Does anyone remember The Clique books?
I’ve been thinking about the Clique books a lot recently. If you’re not familiar, The Clique is a series by Lisi Harrison. There are 14 books — not including the one prequel or the four from the “summer collection” — that were released between 2004 and 2011. They follow insanely rich preteen popular girls, Massie, Kristen, Alicia, Dylan, and Claire, as they navigate their privileged, drama-filled middle school lives. They’re over the top and campy, to the point where the plots feel like episodes of Real Housewives rather than young adult novels.
A couple of weeks ago, I thought about the Clique books for the first time since probably 2012. Some unknown force pulled them out from my subconscious, and I just had to talk about them. I was explaining them to my boyfriend and had to stop every other sentence because I couldn’t stop laughing. I couldn’t even accurately explain what they were, and I don’t know if I’m even gonna do a good job of it now. Like actually, what was up with those books?
Let’s start with the covers. I don’t think there is anything more iconic than the play on the “Barnes and Noble classics” plaid designs plastered on each paperback. Holding a Clique book in my hands made my nine-year-old self feel like I was holding Hemmingway. It gave the books a sense of importance and maturity that I was desperately seeking, as my elementary school years were spent relentlessly wishing I was a teen. I was so tantalized by the models that graced the covers that I felt as if they were the characters themselves. Every time I looked at a cover it felt like they were keeping a secret from me, and the only way to be included was to read the book. I’d dedicatedly imagine them in my head as I sped through the underwhelming-at-best plots, wishing I could be as composed, mature, and put together as them. Although I don’t remember how I first started reading the series, I imagine the cover was what drew me in. In my nine-year-old eyes, The Clique books were the next step after my Katie Kazoo, Switcheroo obsession, a sign that I was growing as a reader and also as a young adult.
What made the covers even more enticing was the book titles. I mean Best Friends For Never, Revenge of the Wannabes, Charmed and Dangerous. Sign my pre-teen self up! I knew before even reading the opening lines that I was going to be in for a dramatic, extra, wholly unrelatable story that would help me envision the teenager I wanted to be, but am now so happy I never became.
That brings me to the content of the books. Between having their own language — also known as the Cliquetionary — to their back-stabbing gossip about who couldn’t afford the newest Prada bag, these girls were absolutely ruthless, and not to mention incredibly unrelatable. They kept their classmates at their Westchester prep school — amusingly named “OCD” — on their toes, none of them wanting to be declared the latest LBR. Or, if you’re new here, Loser Beyond Repair.
According to Harrison’s website, the overarching premise of the series is “the only thing harder than getting in, is staying in,” referring to the friend group, also known as The Pretty Committee. It was supposed to show that everyone had their problems, even the richest and most popular, but in reality, I think it just taught developing girls how to be bullies.
But really, though, who even read these? Was this as popular of a coming-of-age read as I’m making it out to be? In many ways, it felt sort of like a rite of passage: in order to enter teendom, you first had to learn the ins and outs of what it meant to be popular, as told by one random then-35-year-old Canadian author. But part of me hopes that the books weren’t as popular and enticing as I remember, because that would mean a whole generation of young girls were brainwashed into thinking that was how middle schoolers were supposed to act.
I have a theory that young girls who read Clique books grow into one of two types of teens and adults. On the one hand, you can become hyper-aware of the plights of bullying, dedicating yourself to making sure no one feels a wrath as close to that of The Pretty Committee. On the other, you could become the real-life Massie Block herself, plotting, exploiting, gossiping, and excluding friends for the sake of being an ‘alpha.’
Unfortunately, I have Lisi Harrison to thank for the formation of my most prominent childhood bully. A girl who embodied what it meant to be head-tween, who I know learned from the girls of The Clique because we’d read the books together! She made me feel like a total Kuh-laire when she kicked me out of my middle school friend group, but through it, I learned that there was more to life than popularity, and recalled that even though Massie bullied others until they didn’t want to show their faces at OCD, she was a completely different person when she was alone in her bedroom.
So maybe I did learn something from the girls of The Clique. But that doesn’t mean everyone took home the same lessons. The series was suited for a very specific type of reader who wasn’t going to fall victim to the glamorized life of the bully, and I think it easily stuck with some people in the wrong way.
I’m aware that this could have been a very niche analysis, and I’m sorry if you’ve never read or heard of this series before. These books had a tight grip on my elementary-level attention span in their day, and I knew I wouldn’t rest until I shared my piece. If you’re a fellow former reader, I sincerely hope these books didn’t have as much of an impact on you as they did on me. If you’re not, maybe flip through a copy on your next trip to Barnes and Noble, and I promise this post will make at least 40% more sense.
