The Mad Scientists’ Club

The Mad Scientists’ Club by Bertrand R. Brinley (1965) I first read this when I was in grade school, no doubt—it’s one of those Scholastic Book Services book club paperbacks that you could order—it cost 50 cents. It’s got an excellent full color cover and kind of messy, cartoon-like illustrations by Charles Geer that really make the book. I also have the sequel, and I think there were a couple more. It’s about seven boys in a small town who have an organized club where they put together capers—everything from sophomoric pranks to a rescue operation for a downed Air Force pilot. There are seven stories—some of them pretty extensive and brain-twisting, like the one about an alleged dinosaur egg. Among the most lighthearted capers are creating a fake sea monster and haunting a house. The club is not that popular with the authority figures in town. Their operations all involve some pretty technical science and knowhow, but they’re all a lot of fun. I was inspired to reread the book at this time, remembering the narrative structure as a possible model for something I’m writing. It’s from the viewpoint of a first person narrator—a member of the club whose name you only get in passing. He’s smart and competent—and the least eccentric character—but always a little bit in the shadows. Reading this, I thought of The Secret History (1992), which has a similar first-person narrator who is somewhat invisible—and the observer of a tightknit group of eccentric Greek students whose most brilliant member is named Henry, same as the boy-genius here. Their personalities are even notably similar. I wonder if anyone’s ever noticed this—or if I’m just imagining things—but Donna Tartt would have been the right age to read this book. Well… if I ever run into her in the hotel bar, it’s the one thing (besides when’s the next book) I’d like to ask her.