A few people asked me when I was going on about school books whether I’d read Autumn Term by Antonia Forrest, and I said no and resolved to get my hands on it immediately.
Then it showed up and I realised at once that yes, I had OF COURSE read this classic about twins showing up at their new school where their siblings already shown. Although written just post the second world war, its observations of the rituals and passions amongst girls in their early teens left a huge impression; it’s a wonderful book, with a much more convincing villain in dough-y, self-righteous Marie than poor old Gwendoline in Malory Towers, who imo gets bullied for having a mother who cries when sending her eleven year old away from home.
A lot of Enid Blyton is quite difficult to read as an adult (although I did recently thoroughly re- enjoy her terrifying moral remake of the Pilgrim’s Progress, The Land of Far Beyond, which scared me rigid as a child. The only frightening thing about it this time round was that it cost me about twenty five pounds to buy second hand), but the Forrest was absolutely great.
Also disappointing was The School at the Chalet- I’d been thoroughly looking forward to revisiting all of these, but found the prose SO much stodgier than I remembered. All those little obedient Gretas and Berthes. If this baby turns out to be a girl, I wonder if she’ll adore them as much as I did. Although the living in Europe/ speaking different languages slant probably won’t be QUITE as exotic to her as it was to a wee girl from Ayrshire in the 70s…
