Readthrough: End of Term, chapters 6 & 7

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

Thank you for all your contributions so far.

Miranda is useful here to give offer a detached point of view on the Christmas Play, but there is also a sense of her exclusion from a part of school life and the faint melancholy of that throughout her conversation with Miss Cromwell. (I have a headcanon that Cromwell and Keith were rivals for the headship of Kingscote, and wonder what the place might be like with Crommie as head. Probably no less barmy, but in a very different way.) I like to imagine what Dr Herrick’s ‘courteous explosion’ looks like and Kempe’s reaction to his unilateral sacking of Barbara Evans. (If Barbara, why not Jess, by the way? Watsonian explanations invited.)

I do feel rather sorry for Tim in this bit--so desperate to have something to do--and relish Cromwell’s approval of her initiative. Miss Keith’s determination to hang on to the vestiges of her character-based casting is looking increasingly pathetic and inconsistent; since she can’t, presumably, countermand Dr Herrick’s changes without insult to the episcopal authority, I know where I’d have been directing my persuasive efforts if I were Kempe.

I think the muddle between Nicola and Lawrie over the Shepherd Boy is an excruciating read: Nicola’s initial pleasure in the part (interesting that although there are numerous indications that she’s a better singer than actor and Lawrie’s so often around to outshine her, she still prefers acting to singing) followed by Lawrie’s acrobatic delight, them both thinking that Kempe has mixed them up, the glimmerings of uncertainty--Nicola hoping then that Lawrie’s right, the dashing of Lawrie’s hopes and Nicola’s loss of pleasure in the whole thing, both Lawrie and Tim’s hostility to Nicola: ouch, ouch, ouch. Tim’s reaction is plausible, but still, I think unreasonable: does she really expect Nicola to defy authority like that? It strikes me that Tim might have sunk a good bit of her own ambition into her support of Lawrie, and therefore, with the added advantage of being Headmistress’s Niece, might be just about the only person in the school who could imagine such cheek might be possible. The suggestion to Dr Herrick, that even Miranda sees as bold, was only a mite of what she's capable of.

The subsequent scene in the sitting-room is nicely atmospheric, with the bleak weather and Sally and Elizabeth’s bird-feather collection (mournful memories of Jael and Regina) setting off Nicola’s realisation of the change in dynamic between her, Lawrie and Tim. I think my favourite bit of it is Nicola’s thought that she might have ‘butted in, often, where she wasn’t really wanted’ followed by a typical bit of officiousness from Marie Dobson. Oof; Forest being particularly pitiless there, I think. And Nicola’s relief at not having to see Lawrie again that evening making her ‘sociable and hilarious’: although they aren't estranged for long, in fact, you have a sense of something shifting in their relationship as the twins grow up.


Nicola is having a perfectly ghastly morning, what with her form’s insensitive comments, Tim’s hollow attempts at reconciliation without apology--even going as far as to blame Nicola for sulking. Esther’s qualms are also convincingly handled, her dream of flight taking her to her sense of being a visitor in both her parents’ new homes. The conversation in which the possibility of them swapping is realistically painful, I think, especially Tim’s 'pleasant' and entirely unanswerable ‘you do rather want to do the Shepherd Boy. Don’t you?’ (Talk about loaded questions!)

The conversation between Miranda and Esther interestingly but obliquely prefigures the later quarrel over Nicola and Lawrie in the art room, and we learn intriguingly, of Miranda’s experience of theatrical types through The Shop.

Lawrie and Nicola’s different miseries caused by the Shepherd Boy are neatly delineated here: Lawrie’s self-centred single-mindedness contrasts with Nicola’s self-conscious awareness that people are comparing her with Lawrie, but Nick is also touchingly mistaken on a couple of points: the motivation for Kempe’s criticism of her performance, or Esther’s true feelings about singing solo. She’s pretty isolated at this point, not feeling able to discuss the Play with any of her friends.

Oh Marie, don’t. But her objection on Miranda’s behalf, cringe-making as it is, serves to highlight the exclusionary nature of the play: that even bohemian Jennings seems oblivious to. And Tim’s request to draw something like an illuminated manuscript highlights her sense of the play not making use of her off-beat talents either.

