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A review by holtfan
The Missing Chums by Franklin W. Dixon
5.0
100% nostalgia rating
Kris's recent read of the first Nancy Drew book left me itching to return to the world of teen sleuths that I loved so much as a kid. And while I read Nancy Drew books, my true love was (and will ever be) the Hardy Boys.
I only had book #4 on hand but I figured, why not? I expected to mock the story senseless (and I sort of have been in my status updates...) But what I didn't expect was the giant wave of nostalgia that hit me as I read.
I can't really express how many Hardy Boys books I read growing up. I devoured the original series. And every one of the Hardy Boys Classified books. And the The Hardy Boys Undercover Brothers. And every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys team up. And the graphic novels. And, well, everything in between.
I wrote Hardy Boys fan fiction. I daydreamed about joining American Teens Against Crime.
Frank Hardy was one of my first book crushes and always my favorite. (Until I turned 17 and fell hard for Shaun Cassidy who plays Joe in the TV show.)
And just...for a lonely bookworm, they were my pals and Bayport my playground.
So while I found plenty to mock in this novel, particularly with how irresponsible all the adults are and useless the womenfolk, in some ways it felt like coming home.
Home to Frank and Joe and Chet and Biff and Tony and Callie and Iola. Home to Aunt Gertrude and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Home to non-stop action and crazy, hair brained schemes that shouldn't work. Home to villains who monologue their entire evil plan so everything ties up nicely. Home to motorcycles and motorboats (and someday a bullet proof van which I wanted with all my 12-year-old soul. You can keep the A-Team van. Give me the gray Hardy Boys van) and all the other gadgets. Home to food. Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude's only real role is to constantly supply these boys with fried chicken dinners and picnic baskets full of descriptive food.
Wholesome, ridiculous, familiar, and fun.
And the language! So vintage! No wonder I had such a weird vocabulary growing up.
Kris's recent read of the first Nancy Drew book left me itching to return to the world of teen sleuths that I loved so much as a kid. And while I read Nancy Drew books, my true love was (and will ever be) the Hardy Boys.
I only had book #4 on hand but I figured, why not? I expected to mock the story senseless (and I sort of have been in my status updates...) But what I didn't expect was the giant wave of nostalgia that hit me as I read.
I can't really express how many Hardy Boys books I read growing up. I devoured the original series. And every one of the Hardy Boys Classified books. And the The Hardy Boys Undercover Brothers. And every Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys team up. And the graphic novels. And, well, everything in between.
I wrote Hardy Boys fan fiction. I daydreamed about joining American Teens Against Crime.
Frank Hardy was one of my first book crushes and always my favorite. (Until I turned 17 and fell hard for Shaun Cassidy who plays Joe in the TV show.)
And just...for a lonely bookworm, they were my pals and Bayport my playground.
So while I found plenty to mock in this novel, particularly with how irresponsible all the adults are and useless the womenfolk, in some ways it felt like coming home.
Home to Frank and Joe and Chet and Biff and Tony and Callie and Iola. Home to Aunt Gertrude and Mr. and Mrs. Hardy. Home to non-stop action and crazy, hair brained schemes that shouldn't work. Home to villains who monologue their entire evil plan so everything ties up nicely. Home to motorcycles and motorboats (and someday a bullet proof van which I wanted with all my 12-year-old soul. You can keep the A-Team van. Give me the gray Hardy Boys van) and all the other gadgets. Home to food. Mrs. Hardy and Aunt Gertrude's only real role is to constantly supply these boys with fried chicken dinners and picnic baskets full of descriptive food.
Wholesome, ridiculous, familiar, and fun.
And the language! So vintage! No wonder I had such a weird vocabulary growing up.