I really wish I’d started 2018 with a fantastic book. Something fun or inspiring or even with just a hint of literary merit. But I didn’t. I started it with The School at the Chalet by Elinor M. Brent-Dyer.
When the subject of boarding school books comes up, it is impossible to escape the Chalet School books. I’d spent years hearing about them and decided it was finally time to try the series for myself. Starting with The School at the Chalet in 1925, more than 60 books were published in the series. I can’t believe a sequel to this book was ever published, never mind 60-odd of them, but I suppose that tells you all you need to know about the bleak, meritless state of children’s publishing in the UK at the time. It’s especially shocking when you consider how many fantastic books – energetic, complex, and natural books that brought pleasure to adults as well as children – were being written for children of the same age in America. I kept reading hoping that suddenly a plot would emerge, or something approximating characterization, or even just a glimpse of vaguely competent writing. Nope. She makes Enid Blyton look like a master artist.
A brief summary before I continue explaining why the book is so bad: knowing that the income from the money inherited from their parents will not support twenty-four-year old Madge Bettany and her twelve-year old sister Joey in England, Madge decides to start a small girls’ school on a lake in the Austrian Tyrol. Not only will her meager income stretch farther there but the school will also (hopefully) prove profitable. So off they go with no qualifications or experience to bother them! Before long the school is a booming success with girls from England, France, America, Italy and Austria all attending, both as boarders and day girls. And that’s the book basically. They do absolutely nothing even remotely noteworthy. They quarrel and make up. The English girls are abominably rude to adults, to the horror of the well-brought up Austrian girls. A birthday party is held for the headmistress (Madge). And so on and so on. At the end, there are two dramatic rescues, neither of which is at all dramatic simply because you need a story structure to create tension before you can make a dramatic scenario at all satisfying. Without any structure, you have no drama and, crucially, no satisfaction.
My greatest (only) moment of pleasure reading this when came when one of the Austrian girls explained that English schools neglect academics and only seem to focus on healthy living. The Chalet School is determined to remain English in this way; lessons – or even a vague interest in learning – play absolutely zero role in this book. That’s normal enough in British books from this period but so out of step with the world as it was. Think of classic North American girls’ books of the time – like Daddy Long Legs or Anne of Green Gables – and their heroines’ focus on getting a university education. In comparison, the Chalet School girls spend half their day sewing.
I’ve never been near a library that owned this (my copy had to be brought in from a town 7 hours away) and that makes me rather proud. What excellent librarians I’ve had all these years who knew not to spend money on this book! It is the epitome of worthless drivel, combining poor writing with content of no redeeming value – except for possibly making its young readers aware of the Tyrol. Just buy them a picture book instead.
The Captive Reader 
Sorry your first book of 2018 was such a dud. It sound rather typical of a certain kind of children’s literature, which was for a time very popular. It’s a shame the girls in these stories couldn’t have been more inspiring and active. Hope your next read is better.
I think it is very typical of the time and place it was produced but, clearly, I find it incomprehensible that people still read it. Why??? At least now I can speak knowledgeably when these books are being discussed.
I’ve never read these books, but I’ve come across avid collectors & readers who talk about them as the classics of the boarding school genre. It doesn’t sound like I missed anything.
Too bad, because with 59 sequels, you could fill up a few years of your century
It’s a bleak world if these are considered classics. Yes, I think you can safely give them a skip.
