Readthrough: End of Term, chapters 1-3

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

Welcome back! Hope you enjoyed the break and are ready for more discussion.

End of Term returns to Kingscote, a year after the beginning of Autumn Term. Anyone else wonder about what happens in those missing terms? Perhaps something to explain Rowan’s decision to leave? This has been your regularly scheduled fic prompt.

If anyone is tempted to think that Forest has rather overdone Ann’s fussiness, I’ll be pleased to disabuse them, having spent more time than I would really like around people whose attitude to catching buses, trains and planes is two hours early good, four hours early better. Ann notably isn’t a fusspot when she’s managing people who aren’t her family--the Guides in Autumn Term think of her as a good delegator--her excessive concerns for them here, I think, are juxtaposed interestingly to Nicola’s reflection on ‘feeling like a pin between two magnets labelled “Home” and “School” ’.

Tim has undergone something of a change of image, but remains able to needle Nicola as well as ever. ‘Handsome, high-spirited Marlows’ is very good, I think.

What do people make of our first glimpse of Esther, and Nicola’s judgement of her looks as beautiful? And judgements of looks in the series as a whole?

And Nicola Marlow goes AWOL from another school-bound train... I’m always very proud of the Sprog and his sparrow.

Nicola’s tact is at full tilt in dealing with Esther’s distress, and I think this handles very eloquently the pain and embarrassment of tears that you feel you should have grown out of, but which insist on springing out. But there are still some slightly dubious moral judgements here in the assumption that tears have a value, in a sense, which can be degraded by releasing them too easily, as Lawrie is implied to do--whereas Esther puts a proper value on crying because her tears are difficult and violent. While I’m endeared by the resolution of the situation in Nicola’s finding out that Esther is crying for an animal rather than a human being, it also points to quite a curious value-system. It’s one stereotypically associated with a certain sort of socially privileged Englishness; perhaps there’s also a notion embedded there that to cry for one’s parents is childish, but to cry for a dog is more respectable somehow. In any case, it’s rather telling of Esther’s relationship with her parents. The frequency of parental divorce as an experience at Kingscote is interesting, I think. The temporal flexibility that’s a feature of later books in the series doesn’t apply yet, if we take Miranda’s account of wartime evacuation as a guide, and a relatively high divorce rate might also be an indicator of a late 40s setting rather than a 50s one?

Nicola’s exchange with Ann at the end of this chapter is painfully well-observed, I think: both of them, in their different ways, missing Rowan, Ann’s illogical ‘You wouldn’t have done this to Rowan’, Nicola’s inadvertently wounding ‘I wish Rowan was here’, Ann’s mixture of relief and anger at Nicola being safe, Nicola still being rather young to recognise that relief/fury complex, the little nod back to Falconer’s Lure with ‘Ann has feelings, same like the rest of us’.





Following directly on her exchange with Ann, Nicola has another uncomfortable conversation, with Miss Redmond. Wonderfully squirmy stuff: Redmond's fulsome magnanimity, Lawrie's speechless embarrassment, and Nicola's disgust at Redmond's language of personal development: 'All this talk about letting down and not feeling ready--how could people talk like that?', Redmond's anger at the knockback. Sublime. (I also love Nicola 'being Stalky'.)

I also like the introduction of Miranda as a real character rather than an off-stage caustic presence, without quite breaking with the intimations we get of her in Autumn Term. I've long thought Miranda might be something of a self-portrait, representing the Jewish part of Forest's background as Patrick does her Catholicism.

'Someone who saw the joke at the same time as you did...' I think speaks to a lot of bright, well-read and informed children, which I think Forest must have been. And I enjoy the way that Miranda and Nicola share an intelligence that encourages candour in one another: about holidays being dreary, Karen's ineptitude as Head Girl, a shared dislike of Lois.

Poor Nicola: her first evening at school, and her fourth uncomfortable encounter, this time with Lois herself...Lois's smugness is sharply observed here, I think.

