The Men of L'Engle #5: Josiah Davidson

Better known, of course, as Dave. He shows up in The Young Unicorns, L'Engle's departure from the usual structure of her Austin family books. (Which is directly related to the fact that I'm not a big fan of it, and therefore don't have much to say about Dave.)

Dave, now that he's no longer in a gang, spends his days in and around the Cathedral of St. John the Divine, and also becomes a part of the Austins' extended New York family, because he has the responsibility of reading homework assignments aloud to their blind neighbor. (Okay, my dislike of The Young Unicorns also has something to do with its sheer preposterousness. Moving on.)

He also turns up in A Severed Wasp, one of L'Engle's adult novels, married to Suzy Austin.

Leading characteristics:

• Taciturn. Dave always makes me think of Dan Mangan from the Trixie Belden books. He's got the same slightly hostile, trust-no-one thing going on.
• Decent. At the same time, he's made the choice to step away from gang life, and he's got a real sense of responsibility toward Emily -- and, after a fashion, toward everyone else.

Pull quote(s):

• "I'm an ex-hood."

Where is he now? Dave's always been associated with St. John the Divine, so he's one of those people who become as much a part of the building as the stones that make it.

Bob-Whites in the big city

Next in our Trixie adventures is The Mystery of the Blinking Eye (1963).

I should start off by saying that I'm biased - while the book is hardly problem-free, it's one of my favorites in the series, mostly for its portrayal of a bygone era New York. Consider it a lingering effect of doing Guys & Dolls as a high school play (see photo evidence to right).

"A lot of people think of New York City as being full of nothing but taxis, high buildings, and gangsters," says our heroine. Since those three things take up a decent portion of the book, she might have chosen something else as her straw men, but we'll go with it.

(By the way, those taxis the Bob-Whites ride appear to take credit cards - in 1963. Somehow that went away, because the taxi-credit-card thing was a big deal in 2007.)

The Bob-Whites are spending a week at the Wheelers' pied-a-terre, a Central Park West penthouse, in order to play tour guides for their Iowa friends Barbara, Bob, and Ned. They visit the Statue of Liberty, the American Museum of Natural History, the United Nations, and all sorts of other landmarks that give the book a bit of a travel-guide feel.

And of course there's a mystery, too, this one involving a message in a purse (one that somehow retains its rhymed couplets when Miss Trask translates it from Spanish) and "three of the cleverest, most ruthless jewel thieves in the world."

Oh, and some choice vocabulary from Mart:

"Why do we always pirouette to her peremptory Pied Piper piping?"

Who meets his match:

"I don't care what it cost. In fact, I find myself curiously nonchalant about the whole fugacious performance," Mart said smugly.

"But not aphonic... rather ebullient," Bob said glibly and grinned mischievously.

But enough with the story; let's get to the atmosphere.

While there's certainly a sense of urban glamour

When they went down into the street after dinner, a fairyland spread around them. Whizzing cars threw their lights ahead in a golden blur. Red, blue, and green neon glowed to outline the names of theaters, restaurants, and even little tobacco and candy shops.

the Bob-Whites are aware of the city's underside, mostly thanks to the experiences of one member:

Dan laughed. "My budget didn't run to cabs when I lived in the city - my budget required making use of my own two feet."

"You must have had a wonderful life, turned loose in New York," Ned sighed with obvious envy.

"It wasn't what you might think. An orphan on the streets is not a person for anyone to envy, no matter who he is... I sure did get in with a bad bunch of kids here in the city. I never want to see any of them again. They're down around the Bowery and the waterfront."

Now, I'm not saying that today's New York is a big playground - check out A Wish After Midnight if you need a reminder of that - but this was the pre-Giuliani city, complete with SROs, Times Square sketchiness, and the results of Robert Moses' urban renewal.

Not the next book in the series

This is when we start skipping around in the Trixie Belden timeline. You may have noticed that the last book was #8, and now we're on Book 10. There's a very simple reason for it: I'm lazy. I've never acquired a copy of Trixie Belden and the Happy Valley Mystery (though I have read it, and can tell you that it involves Iowa, agriculture, basketball, and a boat ride) and don't expect to pick up a copy any time soon.

(Defensive? Moi? Hardly. Just disorganized.)

Anyway... instead we'll move on, to a world of child prodigies, herbal remedies, pirate legends, and unique names.

I'm serious about that last one. Ezarach Martin is a character in The Marshland Mystery (1962), part of said pirate legends. And according to Google, that's the only place that name turns up. The search yields matches from Trixie references, the e-mail addresses of several people with the last name Zarach, and pages in a language I don't read. It would seem that whoever wore the Kathryn Kenny hat this time around made it up.

The child prodigy is a diminutive violinist named Gaye Hunya, of some never-defined European background. (Also unanswered: If her guardian, Miss Crandall, is her father's sister, then where does Gaye's last name come from?)

Gaye's in town to perform as guest soloist with the local symphony, and she and Miss Crandall spend a few days at Manor House. From her first appearance, she's well on her way to diva status, as Brian explains:

"Our temperamental little friend is to appear as guest soloist with the symphony. And she gave a recital at Carnegie Hall when she was only five years old. Her father was a famous European violinist."

Naturally, she makes a complete nuisance of herself, just when Trixie has decided to go into plant collecting on behalf of her science teacher. Mart doesn't make it easy for her to figure out where to find specimens:

"There is one, but you probably didn't think of it as a swamp. It's called Martin's Marsh, but that would convey nothing to you, dear sister, because you, with your complete lack of familiarity with you native tongue, could hardly be expected to realize that marsh is simply a synonym for swamp."

