Like many generations of book lovers before me, the iconic Nancy Drew series published under the name Carolyn Keene played a crucial role in my childhood. The adventures of an empowered young woman and her loyal friends deeply appealed to me, and this collection of unmistakable yellow-and-blue books still occupies my bookshelf. When I discovered that CW had created a show inspired by my nine-year-old self’s favorite books, I had to check it out right away.
To my surprise, the TV series takes generous creative liberties with the source material—but in all the right ways. The show also shamelessly explores the twisted worlds of ghosts, witches and centuries-old curses. In the novels, Nancy and her friends are constantly trying to prove that seemingly supernatural events have earthly explanations, but in the show, the malevolent spirits are as real as Nancy herself.
Although the original books were a huge step forward for feminism when they were first released in the early 20th century, they are still a product of their time: Nancy and her friends are all upper middle class, white and heterosexual, and they shy away from all forms of political discourse. While the mysteries are every bit as enthralling as the novels, this is a 21st-century “Nancy Drew”: progressive, inclusive and thought-provoking.
Playing the show’s titular heroine, Kennedy McMann abandons Nancy’s politically correct trappings but maintains all her grit and spirit. She is not intended to be a role model—she is just a normal 19-year-old struggling to cope with her mother’s death, her relationship with her father, her complicated feelings for her new flames and her own self-doubt. She is an inspiring character not because she sails through life without a hitch, but because she is painfully raw and messy yet perseveres nevertheless.
As a queer Asian woman, the show’s reimagining of Nancy’s friends Bess and George awakened my inner fangirl. Chinese-American actress Leah Lewis plays George, while British-Iranian actress Maddison Jaizani plays Bess. Bess is a lesbian, and the series gives her multiple well-developed sapphic relationships across three seasons (spoiler alert: in season two, George ends up in a brief sapphic relationship with Bess after getting possessed by a lesbian ghost). Meanwhile, the scrappy, fiercely protective George effortlessly turns several persistent Asian stereotypes on their head. While most Asian characters on TV are usually portrayed as high-achieving model minorities or placed in traditionally structured families, George’s family consists of a working-class single mother and four children by different fathers, a degree of complexity and messiness rarely given to Asian women in media. The queer and Asian representation in “Nancy Drew” is good largely because it doesn’t try to be perfect—the writers simply allow them to exist in their natural state.
The series is also unafraid to depart from the book’s classic storylines and forge its own original path. Nancy spends most of the books dating preppy Emerson student Ned Nickerson, while Bess and George get paired up with Ned’s friends Burt and Dave. In the show, Ned is reimagined as “Nick” (Tunji Kasim), a young mechanic who starts a community center for underprivileged youth. Additionally, his character calls attention to the disproportionate incarceration and subsequent social treatment of Black men.
The show also lends Nancy freedom to explore multiple potential partners: she pursues casual relationships with Nick, loyal dishwasher Ace (Alex Saxon), detectives Tamura and Park (Ryan-James Hatanaka and John Harlan Kim) and bad boy Gil Bobbsey (Praneet Akilla). One of my favorite episodes provides a hilarious social commentary on the misogynistic double standards surrounding gender and sexuality when Nancy gets exposed to a spell that makes her admit her secret desires to all of her suitors.
In conclusion, “Nancy Drew” translates its timeless feminist spirit and empowering messages for 21st-century audiences, and I can’t wait to see what comes next in its fourth and final season.