's Ribsy). Now that I've reread them as a middle-ager, it's easy to see why, because they clearly have the same tone and spirit as Jeff Kinney's modern hit Diary of a Wimpy Kid, of tween boys acting stupid and silly and very real, but also coming to grips with some adult truths about the world for the very first time, and growing into some adult traits for the first time like natural politeness, concern for others, etc. Henry doesn't have the "stolen inheritance" adventures of Victorian children's tales, but very real adventures -- the one year he and his buddies build a clubhouse, his agony about not being old enough yet for his first summer job -- and instead of fairytale villains he has very real villains -- such as the aforementioned Ramona Quimby, seen as a hellion four-year-old in these books, a personification of Discordia who leaves a FEMA-level disaster in her wake anywhere she walks.

It's basically a genteel version of social realism, showing the great drama inherent just in these small ordinary lives here in this pleasant mid-sized city; we take it so much for granted now in children's literature, so it's a fresh shock all over again to remember how groundbreaking and controversial it was when Cleary started writing books for children in this fashion, starting just one year before JD Salinger kickstarted the Young Adult genre into existence with The Catcher in the Rye (helped immensely of course three years later with William Golding's Lord of the Flies). Cleary's Henry Huggins books are kind of like that for those readers' little brothers in fourth through sixth grade, which is what makes them still so timeless and readable to this day, especially series high point Henry and the Clubhouse which features almost a perfect blend of zany standalone stories but all of them combining into a grand finale at the very end, with a good dose of earned sentimentality too. If you take on these six books, and then the '70s more touchy-feely fellow six-book series of Ramona as a tween, you'll have pretty much read the top twelve books of her career, making the rest only really of worth to diehard completists. They come recommended in this spirit.

*Like I suspect is the case with a lot of the nerds here at Goodreads, every year of my childhood I participated in my public library's summer reading program, in which goals at home for books checked off a list was combined with live social events at the library's large back field, and that this combination of indoor and outdoor activities makes up a giant sweet spot of my fond memories of my tween years (whatever ones I can still remember here in my fifties, anyway). I always went for the biggest goal you could get, which was something ridiculous like 30 books in the 15 weeks between Memorial Day and Labor Day; but the only way I could get to that number by the end of the summer was to re-read a certain amount of books I was already familiar with, which is how I ended up re-reading the entire Huggins series every summer, a lot of Judy Blume books every summer, the "Mad Scientist Club" books every summer, etc. I was actually reading them again from cover to cover, so I suppose technically that counts!

The 2021 Beverly Cleary Memorial Re-Read:
Henry Huggins (1950)
Henry and Beezus (1952)
Otis Spofford (1953)
Henry and Ribsy (1954)
Fifteen (1956)
Henry and the Paper Route (1957)
Henry and the Clubhouse (1962)
Ribsy (1964)
Ramona and Her Mother (1979)
Dear Mr. Henshaw (1983)
Ramona Forever (1984)
Strider (1991)