I just got my uncle’s old collection of Hardy Boys books and read “The House on the Cliff” and “The Hidden Harbor Mystery” and so far it seems to me the greatest mystery is why there aren’t any clues in any of the books.
Maybe it’s because I just finished reading the entirety of The Annotated Sherlock Holmes, but I was waiting for the incisive reasoning, the quick conclusions, the skill, the subtle inferences, and the crisp decision to pursue one lead over another.
But no, the Hardy Boys practically fell over mysteries without even realizing anything was going on.
In the very first few pages of “The House on the Cliff” the Hardy Boys are frightened away from a supposedly haunted house: they hear blood-chilling shrieks as they explore the property, and after they have been scared away, maniacal laughter chases them.
Was I expecting too much for them to stop and say, “If their intent was to frighten us away, no rational human would chase us off with screams, then announce his victory by taunting us during our departure. Therefore, we are dealing either with an irrational human being, a phonograph, or a real ghost.”
No, no, no — what they said was, “Golly! Gee. I guess no ghost’s going to get the better of me! Let’s go back and investigate!”
Investigate your own dumbness, you dumb dumbheaded… dumbs. I mean, holy frijoles, couldn’t they at least pretend to be detectives instead of trespassers and petty thieves? And how come I didn’t notice when I read these at age eight?
Later in the book they discover the secret cave where the smugglers are hiding out. Do they wait for the police backup? Hell no. They decide to tackle an entire den of armed smugglers single-handedly on the argument that, “Well, we haven’t been seen yet… it can’t possibly get any more dangerous than it is now! Let’s keep going.”
And while I’m at it, what’s with Frank always being the sodding best at everything? What was Franklin W. Dixon saying by naming his lead character after himself? Sheesh.