One year during middle school, I read all the Nancy Drew books. It was the only series that my small, rural school library had that I hadn’t already read, and it seemed interesting enough. I devoured the Cat Who series by Lillian Jackson Braun, and had discovered I enjoyed mysteries, and enjoyed trying to figure them out even more. Nancy Drew wasn’t particularly relatable to me; she seemed to have a ton of money and constantly talked about shopping and clothes, but I didn’t feel particularly interested in clothes. I hated them, really. Nancy enjoyed thinking about boys and having “girl” talk with her friends Bess and George. I thought all the boys I went to school with were stupid, or immature, or both, and figured I’d probably be alone forever. Maybe I’d solve mysteries with some cats like the reporter in my favorite series.