trennels | Attic Term: Readthrough, Chapters 1-4

lilliburlero.livejournal.com posting in

Thanks very much to

coughingbear for writing the posts on The Cricket Term. I'm back in the saddle for this one, but if anyone is interested in a post on later chapters of this novel, on Run Away Home or the Players novels, please let me know below or by pm. Discussion proceeds here about exactly what order we're going to do things in: if you have feelings please let us know in comments at that post. Suggestions for themed posts are here.

So, forward to The Attic Term!

We pick up the story again at the end of the summer holiday that is beginning at the close of Cricket Term, leaving a swathe of unnarrated summer into which to insert fic. This has been your regularly scheduled fic prompt. Ginty and Patrick's friendship has clearly developed, and they have privately continued their Gondal fantasy. I enjoy the detail that Ginty finds more opportunities for romance with Patrick's Hamlet in reading Horatio than she does in reading Ophelia, because it's so true! There are! Her continued nervousness around Regina is an ominous sign, though, and Patrick does seem as skittish as Catkin when things get a touch amorous. Ginty's disinclination to talk to Patrick about Monica and vice versa continues the series' theme of Home and School and never the twain.

We learn something of Patrick's school life, and its contrasts with Kingscote: it seems more academically pushy, with O-levels taken early, and with far less of a culture of compulsion around extra-curricular activities. There are hints of Patrick's dissatisfaction with reform in the Catholic Church and his school's enthusiastic embrace of that--Ginty presumably knows something of his views there, because she doesn't enquire why the 'trad' Christmas Play was hastily rejected, though we sense that perhaps Patrick doesn't discuss theology with Ginty very much. (Incidentally, I'm wondering what sort of details might make a Nativity Play seem too 'trad' in a post-Vatican II climate?) It is, in any case, a lot more satisfying to have him expound his beliefs to Nicola in the next chapter, because of the resonance with the ride from Wade Abbas in End of Term. The discussion of plays--whether Hamlet or Eugene O'Neill, furthers the theme of pretence. Patrick cannot act, but he can pretend to be someone--a nice and subtle distinction. This month's number of the Journal of Read It Somewhere Studies tells me that Forest's school put on Marco Millions, which must then have been a pretty new play, since it first appeared on the Broadway stage in 1928. Anyone ever seen it?

'Imagine asking. Suppose you got told,' says Ginty of Unity Logan's officious efforts on behalf of June White, demoted from Candle Angel in the Play in End of Term. Here Ginty asks, and very nearly gets told, but in the last sentence of the chapter decides that there are some things she'd better off not knowing. It's a wonderfully light-touch portrait of two young people who like the idea of being in a romance rather more, one senses, than they actually like each other. The moment at which Patrick shies from Ginty's 'tense, insistent' face and diverts the conversation to Claudie (oh, Patrick!) is brilliant. If he was conscious of what he was doing it would be cruel, but Forest switches point of view to show us he isn't, though I'm not sure that makes him any more likeable at that moment. What do others think of Ginty and Patrick's doomed friendship?

Nicola's awkward presence at cubbing uncomfortably reminds us of happier times she's spent with Patrick. Forest--rather cunningly--doesn't give us Patrick's viewpoint in this chapter, so we're left with the sisters as mutually resentful rivals. I'm also amused by her misunderstanding of the age and state of growth of their quarry, and her perking up when she realises they're not actually sending 'fubsy' cubs to their deaths. Is Ginty's 'resigned sisterly contempt' feigned? It's only just over a year ago in story-time that she was a fervent anti-bloodsports type, after all.

The breakfast-table conversation is notably malicious on Patrick and Ginty's part--I'm glad that Mr Merrick is there to stand up for Nicola. I rather wish that Patrick had got the telling-off he deserves for his bad behaviour at the hunt in Peter's Room, though. I like the oxymoron of '"Yup," said Nicola, automatically doom-laden, her spirits leaping up.' at the news of Ginty's being summoned away to packing.

Nicola's ease with Regina contrasts with Ginty's continued nerves, as the conversation which follows is surely intended as contrast: eccentric but revealing where Ginty's interactions with Patrick are bound by certain conventions and superficial.