The ‘battle royal’ about Nicola and Lawrie is nicely poised between the painful mood that has characterised the last few chapters and outright farce. Esther’s decisive and devastating contribution, though it is hardly mollifying, rather clears the air: I wonder if this is a skill she has learnt in a household where parental quarrels are common. Nicola’s indignant defence of Giles proves her quite incorrigible where that young man is concerned: even the more palatable iteration of Autumn Term, I think, shows every indication--complacent, thoroughly convinced of his own charm, unable to take responsibility for the consequences of exercising that charm, displacing an uneasy conscience into anger with a junior--of being absolutely spoilt rotten. Lawrie, for once, is more perceptive, but Nicola for once also takes the tease well.

I enjoy Forest’s excursions into the slightly unedifying but very believable processes of Lawrie’s mind, and the next passage is a brilliant evocation of their unsteady progress. It’s a wonderful blend of self-deception: ‘refusing to remember’ Miranda’s disparagement of her netballing abilities, pretending not to be crying when she is, even though she’s alone, fantasy: the whole meta-commentary riff on the stamina of ‘people in books’, and self aware realism: the recognition that she can’t possibly play better injured, Craven would be angry if she tried it, and that Miranda’s criticisms of her might have had something to them after all.

Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey books are a favourite of Nicola’s, it seems, and actually, later on in the series, have some plot impact. It strikes me that Sayers’ novels stand at an angle to conventional detective fiction as Forest’s do to the school story; both series are highly intertextual, full of literary allusion; The Nine Tailors might resonate (oof pun) in particular in its interest in how the various buried antagonisms, negligences, and prejudices of a community lead to the victim meeting his end.

Anyway, Nicola's (to Lawrie) baffling response serves to recalibrate their relationship: 'There was Nicola, here was Lawrie, and whatever people might be doing to them outside and whatever they might from time to time think of one another's clottishness, it made no difference really.' I believe this is is Forest-speak for 'they love each other'. Is there ever an admission of love both direct and sincere in the series? I can't remember one. And the reckless warmth of reconciliation seems to provoke Nicola into accepting (albeit reservedly) Lawrie's idea of swapping.

Lawrie's thoughts on waking are priceless, neatly listed in order of objectionableness (I particularly like Lawrie's continued belief in a universe ordered by Someone to the advantage of Lawrence S. Marlow.) The somewhat accidental manner in which the swap goes ahead seems calculated from the start to subvert the conventions of this hoary old plot device. And there is of course the irony that it is Nicola--who finds it difficult to dissemble or be anyone other than herself--who has to bear the burden of impersonation, rather than Lawrie, who would positively relish it. The echoes of the Shepherd Boy situation are unavoidable.

I think there has been some discussion of this before, but it's interesting to note who can and cannot infallibly tell the twins apart. Their father, Lawrie notes, sometimes can't even when they are together--presumably because he spends relatively little time with them; Ann and Ginty can't when contextual information such as whose bed and clothes is whose is muddled; thinking back to Traitor, even Pam Marlow can't be absolutely sure when the clues of bearing and gesture aren't there because Lawrie is unconscious. Miranda can't. But Tim 'never had the least difficulty'. Tim also knows Lawrie well enough, it seems, to have intuited some of the motivations for the swap, as that uncomfortable conversation between her and Nicola demonstrates.

Nicola has, as Miranda comments, 'no real talent for crime', as she reveals with a series of errors: I enjoy her 'un-Lawrie-like' stern frown at too-obvious Jenny, and wince at the exclusion of Marie. Painful as the latter is, it's not attributable merely to bullying; Marie's officiousness and eagerness to please would, one senses, endanger the plot. I also very much like Lawrie making the best of her cameo role as in-bed ill Nicola, and her twin's uneasy reflection that 'if that was the way she talked when she was ill, it wasn't rather maddening for everyone.'

Lois and Janice's conversation is brilliant, I think: Lois's officiousness (a parallel with Marie, perhaps) and Jan's lack of illusion concerning 'the Tone of the School and all that nonsense talk'. The dialogue has a theme of espionage, with Jan's quote from the 'Smugglers' Song' in Puck of Pook's Hill, Lois's objection to 'bit of homework' as a phrase suggestive of 'spivs and slyness', Jan's rejection of the role of 'unpaid spy'. Lois's attack of prefectly responsibility contrasts with her reluctance to make full disclosure about the Guide hike, with which much of the animosity between herself and Nicola began. She is almost indecently keen to get Nicola in trouble, to the point of forgetting that it will also involve Lawrie.