Ah, Mart. Not so high-and-mighty after you dump blueberry pie all over your shirt, are you?

Thanks to Mart's clumsiness, I now know (at least in theory) how to get blueberry juice out of clothing. I also know that tansy is thought to be a freckle remover - oh, and white settlers pretty much figured out how to use native plants all by themselves. Seriously, I couldn't read this exchange without imagining Debbie Reese's reaction:

"Oh, yes. Miss Bennett says that when the pioneers were living in deep forests miles and miles from any doctors, they had to make up remedies for practically everything. I suppose they had to experiment a lot before they found the right ones. Of course, they learned a lot from the Indians."

Honey looked impressed. "I never thought of the Indians as people who needed medicine. The pictures always show them marvelously healthy, even if they must have nearly frozen lots of times, not wearing much clothing!"

Moving on, because I just don't know what I can say about that...

A couple other tidbits from the text:

• The Wheeler household has expanded to include a butler and some assistant grooms. It's hard to picture Regan allowing anyone else in his stables, but whatever.
• Sergeant Rooney represents Sleepyside's finest this time, instead of Sergeant Molinson. Feel free to correct me, but I don't believe Rooney gets any more appearances.
• I can't take credit for this one, but - Di and Honey tease Trixie about the bracelet Jim gave her in Book 9, even though they "knew it wasn't really a sentimental gift, but they liked to make Trixie blush." Since when does "you're my special girl, Trixie" count as not sentimental?
• Who says TV isn't educational?

  Trixie's blue eyes sparkled suddenly, and she reached over and pulled a bobby pin from one of Honey's long golden-brown tresses. "Let's turn burglar! I saw a girl in a TV show use one of these to open a door."

• As always, Diana gets the opportunity to show that she's not the smartest Bob-White in the Glen:

  "Probably a bottle of myrrh, whatever that is," Di said dreamily. "Why don't people write romantic things like that nowadays?"

  Okay, so it was used in perfume. Still, "romantic" isn't the first thing I'd associate with myrrh.

Oh, and about that pirate thing:

"The legend is that Captain Kidd, the notorious pirate, was a friend and business partner of old Ezarach Martin, who owned all the land for miles around the swamp. So it was natural to suspect that Kidd buried a lot of his treasure in the swamp."

Ezarach (and his name) may have been made up by the Kathryn-Kenny-of-the-moment, but the Captain-Kidd-on-the-Hudson story wasn't. Although we tend to equate the golden age of piracy with the Caribbean (even before Johnny Depp rocked the kohl), Kidd reportedly spent a fair bit of time up this way, and as a result there are, in fact, rumors of his treasure being buried somewhere along the Hudson.

I'm not much for digging up swamps, but if you ever come across a pile of doubloons in Westchester, let me know.

West(chester) Side Story

There are no choreographed fights in the eighth Trixie Belden book, The Black Jacket Mystery (1961), but the threat of gangs in this book does have a rather stage-drama feel to it.

First, an aside: This may be in the front matter of the other Trixie reissues, but this is the first time I've noticed it.

This is a reissue edition of a book that was originally published in 1961. While some of the words have been changed to regularize spelling within the book and between books in the series, the text has not been updated to reflect current attitudes and beliefs.

True that. It's part of their charm, but shouldn't go unnoticed.

The meat of this story is Regan's nephew Dan Mangan, brought up from New York thanks to a judge whose first instinct is not to lock up juvenile offenders (maybe the current overseers of New York's system should be reading this, after all), but let's take a detour first, to some of the fun bits.

Have I mentioned that Mart is adorable? Have I not convinced you yet? Read on:

Lately he had grown a couple of inches taller than Trixie and was extremely proud of it, except that he was growing out of his clothing.

No one said growing up was easy, Mart. But those extra couple inches make the whole almost-twin thing easier to deal with, I'm sure. But not when Trixie's finally got a comeback for you:

But this time, Trixie didn't merely sniff at her teasing brother as usual. Instead, the glare faded into a cool stare as she said very deliberately, "The use of too many polysyllabic words is definitely a symptom of immaturity." Brian had spent half an hour at lunchtime drilling her in that answer in preparation for just such a moment. She wasn't entirely sure what all the words meant, but Brian had assured her it would stop Mart in his tracks if she didn't bungle it.

I love the idea of Trixie practicing this line over and over.

And then there are the bits that remind us how far we've come - or perhaps not. How many executive wives have to deal with this today? Her father's business connections made it necessary for her mother to be very social. And lots of times they had to rush off to Washington or some other place at a moment's notice.

Okay, on to Dan. The surburbanites are suspicious of him from the start.

A moment later, a boy who looked about Mart's age came up the step. He had a thin, dark face, and was wearing a peaked black cap with a patent-leather band, and a broad-shouldered black leather jacket with the collar turned up. His black eyes peered out from under the shiny visor of the cap and swept the length of the bus, almost as if he expected to see some danger there.

Trixie - who, may I point out, wears a jacket with her own club's name on the back - dislikes him straight off.

"That black leather jacket! Ugh! I expected to see some crazy club name on the back of it when he sat down!"

"That's strange." Honey looked started. "I did, too!" Then she giggled. "I guess we've seen too many movies."

Just in case that doesn't turn your thoughts to Blackboard Jungle, Diana Lynch draws from her vast experience to analyze the newcomer.

