If you know me at all, you know that I love children's books.
After all, I'm a children's librarian.
I've never read Nancy Drew.
Everybody has read Nancy Drew.
My mother, for example, adored Nancy Drew.
And it's on the list of 1001 Children's Books You Must Read Before You Grow Up.
So I've been listening to Nancy Drew on the ride to school every morning.
(Please, please, don't tell my mother.)
Nancy Drew is just too ridiculous to be believed.
With a copyright date of 1930, right in the middle of the American Depression,
here's the first bit of the first Nancy Drew:
"Nancy Drew, an attractive girl of eighteen,
was driving home along a country road
in her new, dark-blue convertible.
She had just delivered some legal papers for her father.
'It was sweet of Dad to give me this car for my birthday,' she thought.
'And it's fun to help him in his work.'"
The plot has Nancy meeting up with two elderly women, with very little income, who are trying to raise a young niece. Nancy learns that the two women had been promised an inheritance from a rich relative, but instead the relative apparently left all his money to a family with two snobbish daughters. There could be a later will, Nancy discovers, and she is off to find it.
Here's a little more:
"When she told Hannah Gruen her plans, the housekeeper warned,
'Don't become too deeply involved in this matter, dear.
In your zeal to help other people, you may forget to be on your guard.'
'I promise to be as careful as a pussycat walking up a slippery roof,'
Nancy assured the housekeeper with a grin."
I think it is all the adjectives that are annoying me.
"The pleasant, slightly plump housekeeper."
Nancy's 'tall and handsome father'.
And Nancy is just so terribly nice.
Refusing to engage in gossip.
Cheerily playing badminton with a child.
Never losing her temper despite a long wait at a department store.
Have I become jaded? Am I being harsh in judging
sweet Nancy to be a goody-two-shoes,