I don’t know how long a train journey to Cornwall would take these days, but in 1946 it apparently took up the better part of a day.  On arriving at the station, the girls board coaches — which, as a child, I eventually realised referred to buses — and we have a moment that will be revisited later in the series:

‘Can we see Malory Towers from here?’ asked Darrell, looking all round.

‘No. I’ll tell you when we can. There’s a corner where we suddenly get a glimpse of it,’ said Alicia.

‘Yes. It’s lovely to get that sudden view of it,’ said Pamela, the quiet head-girl of North Tower, who had got into the coach just behind Alicia and Darrell. Her eyes shone as she spoke. ‘I think Malory Towers shows at its best when we come to that corner, especially if the sun is behind it.’

Darrell could feel the warmth in Pamela’s voice as she spoke of the school she loved. She looked at her and liked her.

Pamela saw her look and laughed. ‘You’re lucky, Darrell,’ she said. ‘You’re just beginning at Malory Towers! You’ve got terms and terms before you. I’m just ending. Another term or two, and I shan’t be coming to Malory Towers any more—except as an old girl. You make the most of it while you can.’

And our first glimpse of the school lives up to expectations:

They rounded a corner. Alicia nudged her arm. ‘There you are, look! Over there, on that hill! The sea is behind, far down the cliff, but you can’t see that, of course.’

Darrell looked. She saw a big, square-looking building of soft grey stone standing high up on a hill. The hill was really a cliff, that fell steeply down to the sea. At each end of the gracious building stood rounded towers. Darrell could glimpse two other towers behind as well, making four in all. North Tower, South, East and West.

The windows shone. The green creeper that covered parts of the wall climbed almost to the roof in places. It looked like an old-time castle.

‘My school!’ thought Darrell, and a little warm feeling came into her heart. ‘It’s fine. How lucky I am to be having Malory Towers as my school-home for so many years. I shall love it.’

No one would ever mistake Blyton for a great stylist, but I do love her description of the school.  I don’t think St Clare’s is such a vivid physical presence in the series.

Needless to say, for Gwendoline, the setting feeds her imagination:

‘It’s just like a castle entrance!’ said Darrell.

‘Yes,’ said Gwendoline, unexpectedly, from behind them. ‘I shall feel like a fairy princess, going up those steps!’ She tossed her loose golden hair back over her shoulders.

Alicia’s typically scornful, and promises that Miss Potts will knock such fancies out of Gwen.  Which makes me feel rather bad for her, because at twelve I still nursed secret princess fantasies, and frankly don’t think they ever hurt anyone.

On the other hand, Blyton doesn’t seem to regard this as an expression of imagination from Gwen, more like vanity and self-indulgence.  But it’s not as if Alicia’s attitude is going to help Gwen develop as a person.

…also, I suppose, by the time I was twelve, they were secret princess fantasies (and secret starship captain fantasies, and secret superheroine fantasies) for a reason.

Via Alicia, we get a quick tour of the school, which apparently has one science lab but multiple needlework rooms.  (Actually, I shouldn’t mock – a sewing room is a hell of a lot easier and cheaper to set up than a lab, especially in a very old building.  I did grade 8 at a girls’ school which had been fundraising for years to set up a manual arts block.)

At last, we meet the matron of North Tower.  Saving variations required for plot reasons, if you’ve met one of Blyton’s matron’s, you’ve met all of them:

Each of the Tower houses had its own matron, responsible for the girls’ health and well-being. The matron of North Tower was a plump, bustling woman, dressed in starched apron and print frock, very neat and spotless.

Alicia took the new girls to her. ‘Three more for you to dose and scold and ran after!” said Alicia, with a grin.

Darrell looked at Matron, frowning over the long lists in her hand. Her hair was neatly tucked under a pretty cap, tied in a bow under her chin. She looked so spotless that Darrell began to feel very dirty and untidy. She felt a little scared of Matron, and hoped she wouldn’t make her take nasty medicine too often.