I'd love to hear what you think of Miranda's disclosure of her feelings for Janice and her hostility to 'pashes'. I tend to read this as a sort of (very quiet) coming-out. For the novel's presumed target market it's a pretty subtle distinction between the sentimentality of the worshippers at the shrine of Eileen Benson and Joyce Craig and a more firmly established romantic/sexual orientation. If I'm counting back right, the Lower V when Miranda was in IIA would have been Rowan's form. What on earth did she have to say about kirbigrips under pillows and roses in silver paper? This has been your regularly scheduled &c. I also love Miranda's irrepressible enjoyment of a row; making her a kind of anti-Ginty, I think.

The magnificent dottiness of a play cast according to character rather than talent still makes me gape and giggle. And 'Sheep: noises off' has barely staled over the quarter century I've known the novel.





(i)

Miranda's fickleness in the choice of Best Friends is funny but also unsettling; and I appreciate the indication that for all their emotional sophistication, these are characters still young enough to care deeply about who sits next to whom in class.

If Nicola prefers Cromwell just for Maths, I think I prefer her just in fiction, where I enjoy her sardonic repartee enormously: in real life she is the sort of teacher who would have spotted my weakness and gone for it mercilessly as she does for Lawrie's. But what do others think of her?

The little intimation of the swap-plot(s) to come is nice, I think. Forest handles the venerable notion of twins swapping with dash and confidence, I think, and of this we will have much more to say. But here it serves to highlight the change in friendship dynamic: Tim-Nick-and-Lawrie was already fracturing in Autumn Term, now it seems definitely to have become Tim-and-Lawrie and Nick-and-Miranda(-and-possibly-Esther).

(ii)

The rearrangements of the casting for the play are great fun, but was there ever a barmier way to go about putting on a show? Feel free to share ghastly school drama stories!

As someone who routinely roleplays Prince Charles Edward, I rather like Ginty's sense of herself as exiled reprobate, and quite understand her dismay at being promoted to Crowd. Lawrie's conceit, meanwhile, is as bumptious as ever, and her sisters as sternly engaged in repressing it.

It's a telling little insight that it was Miss Keith who expanded the Christmas Play from an entertainment to a Community Effort, the sort of bye-writing at which Forest excels. And Dr Herrick's polite attempts to amplify it into a production suitable for a cathedral are nicely done, I think: although he's the representative of the ecclesiastical world, he's much more of a impresario than the Kingscote staff, with Ussher here committed to a worshipful vision. Is there any fic about Dr Herrick? He's one of my favourite minor characters. (This has been &c.)

Again, a little foretaste of the swap-plot as Dr Herrick mistakes Lawrie for Nicola; and the audition scene gruesomely sheep-and-goats. Dr Herrick's embarrassing idea that Lawrie and Nicola should walk together again indicates his showmanlike tendencies; gentle and courteous though he may be, he's rather ruthless of people's feelings when it comes to mounting a production. And this incident marks a further wedge between Nicola and Tim-and-Lawrie. That Nicola's feelings are sufficiently bruised by the quarrel with her sister that it is only when she's seeing to Sprog that it occurs to her how exposed she'll be, singing solo in the Minster, I think, is a really neat touch of characterisation.

Although I have to try very hard to care much about the netball bits of the books under normal circumstances, I really like the little episode in which Lois refashions the younger girls' joshing of Nicola as an anecdote about Nicola's big-headedness. Val's uncritical acceptance of Lois's manipulation neatly indicates her acceptance of authority and hierarchy, while Janice's scepticism displays independence.

I enjoy Nicola's surprise at Shakespeare knowing anything as 'useful' as falconry; and perhaps the germ of an interest in Shakespeare in 'wondering how they fitted into their various plays'.

What do people think of Lois's behaviour towards Nicola at the practice? Ideas about what motivates her? Just the feud with Rowan?

(iii)

As someone who's a cheerful-noise-in-the-bath sort, I quite appreciate the horrors of Dr Herrick's reign of terror. Tim's dismay at remaining in the Crowd now the criteria for inclusion have changed, and its consequences in stinging-nettle satire, I think is handled with great plausibility. Marie's hearty attempts at joining in always make me squirm, as does her falling neatly into Miranda's baited trap. I'm fascinated by and would love to hear what people have to say about Miranda's Jewish identity, by the way (also: fic prompt--I wish I had the knowledge and competency to try my hand.)

