Nancy Drew and the Mystery of Queer Representation
Flashback to the days of girl power and grunge. Back to those alphabet days of America Online, Beanie Babies, and Clueless. Back to 1995, for many a year in pop culture that is peak nostalgia. But as summer draws to a close, lost amid the shuffle of scandals and smash hits is an American icon. Nancy Drew, that venerable girl detective, celebrates sixty-five years in print by finally heading off to college. There she’ll encounter mystery, romance, and some much-needed diversity.
Nancy Drew On Campus launched in a blaze of mid-nineties glory when its first installment, New Lives, New Loves, landed in bookstores on September 2. The series was the sixth Nancy Drew spin-off publishing giant Simon & Schuster had developed since acquiring the strawberry blonde super-sleuth back in 1979. Like The Nancy Drew Files, then already in its ninth year, Campus targeted a mature teen audience, this time placing the mystery elements on the back burner in favor of bringing the romance and teen drama front and center. Though she still solved cases, Nancy was now more focused on being a girl than on being a detective.
In spite of the series' more grounded realism and candid handling of topical issues (teen pregnancy, sexual assault, and white supremacy to name a few), its deviation from the standard Mystery Stories formula proved fatal with critics and readers alike. After a brief run of two years and twenty-five volumes, Nancy Drew abruptly went from coed to dropout.
Today, the series has been almost all but forgotten. Apart from vaguely influencing a 2002 TV movie-of-the-week, it's remained an obscure, out-of-print footnote in the Nancy Drew history books, remembered as little more than that spin-off where readers voted for Nancy to break up with her boyfriend, Ned.
The thing is, these books deserve a better legacy than that.
Then came Campus, updating the Nancy Drew universe for the Benetton nineties with a diverse cast of main and supporting characters, each fully realized with agency and story lines all their own. Nancy Drew fans of color could now finally see themselves reflected positively in new recurring characters like the conflicted and sensitive Ginny Yuen, computer nerd Reva Ross, and the artistic and outdoorsy Will Blackfeather. Queer readers of all backgrounds also found cause to celebrate when the series made history by introducing the first explicitly gay characters to the Nancy Drew canon.
New Lives, New Loves finds Nancy and her best friends, cousins Bess Marvin and George Fayne, leaving behind the comfortable familiarity of River Heights for the new and exciting world of Wilder University. Their search there for independence, reinvention, and self-discovery is bound to resonate with young queer readers, but it is Bess's journey in particular that readers from all walks of life will perhaps find the most relatable.
From the moment the trio arrives at Wilder, Bess struggles with anxiety, uncertain if she can make the transition from bubbly blonde party girl to serious academic collegienne. Her insecurities are only compounded by the loneliness and rejection she experiences as her friends seemingly drift apart from her. Bess, normally so sparkling and vivacious, has never before felt so uncomfortably out of her element.
Things quickly go from bad to worse. Her first night on campus, a narrow escape from being sexually assaulted at a frat party leaves Bess traumatized and spiraling further into depression and anxiety. Self-doubt consumes her, and with no one around to lend her any support, she becomes withdrawn and edgy. A disastrous experience at class registration may easily have proven the final straw for her fraught nerves had it not been for a hopeful ray of sunshine named Brian Daglian breaking through all the gloom.
"Not so easy, is it?" a voice said from behind her.
Bess wanted to turn and run, but something about that voice anchored her feet to the ground.
Something gentle and courteous. She shrugged. "I guess," she said weakly.
She heard a gentle laugh. "I was behind you, also in the wrong line. In fact, I was over an hour late. It's the story of my life. I only got one course I wanted."
"I didn't even get one," Bess whispered, her eyes drying at the thought that she wasn't the only bumbler at Wilder. She slowly turned around, and even with everything on her mind, Bess was surprised at the warm rush of feeling that invaded her. Standing in front of her was a lean, boyishly handsome guy with straight blond hair and green eyes that were dazzling in the sunlight. He had a killer smile — straight white teeth, dimples and all.
"Brian Daglian," he said, holding out his hand.
His easy-going charm and cheerfulness prove contagious, lightening Bess's mood almost instantly. As they walk around the quad together, he tells her jokes and sings her songs. Bess mentally notes that he's "like a private, one-man party, quirky and cute and undeniably handsome." Having now found someone as "chronically confused, late, and averse to higher technology" as she is, Bess starts to feel at home at Wilder for the first time. Thanks to the unconditional support of her new friend, she gains the confidence to finally confront and work through her trauma. From here on out, she and Brian are each other's rock, a dynamic duo if ever there were one.