'"Though I suppose she is quite used to strangers nowadays"' (ouch, Patrick!) is flagged by the authorial voice as significant; if it implies that Nicola is a stranger, it also suggests that Ginty is one too. Nicola's cheerful acceptance of the labour of sweeping out (the Merrick Boy displaying his extraordinary tact and charm again) eases the atmosphere between them, and their conversation becomes almost immediately quite profound, with Nicola's revelation of Edwin's researches into the farm log. Patrick's moment of reaffirmation in faith (and Nicola's initial misunderstanding of it) is quite touching, I think, the more so because it only makes emotional sense: his ancestor's courage on the scaffold doesn't render his beliefs (or Patrick's traddiness) any whit more true (as Nicola's later, private conviction that nothing is worth Tyburn acknowledges.)

Nicola and Patrick's shared dislike of being 'talked to' in ways they see as patronising by adults perhaps provides a further contrast with Ginty's horror of rows, and offers a distant fore-echo of Ginty and Nicola's later interviews with Miss Keith. I'm tickled and a bit appalled by Patrick's desire for 'masters to keep their distance and answer to Sir' (just like dogs in trouble, splendid bit of landed gentry arrogance from the Merrick Boy there). But he's clearly unhappy enough at school to want to leave before A-levels--I can't imagine that he struggles academically in the humanities, though I can quite believe his own estimate of his maths. Patrick's account of his school assemblies provides the irony that the trendier end of the Catholic Church is rather more low church (with extempore prayer and 'holy pop') than the Church of England solidities that Nicola is used to. In his reluctance to stand up and be counted we see Patrick's shyness emerging again, but perhaps also an ironic contrast with his illustrious ancestor. Later in the chapter, Patrick reflects sadly that there's no real danger involved in his modern sort of recusancy, only the sort of social embarrassment that a 'madly trad' assembly might bring. (I'd be inclined to regard this a very callow and silly sort of nostalgia were Patrick not the sort of bloke who brings an eighteenth-century throwing-knife to a showdown in a medieval dovecote, sees someone killed with it, hops into a stolen Rolls-Royce for a sexually-charged joyride with a teenage drug-smuggler who dies crashing it and then casually passes an ounce of uncut cocaine to his naval cadet friend as a souvenir of a crowded weekend. He's nothing if not a risk-taker.)

Mention of the Forty (Martyrs of England and Wales) places us presumably in summer 1971, since their canonization took place in October 1970. Anyone more up on matters theological than I care to comment on Patrick's views on the Vatican II reforms? How well do they represent traditional Catholicism in general, and Forest's own in particular?

I simply adore Nicola's persistent analogies of the Catholic Church with the Navy, by the way, and her reflections on Ginty's showing off to Patrick by affecting interest in Dante and medieval Latin are delicious. I first read Dante in Sayers' translation, and retain a fondness for it despite its terza rima being pretty cumbrous. (It's the only translation I know that bothers with a linguistic difference between Dante and Sordello, for example, for which I'll forgive it a lot--Sayers' Sordello speaks (rather kailyard) Scots.) But I also rather like The Constant Nymph, whose themes of rivalry and jealousy are obviously relevant here (also the source for Edwin's surname?) Forest seems associatively to connect The Constant Nymph with Sayers through Hilary's admiration of it as a bestseller with artistic merit in The Nine Tailors.

How do people read Nicola's interest in going to Mass? It's picked up again in Run Away Home, and I'm sure there'll be more discussion there, but what do you think her motivations are?

Though really, I think Nicola deserves better than the Merrick Boy, it is delightful to see them happy and self-forgetfully, adolescently earnest together; and by the time Nicola's recalled to Trennels, she's a good deal happier.