Lawrie's religious ignorance will be picked up later in her conversation with Madame Orly. Is it plausible? End of Term is the novel in which Forest's religious commentary begins in earnest. It's one of the strands in the series that I enjoy most, and I'd just like to open up to discussion this novel's (and the series') religious themes. (I don't think it's a particularly spoilery area, with a couple of exceptions: use your discretion.)

Here's ankaret's fic 'The Next Christmas', by the way, in which Patrick and Ann discuss religion. I read this and wandered around claiming it was canon for about three years before running across it again and realising it wasn't. Legionseagle's 'To Strive To Seek' also contains some great sectarian détente and misunderstanding.

Finally, I have never, ever, been able to hear 'See Amid the Winter Snow' without thinking of school dinner.



Enough from me--have at it, and I look forward to your comments!

(Posting slightly early this week as I'll be occupied and largely offline tomorrow.)

Comments

[cyphomandra.livejournal.com]

Re-reading these chapters I found myself most startled at finding that Ann has curly hair (which she attacks with violence!). I'd always pictured it as straight, but then I think I have trouble picturing most of the Marlows from the descriptions given, e.g. squirrel-eyed Ginty.

I do like the way all the main plot/theme elements seem to just click into place so early on - the play, the netball team, the shifting relationships between Nicola and Lawrie (and Tim, and Miranda, and Esther), the role religion. It comes across so effortlessly. (I do, however, mentally picture Forest as a ruthless rewriter. Possibly this is actually mentioned in one of the GGB editions?)

Lawrie's religious ignorance will be picked up later in her conversation with Madame Orly. Is it plausible?

I always found it very plausible. Then again, I remember being one of a class of 14 year olds asked to speak in turn about Islam; the first girl announced that "it was a very hot, dry country", and we were about a third of the way round the class with expansions on its location, borders, customs, exports etc etc, before a more clued-up classmate managed to correct us.

I like Cromwell, by the way, but I do feel for Lawrie when she makes such a mess of things on her first day.

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

I like Cromwell as a fictional character but I'd have detested having her as a teacher, I suspect. Mind you, I think one of the problems with both maths teachers and games teachers is that even more than in other fields, they're self-selected from people who absolutely cannot imagine the mental state of people who have no or limited aptitude for the subject, and tend to imagine that since people cannot possibly be naturally bad at something they have managed with ease since birth, practically, they must simply not be making the effort. I don't know how Crommie is with people who don't have a natural aptitude for maths, but I definitely see both Lois and Redmond as being that sort of games coach, with Nicola, Rowan and Craven being more on the empathetic side.

[cyphomandra.livejournal.com]

Yes, definitely. I had one very good maths teacher who was also very clear about his own limits, which made him much more capable of appreciating those of others.

I dislike Redmond a lot, both as Guide Captain and Games Coach. She seems to not only lack empathy but be actively incapable of perceiving that other points of view might exist. At least Lois knows what she's doing.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

I saw the self-selecting insensitivity of both maths and games teachers from both sides: I began secondary school rather hopeless at both, and then discovered a talent for middle-distance running and had a couple of basic mathematical concepts explained to me (by one of my peers) and the respective teachers whom I'd loathed and been afraid of actually seemed to become different people...

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

Peers explaining basic mathematical concepts are a godsend. We had, in the Sixth form, a class called "general maths" which everyone doing General Studies A Level (which was, basically, everyone; our somewhat peculiar headmistress only allowed us to do three real subjects at A level lest studying four brought the averages down, but made sure we did GS as a makeweight to keep the average numbers of A levels per person up) had to attend, no matter if they'd dropped Maths after O or CSE level (the school only allowed people to do CSEs in maths or English, no other subjects) or whether they were doing double maths and physics at A level.