It’ll take another two books for Bess to put her ordeal behind her once and for all. (Like a boss, she single-handedly plots and executes the takedown of her would-be date rapist, exposing him as a drug dealer and securing his arrest and expulsion.) In the meantime, On Her Own, the series’ second entry, finds Bess still lonely, insecure, and struggling to cope. Yet whenever she sees Brian, “the one new male friend she’d made at Wilder,” she feels “her bleak mood melt away.” Spurred on by his encouragement, she even agrees to audition with him for the drama department’s fall production of Grease! (Both are theater majors and manage to land minor speaking parts.)
One night over cappuccinos, Brian tells Bess how important her friendship is to him, too.
Bess turns bright red and her mind starts to whirl. She considers how “she felt around guys she had crushes on” and realizes that “when she was with Brian, she didn’t feel any of the giddiness and confusion that came over her when she was around cute guys.” But then she starts to wonder if “maybe feeling this comfortable around a guy is what real love is all about” and quickly talks herself into believing she and Brian “might be destined to become more than friends.”
Now convinced she and Brian are soulmates, Bess is caught completely off-guard when, during the auditions, he tells her he has a crush on someone else. This revelation devastates Bess and she rushes off shortly thereafter, unable to face him.
But Bess can’t avoid Brian forever. After leaving eight messages on her answering machine, he finally shows up at Bess’s dorm to talk.
Bess tells Brian that though she’s happy he’s found someone, she just wants him to leave her alone and spare her any further humiliation. But Brian’s not willing to give up on their friendship so easily. He has a confession to make first:
Brian’s secretive and mysterious behavior of late suddenly now all made sense. Bess realizes that the reason she “didn’t feel giddy and goose-bumpy around him [was] because he was friend, not boyfriend material.” A wave of relief washes over her and she embraces him. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Brian,” she tells him, immediately and unequivocally supportive.
In fact, now that she knows she’s not the object of Brian’s affections (and why), she's dying to know who is.
Bess can barely contain her excitement from bubbling over. She can’t wait to tell Nancy and George, but Brian immediately stops her, swearing her to secrecy because he’s not ready to be publicly out yet. “My family doesn’t know about me, and I’m not sure how they’ll take the news,” he tells her. “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt them.” Bess understands and promises to keep his secret.
Brian introduces Bess to Chris in the following book, Don’t Look Back. The meeting is brief but sweet. After leaving Chris to his work backstage on the play, Bess "playfully nudges" Brian and teases him about Chris's being "The One." Brian blushes, delighted to hear Bess likes Chris and thinks the two of them "look great together."
When next we check in on them, he and Chris are still going strong, though Brian isn't quite ready to be loud and proud yet.
Tell Me the Truth, the series' fourth offering, ends with our first scene told from Brian's point of view. Unfortunately, it's not a happy one. Campus is, after all, first and foremost a teen soap opera, and Brian's overdue his share of drama. (And I don't mean Shakespeare.)
Returning to his dorm after a late-night rehearsal session, Brian finds a note "scrawled in pathological zigzags" sticking out from under his door. "Dear Brian," the missive reads. "Who knows you're gay? I know. And soon, so will the rest of the world. Even your father. Bye-bye―for now. We'll chat soon."
The mystery of who's blackmailing Brian is a major story line that spans the next two books. Compelling and character-driven, filled with suspects and red herrings that will leave readers guessing right up until the disturbing reveal, the mystery is easily one of the series' best-crafted. Not that that's any consolation to poor Brian. Not the type to court confrontation or to share his problems with others, he keeps the blackmail a secret from everyone, resigning himself to being trapped in a hopeless situation.
Bess is among the first to notice that something is amiss, perhaps recognizing in Brian's behavior the social withdrawal and edginess that characterized her own battle with post-traumatic stress at the start of the series. Seeing how her normally dependable fellow cast member has become erratic and forgetful during rehearsals, Bess checks in with him.
Brian tells Bess he thinks his mom "will be totally cool" about his being gay, and suspects she may even already know. When Bess asks if it's his dad's reaction that's keeping him from coming out, Brian says, "It's not my dad I'm worried about, either."
Though technically true, it's a somewhat misleading response. As Brian later clarifies, it's the consequence his sexuality could have on his father's career that's his real source of concern. The elder Mr. Daglian is apparently a councilman in Brian's hometown, a "pretty big suburb of Milwaukee" that's "your basic conservative district." Brian's father is up for re-election, and the race so far is a close one. Brian fears the scandal of having a gay son would "tip the scales in favor of [his] dad's opponent." He can't bear to jeopardize his father's career, and so has determined to keep his sexuality a secret at all costs.
But when Brian accidentally lends Bess a tape with a threatening message on it, she learns all about the blackmail.
Outraged for her friend and disgusted that anyone could be so sick and cruel, Bess offers Brian all the love and support she can. She urges him to come out to his parents, or at least to tell Chris what's happening. ("He cares about you very much, and this affects him, too.") Brian promises to tell Chris, but no one else.
