I have no idea what Nancy Drew would do.
That’s because, as a kid, I was too busy devouring Trixie Belden books. I spent hours on the couch over summer break, reading my way through the series. I read in an old Toyota pickup with no air conditioning on a marathon drive from Los Angeles to Jackson, Wyoming, with a book in one hand and ice chips plucked from a Styrofoam cooler in the other.
It’s been a lot of years since I’ve read those books. Today, I couldn’t tell you a single plot point. Sure, they solved mysteries, but I can’t recall any specifics. What I do remember – as vividly as the day I first read them – are three things.
First, Honey was Trixie’s best friend.
Trixie was smart and energetic and impulsive, whereas Honey was sweet and thoughtful and always had Trixie’s back. The details have faded, but I can still feel the shape of their friendship. The enduring warmth of their relationship, through scrapes and mishaps and all manner of challenges, stuck with me.
Second, Trixie had a crush on Honey’s older brother.
I can’t remember what he looked like. I can’t remember how he showed up on the page. I can’t even remember his name (okay, I peeked: it’s Jim) but I know that Trixie pined for him. Her middle-school crush felt just like the unrequited mooning I was doing at about the same age. Oh, the staying power of young infatuation.
Third, they drove around in an old jalopy.
I’m pretty certain that I had to dive into a dictionary to look up the word jalopy at the time. Or maybe I asked an adult. The word is even less used now, which makes it all the more fascinating to me how strongly it’s stuck with me. I can still conjur the mental image of that vehicle when I first read it on the page back in fourth grade.
There are a handful of other things from the books that I can still access in my memory bank: Trixie had two older brothers, she had friction with the younger one. Honey and Jim’s family had money. There was a night the group grilled burgers on a barbecue, perhaps? The rest get increasingly fuzzy and unreliable.
But the three things I can still remember with certainty today feels instructive about writing kidlit that resonates – books that imprint on a young reader’s heart and mind. Here’s what it tells me:
Decades after the plot has dissolved into a murky mist, readers remember characters and their relationships with each other. They may forget the names but, if the story is well crafted, they’ll remember the feelings those characters had for each other. They’ll carry with them the love that was expressed on the page, in all its forms – from friendship to romance to family bonds.
And, occasionally, the perfect word choice can make an impact that survives for decades. Remarkable words stand out. Language is powerful and evocative, painting pictures that tattoo themselves directly into the brain.
Even one as swiss-cheesy as mine all these years later.
Yea, Beck thanks for remembering the books you read as a young girl and how they have inspired you to write stories and now how you want to inspire and help others to think about their experiences in life and where that can take them as they travel through life.