I find the scene with Marie genuinely hard to read, between Marie's childish chanting, the cold disgust of the rest of the team, Marie's slow recognition that the 'jape' (Miranda's disgust for the word is magnificent) is in fact her humiliating exclusion, the continuing shadow of the Guide hike, the presentation, without authorial comment, of Marie's dehumanisation in the eyes of her peers.

Lawrie's continued dog-in-the-manger hopes that they might be discovered, resulting in Nicola's sacking as Shepherd Boy, resonate interestingly in this context. Lawrie recognises that her thoughts are unworthy and tries to suppress them, but her motivations are in many ways (or more so) as louse-ish as Marie's. Finding a way to blame Kempe for her thinking 'wormish' thoughts is a lovely touch. Nicola, less self-centred, has taken from the episode the lesson that Marie has feelings too, like Ann--in itself an interesting comparison: it occurs to me that though Forest doesn't do much to suggest Marie might have redeeming qualities, she does draw persistent parallels between Marie and more appealing characters, the implication being that everyone, however, admirable, contains a Marie. If it was intended as moral reflection, it worked on me: to this day I identify certain aspects of my behaviour as Marie-Dobsonish. The final sentence might stand as a motto and summary for the entire series: between discomfort in the presence of feelings and self-absorption, it is rather a wonder that any emotional development goes on at all. And yet it does: the paradox of Forest is that these novels, so interested in interiority and describing complex emotion, also advocate a stern repression of visible signs of it.


Over to you!

Comments

Barmier and barmier

[biskybat.livejournal.com]

I always thought the choice of Nicola for shepherd boy was unconvincing. Why would Keith choose her after she has come such a cropper over the netball team and is apparently Getting Above Herself, surely a cardinal sin in Miss Keith's eyes?

Also, Ann and now Ginty are taking up two main roles. Again, why would a third member of the same family be chosen?

Here's hoping this arrives. Have almost given up trying to post as LJ seems to time out or something and fail on me.

Re: Barmier and barmier

[buntyandjinx.livejournal.com]

I agree, very odd choice for all those reasons AND because she's singing a solo and though, obviously, replaceable ... why?

Re: Barmier and barmier

[antfan.livejournal.com]

Maybe Miss Keith and Redmond/Craven don't speak? (Seems unlikely.) Maybe Keith doesn't take much interest in teams? Maybe Keith is actually delivering a rebuff to Craven?

It occurs to me that if Craven asks Rowan about Nicola, then she probably would also have asked Crommie, as her form teacher. And Crommie seems to like Nicola. So maybe there was some staff room argey bargey and Keith comes down on Crommie's side. (After all there is that query note written on Nicola's "grime sheet" - sorry if that's a spoiler - which implies some rethinking by the staff at some point.)

Re: Barmier and barmier

[elktheory.livejournal.com]

Completely agree that the choice of Nicola for the Shepherd Boy is wholly implausible. Keith is certainly aware of her exclusion from the netball team (as we see later in the series). Why reward her with a starring role in a play which is cast according to personal character rather than acting ability? And why pull one of the three soloists? It doesn't make any sense on any level, though I suppose it is testament to Forest's writing that I accepted it all without question when I first read End of Term.

Nicola's reaction to being told she will now play the Shepherd Boy always makes me uncomfortable. She's absolutely delighted, both with the chance to act and the honor of being awarded a key role. She doesn't think of Lawrie at all, even though Lawrie has been talking of nothing else all term (and before). Nicola's thoughtlessness is certainly plausible for a 13-year-old girl, but I just wince whenever I read it.

Re: Barmier and barmier

[the_antichris.livejournal.com]

Keith seems very keen on not letting people exercise their particular talents. Presumably individual achievement is felt to be detrimental to a Sense of Community Effort. (Thus, she refuses to let Kempe have Lawrie, and Tim is kept well away from any production roles.) I think she's taking - perhaps subconsciously - a convenient opportunity to prevent Nicola from singing and instead make her do something she's only moderately competent at.