Then Matron looked up and smiled, and at once Darrell’s fears fell away. She couldn’t be afraid of a person who smiled like that, with her eyes and her mouth and even her nose too!

By now Alicia basically has it in for Gwen.  Earlier she gets a very mild telling off (with twinkly eyes) from Miss Potts for referring to her as “darling Gwendoline”.  Now:

‘I’m Gwendoline Mary Lacey,’ said Gwendoline.

‘And don’t forget the Mary,’ said Alicia, pertly. ‘Dear Gwendoline Mary.’

‘That’s enough, Alicia,’ said Matron, ticking away down her list. ‘You’re as bad as your mother used to be. No, worse, I think.’

Legacy student privilege.  The old (brown and orange) school tie.  I liked Alicia a lot as a kid, but these days I think Gwen isn’t the only one who needs a few lessons in social graces.

The chapter ends with Darrell and her schoolmates going downstairs for supper:

Darrell looked round at the tables. She was sure she would never know all the girls in her house! And she was sure she would never dare to join in their laugh and chatter either.

But she would, of course—and very soon too!

And if you’re thinking this seemed like a very short chapter, you’d be right — I estimate chapter 1 clocked in at about 2200 words; chapter 2 looks like it’s 1800-1900, roughly.

(How to estimate a book’s word count: take a full page of text.  Count the words in a full line, multiply that by the number of full lines, and multiply that by the number of pages in the book or chapter.  Adjust as needed for half-pages etc.  I’ve checked this a few times against DRM-free ebooks — thank you, Baen — and it’s reasonably accurate.)

Now, I’m off to rearrange my room and hopefully create a more congenial space for writing.  Provided that I can find my tape measure.

Begin at the beginning, right?  Although I must confess that the first Malory Towers book I read was Upper Fourth, sitting in the bedroom of my friends down the road.  I was nine, and my parents, who were trying to wean me off Enid Blyton, were not too pleased when I came home with a whole new obsession.

The series opens with protagonist Darrell studying herself in the mirror:

Darrell Rivers looked at herself in the glass. It was almost time to start for the train, but there was just a minute to see how she looked in her new school uniform.

‘It’s jolly nice,’ said Darrell, turning herself about. ‘Brown coat, brown hat, orange ribbon, and a brown tunic underneath with an orange belt. I like it.’

Two things that jump out:

• Normally this would be a handy chance for the author to slip in a description of her main character, but instead we only know what Darrell is wearing.  The school is as much a character as any of the girls, and this is essentially what all the characters will be wearing most of the time.  Blyton, in general, doesn’t describe the physical appearances of her main characters — I think we do eventually learn that Darrell is tanned, with short dark hair and bright eyes, and in the Famous Five series we know that George is … also tanned, with short dark hair and bright eyes, and looks like a boy.  But other aspects of her main characters’ appearances are often conveyed only through the illustrations — Anne’s perennial golden bob and headband, for example.
• My inner Nancy Mitford compels me to point out that Blyton uses the upper middle-class “glass” instead of the decidedly non-U “mirror”.
• Dear God, that uniform sounds hideous.  Though I generally agree with Mai from Avatar: the Last Airbender:  “Orange is such an awful colour.”

Darrell felt excited. She was going to boarding school for the first time. Malory Towers did not take children younger than twelve, so Darrell would be one of the youngest there. She looked forward to many terms of fun and friendship, work and play.

‘What will it be like?’ she kept wondering. ‘I’ve read lots of school stories, but I expect it won’t be quite the same at Malory Towers. Every school is different. I do hope I make some friends there.’

HINT:  Darrell’s quest for a friend is the main emotional theme of this novel!  TRY TO KEEP UP.

A character who’s very important to Darrell, and the book, is her father, so it’s quite odd that he doesn’t actually appear here.  Instead, we get a brief flashback:

She had already said good-bye to her father, who had driven off to his work that morning. He had squeezed her hard and said, ‘Good-bye and good luck, Darrell. You’ll get a lot out of Malory Towers, because it’s a fine school. Be sure you give them a lot back!’