That changes when his parents unexpectedly show up to the opening night of Grease! Brian realizes he can't go on keeping his problems to himself and giving in to his blackmailer's demands. He finally agrees to take Bess's suggestion and ask Nancy for help. Nancy and George are momentarily stunned to learn Chris and Brian are gay, but they quickly recover and agree to investigate. Frankly, George isn't much help, but Bess and Nancy work tirelessly to help their friend. At last they figure out who the culprit is and invite Brian to help them nail the creep. He decides not to tag along, however.
"Shaking like crazy," so we later learn, Brian picked up the phone and made that call. Though we don't actually get to witness the big coming out, Brian recaps the conversation for Bess, Nancy, and George when the four friends hang out in Bess's room that night.
The ever-sentimental Bess is moved to tears, so happy is she for her friend. They have some emotional work to do, and they know it, but it's nice to see how loving and supportive Brian's family is. (Strangely, the series never follows up on the results of the election, so let's just assume that good prevailed, Brian's father was reelected, and he became a champion of LGBT rights.)
With his blackmailer exposed and left to rot in jail, Brian could now finally move on with his life. The remaining performances of Grease! go off without a hitch before enthusiastic audiences. Shortly thereafter, Brian receives much personal acclaim for a Vegas-style lounge act he puts together with Casey Fontaine, a fellow drama student and former major television star, wherein they impersonate Madonna and the artist then-formerly known as Prince. Brian's star is definitely on the rise.
As for him and Chris? "Even though Brian had told his parents," we learn in Getting Closer, the series' eighth book, "he and Chris kept a very low profile on campus." They keep so low a profile, in fact, their relationship evidently escaped the notice of Campus's ghost writers. After making a final non-speaking appearance as "Brian's friend" ten books later in Keeping Secrets, Chris disappeared from the series altogether.
Thankfully, Brian managed to stick around, appearing in almost every book for the remainder of the series' run. When last we see him, he and Bess, in a stroke of genius casting, have won the leading roles of Brick and Maggie in the school production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Though upstaged opening night by a mad bomber (I told you this series was a soap opera), the two go on to earn rave notices for their work. "Brian Daglian turns in an inspired performance as Brick and shows he has the range to tackle any role," writes the local newspaper in its glowing review, also naming Bess "the clear star" of the show and "one of the most promising actors to hit Weston in a long time."
It's always good to go out on a high note.
Over twenty years have passed since Nancy Drew On Campus ended its run. With the sudden and unceremonious cancelation of the series that originated them, Brian Daglian and Chris Vogel vanished into young adult oblivion. Once again the Nancy Drew universe fell into heterosexual homogeneity.
The Girl Detective series, launched in the spring of 2004, introduced readers to the recurring character of Harold Safer, the obviously queer-coded owner of a local cheese shop whose doorbell plays — what else? — Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Fans would have to wait until May 2015, with the release of Sea of Darkness, the penultimate Nancy Drew computer game from Her Interactive, for a new explicitly queer character to enter the Nancy-verse. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it text exchange, professional treasure hunter Dagny Silva was confirmed to be a lesbian. (The game's writer, Katie Chironis, later claimed on Twitter that two other characters in the game were bisexual, leading to much speculation and skepticism as to their identities.)
Months later, CBS announced a Nancy Drew television reboot was in the works. Simply titled Drew, the show was envisioned as a diverse and modern take on the classic children's series, exchanging escapist mystery adventures for standard procedural fare. Sarah Shahi was cast as a Nancy Drew who was a thirty-something NYPD detective. Best friend George Fayne, played by Vanessa Ferlito, was her partner on the force. Taking a cue from decades of fan speculation, this version of George was written as a lesbian. When the pilot failed to impress test audiences, CBS shelved the project, prompting some questionable accusations of executive misogyny.
But that wasn't the last we'd see of a queer-bent George.
Following their success with The Big Lie, 2017's well-received neo-noir re-imagining of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, Dynamite Entertainment revealed plans to give Nancy her own self-titled comic.
In the months leading up to the limited series' June 2018 debut, various media outlets were already singing its praises. The Advocate went so far as to declare it "the intersectional, queer makeover we've been waiting for," sadly demonstrating just how far into obscurity Nancy Drew On Campus has fallen over the intervening years. ("Fans of the original who never quite looked or felt like the . . . straight white teens depicted in those books will finally have an array of characters who better represent them," the article says, reducing the likes of Brian, Will, Ginny, and Reva to so much literary chopped liver.) At the center of the Advocate's and others' excitement was the series' promise to "finally, unmistakably [queer] perpetual 'tomboy' George."
With her boy's name, short-cropped hair, athletic prowess, and devil-may-care attitude, George Fayne perfectly embodied the New Woman when she made her big debut alongside cousin Elizabeth "Bess" Marvin in 1931's The Secret of Shadow Ranch. Since then, George has undergone scant few changes, but in the context of later decades, the same characteristics that once marked her as a flapper archetype lent themselves to anachronistic readings of her as a butch lesbian. Such readings are perfectly fine, if perhaps tired, but to assume this understanding of the character is intended, universal, or inevitable shows a certain casual ignorance of the facts.
