Footprints Under the Window

Footprints Under the Window by Franklin W. Dixon (1933) This is the first time I’ve read the original text version of this book (thought to be by Leslie McFarlane) and I wasn’t expecting much, for some reason, assuming the books peak out with the excellent What Happened at Midnight. The first half is a meandering mess, both confusing and boring—but then it picks up as it gets really weird. The internet tells me that some people don’t think it was written by McFarlane, since the style is different, and I can see that—especially the first half. Later it feels more like his sense of humor—stuff about “dreams of cats” and all that. This is essentially the Hardy’s Chinese adventure—meaning, their run-in with Bayport’s waterfront Chinese community. As you might expect from a book from the Thirties (as well as original text Hardys) it’s a problematic portrayal of that community, full of racist stereotypes intended for humor, particularly where dialogue is concerned. If you can get past that (and really, it’s the exaggerated dialogue that is most cringeworthy) the story turns out to be an interesting one, involving illegal trafficking of Chinese workers who are being exploited and terrorized. One of the Chinese men is a pretty good villain, someone to be feared. And the most fun character is one of the friendly Chinese men, who the Hardy’s attempt to protect by letting him stay at their house—secretly, without Aunt Gertrude’s knowledge—and the weirdest detail: they have the man disguise himself as a woman. It’s one of the strangest segments in any Hardys adventure I can recall. The real villain, a blowhard white guy, is satisfyingly disgusting, and there’s a mystery-man named Sydney Pebbles who may have a double—very strange. And where in the hell are the parents? I won’t give away the “footprints” part—which seems like a weak device, but turns out to be kind of satisfying, in a goofy way.

3.27.24