Cringing at the Chalet by Sheena Wilkinson
"Joey had turned away with a sob. The mistress pulled her in at the
gate... Jo wept away the bitter grieving that had been welling up in
her heart all the week. Miss Annersley left her to herself for a time,
standing in the doorway to screen her from any passers-by." (CS and Jo,
p. 132)
Why is it that I can never read the above without cringing? It's
not the crying - I can take any amount of tears at the Chalet, even
Simone's, and goodness knows we don't blame Jo for crying at the news
that Robin doesn't have TB. As an Abbey fan, I have no inherent
difficulty with sentimentality. Robin can sing The Red Sarafan to her
heart's content, and I don't even mind her being described as an
angle-child. Auntie's letter always has me in floods and I can think
quiet thoughts about people falling asleep to wake with God with the
very best of them. In short, I am not a hard-boiled type (though Grizel
is my favourite character). However, the above passage and others like
it make me feel what Nicola Marlow would call 'hot and shy'. Why?
Other passages which make me bite the insides of my cheeks and rush
on to calmer emotional waters include Miss Annersley comforting Betsy
Lucy 'in that beautiful voice of hers' (Bride); Miss Annersley
comforting Bride herself later in the same book (what a busy term for
the Abbess!); and worst of all, Miss Annersley comforting Katharine
Gordon (Wrong); "The Head held her close. She drew Katharine to her and
kissed the tear-wet face. The girl clung to her for a moment." Arrgh!
The discerning reader has of course worked it out. It's Hilda
Annersley. She's an efficent and clearly much-loved Head, and I can
take her when she is doling out punishments to middles or speaking in
her beautiful voice at Prayers. But when she starts kissing and
comforting, I can't bear it. I've thought about this irrational
response of mine quite a bit and discussed it with my Chalet friend,
Susanne, whose reaction is, if anything, even more violent than mine.
Of course one could never stand the sort of soppy teacher who always
wanted you to confide your problems - but he Abbes isn't one of those;
she's quite astringent really, when she isn't patting shoulders and
kissing tear-stained cheeks. Perhaps it's that she sems to switch too
quickly from stern meter-out of justice to kissing, cuddling, shoulder
patting comforter of sad girls? Again, this seems unfair; surely the
ability to adjust in this way is one of the things which make her a
good Head? And yet I loathe it!
Is it that EBD's presentation of Hilda becomes increasingly
idealised? Characters presented without ambivalence are often
irritation. The adult Jo is perhaps the epitome of this, and yet while
I get a bit exasperated with Jo's infinite capacity for empathy, she
doesn't embarrass me in the way Hilda does. Perhaps that is because the
adolescent Jo is so very attractive that we are prepared to forgive her
almost anything as a rather annoying adult?
I have no firm theories about why those passages make me cring so, but
I would love to know waht other readers think - particularly if you
disagree! I can imagine that for many readers, scenes of girls
snuggling up to a sympathetic Miss Annersley arequite delightful. But
the, if we all felt the same there would be nothing left to discuss! |