In any case, Dynamite made good on its promise, and when we first see George in The Case of the Cold Case, Chapter One, she is making out with her girlfriend, Danica. Thus, another queer character was added forevermore to the Nancy Drew canon.
And yet, for all the hype that surrounded this series' "modern," "intersectional," "feminist" take on the world of Nancy Drew (and the Hardy Boys; god forbid we get a Nancy Drew story these days without those two showing up), it somehow managed to feel dated, its minority characters handled in a very one-step-forward-two-steps-back fashion.
Perhaps the biggest weakness of Campus had been having far more characters than it could handle, but the series at least tried to treat them all with respect. They felt fleshed out, complex, and got to enjoy at least one shining moment in the spotlight. By contrast, the characters in this latest comic incarnation of Nancy all feel completely one-note. Writer Kelly Thompson succeeds in conveying a strong sense of their personalities (an easy feat given they all have the exact same one), but fails to tell us almost anything else about them. The newly-added characters of color are just so much window-dressing, included, so it appears, only to appeal to socially-conscious millennial readers. (What purpose did Noah and Mia even serve in their one-page appearance, other than to be the off-brand Wallace and Mac to this Nancy's off-brand Veronica Mars?)
Personally, I liked Danica, and I hope to see more of her in future stories, but that's thanks entirely to Jenn St-Onge's endearing artwork. Even though Dani receives arguably more "screen time" than Chris got in Campus, I still know less about her than I do about him. I at least know Chris wants to become a director one day; I don't even know Danica's last name, let alone her career aspirations. She and George may get to hold hands and make out, their depiction may be spared from cringeworthy mentions of "lifestyle," but I have no sense of how they met, how long they've been together, or what they see in each other. Brian and Chris may have awkwardly spoken to each other like a couple of bros, but they clearly cared deeply about each other, and I could believe them as a real couple. Aesthetically pleasing though they may be together, can George and Danica's relationship really be seen as some progressive, intersectional queer feminist godsend?
Brian and Chris may not have been the first gay characters ever to appear in a mainstream young adult series (they were at least predated by Sweet Valley High's Tom McKay and Jake Farrell), but they were among the first, and for that reason alone deserve not to be forgotten.
And yet, that seems to be the case. By all appearances, they have been forgotten (at least, I hope, until now). Despite Nancy Drew's not-insignificant queer fan-base, inexplicably not one review of any of the Campus books on Amazon or Goodreads so much as mentions Brian or his boyfriend, and the numerous fan-run websites out there dedicated to all things Nancy are likewise dearth of references to the pair. This erasure is truly a mystery worthy of the girl detective herself.
When dealing with a media property like Nancy Drew that has a long and predominately white, hetero-normative history, it's commendable to do a take that's more inclusive. In and of itself, race- and queer-bending characters is a fine, if imperfect, approach to achieving this desired inclusivity. Creating new characters altogether is preferable, but not if they're being included instead of, rather than in addition to, the diverse characters who have come before them. Doing so only treats these minority characters as disposable tokens, easily replaceable once someone new comes along. They should be treated as cherished friends, worthy of permanent places at the proverbial table. If we're not willing to afford these characters the longevity their straight, white cohorts enjoy, what's even the point? Why should any of us settle for the low-hanging fruit of a lesbian George when there's a vibrant Brian waiting in the wings?
Last fall, The CW brought Nancy Drew back to television screens in a new self-titled series. Like the failed CBS pilot and recent comics, the show offers a liberal and diverse take on the classic characters, only this time it's Bess who's the lesbian, not cousin George. If only she had Brian to guide her through the strange new world of being gay. Sadly, neither he nor Chris (nor Danica nor Dagny, for that matter) have appeared in the show so far, but with the dozens of meta-references slipped into each episode, there's no telling what characters may turn up in season two. One can only keep their fingers crossed.
This year marks a milestone for Nancy: ninety years in print. Between new books, new shows, a new movie, and even a Broadway musical in the works, she's more in demand now than ever before.
The same goes for diversity in media representation. Nancy Drew On Campus introduced readers to a large cast of exciting new characters, none of whom should be forgotten forever. Will, Ginny, Reva, Pam, Jamal, Andy — all of them deserve another chance to shine. And, of course, Brian and Chris do, too. They have so much to offer the franchise, and not merely as tokens. Just think what an asset they'd be every time Nancy investigates a haunted theater or needs to translate some arcane text in a dead language. (“I had to fall back on my old standby ― Advanced Latin for another of my courses,” Brian tells Bess when they first meet, reciting some ancient poetry from memory.) With their insight into the worlds of drama, politics, and pop culture, they could prove invaluable additions to Nancy's squad of sleuthing sidekicks.