It was taught by the senior maths teacher (the head and deputy head were also mathematicians) who was suspected by some of being a were-duck and would respond to questions like, "I'm sorry, Mrs C, but what exactly is an integer?" with "I'm glad you asked me that question. There was a very interesting paper by a Field's medal winner two years ago which questioned whether the basic understanding of integers might not be over-simplistic..." while fortunately one's mates doing double maths would nudge you in the ribs and go, "it means a number like 1 or 2, not like 1.4 or two and three quarters".

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

My helpful peer explained that the equals sign actually meant 'is equal to' (I had managed to get to the age of about 15 thinking it signified a linear progression, because of the verbal formula '2 and 2 makes 4'). Algebra suddenly became possible.

My maths teacher, who was quite human if you had some aptitude, was wont to bear down upon the askers of simple or clueless questions shrieking 'Don't panic! don't panic!' which immediately, of course made the hapless questioner think 'Panic? Should I be panicking?' *panics*

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

Apparently you can't post comments with links in without being suspected of being spam.

Without the link, this time:


Whatistigerbalm on DW pointed me in the direction the other day of a Ta Nehisi-Coates piece about intensive French language study and this bit in particular hit me:

One afternoon, I was walking from lunch feeling battered by the language. I started talking with a young master in training. I told her I was having a tough time. She gave me some encouraging words in French from a famous author. I told her I didn’t understand. She repeated them. I still didn’t understand. She repeated them again. I shook my head, smiled, and walked away mildly frustrated because I understood every word she was saying but could not understand how it fit. It was as though someone had said, “He her walks swim plus that yesterday the fight.” (This is how French often sounds to me.)

The next day, I sat at lunch with her and another young woman. I asked her to spell the quote out for me. I wrote the phrase down. I did not understand. The other young lady explained the function of the pronouns in the sentence. Suddenly I understood—and not just the meaning of the phrase. I understood something about the function of language, why being able to diagram sentences was important, why understanding partitives and collective nouns was important.

In my long voyage through this sea of language, that was my first sighting of land. I now knew how much I didn’t know. The feeling of discovery and understanding that came from this was incredible. It was the first moment when I thought I might survive the sea.

And that hit me as being so absolutely right; I can remember the moment (some years into the study) when I suddenly realised why latin nouns were written "mensa, mensae" in the dictionary, and verbs "do, dare, dedi, datum" and what it meant when you had that clue to how to crack the code at your disposal. And I don't know whether that had never been explained at the outset, or if it had happened when I was off with a broken ankle, or otherwise not paying attention but it really was that light-bulb moment.

And Forest is very good at showing both the process of learning and the process of not-learning (the inside of Lawrie's head I imagine is even more scary when contemplated by teachers)

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

Actually, my history teacher used to say, "Don't panic" but that was a self-conscious Hitchhiker's Guide reference and she had no objection to one countering it with another.

[emma anderson (from livejournal.com)]

Miss Redmond is actually employed as a teacher of Domestic Science, and only helps out on the games side, which I think explains why she's a lot more bothered about Nicola than Miss Craven is - and, of course, there's the Guides issue muddying the waters. I suspect that Miss Redmond, as Guide Captain, is probably used to girls enjoying Guides, and imagines that Nicola and Lawrie have felt their expulsion from the company as a real punishment. I suspect that maybe Nicola doesn't much like Domestic Science lessons, either, which might widen the rift even more...

I love that description of Janice being sceptical of Lois's story - it also sets her up as someone who is observant as well as independent of thought (particularly when it comes to the fateful netball match).

I've always enjoyed Forest's sporting descriptions, though since the cricket matches in Cricket Term are among the best I've ever read, the netball ones tend to fall a little short. But I do like the way the team coheres and becomes a unit - though we don't see that particularly until the match with Brockhurst.

