A couple years ago, Jenn gave me the I Spy Necklace for Christmas. I…love this piece. The magnifying glass actually works, it was part of my Nancy Drew costume for Halloween (to be honest, the only Nancy Drew-ish thing about that outfit), and I basically feel pretty sleuth-y when I wear it.
So I love all things sleuth/spy. This post has been a long time coming because I like to think about the beginnings and whys of things. In high school, I was a huge fan of Alias (later in college, Veronica Mars), and my go-to comfort reading is still the mystery genre. The first story I ever wrote was a mystery. I remember working really hard on it and being impressed by my own cleverness in dropping “clues” to foreshadow the conclusion. Years later I found that story. It made zero sense.
My earliest recollection of loving mystery is when I got hooked on Cam Jansen mysteries in the first grade. Went around blinking (for some reason just winking was really hard then) and saying “click” to myself for a month.
After Cam there was a landside into mystery: Encyclopedia Brown, the Boxcar Children, the Three Investigators, Nate the Great, Enid Blyton’s Five Find-Outers series, the Hardy Boys, and the requisite Nancy Drew. After a family friend gave me practically all of his middle grade/YA library when I was 9 or 10, which included the entire collection of Nancy Drew novels (Mystery Stories series and Nancy Drew Files series), I read at least two new Nancy Drew books a day. I also consumed those 5 Minute Mysteries books like milk (milk being my drink of choice as a kid) and usually with my glass of milk. Eventually I got around to more complicated stuff. The first step in that direction was Agatha Christie’s And Then There Were None. And it just got better!
In a follow-up post, I’ll share some of the recent/contemporary mystery books that I love.