I’m sorry. You don’t mess with my childhood memories of my favorite girl detective. She was smart, pretty, and could figure out the mystery of a moss-covered mansion, solve a curse of a black orchid, or find the secret in an old attic. I so wanted to be Nancy Drew. My dad was a defense attorney just like Nancy’s but I never seemed to stumble into mysterious goings-on (it was always handy that Nancy’s dad, Carson Drew, seemed to have a case or a trip that would take Nancy and her friends to where they needed to go to solve the mysteries).
I just got back from the Nancy Drew movie. The filmmakers so messed with Nancy that it would take a very clever and good movie to make me forgive how they treat her. It’s not a clever and good movie. Where did they get the idea that Nancy was a Martha Stewart type? The prissy quality is unbelievable. Plus, they make her a fish out of water who seems stuck in time. Oh please.
I still have some Nancy Drew books on my bookshelf. I have such fond memories of reading them. Some of the books were printed in the 1940s; the rest in the 1960s. I wanted to see that Nancy: spunky, outgoing, athletic, and always able to notice something mysterious.