[learnsslowly.livejournal.com]

I am really absolutely terrible at games and PE of all kinds. I spent five years never managing to hit a a hockey ball, throw or catch a lacrosse ball and hitting a rounders ball once. I have never, ever got a serve in at tennis. I was still doing forward rolls when all the other girls in my class could do front somersaults. My three PE teachers, however, always managed to find something positive to say (often about positioning myself well on the pitch) and find something that I could do that would help me progress, albeit by tiny increments. They would also congratulate me in the corridor or wherever if I did do anything praiseworthy in other parts of school life. I was sure that those were not the actions of someone absolutely incapable of imagining my mental state nor someone who is unable to imagine that I could be naturally bad at something. In every school report they made a point of acknowledging that I made the effort and (I only found this out later) spoke fairly briskly to a group of classmates who were entertaining themselves and "slagging me off" for my lack of ability. Not having Marlow-like popularity, I felt grateful for their kindness and fairness, which is why I'm writing this comment now. None of the three would allow taunting and bullying from other pupils about my odd physical appearance either, unlike many of the teachers in my junior school.

However, I do understand how blanket comments like the ones above come to be made. I don't see the argument that being good at sports and playing in school team makes you necessarily a more generous loser, more willing to help and work with others that the duffers who can't catch a ball etc. born out in real-life and it certainly doesn't seem that way in the more publicized top levels of sports, either.

I've certainly come across people in real life who are gifted in music and English literature and some extent drama who are absolutely sure that people not so gifted, or even who have gifts that they do not, are absolutely incapable of feeling emotions or having their feelings hurt in the same way that they themselves can. I'm not saying that everyone who is a gifted musician or actress or who gets a first in English lit necessarily despises everyone else, but its happened often enough to make me aware that someone with those gifts might quite genuinely by their own moral code think it acceptable to be less honest/ kind/ loyal to her less gifted friends than to the more gifted. (I can really see Lawrie getting married and divorced several times on the strength of this.)

One of the things that I like about Nicola is that as the extent of her gift for singing is revealed, she doesn't seem think that her feeling are more valuable because of that. I do wonder if this idea is one that Lawrie has picked up - perhaps from children's literature of the 1930s? Lawrie thinking "its OK for me to hurt or disregard other people's feelings and have them run around after me because I've got a gift. They haven't so their feelings aren't really sensitive and they can't really be hurt and much as I can." This would tie in with AF's tendency to undermine "typical" girls school story tropes. I could imagine EBD for example making "gifted" Lawrie and pretty Ginty the more sympathetic characters. The two different "takes" on sensitivity seems to be one of the underlying threads in a number of the books, but maybe I should comment on that in Attic term for fear of being spoilerish.

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

You were very lucky indeed to have had such sensitive and thoughtful games staff at your school; mine belonged to the vast majority who thought you were feeble if you couldn't play games. Which I couldn't, really, as I've never been able to run, although endless hours of "Save the Boundary" with my father and brother gave me a good eye for a ball.

But said games staff thought I was feeble as I couldn't vault, so I made a real effort, tried, hit my torso on the horse and completely winded myself..... the woman was actually quite concerned, and never said anything like that to me again!

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

I'm with mrs_redboots; you were very lucky in your games staff and that certainly wasn't reflected in the ones I encountered, who did seem to teach on the basis of "Does this person display natural ability as soon as she picks up a bat/racquet/javelin? Good; she's worth the effort. Does this other person appear never to have picked up a bat/racquet/javelin before in her life? Well, we'll herd her off to the far end of the playing field and forget about her."

I bonded with most of my closest friends at school over being bad at games, and oddly of the group who were written off by the games teachers one competes (and now judges) at international level in senior ice dance, one became the first ever woman sports editor on a national daily, one did the Fastnet and one took 6-21 against Cambridge.

But I didn't say it was true of all games teachers; hence the distinction I made between Lois and Redmond on one side and Nicola, Rowan and Craven on the other.

[learnsslowly.livejournal.com]

I'm sorry that I've offended you, even though I can't in good conscience apologises for acknowledging a debt of gratitude. I tend to read x category are y as "nearly all, possibly all" x category have y rather than just some of them. It did not occur to me then or now that I would by some freak of (im) probability get the only 3 decent ones.