Di's eyes were wide. "I saw a movie about a street gang that wore black leather jackets. They were awful. Always fighting. Do you think he's like that?"

The Bob-Whites have had little interaction with Dan as they leap to conclusions, but he's not doing much to forward his own cause.

"Nobody tells us what to do around our neighborhood. We take care of that!... Switch blades? Not us! The cops get tough when they find 'em on you. We don't need stuff like that."

But, as it turns out, Dan - who was indeed a gang member, so I suppose I can't mock Trixie's assumptions too much - is finally ready to reform. But that doesn't mean the apparel-based prejudices are gone.

"We can't have him seen around in that black leather jacket, once he joins the B.W.G.'s," he said soberly.

"Yes!" Trixie nodded. "It was the black leather jacket that set me against him from the first, and lots of other people may feel the same way, because so many tough characters wear them."

Welcome to the club, Dan.

(Post pics are from my brother's high school production of West Side Story. In this case, the suburban kids were playing the gangsters.)

Tinker v. Sleepyside-on-Hudson

The seventh Trixie Belden book, The Mysterious Code, was published in 1961. That means we have to take a little legal-framework field trip back to the days before Tinker v. Des Moines.

Tinker, decided by the Supreme Court in 1969, holds a pretty secure place in lists of significant Supreme Court decisions. It's got some great pull quotes, like

"It can hardly be argued that either students or teachers shed their constitutional rights to freedom of speech or expression at the schoolhouse gate"

and

"In our system, state-operated schools may not be enclaves of totalitarianism. School officials do not possess absolute authority over their students. Students in school as well as out of school are "persons" under our Constitution. They are possessed of fundamental rights which the State must respect, just as they themselves must respect their obligations to the State."

Tinker deals specifically with the free expression clause of the First Amendment, not the freedom of assembly clause, but I'd argue that wearing a Bob-Whites of the Glen jacket would be protected in the same way that wearing an armband is.

(Quick summary of Tinker: Three students decided to wear black armbands to school as a form of protesting the Vietnam War. The school announced that anyone wearing armbands would be suspended. The students wore their armbands, were suspended, and appealed their case. The Supreme Court found for the students and remanded the case. My introduction to Tinker was through The Rights of Students, a book published by the ACLU that totally made me want to take a case of my own to the Supreme Court.)

Back in fiction-land, the Bob-Whites are facing the caprice of a pre-Tinker school system.

"The school board is having a meeting tonight -"

"And?"

"And they may very well tell us that we can't ever be a club again!"

Mr. Stratton, the principal, explains the logic like so:

"The board feels it must scrutinize closely the reason for any organization not sponsored directly by the school. It doesn't want secret societies to exist in Sleepyside schools, when clubs - really gangs - can be the cause of so much trouble."

I'm still not buying it - really, the school board can make decisions on a non-school-based activity? - but let's not quibble. The Bob-Whites are in trouble, and have to come up with a way to prove that their club has a valid purpose.

After a UNICEF info dump, it's resolved that the B.W.G.'s will hold an antique show fundraiser as a public display of altruism. Can't argue with Trixie's logic:

"Well, you know how it is here in the East," Trixie said, the words falling over one another in her eagerness to explain. "Everyone is interested in antiques."

Yes, welcome to the region that turned "antique" into an active participle, describing a weekend activity. Walk down Ridgefield's Main Street someday, and you'll see that she was not exaggerating. (Then stop by my store, where even people without farmhouses to furnish can find something.)

It doesn't take long for Trixie to assume that someone's going to have a nefarious interest in all the antiques gathered in one place. It's almost a refrain:

"We want to be careful not to mention how valuable some of the antiques are that we will show," Trixie said. "It might give people ideas about stealing them."

and

"Someone has read in the Sun about the jewel box and the antiques we have in the clubhouse. We'll have to guard them night and day."

and

"If we make a big fuss about the oak desk, a lot of other people may find out about the things in Mrs. Vanderpoel's house and break in... and they may break in the clubhouse."

Naturally, Trixie's proved right in the end, when thieves break into both the clubhouse and the warehouse. And even though they end up holding Trixie hostage, she outsmarts them.

And yet that's only one of the plot threads in this book, which manages to pack quite a bit into its pages. Trixie also gets attacked while bringing Bobby home from a neighbor's house, and later lost in a snowstorm and has to spend the night in an old schoolhouse (because, as Brian says in one of his less-endearing moments, "All right, Trixie, if you say you're going with us, you will. Some girls just never seem to know their place.")

And she loses a femininity battle with Moms, who complains, "I wish you weren't such a tomboy. You looked so pretty when you dressed up every day and pretended you were impressed with that cousin of Honey's" and then drags her daughter dress shopping.

Other points of interest:

Brian on Mart's use of big words:

"He probably doesn't know what the words mean himself. He reads the editorials in the New York Times and learns them by heart." Secretly Brian was proud of his younger brother.

And I not-so-secretly continue to love these two.

The phone number for the Sleepyside Sun is Sleepyside-9680. Not surprisingly, I've never had a phone number with letters in it. (But I loved seeing everyone on child_lit reminisce about theirs!)

Some nice wordplay and dry humor in this book:

• Brian's jalopy "did not sound much louder than a cement mixer."
• Trixie says she "could eat a boiled owl I'm so hungry."
• Mrs. Belden orders her daughter to "give the furniture... a good dusting, not just show the furniture to the dustcloth."