Re: Barmier and barmier

[mainerobin.livejournal.com]

I have always found the choice of Nick for the Shepherd Boy after getting kicked off the team to be incredibly unlikely. After reading all of the other good reasons each of you have stated here, a possible Doylist rewrite occurred to me, though the timing of Jess's leaving would have to come earlier. If just before Lois, Craven's, and Redmond's meeting takes place, Kempe finds out Jess is leaving, and thinking perhaps Lawrie could be in the play mentions it to Craven before that meeting. Kempe perhaps suggesting that netball could take too much of Lawrie's time for her to learn the part, Kempe asks whether Lawrie is likely to make the team.

Then that meeting starts with Miranda and Nick in and all the others, but Craven doesn't mention Lawrie because of Kempe's request. But Lois seeing that Lawrie (whom she likes) is out and Nick (whom she doesn't) offers her "bit of homework" along with Redmond adding her bit. And Craven not recognizing the difference in acting talent of the twins, replaces Nick with Lawrie, and after the meeting tells Kempe she can have Nick. Possibly within Keith's hearing, and Keith approves the decision--thinking best not to have these Marlow girls shine too much. Kempe is displeased, but recognizes Nick is still miles better than Jess.

Of course, this doesn't address the singing issue--no one would give up a soloist just like that, particularly one "who makes you feel like cold water down your back."

As an aside to biskybat--I love both New Term and Esther's Term. I forgot these weren't canon when I was reading them. Well done!

[buntyandjinx.livejournal.com]

On another note, I absolutely love the end of the chapter when Nick realises Lawrie was exaggerating the damage to the leg and they "eye each other". Another twinly rift, though at the same time it shows how they can read each others' thoughts and motivations.

Also love the fleeting appearance of the "super looking" Brockhurst games mistress, another fanfic opportunity surely? Another great example of Forest's emphasis on appearance.

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

Other peoples' games staff always did look nicer than one's own, though, I remember from my schooldays. And you could always tell them from other visiting staff (at matches and especially at tournaments) as they always looked so very uncomfortable in dresses and skirts, being (this was back in the 1960s, but was also true in the 1990s when my daughter was at school) the only staff to spend most of their time in comfortable trousers or even shorts.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

The timeline is probably all ahoo (and who knows when Josephine Tey's novels are set?) but since reading ankaret's crossover with Miss Pym Disposes (here (http://archiveofourown.org/works/28564)) I have suspected that the Brockhurst games mistress is Beau Nash...

declarations of love

[antfan.livejournal.com]

Is there ever an admission of love both direct and sincere in the series? I can't remember one

I can think of two, although one is in the historicals. The most moving acknowledgement of love I can think of (at least that's how I read it) is in Ready Made Family.

I wouldn't really think of this scene between Lawrie and Nicola as exactly to do with sibling "love" though, but it shows brilliantly how within families especially everything can be all wrong, and then suddenly and for no obvious reason, all fine again.

[mrs-redboots.livejournal.com]

'There was Nicola, here was Lawrie, and whatever people might be doing to them outside and whatever they might from time to time think of one another's clottishness, it made no difference really.' I believe this is is Forest-speak for 'they love each other'.

It's what they mean, but I don't think they would think of it in terms of loving each other. That, for them, would be far to embarrassing a thought to think. Also, I think it's probably a bit more than that; each of them has her own favourites among the rest of the family, but probably, if push came to shove, they would rescue each other from a fire before rescuing their preferred siblings.

I do find the fight in the art studio extremely funny. I don't know how Forest does it, but it is incredibly well-written and seems extremely plausible. We do know that Miranda and Tim don't particularly get on - as it says elsewhere "their friendship was with Nick and Lawrie rather than with each other", and both of them are capable of extreme cattiness at times - as are most popular schoolgirls, of course.

[jackmerlin.livejournal.com]

I love the fight in the art room. It is one of my all-time favourite scenes in the whole series. Good on Miranda for telling Lawrie and Tim the truth, and I love Esther's decisive 'yes' which shuts them all up. It is the first time all term that anyone has stood up for Nicola.

ouch, ouch, ouch

[antfan.livejournal.com]

Yes, Nicola does have a terrible time (even if she was a bit slow not to realise how Lawrie was sure to react to her joyful news). And though I do think Forest does a good job of showing that Marie is fundamentally not a nice person - ie not just irritating - the fact remains that Marie is never as vile as Tim often is in this book. And yet Tim remains one of the in-crowd.

the slightly unedifying but very believable processes of Lawrie’s mind

[antfan.livejournal.com]

Sorry, this comment is just to say I love that phrase!