Darrell’s father, like Blyton’s second husband (for whom Darrell herself was named), is a surgeon.   Blyton’s father characters are generally cranky types who occasionally appear from out behind a newspaper to lay down the law, but Mr Rivers is unexpectedly vivid.  And whatever you think of the psychology of portraying your new husband as your self-insert’s father, Blyton’s affection and admiration for the man is obvious.

We’re off to London to catch the school train.  It’s a scene that will be familiar to anyone who’s read Harry Potter (so, everyone):  a dedicated train, a platform crowded with students who all seem to know each other, and one rather lost newbie.  The Malory Towers train, though, is divided into four carriages, one for each house.  Sadly, students aren’t assigned to their houses by singing haberdashery, but stay tuned for a few chapters and I’ll get around to talking about how Blyton is Team Hufflepuff all the way.

‘I shall never know all these girls!’ she thought, as she stared round. ‘Gracious, what big ones some of them are! They look quite grown-up. I shall be terrified of them.’

‘Hallo, Lottie! Hallo, Mary! I say, there’s Penelope! Hi, Penny, come over here. Hilda, you never wrote to me in the hols, you mean pig! Jean, come into our carriage!’

Have to say, just from her vocab there, Darrell seems a million years older than the senior students. “Gracious!”

Darrell looked for her mother. Ah, there she was, talking to a keen-faced mistress. That must be Miss Potts. Darrell stared at her. Yes, she liked her—she liked the way her eyes twinkled—but there was something very determined about her mouth. It wouldn’t do to get into her bad books.

Re-reading a few months ago, I was struck by just how likable a character Miss Potts, Darrell’s house-mistress, is, and also how much she’s basically Minerva McGonagall.  JK Rowling owes such a debt to these books — and I mean that in the best possible way — that I’m really surprised no canny US publisher has bothered to release them over there.

Miss Potts introduces Darrell to classmate Alicia, who has bright, twinkling eyes and no other physical characteristics.  Alicia is downright, sensible and likeable, and she and Darrell promptly bond through the mockery of another student:

‘I say—look over there. Picture of How Not to Say Good-bye to your Darling Daughter!’

Darrell looked to where Alicia nodded. She saw a girl about her own age, dressed in the same school uniform, but with her hair long and loose down her back. She was clinging to her mother and wailing.

‘Now what that mother should do would be to grin, shove some chocolate at her and go!’ said Alicia. ‘If you’ve got a kid like that, it’s hopeless to do anything else. Poor little mother’s darling!’

The mother was almost as bad as the girl! Tears were running down her face too.

Our adolescent drama queen is Gwendoline Mary Lacey (or, in some books, Lacy).  She’s a spoilt, selfish only child who has been sent to boarding school to get some common sense bullied into her.  She’s a fairly horrible person, but as a  child, the very first fan fiction I ever wrote was redemption fic.

In case it isn’t obvious, Alicia points out the contrast between Mrs Lacey and the mothers of the more sensible girls.  Then, to complete the point, we meet Sally, the third new girl for North Tower:

Another girl came up to the carriage, a small, sturdy girl, with a plain face and hair tightly plaited back. ‘Is this Miss Pott’s carriage?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ said Alicia. ‘Are you the third new girl? North Tower?’

‘Yes. I’m Sally Hope,’ said the girl.

‘Where’s your mother?’ asked Alicia. ‘She ought to go and deliver you to Miss Potts first, so that you can be crossed off her list.’

‘Oh, Mother didn’t bother to come up with me,’ said Sally. ‘I came by myself.’

‘Gracious!’ said Alicia. ‘Well, mothers are all different. Some come along and smile and say good-bye, and some come along and weep and wail—and some just don’t come at all.’