Reading the Campus series, I instantly fell in love with Brian and Chris, and I will sing their praises until they're brought back to us. They deserve the chance to be loud and proud, liberated and in love at the River Heights (or Weston, whatever) of today. And Bess definitely deserves to have her brother back. After all, Brian's our friend, no matter what. Remember?
"So you're not going to forget all about me once you're in a sorority and have a whole new set of popular friends?" he asked. He said it jokingly, but something in his voice caught Bess's attention.
"No way would I drop you," she said. "You can't get rid of me that easily."
He looked relieved. "I know it sounds weird. It's just that our friendship means a lot to me, that's all."
For once he sounded completely serious. Gazing at him across the table, Bess was struck by an amazing idea. Was Brian flirting with her?
Bess turns bright red and her mind starts to whirl. She considers how “she felt around guys she had crushes on” and realizes that “when she was with Brian, she didn’t feel any of the giddiness and confusion that came over her when she was around cute guys.” But then she starts to wonder if “maybe feeling this comfortable around a guy is what real love is all about” and quickly talks herself into believing she and Brian “might be destined to become more than friends.”
Now convinced she and Brian are soulmates, Bess is caught completely off-guard when, during the auditions, he tells her he has a crush on someone else. This revelation devastates Bess and she rushes off shortly thereafter, unable to face him.
But Bess can’t avoid Brian forever. After leaving eight messages on her answering machine, he finally shows up at Bess’s dorm to talk.
The next thing she knew, he had grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hall. He didn't let go of her until they reached a remote window seat, set into one of Jamison's Gothic turrets, at the very end of the hall.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked. She stared at the tiny, diamond-shaped glass panes above the window seat. "Haven't I embarrassed myself enough already?"
"Bess, I want to apologize. Will you please look at me!"
Brian's voice was so imploring that she did. The expression on his face was troubled and concerned. It only made her feel worse.
Bess tells Brian that though she’s happy he’s found someone, she just wants him to leave her alone and spare her any further humiliation. But Brian’s not willing to give up on their friendship so easily. He has a confession to make first:
"You don't have a clue, do you?" Brian grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. She was surprised at the intensity in his eyes. "Bess, if I were going to get romantic with any girl, believe me, it would be you," he said.
Bess blinked, trying to make sense of his words. "Then why? Who are you talking about?"
"What I'm trying to say is that"—Brian looked away for a second, then took her hands and said in a rush—"Bess, the person I'm interested in is a guy."
Bess's jaw dropped open. "You're—gay?"
"Would you mind keeping your voice down?" Brian said. "This isn't exactly public information, you know."
Bess barely heard him. "You really are?" she asked again.
"Yes, Bess. I had to tell you," he said, measuring out the words. "I couldn't stand to think that you felt rejected by me, or I wouldn't have told you, at least not yet."
Brian’s secretive and mysterious behavior of late suddenly now all made sense. Bess realizes that the reason she “didn’t feel giddy and goose-bumpy around him [was] because he was friend, not boyfriend material.” A wave of relief washes over her and she embraces him. “That’s great! I’m so happy for you, Brian,” she tells him, immediately and unequivocally supportive.
In fact, now that she knows she’s not the object of Brian’s affections (and why), she's dying to know who is.
She could hardly believe it, but Brian actually blushed. "Chris. Chris Vogel. He's in Drama 101 with me."
"You told me that part already," Bess said. "Does he feel the same way about you? How did you meet him?"
"Whoa, Bess. One question at a time. Our drama teacher paired us up to read some lines, and we really hit it off," Brian began. "He's interested in directing, not acting. I think he's going to be working as a production person on Grease! Anyway, we've been getting together to have coffee and stuff before class. He's let me know he feels the same way about me."
Bess can barely contain her excitement from bubbling over. She can’t wait to tell Nancy and George, but Brian immediately stops her, swearing her to secrecy because he’s not ready to be publicly out yet. “My family doesn’t know about me, and I’m not sure how they’ll take the news,” he tells her. “I’m afraid it’s going to hurt them.” Bess understands and promises to keep his secret.
Brian introduces Bess to Chris in the following book, Don’t Look Back. The meeting is brief but sweet. After leaving Chris to his work backstage on the play, Bess "playfully nudges" Brian and teases him about Chris's being "The One." Brian blushes, delighted to hear Bess likes Chris and thinks the two of them "look great together."
When next we check in on them, he and Chris are still going strong, though Brian isn't quite ready to be loud and proud yet.
"You psyched to be my date tonight at the Underground?" Bess asked, leaning on Brian's sweaty shoulder.
Brian smiled sweetly. "I thought I'd bring Chris, too. Is that okay?"
"Ooh, a man for each arm!" Bess jested. "How are things going with you two, anyway?"
