I’m in my forties now and, lately, I’m going through some kind of cultural drought in the sense that I have the feeling that I have a hard time being excited by new movies, books, or TV shows. This led me to think that I’m probably touching the end of the first half of my life (who knows really?) and it may be good to take a look back at what constitutes what I’m calling my personal cultural canon–those works of art that were important to me during all those past decades and became somewhat part of my identity. I’m not sure where this exploration of the past will lead me, but I think I will chronicle part of it here and I hope it will reignite some enthusiasm in me.
A few months back, I found two books of the “Alfred Hitchcock and the Three Investigators” series in a free library. Growing up, I used to read those stories again and again. It was what I had in my tiny personal library–that, and my comics collection, but we’ll talk about Tintin and Asterix another time.
So, I reread those two books. They were quick reads, which doesn’t surprise me as I’m a much faster reader now. I remember devouring them as a child and I must admit that they are still quite fun and well-crafted.
From what I gathered, the Three Investigators books were published from the mid-sixties throughout the last half of the 1980s. Even if I thought that Hitchcock Himself wrote them, it was not the case (he still appeared in the books). The first author was Robert Arthur Jr., other took over after as there are more than forty books (only 37 were published where I lived). Hitchcock’s name was still on the cover.
Anyhow, the books focused on Jupiter “Jupe” Jones, Pete Crenshaw, and Bob Andrews, three young friends and junior detectives living in Rocky Beach, a fictional coastal town between Los Angeles and Santa Barbara. They operated from their headquarters described as being in an old house trailer hidden among piles of junk at the edge of the Jones’ scrapyard. To go in, they had to use secret roads.
When they finished with the chores at the scrapyard, they investigated pretty captivating mysteries, complex cases that sometimes flirted with the supernatural (but were not) like haunted houses, but some were also missing person cases, mummy mysteries, scientific conundrums, a bit of spying, and–with Hitchcock in the mix–a few movie business-related investigations. The dangers were real though, and the fact that they were kids didn’t help them when faced with adult criminals, for sure.
What surprised me the most when I revisited the Three Investigators was how not childish the stories were. I expected them to be a bit ridiculous and immature, but they were serious mysteries. Yes, the main protagonists are kids and the prose is not too elaborate, but they are not dumbed-down plotlines full of goofy characters. The suspense worked pretty well, the plot twists could be quite dark, and there are enough adult characters to make the world of Rocky Beach feel authentic.
I can’t judge beyond the two books I reread. They were entertaining, but I’m not in the attended demographic anymore, and this has been the case for a long time. Nevertheless, I don’t have to feel ashamed to say that I grew up reading them. They certainly helped shape my taste for strange mysteries and adventures in a good way.
At the end of the day, I certainly put Alfred Hitchcock and his Three Investigators in my personal cultural canon. If you’re searching for some good reading for your kids (I’d say middle grade), I can only recommend it.