Telling the twins apart.

[jackmerlin.livejournal.com]

Clearly Marie can tell the twins apart. She just knew it was Nicola when Nicola bumped into her. Then she checked her own conclusion by spying on the lettercase, clothes etc. I wonder if she knew because Nicola said sorry, even if in a distant and unfriendly way. Perhaps Lawrie wouldn't have even bothered saying sorry!

Re: Telling the twins apart.

[lilliburlero.livejournal.com]

That's right: I wonder if it's for similar, if almost inverted reasons to Tim--Tim observes people closely in order to exploit their weaknesses, where Marie, fearful of being bullied, observes people closely to anticipate what victimisation might be coming her way next?

Re: Telling the twins apart.

[elktheory.livejournal.com]

I've always thought that Forest was making some sort of commentary about the characters who can and cannot tell the twins apart. Tim and Jan are the two characters who can do so quite easily. No one else has that automatic facility, apparently. That seems significant to me, indicating something about these two characters that sets them apart from others. They certainly share a subversive, somewhat ironic outlook. I imagine that Tim will grow up to be quite similar to Jan. At 13, she is not yet mature enough to be quite so emotionally detached. By the age of 17 or 18, I can imagine her in pure Jan mode. In any case, Tim and Jan's shared ability to detect which twin is which strikes me as demonstrating not just their similarity to each other but also their perceptiveness about their surroundings.

Lois works out it is Nicola through her style of playing, which is a different sort of thing. But I find it fascinating that Marie is the only other character who "just knows" when she sees Nicola (though she does seek out proof, clearly lacking the confidence that Tim and Jan have). Marie has hidden depths.

[mainerobin.livejournal.com]

I love the scene of Miranda watching the play, her conversation with Crommie, her observation of her schoolmates, and understanding of the motives behind their actions. I picture Miranda as naturally intelligent and intuitive. It sounds like she's is manages schoolwork pretty well without having to struggle. I would say also that Nick is also like that. Neither of them seem to need to shine as the center of attention, unlike Tim and Lawrie, who both want recognition for their talents. In previous readings of this book, I've appreciated Tim's cleverness, self-motivation, and desire to produce, but now, I just see her as cruel and happy to ensure others do not shine more than she does (except for Lawrie).

Miranda's Exclusion/Tim

[antfan.livejournal.com]

I love Miranda watching too, though I was a bit surprised at the "faint melancholy" lilliburlero finds in the scene. Does Miranda really feel that excluded? She likes plays and she likes to be involved in things because she is that kind of person, but I picture her watching from the balcony primarily because she doesn't want the bore of having to explain her presence to a bunch of Lower Fifths who are trying to ingratiate themselves with Kempe (aren't Lower Fifths usually rather despised in Forest? I have a feeling they come up whenever she wants to signify vacuous types.)

[occasionalhope.livejournal.com]

In a sense, I wonder if she is repeating in a much less extreme form, Marie's trajectory? Marie went from "bossing the Second" to outcast pretty rapidly; Tim last year was a leading light in Third Remove, where there wasn't much competition for leadership, and the boost of the Prince and the Pauper meant she then shone in IIIA, enough to be form prefect in the summer term. Now she's just one of a group, no starring roles in plays or teams to mark her out, no formal position (she was clearly upset when she wasn't form prefect). Some of the nastiness she is displaying may come out of a (new) sense of insecurity. She can't even get any reflected glory from her Best Friend with Lawrie not in the play.

Readthrough and a question

[elktheory.livejournal.com]

I love the way these chapters explore one of the novel's main themes: seeing oneself as others see one, and how this process allows the characters to gain insight (or not) about themselves and others. When Lawrie witnesses the argument between Tim and Miranda, she sees herself from the outside, perhaps as a character in a play, and this starts the ball rolling in terms of her own self-reflection. Nicola, though seemingly more aware of the subtleties of interpersonal relationships, hasn't really noticed that Tim has been pulling away from her all term. It takes the jolt of the recasting of the Christmas Play for her to see herself from another POV. And then when she and Lawrie swop places, by stepping outside herself she begins to have a few uncomfortable realizations about her own behavior. One of my absolute favorite moments in the whole series is Nicola's uneasy dawning awareness that speaking "bravely and pathetically" when ill is probably rather maddening for everyone. Nicola even gains insight into what it might be like to be Marie Dobson, though her insights never go as far as I wish they would on a personal level (despite the fact that they seem completely convincing from a literary angle).