I’m not going to start taking a shot every time someone says “Gracious!”  I promise.

Sally is one of the most interesting characters of the book — though not necessarily the series — but to say more at this point would involve spoilers.  AND YES, I’M WORRYING ABOUT SPOILERS FOR A BOOK PUBLISHED IN 1946.

Here’s a nice early glimpse at Alicia’s less charming qualities.  In Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, we know that Draco is a nasty little boy because his second attempt at befriending Harry involves insulting Ron’s family.  Here, Alicia does the same and it’s presented as amusing, although also quashed flat by Miss Potts.  BECAUSE MISS POTTS IS ACTUALLY THE BEST.

More evidence for the POTTS FOR PRESIDENT argument:  her appraisal of the new characters:

Miss Potts looked at Gwendoline. She had already sized her up and knew her to be a spoilt, only child, selfish, and difficult to handle at first.

She looked at quiet little Sally Hope. Funny little girl, with her tight plaits and prim, closed-up face. No mother had come to see her off. Did Sally care? Miss Potts couldn’t tell.

Then she looked at Darrell. It was quite easy to read Darrell. She never hid anything, and she said what she thought, though not so bluntly as Alicia did.

‘A nice, straightforward, trustable girl,’ thought Miss Potts. ‘Can be a bit of a monkey, I should think. She looks as if she had good brains. I’ll see that she uses them! I can do with a girl like Darrell in North Tower!’

In conclusion, POTTS.  I bet she’s the maiden great aunt of Pepper Potts, and taught her everything about being super-fabulous, organised, smart and BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD.

Now we have the train ride o’exposition.  The school is situated on a cliff in Cornwall, overlooking the sea.  Four towers hold the school houses, but students take lessons together.  (There’s not, I should say here, any kind of house cup, though occasionally we get glimpses of some kind of demerit system.)

Gwendoline is not a fan of exposition, on account of how she isn’t the centre of attention.  Alicia, who has three older brothers and no tact whatsoever, is less than sympathetic:

‘I feel sick,’ announced Gwendoline at last, quite determined to be in the limelight and get sympathy somehow.

‘You don’t look it,’ said the downright Alicia. ‘Does she, Miss Potts? I always go green when I feel sick.’

Gwendoline wished she could really be sick! That would serve this sharp-tongued girl right. She leaned back against the back of the seat, and murmured faintly. ‘I really do feel sick! Oh, dear, what shall I do?’

‘Here, wait a bit—I’ve got a paper bag,’ said Alicia, and fished a big one out of her bag. ‘I’ve got a brother who’s always sick in a car, so Mother takes paper bags with her wherever she goes, for Sam. I always think it’s funny to see him stick his nose in it, poor Sam like a horse with a nose-bag!’

Gwendoline subsides into silent sulking, musing that Alicia is horrid and unlikeable.  Darrell, on the other hand, is nursing a platonic adolescent crush:

But Darrell looked at Alicia with amusement and liking. How she would like her for a friend! What fun they could have together!

 

An adult man reads a Malory Towers book for the very first time.  Starting with the final one, no less!

I like his verdict — after commenting on the, uh, questionable treatment of Mamzelle Dupont and the sad lack of Darrell’s notorious temper in this book, he concludes:  I think it does no harm to sample a setting where there are a variety of female role models to choose from.

I also like the commenter who notes that Claudine at St Clare’s is a novel about mothers and daughters.  (And not just because her favourite Malory Towers novel is the same as mine!)

That made me think of an earlier idea of mine, to do a chapter-by-chapter reading of the Malory Towers and St Clare books, and possibly also the Naughtiest Girls. I read the first two series just a few months ago, and had a lot of thoughts about the treatment of class (obvious) and fatness (less so), and also the characters in general.  Maaaaaaaaaybe as a once-a-week thing?  Or, possibly, twice a week, given that I have Wednesdays off.  I’ll give it some thought while I do my groceries, and may start later this afternoon.