The differing reactions of the family to Nicola's arrival are nicely observed, I think, from Rowan's amusement, through Ann's worried humourlessness ('remindingly' is a good adverb), to Lawrie's immediate relating of the situation to her own concerns (the detail that Lawrie has developed a genuine fondness for the Idiot Boy, though, is charming--even if--typically Lawrie, she only does so when he is actually hers.) And oh dear, Ginty's jealous fury. Her anger at her mother betrays her into positively Lawrie-ish fantastic hyperbole ('suddenly famous and interviewed on TV'). Nicola's 'bubble of happiness' breaking as she realises that the conversation doesn't necessarily mean a renewal of her friendship with Patrick is rather heartbreaking though. But at least she's lucky at the dentist. I rather like the subtle difference drawn between 'smug' and 'cat-with-creamy', too: though 'unusually perceptive' is backhanded: Forest can't quite let Ann have her due.

We begin with a glimpse of Mrs Lambert's officious inefficiency, which will later produce some disastrous results. Causation and responsibility are important themes here--the novel is in fact full of 'coughing bears'--which is in its turn, I suppose, Forest's meta-narratalogical commentary on story-telling, its conventions and structures.

Esther's affection for Daks? Affected, babyish or 'scarey' [sic]? Her response to her mother's pregnancy does rather suggest the last, doesn't it? An echo with Nicola's 'one would always much rather it were one of the family', too, perhaps. Flats where they don't allow babies (as opposed to flats unsuitable for)? I can imagine some restriction of the sort in 1930s service apartments, possibly, but it seems a bit peculiar in the 1970s. But maybe people know of similar rules from their own or others' experience?

Ann gets her step to prefect, and is observed in her element with the Junior Side infants. Nicola's expectation of saccharine gratitude for taking Ann's trunk tray down gets a rebuke that is both enjoyable in itself and for the equanimity with which Nicola receives it. I'm also delighted by Nicola's observation of the carpenter's filling in a gap with spare parquet. I always rather enjoy that sort of thing myself.

Miranda's continued devotion to Jan--aw! Complete with illogical wish for her to have failed but not failed her A-levels. Miranda's holiday in Venice (tempered by the realisation that it would be 'gaudy' to send Jan a gift or card alluding to it) contrasts with Jan's postcard ('written small', oh Miranda) from her Norfolk or Lincolnshire home. A Wool Cross works well for either--I like the detail that while Forest is inconsistent about which side of the Wash Jan's hometown is on she has a clear idea of what sort of country she hails from. In case anyone has missed it, here is fic, by

legionseagle, exploring Jan's past, and the slight mystery that seems to surround her mother.

Comments on Wendy Tredgold's anti-semitism? Interestingly, both Wendy's implied remark about Miranda's father, and her articulated one about Miranda not knowing about the existence of Oxfam shops are tacitly supported by Nicola. Forest is characteristic in leaving it to the reader to decide whether Wendy really is anti-Semitic or whether she simply resents Miranda's wealth and (it has to be admitted) slight tendency to snobbery: the comments of hers that we hear are insinuating, but only of Miranda's wealth and privilege, not her Jewishness. There's a similar entwining of issues of class and anti-Semitism in End of Term, with the 'common little soul with the perm and the Jaguar'. Miranda is embarrassed, however, by her remark about the 'dreggy uniform dress', which draws attention to the Marlows' relative poverty. It's a very effective and understated sketch of the ways in which wealth does, and does not, map onto social privilege and status.

We see Miranda's unpleasant side in her dealings with Sandra Grigson, who is harmless if rather prolix--Miranda's putdown is startlingly vicious--if again, as Nicola is forced to admit, accurate. Miranda appears as an edgy and unsettling presence here, I think, with Nicola finding herself in agreement both with Miranda and her antagonists. The moment when Nicola wonders if her hurt at Patrick's rejection of her shows in similar ways to Sandra's by Miranda is actually painful to read. I'm mildly surprised that no-one but Sandra recognises Sara Crewe--if Cousin Jon had sisters (and perhaps even if he didn't, though it's perhaps not one that boys would be as familiar with as girls might be), there must surely be a copy of A Little Princess in the Trennels playroom, and Rose would have no trouble identifying the reference. Perhaps this is the flexible timeline coming into play, but I read A Little Princess in the 1980s, and indeed played the rat in a stage version. Burnett's novel, with its reversals of fortune and status and its emphasis on the power of imagination and storytelling, resonate subtly and slightly uncomfortably with this scene and the previous chapters.

