The Hardy Boys Series

I found them in the garbage. An entire set of Hardy Boys hardcovers, left on the curb by someone who did not know what they were throwing away. I carried them home and read every single one, and in doing so became a reader. Frank and Joe Hardy—teenage brothers who solved mysteries with a combination of intelligence, courage, and the kind of resourcefulness that every kid secretly believes they possess—were my first real literary companions. What mattered was that these books made me want to turn pages, made me lose track of time, made me understand that stories could transport you completely out of wherever you were. Everything I have read since—Kerouac and García Márquez and Wallace and all the rest—started with those books on the curb.