Wednesday, June 20, 2007

further literary moments

Taken from The GHost of Blackwood Hall

Mrs. Putney looked at the jeweler. "I cannot speak in your presence," she said haltingly. "I was warned never to tell any man or woman of this matter."

"That's why brought you to a girl detective," the jeweler said quickly. You'll be breaking no confidences in telling Nancy everything."


Nancy Drew is eighteen (pretty much permanently.) She's only enough to vote, make porn, buy cigarettes, serve in the military, get married without parental consent, be thrown out of foster care - indeed, in some counties of Nevada she could work as a prostitute.

"Girl detective" ei yi yi!

4 comments:

Bartleby said...

My dear lemming, I thought I was pretty much shockproof. After all, I once worked in a Pepsi-Cola bottling plant (for over a year), and a couple of tool & die shops. Places where your speech simply cannot be heard unless it is liberally laced with the famous F-word, you see.

But still ... you have posted a single sentence in which appear: "Nancy Drew," "porn," and "prostitute." And I have read that sentence. Don't you know that you could incur severe legal difficulties, if it can be shown that you have afflicted an old man like me with a deadly case of the vapors?

By the way, speaking of age: I don't know how old Carolyn Keene may have been when she wrote those books. (Oh, yes, I know, "Carolyn Keene" is probably some sort of writers' collective ... but I just don't want to know.) And clearly, you're quite youthful. But I myself am completing my 53rd trip 'round the Sun ... and as far as I'm concerned, every 18-year-old is a "girl." Well, except for the ones who are "boys," that is.

Steven the Rill said...

Here in the UK she could also have a drink or two...

fin said...

I always felt sorry for her. I don't know why.

Anonymous said...

There's an article in Slate today about Nancy Drew:

http://www.slate.com/id/2169353/

And speaking of summer reading:
After testing my wicked awesome new Zeiss binoculars on the hawks circling the top of the tower in Mt. Auburn cemetery (not to mention the masts of the Constitution, since they really are wicked awesome binoculars), I was inspired to re-read My Side of the Mountain, a prime example of a book with a wacky premise that I never thought to question as a grade-schooler.