I remember discovering and discarding the chalet school books way back in the 1950s, and like you failing to work out how any of them could sell. But I completely fail to understand why you compare them to Anne of Green Gables or Daddy Long Legs – both of which, while certainly better than the chalet books are nauseatingly sugar coated in my view, with LM Montgomery endlessly rehashing the same plots. In terms of a coeval for the writers you hold up as exemplars one should surely look more at the likes of E Nesbit, whose characters, even when she is writing fantasy, are far more true to life and who manage to interact with their surroundings without finding it necessary to talk to t their darling trees at every turn. And could I point out that while Brent Dyer was writing the appalling Chalet School, Dodie Smith was producing one of the finest of all coming of age books, I Capture the Castle. America produced many, many popular series of equally awful books that are contemporary with the chalet school, mostly centred around teenagers with more money than sense and a tendency to go camping with everything from cars to airplanes, and attract the attention of jewel thieves who also, apparently, enjoy the open air life. Which further reminds me of the British open air lifestyle books that are contemporaneous such as those by Arthur Ransome and Aubrey de Selincourt. Though they tend to prefer sailing to the motor boats of their American counterparts
Interesting points. While I agree that L.M.M. could write sugar coated fluff, Anne of Green Gables is not one of those books. Some of the later Anne sequels, yes, but not the original. Part of the fun of the Anne books is how humorous they are – with Anne’s ridiculous adolescent flights of fancy being one of the funniest things. And even if it presents a rosy world view (in common with the sentimentalism of the days) it at least does so with rounded characters, a coherent plot, and enjoyable writing that does not speak down to its young readers. Ditto Jean Webster’s books. E. Nesbit, for me, is in an in-between class of writers. I gave up on most of her books as a child, finding them silly and insubstantial, and haven’t had much luck going back as an adult. I’ve read a few of her adult novels and will try more again this year hoping for adequate results.
I completely agree that by the late 1940s (when Dodie Smith was writing) the standard of writing in all countries was shockingly higher than it had been twenty-odd years before when Brent-Dyer debuted her series.
When the Chalet series started, yes, there was trash being produced on both sides of the Atlantic but the key difference for me is that somehow these Chalet books remained in print and are mindbogglingly considered children’s classics by a fair number of people. The Camp Fire Girls and their ilk have no such distinction.
Well, maybe this means there’s only one direction to go in — better books! Happy New Year, Claire!
So true! I’m dipping into other books (The Riviera Set by Mary S. Lovell for gossipy history and The Diaries of Sylvia Townsend Warner for beautiful writing) so all is not lost.
I’ve never read the Chalet School books either, but as Britain had barely emerged from the traumatic horrors of the Great War, I can imagine people maybe only wanted to read frothy novels. It was a brutal age for many in Europe, the era my mother was born into.
An interesting idea. I think there’s some truth that British books for adults became more fluffy at this time but it seemed to have the reverse effect on continental and North American ones. For me, there is nothing wrong with light subject matter – certainly not for children’s books – if only the writing were at all competent!
Growing up in the U.S. I never heard of these books. Your post made me laugh. I know I shouldn’t but they do sound awful. The cover of the book would have been my first clue. Oh well, you can only go up from here for the rest of the year. Think of what you have to look forward to.
They weren’t big in Canada, either; I think I first learned of them from Lucy Mangan’s columns in the Guardian and then was a bit overwhelmed when I discovered book blogs and the enthusiasm online for old girls’ school stories.
I could forgive the cover – even find it charming – if only the content had been at all respectable!
My friend introduced me to these books at the age of about 11. We both read them avidly for a year or two (she got through rather more than I did). I certainly wouldn’t bother re-reading them now, but at the time the books gave me an appetite for the spectacular scenery of the Alps and the afternoon institution of “Kaffee und Kuchen” that has served me well over the intervening 50 years. My husband occasionally takes tour groups to the Austrian Tyrol, and when visiting Pertisau – the setting for the fictional school – he generally finds at least one Chalet School fan among his tour group.
A love of the alps and “kaffee and kuchen” are worthy take aways. If every young reader got that much out of the books, maybe they are worth reading!
I remember loving the series as an 11 year-old: I thought boarding school abroad was romantic and liked the bits of German that were slipped in. Having reread this first volume as an adult in case it would appeal to my granddaughter I was appalled at how dreary it was. It happens sometimes that a writer has lots of good ideas at first which then fade into repetitiveness. With Brent-Dyer it seemed to work the other way. She got into her stride over the next few volumes, even having Joey produce what seemed like hundreds of children, then despite evacuation of the school during the war ran short of ideas. Anyway, she must have pleased a number of readers because there is a Chalet School appreciation group!
Dreary is an excellent word for it! It’s interesting to hear she improved over time (I have heard that The Chalet School in Exile – the 14th book in the series – is the best of the bunch) and that was published in 1940, fifteen years after this. Still, it seems like an awful lot of books were needed in order to warm up her writing skills…
I read a similar 1925 school book, ‘The Abbey Girls in Town’ by Elsie J. Oxenham last year. She was another very popular writer of this time, but I thought the book was dire. I then found out that her books were quite long, and I’d read a very badly abridged copy, so I’ll reserve judgement and maybe try another some time. I don’t know if the same may apply apply to the book you read.