Brian gazed off into the darkened back of the theater. "He's great, but I'm still iffy about making our relationship so public, you know?"
"I see your point." Bess nodded. She wished she knew what to suggest. She felt closer to Brian every day, and whenever he wanted to talk, she was ready to listen. But she never knew what to say.
Bess smiled at him. "I'm really happy we can talk like this," she said. "I mean, I love Nancy and George. They're the best friends I have in the world. But you're like the brother I never had. You're like family to me."
Tell Me the Truth, the series' fourth offering, ends with our first scene told from Brian's point of view. Unfortunately, it's not a happy one. Campus is, after all, first and foremost a teen soap opera, and Brian's overdue his share of drama. (And I don't mean Shakespeare.)
Returning to his dorm after a late-night rehearsal session, Brian finds a note "scrawled in pathological zigzags" sticking out from under his door. "Dear Brian," the missive reads. "Who knows you're gay? I know. And soon, so will the rest of the world. Even your father. Bye-bye―for now. We'll chat soon."
The mystery of who's blackmailing Brian is a major story line that spans the next two books. Compelling and character-driven, filled with suspects and red herrings that will leave readers guessing right up until the disturbing reveal, the mystery is easily one of the series' best-crafted. Not that that's any consolation to poor Brian. Not the type to court confrontation or to share his problems with others, he keeps the blackmail a secret from everyone, resigning himself to being trapped in a hopeless situation.
Bess is among the first to notice that something is amiss, perhaps recognizing in Brian's behavior the social withdrawal and edginess that characterized her own battle with post-traumatic stress at the start of the series. Seeing how her normally dependable fellow cast member has become erratic and forgetful during rehearsals, Bess checks in with him.
"How's Chris?" Bess asked, wondering if Brian's distraction had anything to do with Chris Vogel, the guy he was seeing. "Have you talked any more about — you know, talking to your parents about your lifestyle? Forget it," she said quickly. "It's none of my business."
Brian sighed and stretched out on the empty stage. "No, it's okay. To tell you the truth, it has been on my mind — night and day. Chris has been very patient and understanding."
Brian tells Bess he thinks his mom "will be totally cool" about his being gay, and suspects she may even already know. When Bess asks if it's his dad's reaction that's keeping him from coming out, Brian says, "It's not my dad I'm worried about, either."
Though technically true, it's a somewhat misleading response. As Brian later clarifies, it's the consequence his sexuality could have on his father's career that's his real source of concern. The elder Mr. Daglian is apparently a councilman in Brian's hometown, a "pretty big suburb of Milwaukee" that's "your basic conservative district." Brian's father is up for re-election, and the race so far is a close one. Brian fears the scandal of having a gay son would "tip the scales in favor of [his] dad's opponent." He can't bear to jeopardize his father's career, and so has determined to keep his sexuality a secret at all costs.
But when Brian accidentally lends Bess a tape with a threatening message on it, she learns all about the blackmail.
Outraged for her friend and disgusted that anyone could be so sick and cruel, Bess offers Brian all the love and support she can. She urges him to come out to his parents, or at least to tell Chris what's happening. ("He cares about you very much, and this affects him, too.") Brian promises to tell Chris, but no one else.
That changes when his parents unexpectedly show up to the opening night of Grease! Brian realizes he can't go on keeping his problems to himself and giving in to his blackmailer's demands. He finally agrees to take Bess's suggestion and ask Nancy for help. Nancy and George are momentarily stunned to learn Chris and Brian are gay, but they quickly recover and agree to investigate. Frankly, George isn't much help, but Bess and Nancy work tirelessly to help their friend. At last they figure out who the culprit is and invite Brian to help them nail the creep. He decides not to tag along, however.
Brian paused. "I'd go with you, but I made up my mind last night that I can't live like this anymore. I've got to call my parents and talk to them right away ... I'm going to tell them everything, about the blackmailing . . . and about Chris and me. I'm afraid if I don't do it now, I'll lose my nerve."
No one spoke for a few seconds, but finally Bess broke the silence. "All right, Brian," she murmured. She stood up and placed her hand supportively on his shoulder. "Remember, no matter what, you're our friend."
"Shaking like crazy," so we later learn, Brian picked up the phone and made that call. Though we don't actually get to witness the big coming out, Brian recaps the conversation for Bess, Nancy, and George when the four friends hang out in Bess's room that night.
"All things considered, they were okay about it. I was totally surprised. I guess I expected shouting or carrying on, or maybe an overdose of 'How could you do this to us?' My mom just got kind of quiet, and then said that she would always support me in everything I did. I'd hoped that would be how she'd take it, but I couldn't be sure."
"What about your dad?" Bess asked quietly.
"The funny thing was, he acted like he already knew. I think maybe he's known or suspected for a while." Brian cleared his throat before going on. "Anyway, they told me that they loved me and that nothing could change that."
