Of Cats and Kids

Thanks a million, Nancy

Posted by: Carol Lombardi

Monday, February 25, 2008 1:58 PM

For her whole life, my daughter has seen rows of yellow-covered hardback books, 50 or 60 of them, occupying a shelf in our office. (Which is actually now her playroom, but we call it the office to humor me.)

In the past year, she began to explore those books and started a journey that I also started at her age. The first Nancy Drew book in my collection has an inscription in my mother's handwriting, dated September 1974. I was 8 years old, and my mom was excitedly introducing me to the series that she had also loved.

Classic Nancy Drew is unlike much of the current literature for girls. It does not have princesses or fairies or high fashion or relationship drama or parental disrespect or existential angst. Nancy uses her brain, not her magic wand, and she wears sensible shoes.

The authors - and more than one person has written as "Carolyn Keene" - used whatever words they needed to tell the story, operating on the old-fashioned assumption that if you didn't know the word you would figure it out from the context, look it up, or ask someone what it meant. In true Nancy Drew fashion, my daughter is gobbling up these strange new words as fast as Carolyn Keene typed them on her manual typewriter.

The books are not politically correct. The bad guys are bad, not misguided and underprivileged, and you know they're bad the minute their swarthy, stinky, raucous selves are introduced. These guys drip badness.

Nancy is brave, but not careless. She has luncheon, wears linen suits and rarely just says something - she "declares gaily," "protests modestly" and "calls out reassuringly." She helps people in need, loves her dog and raises funds for worthy causes.

The last page of each chapter usually has a cliffhanger involving glimpses of shady people who steal family heirlooms from frail, elderly, poverty-stricken spinsters lovingly raising their young, orphaned, exceptionally talented and beautiful great-nieces. (Because there can also never be too much pathos attached to the good guys in River Heights.)

My wide-eyed daughter gasps the last exclamation-punctuated sentence of the chapter and turns to me, hands embracing her cheeks: "Oh no! I can't stand it! Just ONE more chapter—please?"

And the many Carolyn Keenes reach out and work their magic on another generation.

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