This is not one of Diana Lynch's more favorable appearances. First we have this:

"He should know, too," Diana said, "how the B.W.G.'s gave my parents and me a whole new set of values. We're lots omore of a family since my mother and father discharged the butler, the nurses for my twin brothers and twin sisters, and half the maids. They thought when we firt moved into this neighborhood that we'd have to live like millionaires. I guess we couldn't do it because we've really been poor most of our lives."

And then this:

Diana's puzzled violet-blue eyes widened. She even mixed up one-syllable words.

And then right after getting excited about Mr. Belden's offer of a vacant warehouse to hold the show, Trixie tells Diana they can't accept an old oil burner from Mr. Lynch to heat the clubhouse, because it goes against the "doing everything ourselves" ethic. But borrowing a warehouse doesn't?

[Book source: My collection. Bought it ages ago.]

The Bob-Whites added Arizona to "Places I've Been"

(In other words, Sarah Schmelling's Ophelia Joined the Group Maidens Who Don't Float is definitely worth a read. And maybe a place in English classrooms, for when you need a break from comparing Poe's brand of horror to that of Ambrose Bierce.)

Sorry about that. Totally unsolicited (and uncompensated) book plug over.

Actually, Trixie could use a dose of lit humor in The Mystery in Arizona, since she starts the book by announcing

"I'm not passing math and English, and it's all your fault, Honey Wheeler. I would have spent more time studying if I hadn't been having such fun up at your place skiing, sledding, and skating on the lake."

Sure you would.

But even though Trixie's failing two of those tedious classes, her parents decide it would be too cruel to keep her from joining the rest of the Bob-Whites on a trip to Diana Lynch's uncle's dude ranch.

Which leads to important questions like this:

Would she, Trixie, stick out like a sore thumb if she didn't wear things like real cowboy boots and a ten-gallon Stetson hat?

The idea of the Other is predominant in this book, from "genuine" cowboys to "Navaho" jewelry to "ancient Aztec" customs. Arizona is exotic territory for the Westchester-bred Bob-Whites. Not surprisingly, the book is filled with headdesk moments, which I'm not going to bother quoting.

But the book does have some fun with the Otherness of the West, in terms of both the ignorance and expectations of tourists.

At a rodeo, one guest assumes all those fancy clothes are just costumes:

"I always thought you wore those kerchiefs as decorations. I mean, instead of a necktie. And those things you wear on your legs - chaps - they're just for fun, aren't they?"

And when one of Trixie's mysteries gets cleared up:

"A lot of the dudes wouldn't like it if they knew I was working for my Ph.D. They want their cowboys to behave and talk like the cowboys theyve read about and seen in the movies and on TV."

Sure, there's value in confounding expectations and overthrowing stereotypes, but it doesn't bring in as many tourist dollars.

Trixie doesn't get to escape schoolwork, even on vacation:

"Jim has given me ten absolutely impossible problems. They're all mixed up with fractions and decimals and yards and miles and square feet with a few gallons and ounces thrown in."

And later:

"I did those in school last month," Trixie told him with a sniff.

"That's right," Jim said with a mischievous grin. "The idea now is for you to do them correctly."

Finally our intrepid heroine admits why her grades are so bad:

"The truth is that I have no patience. If I had, I wouldn't have had the answer come out in gallons instead of square miles."

Which is why just about every math class - and a decent number of my science classes - made such a big deal about getting the units right. It's so easy to confuse area and liquid volume.

At the end, Jim does take a break from tormenting Trixie to dance with her. And we add another "aw" moment to the collection.

"You've got to wear one of those darling new dresses you bought in Peekskill."

Trixie shrugged. "I suppose I will, but I won't be responsible for the consequences."

"I will," Jim said gallantly. "As my partner, you will be the most graceful lady on the floor."

Trixie goes girly (for a good cause)

"I wish we could go just as we are. I never feel comfortable in anything but jeans. But I suppose I'll have to wear a dress today."

I hear you, Trixie. Comfortable is good. But for a wedding, don't you think you could try a little? We're not even looking for heels here, just something that will look good in the pictures.

The wedding in The Mystery Off Glen Road is that of the Wheelers' chauffeur Tom Delanoy and Celia the maid (who, unless I overlooked it, is never given a last name).

(By the way, I guess it was obvious that book 4 wasn't one of my favorites. This time you get a break from the ranting, though, because I'm a fan of this one. I'm sorry to disappoint anyone who was looking for another sociocultural diatribe. Anyway. Moving on.)

One of the great things about this book is how much time it spends on characterization. (Yes, even when Jim is defined as "one of those people who were so honorable that they leaned over backward to respect other people's rights even when it made no sense." Or when he "slid down the roof and, grasping the gutter for a second, swung himself to the ground... All of the boys were strong and supple, but Jim was the most athletic of them all. There really wasn't anything worth doing that Jim couldn't do - and do awfully well." What can I say? I'm in a good mood today, and feeling indulgent.)

Anyway, the character development includes some of the secondary characters too, like Honey's governess-estate manager-voice of sanity:

Miss Trask was the brisk kind of woman who, no matter what the occasion was, always wore tailored suits and sensible oxfords. She seldom wore a hat over her short gray hair and liked nothing better than to take long walks in the pouring rain, spurning an umbrella as something beneath her dignity.

She sounds like something out of Madeleine L'Engle, doesn't she? One of the quirky-but-wise grandparent-like characters, I think. I'd love to see someone make up Miss Trask's backstory.