With his blackmailer exposed and left to rot in jail, Brian could now finally move on with his life. The remaining performances of Grease! go off without a hitch before enthusiastic audiences. Shortly thereafter, Brian receives much personal acclaim for a Vegas-style lounge act he puts together with Casey Fontaine, a fellow drama student and former major television star, wherein they impersonate Madonna and the artist then-formerly known as Prince. Brian's star is definitely on the rise.
As for him and Chris? "Even though Brian had told his parents," we learn in Getting Closer, the series' eighth book, "he and Chris kept a very low profile on campus." They keep so low a profile, in fact, their relationship evidently escaped the notice of Campus's ghost writers. After making a final non-speaking appearance as "Brian's friend" ten books later in Keeping Secrets, Chris disappeared from the series altogether.
Thankfully, Brian managed to stick around, appearing in almost every book for the remainder of the series' run. When last we see him, he and Bess, in a stroke of genius casting, have won the leading roles of Brick and Maggie in the school production of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. Though upstaged opening night by a mad bomber (I told you this series was a soap opera), the two go on to earn rave notices for their work. "Brian Daglian turns in an inspired performance as Brick and shows he has the range to tackle any role," writes the local newspaper in its glowing review, also naming Bess "the clear star" of the show and "one of the most promising actors to hit Weston in a long time."
It's always good to go out on a high note.
Over twenty years have passed since Nancy Drew On Campus ended its run. With the sudden and unceremonious cancelation of the series that originated them, Brian Daglian and Chris Vogel vanished into young adult oblivion. Once again the Nancy Drew universe fell into heterosexual homogeneity.
The Girl Detective series, launched in the spring of 2004, introduced readers to the recurring character of Harold Safer, the obviously queer-coded owner of a local cheese shop whose doorbell plays — what else? — Somewhere Over the Rainbow. Fans would have to wait until May 2015, with the release of Sea of Darkness, the penultimate Nancy Drew computer game from Her Interactive, for a new explicitly queer character to enter the Nancy-verse. In a blink-and-you'll-miss-it text exchange, professional treasure hunter Dagny Silva was confirmed to be a lesbian. (The game's writer, Katie Chironis, later claimed on Twitter that two other characters in the game were bisexual, leading to much speculation and skepticism as to their identities.)
Months later, CBS announced a Nancy Drew television reboot was in the works. Simply titled Drew, the show was envisioned as a diverse and modern take on the classic children's series, exchanging escapist mystery adventures for standard procedural fare. Sarah Shahi was cast as a Nancy Drew who was a thirty-something NYPD detective. Best friend George Fayne, played by Vanessa Ferlito, was her partner on the force. Taking a cue from decades of fan speculation, this version of George was written as a lesbian. When the pilot failed to impress test audiences, CBS shelved the project, prompting some questionable accusations of executive misogyny.
But that wasn't the last we'd see of a queer-bent George.
Following their success with The Big Lie, 2017's well-received neo-noir re-imagining of the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew, Dynamite Entertainment revealed plans to give Nancy her own self-titled comic.
In the months leading up to the limited series' June 2018 debut, various media outlets were already singing its praises. The Advocate went so far as to declare it "the intersectional, queer makeover we've been waiting for," sadly demonstrating just how far into obscurity Nancy Drew On Campus has fallen over the intervening years. ("Fans of the original who never quite looked or felt like the . . . straight white teens depicted in those books will finally have an array of characters who better represent them," the article says, reducing the likes of Brian, Will, Ginny, and Reva to so much literary chopped liver.) At the center of the Advocate's and others' excitement was the series' promise to "finally, unmistakably [queer] perpetual 'tomboy' George."
With her boy's name, short-cropped hair, athletic prowess, and devil-may-care attitude, George Fayne perfectly embodied the New Woman when she made her big debut alongside cousin Elizabeth "Bess" Marvin in 1931's The Secret of Shadow Ranch. Since then, George has undergone scant few changes, but in the context of later decades, the same characteristics that once marked her as a flapper archetype lent themselves to anachronistic readings of her as a butch lesbian. Such readings are perfectly fine, if perhaps tired, but to assume this understanding of the character is intended, universal, or inevitable shows a certain casual ignorance of the facts.
In any case, Dynamite made good on its promise, and when we first see George in The Case of the Cold Case, Chapter One, she is making out with her girlfriend, Danica. Thus, another queer character was added forevermore to the Nancy Drew canon.
And yet, for all the hype that surrounded this series' "modern," "intersectional," "feminist" take on the world of Nancy Drew (and the Hardy Boys; god forbid we get a Nancy Drew story these days without those two showing up), it somehow managed to feel dated, its minority characters handled in a very one-step-forward-two-steps-back fashion.
