Nancy Drew, 1938

While searching for the 2007 Nancy Drew movie, I inadvertently stumbled across a quartet of Nancy Drew movies filmed in 1938. The original teenage detective solving mysteries in the era in which she was first written? I was sold.

Doesn't she look fabulous? Also, I'm in love with his hair.

Now, I have read most of the original Nancy Drew books. Thanks to the enthusiasm of my sisters, I have also played nearly all of the Nancy Drew computer games. I have fond memories of being haunted by ghosts and startled by eerie rituals, getting locked out of a mansion during a blizzard and stepping on a creaky stair, solving puzzle after puzzle and interviewing the grumpiest suspects. I always played with my girls: first, my sisters, and later, my roommates. We would play in the dark and scream at the jump scares and throw out our accusations of whodunnit. From Nancy, I learned to wait for people to leave their rooms so I can snoop around. From Nancy, I learned not to follow red herrings. From Nancy, I learned that mistakes early on can lead to genius solutions later on. Needless to say, Nancy has been an important part of my life. She has been a symbol to me of a smart and adventurous and do-gooding woman, like I want to be.

I want people to tell me to stop meddling.

As I popped in the first part of this 1938 series, I was hopeful. I wanted to experience the original Nancy Drew adventures with all the pre-war fashion and feminism. I wanted to fall in love with Nancy all over again. I was looking for a hero.

The very first lines of the movie passed the Bechdel-Wallace test as Nancy led a committee meeting at school. I was thrilled. 

Through the four episodes, Nancy Drew was a leader, a scholar, and a fiercely curious snoop. Her beau (Ned in the books but Ted in the movies for some reason) is the Watson to her Holmes: he doesn't understand her methods, and sometimes he outright does not want to get involved, but she always convinces him to do the dirty work. The only things I wanted more from the 1938 series were her best friends George and Bess. I kinda grew attached to them in the books and in the games, especially when I got to call them for hints, but they were MIA in the films. Maybe I will take their place. After all, I was looking for a hero, and I found a friend.

Nancy, 

I don't think I'm done writing about you. This blog post barely dips below the surface. You have an interesting publication history fraught with ghostwriters and syndication and crossovers with the swoon-worthy Hardy Boys, and you have baffled feminist scholars for years. But more than that, you reminded me of the energetic person that I used to be, that I still want to be. Thank you for being you. I hope we meet again. 

Until then,
Your Faithful Blogger