Summary
Nancy and her friends must try to figure out why a girl is acting strangely after visiting a haunted house in this sixteenth book of the Nancy Drew Diaries, a fresh approach to the classic mystery series.
Nancy's classmate, Willa, needs her help. Willa is convinced something is terribly wrong with her friend Izzy, but everyone has dismissed Willa's concerns, saying it's just teen angst. But Willa thinks it's more than that; she thinks Izzy is possessed.
It all started when Willa and Izzy snuck into an abandoned house with some of their friends. After running around and exploring, Willa went in to the basement and found Izzy staring into space. Izzy was conscious, but she was acting weird--she wouldn't speak and she didn't seem to recognize Willa. And when Izzy finally woke up from her trance, she had no memory of the previous few hours. Since then, Izzy's continued to act strangely. She's usually funny and easygoing, but now she's high strung and has intense fits. Once she even threatened to hurt Willa.
Nancy is sure there's a rational explanation for all of this and has a feeling she'll find it at the "haunted" house. But what she finds has her questioning her resolve. Could Willa be right? Is Izzy possessed by the ghost of Heliotrope Lane?
Author Notes
Carolyn Keene was the pseudonym that Mildred Wirt Benson and Walter Karig used to write Nancy Drew books. The idea of Nancy Drew came from Edward Stratemeyer in 1929. He also had other series, that included the Hardy Boys, but he died in 1930 before the Nancy Drew series became famous. His daughters, Harriet and Edna, inherited his company and maintained Nancy Drew having Mildred Wirt Benson, the original Carolyn Keene, as the principal ghostwriter. During the Depression, they asked Benson to take a pay cut and she refused, which is when Karig wrote the books.
Karig's Nancy Drew books were Nancy's Mysterious Letter, The Sign of the Twisted Candles, and Password to Larkspur Lane. He was fired from writing more books because of his refusal to honor the request that he keep his work as Carolyn Keene a secret. He allowed the Library of Congress to learn of his authorship and his name appeared on their catalog cards. Afterwards, they rehired Benson and she wrote until her last Nancy Drew book (#30) was written in 1953, Clue of the Velvet Mask.
Harriet and Edna Stratemeyer also contributed to the Nancy Drew series. Edna wrote plot outlines for several of the early books and Harriet, who claimed to be the sole author, had actually outlined and edited nearly all the volumes written by Benson. The Stratemeyer Syndicate had begun to make its writers sign contracts that prohibited them from claiming any credit for their works, but Benson never denied her writing books for the series.
After Harriet's death in 1982, Simon and Schuster became the owners of the Stratemeyer Syndicate properties and in 1994, publicly recognized Benson for her work at a Nancy Drew conference at her alma mater, the University of Iowa. Now, Nancy Drew has several ghostwriters and artists that have contributed to her more recent incarnations.
(Bowker Author Biography)
Excerpts
The Haunting on Heliotrope Lane CHAPTER ONE The Midnight Show "SO, WHEN THE GUY DIED," my best friend Bess Marvin was saying as she walked out of the movie theater, "was that, like, black blood that came out of him? You know, when he was like . . ." She made a retching motion onto the sidewalk. "Um," I murmured, but my voice was hoarse from three hours of screaming. Freaky Friday double features can do that to you. "Can we talk about something else? Anything else?" But George Fayne, Bess's cousin and my other best friend, had already held up her pointer finger. "Good question!" she said in her perfectly fine voice. "I thought the black stuff was evil. Like, liquid evil?" "I thought it was the souls of all the people whose lives he'd ruined," my boyfriend, Ned Nickerson, put in, adjusting his glasses as I thought back to the scene and felt my stomach roil. "You know, by making them eat their own organs. That was cold." "Oh gosh," I muttered, grabbing my stomach. I almost forgot that part. "Nance!" Bess cried, her blond hair puffing around her shoulders as she stopped short, suddenly taking notice of the state I was in. "Are you okay? You look like you've just seen a ghost!" "I've just seen several ghosts," I reminded her, leaning against a streetlight, "and some zombies, and that one guy with the liquid evil who kind of defies categorization. And a lot of carnage." I paused, trying to think about golden retriever puppies, or soap bubbles, or sunshine--anything to counter the three hours of terror I'd just sat through. "Have I mentioned I'm not a horror movie fan?" "Oh, Nancy," George said, and smiled at me as Ned put his arm around my shoulders. "I thought you said you were willing to give horror movies a try. I thought Bess was going to be the delicate one." "It's funny," Bess agreed, nodding, "so did I." "I did give them a try," I said, my voice steadying, "and I think I've decided now. No, thank you. I think I'm done with Freaky Fridays." "That's kind of unexpected for you, don't you think?" Ned asked. "You're not a scaredy type. You spend half your life chasing bad guys." This was true. My sleuthing--which had always been my favorite extracurricular activity--could get scary, sometimes. "But there's a big difference between confronting a crook and having to eat your own organs," I pointed out. "True," Bess said, nodding seriously. "I'm sorry you got freaked," George said, her dark eyes sincere. "I just really wanted to come to this, because you so rarely see Takara movies screened in the United States! And he's such an amazing director. The way he sets up his tension shots . . ." In the last month or so, George had discovered that she was a huge fan of scary movies. After exhausting her Netflix queue, she'd started checking DVDs out at the library, and then getting recommendations for streaming rentals from horror movie blogs online. She'd become particularly interested in the work of certain directors--like Takara, who, I had to agree, had a real knack for scaring the bejesus out of you. And maybe making you a little nauseated. I took a breath through my nose, breathed out through my mouth. That's how our gym teacher says you should center yourself. "I get it, George. I'm not mad at you. And I can see where the story was cool, if . . . well, if it wasn't going to give me nightmares for the next month. I think maybe I just don't have the constitution for this stuff." George nodded, smoothing her short black hair behind her ear, and Ned gave me a little squeeze. "Let's go back to the car," he said. "Turn on all the lights. Play some really fun music, like Lily Jo Jarret." I smiled. Ned loves Lily Jo Jarret, but he always tries to act like he's listening to her ironically. "Yeah, we can go back to my house and watch something that's totally the opposite of scary," George suggested. "Packed House? I hear that was good!" Ned took my arm with an encouraging grin and slowly, we made our way around the theater to the parking lot in back. It was huge, nearly empty--and strangely dark. "Why aren't the lights on?" Bess asked, frowning. "Yeah," George said, looking around. "The car is over there--I remember where we parked." She led us toward her small red coupe. "But this is weird." "And probably a safety hazard," Ned added. "Maybe it's because it's so late?" George suggested, leading us in the direction of the car. She reached into her pocket, pulled out her car keys, and flicked on a little flashlight that was on her key ring. It made a tiny but strong beam of light. "Maybe," Ned agreed. "They could be trying to save on electri--AAAAAAUUUUUGH!" A shadowy figure had suddenly jumped into the flashlight beam. Excerpted from The Haunting on Heliotrope Lane by Carolyn Keene All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.