I had a similar bad abridged book experience with ‘A Girl of the Limberlost’.
I’ve come across that series too (and it’s inexplicably fond fans). Sadly, there was no abridgment excuse with this book – it was full and complete and as intended. Unfortunately.
So, you didn’t care for this book? Is that what you’re trying to say? (Insert very obvious wink here.) Sorry to hear your first book of the new year was such a dud. But, oh, how I chuckled at your grumpy critique!
All the more so because I have sitting right here my own first sample of Elinor M. Brent-Dyer’s much-referenced series. I have The New Chalet School, published (as far as I can make out) in 1938. No idea where it fits into the greater sequence. I paid a lofty $6 for it at the fabulous Nuggets Used Books in Chilliwack a few months ago. (A block down and on the opposite side of the street from The Bookman. I know you don’t care for Chilliwack, Claire, but if you can bring yourself to go there, these two stores are worthy of a prolonged browse. And if you can only hit one of them, go for Nuggets. Gold can indeed be found there! But I digress. Where was I?)
Ah, yes. Chalet School. Now looking forward to reading it more than ever after your beautifully brutal review. Forewarned, and all that! Nowhere to go but up, you know, after this sort of dud. Here’s hoping this was the low point of your reading year, and look, it’s now nicely behind you. 🙂
Upside of starting the year with a really, really bad book: the fun of writing a scathing review. And it is clearly lots of fun!
You have managed to make Chilliwack sound enticing – a very impressive feat! If I’ve ever out that way I’ll have to check out Nuggets.
You do have to check out Nuggets! Proper used book store, can’t believe I never found it before this past year – I was pointed its direction by Nat of Hope’s also-stellar Baker’s Books. These places add a couple of (happy!) hours to my transit time when Coast-bound.
Okay, this morning I took a run at *my* Chalet School book. You’re right. B-o-r-i-n-g. Life is way too short. Abandoned on page 20 or thereabouts. And yeah, the teachers have a weird attitude toward education, don’t they? “We hate Maths! We hate Science!” Ack! Run away, girls. Do not emulate!!!
I’m sorry the reading experience was bad, but I enjoyed reading about it 😉 Angry reviews are the most fun!
I’ve never read any either, but have at least two friends who are still besotted with them – and one of those friends has a very similar taste to me. They’ve never appealed at all, though, and this has helped ensure they never will!
They are the most fun! And, irritatingly, the easiest to write. If only we could write so easily about the books we love the most (cue Mr Knightley quote).
I have to confess to adoring the Chalet School books when I was 10! My best friend and I even took to using some of the slang. However, I have not revisited them in the last 40 years – I think my tastes may have changed ever so slightly in the intervening years
At ten you are forgiven!
Coming in belatedly here, but I have to comment because I loved the Chalet School books as a child, and I still love them – currently on my umpteenth re-read of the series. While they are certainly not great literature, I am surprised that you found the book lacking in characterisation; I feel that is one of Brent-Dyer’s strengths, and one knows her characters far better than Blyton’s, who generally have one characteristic at most, bludgeoned into us in each volume of a series. Brent-Dyer is also interesting to read now from a social history point of view, since her books were usually set when written, rather than in the alternative WWII-ignoring world that Blyton (and Oxenham) preferred to inhabit.
I think you’re also a bit hard on UK children’s book publishing of the 1920s. That decade saw the beginning of the Just William, Dr Dolittle, Little Grey Rabbit and Milly-Molly-Mandy series (all much-loved and all still in print) as well as A.A. Milne’s When We Were Very Young, Now We Are Six, and the Winnie-the-Pooh books, John Masefield’s The Midnight Folk, and some of Eleanor Farjeon’s short story collections. (I Capture the Castle – which I found dull and self-indulgent drivel! – didn’t appear until the 1940s.)
I agree with Rosie – I love the Chalet School books. I find the description and characterisation much better than those in most other school stories, and the war books are particularly good. But life would be very boring if we all liked the same thing. I’d highly recommend them to anyone though – the early ones in particular.