[coughingbear]

Although I don't think the original comment did say 'nearly all, possibly all' - and in fact offered three counter-examples in Nick, Rowan and Craven. All of whom I can imagine behaving as well as your teachers did. Forest is extremely good, I think, at offering both staff and pupils who are realistically flawed in different ways. I always cherish the scene in Cricket Term when Craven spots approvingly the 'welcome absence of chivvying' of the less enthusiastic ones (quote may be inaccurate as I'm away from my books). But Craven certainly has a passion for winning, which I can imagine might make her more difficult to be taught by for the girls who are on the teams - the lengthy post-mortems must be a bit of a trial.

[learnsslowly.livejournal.com]

Ah then I must apologise again, because I was seeing them (Nick, Rowan and Craven) as far more likely to be fair and effective coaches, but hadn't really considered that either Nicola or school-Rowan would behave so kindly to people who were both rubbish at games and peculiar-looking-in-a-way-that-couldn't-be-modified. Nicola does attempt to befriend Ester when she is miserable and new, but the first thing we are told about Ester is that she is really beautiful and we are also told that is was School manners to be nice to someone when new, until they stopped being new. So I've never been sure how much of the befriending Ester is because she is beautiful. I can't see Nicola (or school Rowan) starting a taunting session, however bored she was, but if the other girls did, then I could see Nicola feeling uncomfortable about it (and Antonia Forest writing a lovely scene with her reflecting on it afterwards or having a conversation with Patrick and finally convincing each other that bullying-victim would surely not want them to say anything about it because it would be too embarrassing,) but might be more inclined to make herself scarce and not want to be involved.

[coughingbear]

No need to apologise - we all read the texts differently. And I think that in Autumn Term Nicola does fail to realise the way they are all treating Pomona until Cartwright points it out. But after that I do read her as more alert, and certainly in Cricket Term she is presented as working hard to improve everyone in the form unless they don't actually want to join in - like Tim.

Pomona?

[mainerobin.livejournal.com]

Does Pomona appear in EOT? She must now be in lowerIVB, I guess. But why no mention of her in the play or on netball.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

And Nicola takes the time to show Esther how to position her hand for slow bowling; that was the sort of practical thing that was puzzlingly absent from games lessons at my school--unless you already showed some aptitude.

[learnsslowly.livejournal.com]

Now that I had forgotten. It sounds as if it's in Cricket term, which I think I last read when I was about that age myself over 30 years ago. (And don't think I will be able to afford, ever, so it really is the last time I read it.)

Again, I'm very, very sorry.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

I didn't mean it as a reproach at all--I was just rememinded of another instance where Nicola's actually a rather better coach than her elders!

[sue marsden (from livejournal.com)]

You could try requesting it from your local library? Even if they charge for requests, it would be worth it. even the British Library charges are less than Cricket Ter seems to be fetching currently

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

Ooh, who is the ice dancer? I might well know her (the ice dance world is very small).

[legionseagle (from livejournal.com)]

Well, she's not on LJ or DW, but she's based in Reading.

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

Ah yes.... I think I know who you mean.

[highfantastical.livejournal.com]

My three PE teachers, however, always managed to find something positive to say (often about positioning myself well on the pitch) and find something that I could do that would help me progress, albeit by tiny increments

I had a teacher like this when I was about seven and I still remember her quite fondly! I was a pretty sickly/frail child and absolutely awful at games and PE (and in fact did no more of them, ever, after age eleven), but had some fairly sporty friends who were all in the netball team &c. -- I could easily have been completely left out and miserable, but the teacher in question recognised that, within my limits of less-stamina-than-the-norm and so on, I WAS trying, and encouraged me. Don't think I ever really improved much, but I realise in retrospect how lucky I was to strike her at that age (at my previous school -- a state first school; nice games teacher was at a prep -- we just did PE with the class teacher, so she was my first experience of someone teaching sports specifically).

Nowadays, I am a very good loser on the outside (I mean: I have manners) in games and things, but I mind inside. Maybe if I'd been in teams I would care less! (Not really. Joking. I completely agree it makes very little, if any, difference.)

About EBD: YES! I completely agree. She'd have loved to have Lawrie and Ginty as flawed heroines in need of sorting out by the CS. ;)