The Montague Twins
Were there amateur child detectives before Franklin W. Dixon debuted his The Hardy Boys series in 1927? Surely, though it seems the modern iteration of the genre begins with the Hardys. And I have a confession to make: I could never finish a Hardy Boys mystery. I’m not sure what it was exactly, but, on more than one occasion, I returned copies of those blue-bound novels to the library unread. Such was not a common occurrence for me. Not finish a library book? Even now, it’s embarrassing to admit. Luckily for today’s young readers, there are other options. Such as, for example, The Montague Twins: The Witch’s Hand (Knopf) by Nathan Page and Drew Shannon.
The graphic novel, the first in a series for YA readers, tells the story of twins Al and Pete, their stepsister Charlie, and Rowan, their tutor in the mysterious ways of magic. The twins are amateur detectives whose sleuthing prowess owes no little bit to, they learn, their gift of magic. David, their guardian and a powerful enchanter, was a good friend of their parents, great magicians in their own right. After a supernatural storm sets things in motion, the Montague twins and their stepsister find themselves entangled in a magical mystery with a spooky lighthouse, a ghost dog, and supernatural fire balls.
The Montague Twins does much to correct the faults of the series that spawned its sub-genre. Whereas The Hardy Boys books were amended some 60 years ago to remove racist content, The Montague Twins, set in the late ’60s, makes a point of confronting issues surrounding civil rights and gay rights. The Stonewall riots make up part of the background, and one of the twins is gay. Rowan, the twins’ tutor, is Black. The book’s big bad is a fundamentalist politician obsessed with ideas like purity and superiority. There are other examples of a heightened social consciousness that succeed in confronting the sometimes-problematic legacy of young adult detective stories.
The graphic novel is a bit of a slow burn, but the plot builds and rewards the patient reader. Page doesn’t skimp on character development or social and historical context, and the young detectives are funny enough to lighten the mood when necessary. The illustrations make the measured pace a treat for the eyes.
Illustrator Shannon sticks to about six panels per page, keeping the momentum going. Occasionally, Shannon will break a page into four nearly wordless panels or allow the reader time to linger over a luxurious splash page, like Chapter Two’s establishing shot of the Bradfords’ mansion.
When not taking care of necessary exposition, the dialogue — especially that between the twins, Charlie, and Rowan — really sings, quick-witted and comfortable. After Pete wrenches Rowan’s arm back into place, Al asks his brother, “Was it gross? Was it awesome?” Pete’s response is characteristic of the quick wordplay between the young detectives: “Gruesome? Yes.”
The graphic novel has been described by some reviewers as The Hardy Boys meets Paper Girls, and if The Montague Twins is taken to be the average between the two, the description is accurate. But, though The Montague Twins is far more readable than the dated dreariness that is The Hardy Boys (wow, tell us how you really feel, Davis), neither does it ascend to the heights of Brian K. Vaughan and Cliff Chiang’s Paper Girls. What does, though? The Montague Twins is a promising start to a new series and a welcome addition to the young detective sub-genre.