I recently found a box of my old Nancy Drews in my mother's attic. This one was right on top. I remember, at age nine, loving the exotic aspects of the story: an Oriental rug with an encoded message, a scimitar that seemingly leaps out of said rug on its own, an eerily beautiful mannequin, a romp through Istanbul and a kidnapping at the Grand Bazaar. All the ingredients here are still great. As a YA mystery writer, I wanted to go back to Nancy Drew and see if there were tools I could use in my toolbox, in terms of pacing, suspense, planting clues, etc. Mostly what I ended up thinking, on this reread, was "Wow, my writing critique group would NEVER let me get away with this!" I had that thought a lot. Like about the rushed, implausibly set-up trip to Istanbul, near the end. Or the way Nancy's strong hunches, based on zero evidence, lead to logical deduction and even police procedures. The way shopkeepers cheerfully give out personal information about their customers and clients, including home addresses. I could go on. But there is still something nostalgic and charming and wonderful about good old Nancy Drew, and when I read this book as an artifact from a time capsule, I found ways to quit rolling my eyes and be a little more generous. Nancy displays grit and determination in many scenes, and her pluck and tenacity, as well as a creative way of looking at a mystery, kept me turning the pages all these years later.
Giving it a four-star rating since the series has been part of my childhood. I have not achieved the goal of reading through all 56 books on the list. Anyway, after how many years of not reading one of the Nancy Drew books, I found the dialogues weird and cheesy. During the middle part, I picked-up my pace and I was in the zone again. I think I am too old for the series, because of my said comment, but that does not stop me from attaining one of my ambitions. I loved the 47th book; it still gave me quite of a shock in the end. I was not paying much attention to the tiny little details. I lost my grasp on how I used to read the book. It does not matter, I just have to relearn it again.I think Nancy has a severe case of paranoia that is probably why she became a detective in the first place. Maybe she is too much of an expert in the field that her hunches usually work along with her, but occasionally against her. Little sparks of rhetorical questions come alight on the pages and I think her mind is a scary place to dwell in. Well, she is "human" in some sense, for a character, and that twirls into a surprising adventure to Istanbul. I think the narrator and her are having some sort of argument who gets to say this line and such. It is a conspiracy, not that it is, but maybe.
What do You think about The Mysterious Mannequin (1993)?
I used to own this book! I don't remember the story other than the part where Nancy is so preoccupied/brain-injured during a shower that she gives herself three shampoos. Anyway, apparently they solve a mystery with riddles sewn into a rug and then go to Turkey. And the mannequin is the guy who sent the rug's fiancee. Every time I would read "Turkish rug dealer" my brain would see "Turkish drug dealer," especially when they were referring to large amounts of cash he was hiding.Nancy gets shoved into a cistern and attacked by a dog but never loses consciousness. Neither does anyone else.
—Melanie
Update 4/5/2015: The ways in which the mystery in this book is nonsensical, let me count them. But I loved it when I was a kid (especially the beautiful cover), and I believe it was Nancy Drew who made a traveler of me, years before I actually had the chance to go. When I read this I can remember vividly encountering new vocabulary words for the first time (cistern! hoax!), not to mention bits of information, which is why I've never been able to fathom why people turned up their noses at these books.(original: The setting in Turkey is great, and I love the clues hidden in the rug.)
—Wendy
Here's why I despise this book: when I was in 4th grade, I chose it to read for my weekly book report subject. It was so boring and lame, though, that I couldn't keep my mind on it, but by the time I realized how badly it sucked, it was too late to switch books, so I had to plow through it, but barely paid attention. (This was in the days before the internet, of course, so I couldn't just go on Amazon and get a summary). So I did my book report, and it was barely comprehensible because I didn't even know what the damn book was even about. And my teacher, whom I worshiped, wrote on the report, "Laura, I am very disappointed in this book report. You usually do such good work, and this is very poor." And she was right! Fuck You, Nancy Drew!
—Laura
