When I was a kid, I had a strong resemblance to Hermione from Harry Potter. Not in the Emma Watson way – where she looked cute and a little bookish. Just in the straight up “it’s-a-good-thing-she’s-smart-because-her-looks-aren’t-really-her-thing-kinda-way.”*
Not only was my childhood filled with frizzy brown hair and glasses, I also did a lot of reading.
In particular, I had a passion for The Nancy Drew Files and The Cat Who books. I would go to the library each week and check out a new batch of these books until they were all read. All of them.
Though neither was high quality literature, I had a soft spot in my heart for the characters and loved the comfort that comes with formulaic serial fiction.
In fact, just looking at these two covers makes me sad that there aren’t any new ones for me to read now. They are like fuzzy old blankets that might smell a little like the attic, but in a good way.
Did anyone else have a thing for Nancy Drew, James Qwilleran, or a different series?
* I’m in New York right now, so I can’t show you proof. But if you want, I can share a photo next Wineday Friday when I’m back in Chicago.
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