Miranda's family, like Patrick's, has an au pair (in fact, 'one of our idiot au pairs' suggests a multiplicity, or a sequence at least, thereof). I'm not really familiar with au pairing and how it worked in practice in the 1970s--but Miranda seems to regard Elsa as a kind of servant, which I thought was very much not the idea. Anyway, it seems unlikely that Miranda has the sort of frisson with Elsa that Patrick has with Claudie, more's the pity.

The Disaster! The coughing bear! I love, 'Nicola meditated briefly on the disastrousness of being not merely rich, but an only child and never having to wear your sisters' outgrown gear.' And Miranda is notably cavalier about the garment, reflecting that ruining it will be no hardship. This passage is growling with potential coughing bears--from Miranda's anger at Wendy's 'nudging voice' to Avril's fear that chickens may come home to her roost.

I think that's enough from me for now. Over to you!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

oursin.livejournal.com

Isn't there an earlier mention - I think it's in Peter's Room - where Nicola picks up on Ginty talking knowledgeably about hunting and thinking back to the Unity Logan Anti Blood Sports (if not actual Hunt Saboteurs) era mentally commenting that now Ginty is talking to (with a subtext of wanting to impress) Patrick (the Ginty as chameleon theme).

From: (Anonymous)

Claudie is a daughter of friends of the Merricks, and although she does do some cooking and light housework, she is not a servant. I think there is no suggestion that she is expected to sleep with Patrick, and the Merrick parents would probably be horrified if they knew she effectively suggests it. Also, it is canonical that Patrick struggles with at least some humanities as well as maths. He has trouble with foreign languages, and his Latin also appears to be quite weak.
Lizzzar

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

No, I agree that Claudie probably benefits from her privilege as a friend of the family, though that doesn't mean necessarily that Helena doesn't exploit her a bit for her culinary skills...

His French is certainly fairly dodgy and unidiomatic, though that seems to be lack of speaking practice rather than a lack of aptitude in itself: shyness is a problem. I have a headcanon that he drives his Latin master bonkers with medievalisms, but I confess I don't remember anything about his Latin.

From: (Anonymous)

Patrick is in fact only depicted speaking French, and not writing it, so I'm not sure how weaknesses in spoken French mean that good written French is necessarily likely. I think the books strongly imply that he struggles in both spoken and written. He does not expect to pass an A level in it, and doesn't want to take one, preferring English and History if he has to take A level( Run Away Home).
Lizzzar

From: (Anonymous)

I must admit I am not quite sure what Headcanon is, but although it may help with writing fan fiction, I'm don't really think it's relevant to what actually happens in the books.
Lizzzar

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

I think you have the general gist of the term (http://fanlore.org/wiki/Headcanon), yes.

Edited Date: 2015-02-13 09:56 pm (UTC)

From:

coughingbear

He'd rather do English and History A-levels, but appears to accept the possibility of doing French and Italian instead - I'm not sure how seriously we are to take his 'I doubt I'd pass' in Run Away Home, compared to his problems with Maths (and given the conditions under which he takes his Maths O level, it would hardly be surprising if he didn't pass it).

From: (Anonymous)

It says in the introduction to the girls gone by edition that AF herself couldn't manage Matriculation, so she presumably genuinely thinks it is possible to be intelligent and have trouble with school, particularly exams. She doesn't seem to have been qualified for a full university degree and certainly never took one, just a journalism diploma, despite not wanting to be a journalist. I don't think there is anything to suggest that Patrick, although bright, isn't having genuine difficulty with some subjects. Certainly his schoolteachers may be implying that he just needs to work harder, but I don't think they are being endorsed.
Lizzzar

From: (Anonymous)

The one thing about Patrick that is surely consistent is his honesty. Unlike Ginty, for example, he is scrupulously honest, and this is a theme in Attic Term. It therefore doesn't make any sense of the character to claim that when he says he thinks he is struggling, will probably not pass foreign language A levels, he doesn't mean it, and would actually do fine with some work. He does appear to be working as hard as he reasonably can in Attic Term anyway.
Lizzzar

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

Yes, that's roughly what I meant: he hasn't presumably much practice in speaking French, and he's shy, so he might make silly mistakes, especially around Claudie, who makes him nervous for other reasons. He might write better than he speaks, and read better than he writes. That got me through a French A-level, anyway...

