Hardy Boys

Very few things make me feel old.

Last week I finished up one of the Bear Gryll’s Challenge books with my son, and I thought we had finished them all. When that happens, I will usually spend a bedtime or two in a Shel Silverstein book. Those offer a nice change of pace, but eventually in order to teach appreciation of a good story, there needs to be a more cohesive, chapter oriented book.

I saw the Hardy Boys box set on the shelf and realized that those hadn’t been revisited in awhile.  By “awhile” I mean, the last time I tried to read one was maybe a year ago and the 6 year old just wasn’t interested. At the time, I blamed it on his age and reminded myself that I was probably closer to 9 years old when I read those books.

So I whipped out Hardy Boys #5 “Hunting for Hidden Gold” and began reading it. After reading two chapters, comparing it to the Bear Gryll’s Challenge books is a real shock to the system. The Gryll’s Challenge books are youth, even kid oriented. They’re easy to read and they move right along. The style is super approachable.

On the other hand, the Hardy Boys writing style is antiquated… okay, maybe not Charles Dickens, but certainly a struggle. There are more words, bigger words, and due to the age of the books, there are plenty of words and phrases that are completely dated.

It seems like showing a rotary phone to a kid. They might recognize it because its shape is in textbooks and icons, but they would not understand how to operate it.

I bought the box set because I have fond memories of reading them when I was a kid. Joe and Frank were always fishing, running around on motorcycles, and generally everything seemed like such an adventure, but now I am not sure I can finish these books. Even if I waited a few years, I would likely have to make it a mandatory read for school, and I am not sure there is any value there.

This seems like a good reminder of how we operate on nostalgia and why marketing efforts try to hard to hook into human nature. It’s a reminder to me to think through these kinds of purchases, don’t rely on the past so much, and stop (figuratively) shaking my fist at the youth. Geeez.

Get off my lawn!