Other great things about this book? The 1950s details. One of the illustrations - and if I found a copy online it would probably be one that's in violation of copyright laws, so just find a copy of the original or the Random House reissue - features Reagan the groom in his work clothes: puffed riding breeches and a hat that might be at home on Dudley Do-Right's head.

Also, the "no-school siren" is how they find out about their day off in the wake of a hurricane. No mass e-mails here! And country music is known as "hillbilly songs." And Brian's been saving up to buy himself a new car, one with the respectable price tag of $50.

(Side note: This series introduced me to the word jalopy. Unfortunately, it didn't come with a pronunciation guide, so when I was about 12 I spent a fair bit of time trying to figure out which syllable was the accented one.)

Anyway, Brian's jalopy is at the center of the story here. He's saved his $50, and he's all ready to buy the car from Mr. Lytell at the general store, but when the hurricane makes a mess of the Bob-White clubhouse, he wouldn't even dream of keeping the money for himself. (Because, in case it somehow slipped your mind, Brian and Jim are uber-honorable.)

So Trixie comes up with a plan to get the car for him:

"Mr. Lytell has promised Brian not to sell his jalopy to a dealer until next Saturday. Between then and now I've got to get the diamond ring so I can give it to him as security. The only way I can possibly convince Dad that I should have it is for me to go feminine all over the place. As you pointed out, I can't do that suddenly, so between now and Friday I've got to do it by degrees. Mart, to repeat myself, is going to be suspicious until the very end, so I've got to fool him first. Do I make myself clear?"

Just in case she didn't, here's the plan: Trixie uses the diamond ring Jim gave her in the first book, currently reposing in the family safe deposit box, as security, while the Bob-Whites fill in as temporary gamekeepers on the Wheeler estate and earn the money to redeem both the ring and the car. To justify her new fondness for jewelry, Trixie pretends to be crushing on Honey's cousin Ben, who's about to spend the week in Westchester. Any questions?

No, it doesn't make sense. But neither do screwball comedy plots, and we still love them.

She makes her first girled-up appearance at dinner one night:

It was agony, but Trixie somehow did it. She appeared at dinner that evening wearing a red-and-white dotted-swiss Nylon frock, white socks, and black patent leather slippers. She had brushed and dampened her blond curls so they looked almost as neat as thought they had been set by a beauty parlor expert. She had also helped herself to her mother's hand lotion and toilet water.

The whole thing had been such an effort that she found she couldn't walk naturally...

Nobody said a word for a long minute. Then, as though they, too, were controlled by strings, Trixie's father and older brothers all simultaneously took large sips from their water tumblers...

Mart uttered a sound which was identical with the yelp which Reddy emitted whenever Bobby accidentally stepped on his tail.

See, you can tell I'm in a good mood because I'm not even complaining about the construction "identical with."

Next comes the ask, as fundraisers say:

"The point is," she said sweetly, "since I haven't got a seed pearl necklace, I simply must have the diamond ring that Jim gave me. Please, Dad, won't you get it out of the bank? I mean, Ben is the sophisticated type of boy who expects his date to be at least dressed." She turned to her mother. "Honestly, Moms, I feel positively naked in this dress without any jewelry."

As in all screwball comedies, the artificial crush wouldn't be any fun if Trixie and Ben actually liked each other.

"Don't worry... He doesn't like you any more than you like him, so when you swoon around and act as though you were crazy about him, he probably won't even notice."

Honey gets a rare display of intelligence: "The bi in bicycle means that it has two wheels. I think it's Greek, like Phi Beta Kappa."

Which prompts Trixie to speculate on the likelihood of her joining that group:

"Even if I do get better marks in math so I graduate from high school and go to college, no one's ever going to give me a Phi Beta Kappa key."

"Oh, I don't know," Honey said cheerfully. "Jim is sure to get one. He'll give you his."

Because Jim, even though he won't come out and say it, has a thing for Trixie.

"Oh, my goodness," [Honey] cried exasperatedly. "Can't you leave her alone? Don't you know that her heart is broken and all because Ben is so crazy about Di?"

"So that's it." Jim abruptly left the stable.

Me, I'll take Mart over Jim-the-greatest-of-them-all.

"I have no intention of galloping or Sherlocking. I will simply provide Trixie with a few facts about snares and traps and such. Thus, if she doesn't fall into them, she will be able to recognize same."

Consider this your spoiler alert. From the book's last page:

"What's all this about a ring?" Ben interrupted. "It sounds as though you two were engaged or something."

Trixie sniffed. "If Jim were the last man on earth I wouldn't marry him."

"Is that so?" Jim gave her a gentle push and Trixie found herself sitting in the snowbank with Di...

"Do you think I'd get myself engaged to anybody as dumb as that?" Jim asked Ben...

Jim relented then and helped Trixie to her feet. "On you," he said, "snow looks good. You should wear it more frequently. Especially on your eyelashes. Much more becoming than mascara."

All together now: Awwwwwww.

Trixie Belden and the Class Snobbery

In Trixie's fourth adventure, The Mysterious Visitor, she delves into the unexplored world of social classes. She learns that there are poor people in Sleepyside. And the nouveaux riches? Well, you just can't expect real warmth or taste.

This book marks the first appearance of Bob-White Diana Lynch, whom Trixie introduces like so:

"Next to you, Honey, she's the prettiest girl in our class. She doesn't get very good marks, but neither do I. She's got two sets of twins for brothers and sisters, and her father made a million dollars a couple of years ago. They have a huge place that's as gorgeous as yours, high on a hill that's even higher than your hill, with a marvelous view of the river."