Perhaps the biggest weakness of Campus had been having far more characters than it could handle, but the series at least tried to treat them all with respect. They felt fleshed out, complex, and got to enjoy at least one shining moment in the spotlight. By contrast, the characters in this latest comic incarnation of Nancy all feel completely one-note. Writer Kelly Thompson succeeds in conveying a strong sense of their personalities (an easy feat given they all have the exact same one), but fails to tell us almost anything else about them. The newly-added characters of color are just so much window-dressing, included, so it appears, only to appeal to socially-conscious millennial readers. (What purpose did Noah and Mia even serve in their one-page appearance, other than to be the off-brand Wallace and Mac to this Nancy's off-brand Veronica Mars?)
Personally, I liked Danica, and I hope to see more of her in future stories, but that's thanks entirely to Jenn St-Onge's endearing artwork. Even though Dani receives arguably more "screen time" than Chris got in Campus, I still know less about her than I do about him. I at least know Chris wants to become a director one day; I don't even know Danica's last name, let alone her career aspirations. She and George may get to hold hands and make out, their depiction may be spared from cringeworthy mentions of "lifestyle," but I have no sense of how they met, how long they've been together, or what they see in each other. Brian and Chris may have awkwardly spoken to each other like a couple of bros, but they clearly cared deeply about each other, and I could believe them as a real couple. Aesthetically pleasing though they may be together, can George and Danica's relationship really be seen as some progressive, intersectional queer feminist godsend?
Brian and Chris may not have been the first gay characters ever to appear in a mainstream young adult series (they were at least predated by Sweet Valley High's Tom McKay and Jake Farrell), but they were among the first, and for that reason alone deserve not to be forgotten.
And yet, that seems to be the case. By all appearances, they have been forgotten (at least, I hope, until now). Despite Nancy Drew's not-insignificant queer fan-base, inexplicably not one review of any of the Campus books on Amazon or Goodreads so much as mentions Brian or his boyfriend, and the numerous fan-run websites out there dedicated to all things Nancy are likewise dearth of references to the pair. This erasure is truly a mystery worthy of the girl detective herself.
When dealing with a media property like Nancy Drew that has a long and predominately white, hetero-normative history, it's commendable to do a take that's more inclusive. In and of itself, race- and queer-bending characters is a fine, if imperfect, approach to achieving this desired inclusivity. Creating new characters altogether is preferable, but not if they're being included instead of, rather than in addition to, the diverse characters who have come before them. Doing so only treats these minority characters as disposable tokens, easily replaceable once someone new comes along. They should be treated as cherished friends, worthy of permanent places at the proverbial table. If we're not willing to afford these characters the longevity their straight, white cohorts enjoy, what's even the point? Why should any of us settle for the low-hanging fruit of a lesbian George when there's a vibrant Brian waiting in the wings?
Last fall, The CW brought Nancy Drew back to television screens in a new self-titled series. Like the failed CBS pilot and recent comics, the show offers a liberal and diverse take on the classic characters, only this time it's Bess who's the lesbian, not cousin George. If only she had Brian to guide her through the strange new world of being gay. Sadly, neither he nor Chris (nor Danica nor Dagny, for that matter) have appeared in the show so far, but with the dozens of meta-references slipped into each episode, there's no telling what characters may turn up in season two. One can only keep their fingers crossed.
This year marks a milestone for Nancy: ninety years in print. Between new books, new shows, a new movie, and even a Broadway musical in the works, she's more in demand now than ever before.
The same goes for diversity in media representation. Nancy Drew On Campus introduced readers to a large cast of exciting new characters, none of whom should be forgotten forever. Will, Ginny, Reva, Pam, Jamal, Andy — all of them deserve another chance to shine. And, of course, Brian and Chris do, too. They have so much to offer the franchise, and not merely as tokens. Just think what an asset they'd be every time Nancy investigates a haunted theater or needs to translate some arcane text in a dead language. (“I had to fall back on my old standby ― Advanced Latin for another of my courses,” Brian tells Bess when they first meet, reciting some ancient poetry from memory.) With their insight into the worlds of drama, politics, and pop culture, they could prove invaluable additions to Nancy's squad of sleuthing sidekicks.
Reading the Campus series, I instantly fell in love with Brian and Chris, and I will sing their praises until they're brought back to us. They deserve the chance to be loud and proud, liberated and in love at the River Heights (or Weston, whatever) of today. And Bess definitely deserves to have her brother back. After all, Brian's our friend, no matter what. Remember?
[An earlier version of this article was originally published on BuzzFeed.]
This is awesome! I’m going to have to remember the phrase “literary chopped liver” for future reference. I’m also delighted to know there were still computer games in 2015! I thought CD-ROM games died in the late 90s! And also, I wonder if the Campus series got some backlash for Brian and Chris, and tried to minimize them into “friends” by the time Chris had his last appearance? Or maybe that particular ghostwriter was being passive-aggressively unsupportive?
ReplyDeleteThis was a really fun read!