From:

legionseagle (from livejournal.com)

And, indeed, was the reason I opted for Latin 'A'. The sheer humiliation of trying and failing to say "station" with the proper French accent made me incline heavily to a language where at least some centurion wasn't going to bob up and say,"What part of cisalpine Gaul did you spring from, then? Come on, let's try it again."

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

Anthony Burgess writes somewhere about his resentment at French obliging him to make himself into a 'temporary Frenchman'; the requirement that not only do you get the sounds right enough to be comprehensible, you have to adopt an inflection as well. I can find it in myself to sympathise with the old sod.

From: (Anonymous)

People learning a second language in school usually are stronger in written than in spoken work. This was probably more true at the time the book was written than it is now, because older methods of teaching encouraged written rather than spoken expression and also tended to teach formal language suitable for reading and writing, rather than the informal/colloquial language of conversation. Patrick may well struggle in written French as well, but his level of written French is almost certainly higher than his level of spoken French.

--Katy

From:

the_antichris.livejournal.com

He's also had his two years at home, so I can imagine him making progress on his own in Latin, and in reading French, while his spoken French stagnated. Possibly another motivation for his parents to bring Claudie in?

From:

coughingbear

He's read Medieval Latin Lyrics enough to talk to Ginty about it and offer to lend it to her. Which does come with translations, of course, but suggests a certain ease with the subject.

From:

ooxc.livejournal.com

He's almost certainly have a Latin-English missal - standard First Communion present, which would give him certain complete sentences, but not much grammar - and ecclesiastical Latin isn't the same as classical

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

I do wonder where Ginty's hunting knowledge comes from--presumably in the case of cubbing Patrick's told her what to expect, but, yes, the earlier instance of her being knowledgeable? Books? Chats with Fred Studdart in the stables?

From:

legionseagle (from livejournal.com)

She's said (in EoT I think) to have hunted with a friend with whom she stayed in a previous holiday - presumably one of the Jocelyn/Isa etc mob.

From:

coughingbear

I think it's Peter's Room when she starts talking to Patrick and Peter reflects that she'd only hunted about twice when staying with a friend in Leicestershire.

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com

She's good at picking something up quickly and then coming across as if she's known it forever, isn't she? It's superficial, but it's also a Life Skill: I think Ginty might make more of herself than Mr Merrick estimates for her, anyway.

From:

coughingbear

I just found the passage, and Peter reflects that she's 'an excellent example of what Lieutenant Foley had once referred to disparagingly as that useful social and examination-room accomplishment of making a pint of knowledge fill a hogshead of ignorance'. (He then of course hates that he's thought about Foley.)

It is a useful skill - and especially if you know you're doing it and therefore are on the look out for additional knowledge.

Re: Ginty and blood-sports

From:

lilliburlero.livejournal.com - Date: 2015-02-13 09:17 pm (UTC) - Expand

Re: Ginty and blood-sports

From:

coughingbear - Date: 2015-02-13 09:19 pm (UTC) - Expand

From:

legionseagle (from livejournal.com)

It's also (as Foley points out) a useful thing for exams, which may perhaps explain those Form Prizes we were boggling about earlier? Especially since she combines it with charm and the people marking her papers actually know (unlike in the O and A levels) that they're marking her papers.

ETA it also ties in with her sucking up useful ideas and quotes from her sisters to make her Bronte project look better; perhaps a different take on Karen's sardonic request for footnotes?

Edited Date: 2015-02-14 11:30 am (UTC)

From: (Anonymous)

I'm not quite sure what cubbing involves either! Are they trying to kill the cubs (why?) and what is the rest of the hunting group doing? (both people/horses and hounds?!) I never really understood most of the hunting scenes in it.

rs

From:

scarletlobster.livejournal.com

It SOUNDS absolutely revolting. I imagine it is fox population - control, but without the sporting aspect of an actual hunt. Who on earth wants to stand round all morning in the hope of driving a cub into a pack of hounds?