Aren't those the details you want as soon as you meet someone?

Also:

As a 'surprise' for Diana, he had persuaded Mrs. Lynch to order caterers, a five-piece orchestra, and even decorators from New York.

Diana's bedroom:

It was a decorator's dream of a room, done in royal blue and gold. There were twin beds in it, a huge sofa, two comfortable chairs, a desk, and even a love seat. The gold silk curtains matched the bedspreads, which were monogrammed in royal blue.

But there's a cure for all that, because old money always knows best:

"It's really quite simple," Miss Trask put in. "I'm sure, Honey, that Mrs. Wheeler would like very much to invite Di's parents to the dinner she's giving next Friday night. When she telephones Mrs. Lynch tomorrow morning, she could suggest at the same time that Di's friends would have much more fun if the party Di gives is simply an informal affair."

(Side note: Old money also understands noblesse oblige. The Wheelers are giving a cottage to their soon-to-be-married chauffeur and maid. But it's not just out of altruism:

"If they set up housekeeping in the village, they'll lose their jobs because Dad and Mother have to have a maid and a chauffeur who live on the premises."

Ah, the difficulties of maintaining a country estate.)

Oh, and this:

"Listen, Di," Trixie said seriously, "you've got to stop hating being rich."

And then there's the other side of town, a street Trixie has never heard of until the Wheelers' chauffeur sets her straight:

"Anyway, he says Hawthorne Street is the worst street in town. Most people call it Skid Row. Nothing but ramshackle houses where bums live when they're not in jail."

Our heroine is a little concerned about her foray into this new world. The solution? Dehumanize the residents!

"There's nothing to be afraid of," Trixie said to herself firmly. "This used to be a cowpath once. I'm going to pretend that all these strange-looking people are harmless cows."...

The women, in their bright shawls and full skirts, looked like gypsies, and the men, when they moved at all, shuffled as though their feet hurt. Even the children moved slowly and stared suspiciously at Trixie as she passed by.

And once she moves onto Hawthorne Street itself, in all its underclass glory:

They were no worse than the dilapidated buildings in the alley, but there was something evil about them. The accumulated dirt of years clung to them, and there wasn't a single solitary soul in sight... There were no porches or stoops here.

I don't know what else to say about the rampant class bias. Is it Julie Campbell's perspective, or did she just think it would be appropriate for the characters?

Thus endeth the rant. Let's move onto other details.

No, one more minor rant first. Feel free to count the instances of stupid in the following sentence:

"But he couldn't have been one of the first settlers [of Arizona]. They were mostly killed off by the Indians before the Revolution."

Okay, back to being frivolous. The Mysterious Visitor includes some good bits of dialogue, including this:

"I guess you're right," Trixie said again. "I was just thinking -"

"Don't," Reagan interrupted. "Don't think. Every time you do, this place is swarming with state troopers and G-men."

And this:

Trixie shrugged. "Do you know what 'casing the joint' means, Honey?"

"No, I don't," Honey said crossly.

"You should read more detective stories," Trixie said.

And then there's an exchange that's of interest primarily because it ties into the plot of a Cherry Ames book written by the same author (writing as Julie Tatham):

Jim patted Honey's hand. "You're too young and innocent to understand the nature of shady characters like Olyfant. They make it their business to know all there is to know about rich or famous people like the Lynches."

"I still don't understand," Honey said. "Newspapers and county clerks* don't give information to just anyone, especially not to shady characters."

"But crooked politicians do," Jim said, grinning.

"That's right," Mart said. "I've been looking into Olyfant. He's been arrested dozens of times but never convicted of anything. That spells a crooked political connection in capital letters."

I don't believe we've started keeping track of books in which Trixie gets tied up, so let's consider this Item #1. Like the "bracelets" list, it's going to grow.

*Today, at least, the second half of Honey's assumption is patently false. County clerks and other municipal employees are governed by the state or local version of the Freedom of Information Act. It's an important piece of legislation - even if I did grumble about making copies for FOIA requests back when I worked for a municipal agency.

Trixie and all the supporting characters

It's summertime in Sleepyside, and the Trixie Belden series really gets underway with book number three.

Summer's a good time for Trixie.

The girls were wearing shorts and tops so that they could take a dip in the lake whenever they wanted to, without bothering to change into swimsuits.

There's swimming! And horses! Oh, and diamonds.

One diamond, actually, found by Trixie and Honey (of course) in the floor of the cottage at the edge of the Manor House grounds.

Honey, having learned how to tell real gems from paste (what else would a millionaire's daughter do?), is ready to hand the diamond over to the police immediately. But the ever-persuasive Trixie has other plans.

"Oh, no, please," Trixie begged. "Let's not tell anybody about it for a little while. Let's try to solve the mystery of how it got in the cottage ourselves."

And why doesn't Trixie want the police involved?

"The cottage would be positively crawling with detectives who'd find all the clues before we had a chance."

Because this is when Trixie discovers her true calling: she's going to be a detective. And Honey too, just as soon as they get through with pesky things like chores and school and older brothers who like to make fun of them.

Yes, brothers. Aside from the detective thing, Brian and Mart Belden's first appearance is what makes The Gatehouse Mystery the first real book in the series. (There's also the fact that I had this one long before I acquired the first two, but I'm sticking with my thesis.)