And now I'd like to ask about something that has puzzled me since my first reading of End of Term, some 30 years ago. During the swop, why do they pretend that Nicola is ill? Why doesn't Lawrie just pretend to be Nicola as usual? We are told explicitly that on Saturday mornings "it was comparatively easy to lose oneself around school." So why not just take advantage of that fact, keep their heads down, and switch back that afternoon?

Do they want to avoid situations where people can see the two of them together and draw conclusions? Does it have something to do with Lawrie's supposed injury? Were they worried that if Lawrie-as-Nicola limped around school that everyone would twig it was really Lawrie because they saw her fall in the gym? That seems unlikely. No one else seems to remember that Lawrie was supposed to be injured in the first place. And surely they could come up with a plausible reason for Nicola to be limping (slipped in the bath that morning or whatever). By adding this extra complexity to the plot, they end up involving Matron which seems an unnecessary risk. (Though I do love the fact that Lawrie is so convincing as an ill Nicola that Matron insists on a second day of bed rest!)

Have I missed an obvious explanation?

Re: Readthrough and a question

[(Anonymous)]

That's a bit of a poser. Because if Lawrie was expecting to be limping pathetically about in the morning, all she has done is make it likely she will have to limp in front of matron instead of quietly away from any staff. Maybe she thought a day in bed (with a book) would be nicer than a normal Saturday and saw it as a trade-off for missing the match? Or she genuinely supposed that her huge bruise would make her feel better lying down in bed?

Caroline

Re: Readthrough and a question

[hooloovoo_42]

I always read this as Lawrie's injury wasn't really bad enough to stop her from playing (even in a Lois-like way of playing through the pain), but she could use it as both an excuse and a legitimate (within their form/peer group) reason for the swap.

I think Nicola really knew the night before that it wasn't that bad, but also wanted a convenient push to have her only shot at playing in the team.

But both of them felt it would be more deceitful (in terms of the match, rather than anything else) for them to just swap and Lawrie spend the day wandering around being Nicola. Staying in bed at least gives some level of plausibility to Lawrie's leg not being up to it and them saving the aggro of the reserves having to play.

And the Lawrie-logic of giving up something and having to stay in bed would get her what she wanted means that she can't go off and spend the day doing anything else.

[the_antichris.livejournal.com]

The only Watsonian explanation I can think of for Dr Herrick not sacking Jess is that perhaps Barbara Evans was clumping through some of the hymns and therefore had to go. Jess couldn't act, but wasn't interfering with the music, so he either didn't mind or didn't feel qualified to overrule the school's casting. (Also, Ginty seems to have been chosen on looks and physical grace, but Dr Herrick wouldn't know who the acting talents were, so perhaps he felt hesitant about demanding Shepherd Boy auditions.)

I have a headcanon that Cromwell and Keith were rivals for the headship of Kingscote, and wonder what the place might be like with Crommie as head. Probably no less barmy, but in a very different way.

I would very much like to read this AU.

[occasionalhope.livejournal.com]

She may well have been spoiling the effect of Jan's Magnificat.

Brockhurst game

[mainerobin.livejournal.com]

I've read all the way through these comments and no one has mentioned Nick's performance at the Brockhurst game. I've always enjoyed reading these few minutes of pleasure for the whole team to all play above themselves. Even Marie's poor goal-tending skills don't get in the way--maybe she played above herself too. One of the things I do love about sports is that teams playing well together can be so much better than the sum of the parts. When that happens all of those hours of painful practise are worth the effort. I really enjoy this game because it is one of the few moments of joy Nick gets in the whole term.

Re: Brockhurst game

[buntyandjinx.livejournal.com]

I love that description too and disagree with those who dislike the netball scenes - the idea of playing that well being something Nick can hold onto always is very powerful.