"The one on the left with the funny-looking crew cut is Mart. The other odd-looking creature is Brian. I hate them both at the moment."

Trixie hates her brothers (at the moment) for the same reason I love them: they provide some much-needed perspective and tranquility, and aren't given to making assumptions like "The reason why the crooks didn't come back for it when they found out it wasn't with all the rest of the loot is that they got killed off in a gang war or something."

You love them too, don't you?

By the way, the Wheelers are rich. Just in case you'd forgotten.

In book #3, that means Honey gets stuck with lines like this:

"Regan's been complaining that, what with having to drive servants back and forth and having such trouble with car repairs, we need a chauffeur. I really think I'm going to have to speak to Daddy about it."

And this one:

"Don't feel so bad. Daddy has plenty of money. He can keep us out of jail... If the police come around asking for diamonds, Mother will give them one of hers."

Oh, and we're treated to a description of casual dining a la Wheeler:

But on Thursdays, the cook's night off, the meal was a much more simple affair. Celia served the first course, and then she and Miss Trask brought in platters of cold cuts and big bowls of salad. Everyone helped himself, and the dessert was usually fruit and crackers with several kinds of cheese. Grown-ups were served coffee in fragile little cups.

(Is it just me, or does anyone else think Maureen O'Hara would be just right as Mrs. Wheeler?)

A few other miscellaneous bits of interest:

• The Gatehouse Mystery was my introduction to Diamond Jim Brady (the Belden siblings are familiar enough with the name that they can use it as a subtle reference to the gem in question) and the art of forging signatures. The actual forgery instructions weren't so useful, because carbon paper was no longer a household staple by the time I met the book (and it was no longer the case that "anyone can rent a typewriter"), but I still liked knowing how to do it.

• For everyone keeping count, this is now the second time we've seen "bracelets" for handcuffs, this time courtesy of Jim.

Trixie continued: happy families are all alike

It's been a long time since my last Trixie post - nearly a year.

Conveniently, our intrepid sleuth pretty much covers everything you need to know on the first page of the second book in the series, The Red Trailer Mystery.

"We're going on a trailer trip, Honey Wheeler and I, with her governess, Miss Trask, to try and find Jim Frayne, who has run away again."

What? You want more?

"Oh, Dad, Jim is really the most wonderful boy I ever knew. His ambition in life is to own and run a camp for orphan boys so they can learn how to be good at sports and how to get along in the woods at the same time that they have school lessons. So that's why we feel sure he's trying now to get a job at one of those three big camps upstate. He could be a junior counselor, like Brian and Mart, or junior athletic instructor, because he's very good at everything and he knows all about the woods and did two years of high school in one and one a scholarship to college --"

That's right, Trix. Time for a breath. (Come on, aren't you a little in love with him too by now?)

So Honey, Trixie, and Miss Trask are headed for the nebulous region known as "upstate" to those of us who live near the coast.

And how are they getting there? In a trailer, featuring a "combination living room and bedroom with a cozy little dining alcove... tiled kitchenette... glistening modern bathroom [e]quipped with a glassed-in shower, fluorescent lighting, and a compact mirrored cabinet over the washbasin."

You think that sounds like fun? Try it for a few days. Rainy ones. When one of the members of your party is a toddler suffering from severe poison ivy. And the thing leaks.

Sorry, forgot whose story we were focusing on here. Back to Trixie, who runs into another mystery, in the form of the trailer they park next to on their first night:

"That's funny," Trixie wondered aloud. "What's a man who looks so poverty-stricken doing in such a lavish trailer?"

Naturally, we find out by the end of the book. And all his problems get solved too.

In the meantime, we get to see familiar themes resurface:

• Honey is rich.

"It must be an awful nuisance being rich... Your parents are always worrying for fear you'll be kidnapped and held for ransom, aren't they?"

• Honey fails to display the intelligence she has in the later books.

"Why, he could go to a hotel, couldn't he?" Honey demanded.

Trixie shook her head. "Not without arousing suspicion. Boys his age don't go around stopping at hotels."

"I never thought about that," Honey said slowly.

• Bad guys are bad from their first lines.

"It was all your fault. You weren't watching where you were going. You'll have to pay for the damage, you stupid little fool!"

• Bad guys use a lot of slang.

"'You'd better watch who you call a numbskull around here,' Jeff said evenly. 'And in case you're interested, I'm getting fed up with you giving all the orders. This is a fifty-fifty racket, see?'"

• So do police - state troopers, in this case.

"'Reach for the ceiling, brother... Put your dainty wrists in these bracelets, bud. Pretty, aren't they?... Since we caught these two birds red-handed, we won't need to call you as witnesses."

(This, by the way, marks the first appearance of "dainty wrists" and "bracelets" as a synonym for handcuffs. It will not be the last.)

And of course the book is full of delightful signs of 1950 - airmail letters and telegrams, camps full of husky, energetic boys, a camp called Autoville...

It's not really spoiling anything to say that the book has a happy ending.

Forget spoilers. The book is almost sixty years old, and if you haven't gotten to it yet, it's not my fault.

And anyway, the last page provides us with one more swoon-worthy Jim moment, so naturally I'll close with it here.

"'They're waiting for you at a table inside.' Jim gave her a little push. 'In you go, kid. I'm top man around here now.'"

What? I'm the only one who finds that adorable? Hmph. Just wait for book #3, where Jim gets to confront his first hardened criminal.

Trixie Belden and the brand-new series

Somehow I've never gotten tired of rereading the Trixie Belden books. They certainly have their share of improbable coincidences and cries of "jeepers" - but they're fun.

The first book in the series, The Secret of the Mansion, was first released in 1948. From the first line, you can see why it was a hit with girls of a certain age:

"Oh, Moms," Trixie moaned, running her hands through her short, sandy curls. "I'll just die if I don't have a horse."

That's right. Mysteries, horses, rich best friends, and a dash of not always following the rules.

And just how is Trixie going to get that horse? In the first chapter, it's arranged that Trixie will earn $5 every week for doing her chores. In 2007 dollars, that's an allowance of $45.95, which undercuts Trixie's ongoing moaning about her family's comparative poverty.

But when you live in Westchester County, well, your perspective shifts a little.

Within a few pages, the horse has been pushed down Trixie's list of priorities. (You may notice that this is not an uncommon occurrence in the books.) Her neighbor, both a miser and a hermit in her opinion, is taken to the hospital, leaving his house available for exploration. And Manor House, bordering the other side of the Beldens' Crabapple Farm, is occupied by a family with a thirteen-year-old daughter - shockingly, the same age as our heroine.

Honey Wheeler is the quintessential poor little rich girl:

"It's not nice at all, Bobby. I can't remember when I didn't want to be like other people... When I was little, my nurses never let me play in the dirt the way Bobby is now, and I was never allowed to go anyplace by myself for fear of being kidnapped... I hardly ever saw my father and mother until I got sick. And now they've bought this big old place just for me. But what good is it? What good is anything if you're never allowed to have any fun?"

Bobby, of course, is Trixie's always-around, in-need-of-a-speech-pathologist, occasionally-useful-plot-device little brother.

While Trixie and Honey's friendship blossoms, we're introduced to two more essential characters: Miss Trask, the governess who'd be quite content to see her charge become independent, and Jim Frayne.

I'll hold off on sharing Jim's usual descriptor until the next post - for the half-dozen who both care and don't already know - but in this book he's a runaway, and also the great-nephew of Trixie's miser-hermit neighbor.

"I hitchhiked part of the way and walked the rest, sleeping in the woods, because I didn't have any money, you know. I wasn't sure exactly where my uncle lived, and I didn't dare ask anybody, but by luck, this morning, as I was walking along the road, I noticed the faded letters on the mailbox at the foot of the driveway."

Even for abused children, it really was a simpler time. (Consider that Jim's abuse is almost never brought up again in the books, and he clearly doesn't suffer any psychological scars. Not the way his character would be written today.)

Oh, and Jim's logic: "But, anyway, you don't go around socking older people. You just beat it."

Honey is often the reasonable, well-informed, and worldly half of the detective agency. This time, not so much:

"Of course you don't have to go back. You can come home and live with my family. My father'll adopt you. I've always wanted a brother, and Daddy's got lots of money so you can have a horse and a dog and anything else you want. Nobody'll ever beat you again."

But Jim knows that's not going to work. He stands to inherit if it turns out his great-uncle does in fact have some sort of wealth, and he's on the run from his stepfather. (It took me many, many readings before I realized that "Simon Legree" was a reference to Uncle Tom's Cabin. The hazards of literary allusions in children's books...)

The three spend some time riding, exploring the old mansion, and such. And the tension just keeps increasing, until Jim decides he needs to run off again.

You were wondering how Trixie's detective mind works? This sort of deductive reasoning is not uncommon:

"Oh, joy!" she cried triumphantly. "I'll bet this fits a treasure chest. Now all we have to do is find the chest."

Trixie also jumps to conclusions when she meets people. After Jim disappears again, his great-uncle's lawyer turns up looking for him. Within half a page, she decides he's completely trustworthy:

"Even if Jim didn't want anyone to know he was still alive, she knew she could trust this man and that he would be a real friend to Jim."

And sometimes it's that simple for Miss Belden. Not this time, though. The Secret of the Mansion is really Part I of the two-part introduction to the series. Next up: Trixie gets to demonstrate that she can blow off housework even when the house in question is a trailer - a red one.

Bonus: I haven't read through this yet, but it looks like someone's put together Trixie research. Something else for the reading list.

Yes, I've been away from the blog

This was what I did instead of blogging last week:
I was using a scanner, though, so imagine a touch of this thrown in:In short, I spent most of BookExpo America stationed at the door to the ABA Lounge, scanning badges and making sure that only members came in.

I also ended up greeting most of the authors who came by for signings - and as I mentioned earlier, we had a great line-up. Autumn Cornwell was adorable, Michael Reisman was absolutely charming (still kicking myself for not finding out if he's single) and Robin LaFevers and Barry Lyga were both great - I brought home books from all of them, plus a few more.

(Haven't read any of my new books yet; currently rereading Persuasion and catching up on critiques and such.)

And I spent a few days beforehand down in Orange County, trying to remember my way around my former home. (The GPS was much more useful.) Pictures to follow, once I offload them.

Not that I need another project for this summer (that WIP I planned to finish by the end of June? Yeah, about halfway there.), but a recent Fuse post pointed me to the Nancy Drew series Leila did.

Go. Read them all. They're fabulous.

They've also inspired me to do something similar with my stack of Trixie Belden books - and Cherry Ames, if this goes well. Because:
a) The Stratemeyer Syndicate can't have all the glory.
b) When I read these growing up, I always thought it was so cool that the books were set (albeit in a fictional town) just down the road from me. Who needs River Heights?