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4.36 AVERAGE
4.36 AVERAGE
adventurous
inspiring
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
Good, but not as tight as the author's works previously translated. Interesting and gripping, just a bit over-long for what it was.
This novel is set in Hungary during WW2 in the years 1943-44. It tells the tale of Georgina (Gina) Vitay, a city girl of 15 whose father, a general in the Hungarian army, consigns her to a strict religious school in a far-flung province, for reasons you learn early in the book. Gina struggles to fit in with her classmates, and struggles to understand the complex adult world around her, a situation which reaches both climax and denouement at the very end of the book. From beginning to end, what propels the story is the gap between what adolescent Gina thinks she understands about the adult world and its reality. A highly recommended and beautifully told story. I now look forward to ready the author’s novel, The Door.
Strong character development:
Yes
This book is going straight onto my list of favorites. Wow.
Hungary, 1943. Fourteen year-old Gina Vitay is sent away to live at a strict religious boarding school: the Matula Academy, in the rural town of Árkod. Her father, who has a high rank in the Hungarian army, tells her it is “necessary” he takes her there, but he fails to impart why this might be. Gina, being only fourteen, is more upset about being torn from her familiar surroundings (especially her dad, governess, aunt, and suitor) than with the larger picture: World War II is raging, drastically impacting everyone’s lives. As the war comes closer and closer to Árkod, Gina is trying to find her place in the strict girls’ school. She gets into trouble often, struggling to adhere to the school’s “black and white rules,” as she calls them.
Yet, what starts as a simple (but already interesting) story about a teenage girl attending boarding school, soon takes on a whole new dimension. It’s difficult to say anything without ruining the plot, but suffice it to say that despite the struggle of adapting to her new school, Gina slowly starts to realize something: she is much safer inside its buttressed walls than outside it.
About a quarter in, the story really picks up, hurtling towards its finale at warp speed. And yet, despite this velocity, Szabó never loses any of her characters’ complexity in the process. In fact, the whole cast of characters only grows more layered over time.
There is so much I loved about this story. Of course, the boarding school setting is already a huge plus - I love narratives set against a school backdrop. But it would be a mistake to simply relegate Abigail to the realm of “school stories,” as if it were another Enid Blyton series.
The setting is no mere backdrop to fun adventures. On the contrary, it is pivotal to the narrative, and shapes it to a large degree: the Matula limits Gina’s freedom and cuts her off from the people she loves, but it also provides her with security and community while the war rages outside. Much of the action stems from the tension between those two realities.
Aside from Gina’s fantastic coming-of-age process, the other thing that elevates the story from ordinary boarding school tale to literature, is the recurring presence of the eponymous “Abigail.”
Technically speaking, Abigail is a beloved statue in the school gardens that is surrounded by mystery: she is said to come to the aid of any girl who needs it. Gina dismisses this story as superstitious school lore - until she receives a message from Abigail herself. Needless to say, that’s when things truly take a turn.
I could not put this book down. I wanted to keep reading to stay in the world of the Matula Academy, with Gina and her friends Mari and (Piroska) Torma, the strict-but-kind deaconess Susanna, their Latin teacher Kőnig, the elusive Mitsi Horn, and the perpetually-irate head of school Gedeon Torma. Even when I started to suspect something about Abigail pretty early on, my hunch did not at all detract from my pleasure in reading this story: a testament to the complexity of Szabó’s writing, which was never just about Abigail.
Aside from just enjoying this immensely, there were also things that struck me, reading this as I am in 2021:
1. The implicit critique on “appropriate” gender roles
2. The sense of community
To start with the gender roles: this story was published in 1970, but set in 1943. Szabó herself came of age during the 1920s and 1930s. Those time stamps all leave an imprint on the novel: superficially, the girls (including Gina) all adhere to very strict, traditional ideas of Christian womanhood: they are all expected to be obedient, self-effacing, and ready to marry young. The girls themselves also have very fixed ideas of masculinity: they adore their history teacher Kalmár, who is young, handsome, and fit, and always chronicling the glorious victories of Hungary’s past. They see him as the ideal man: virile, unsentimental, ready for battle. Their Latin teacher Kőnig, on the other hand, is universally hated for his kindness and gentleness, which they perceive as effeminate and weak (side note: that perspective really drove me nuts throughout the book, because he’s such a nice guy!).
Those are just first appearances, however. Looking closer, Szabó (much like Austen or Brontë a century earlier) actually critiques the gender norms her characters seem to adhere to so readily. After all, virtually all the main characters are very spirited, feisty women. Gina is never restrained, and never ready to submit. Even Susanna, the pious deaconess, is much more than she seems.
And while they all behave well, all of the girls in Gina’s year collectively roll their eyes at their ridiculous school rules and jump at any chance to subvert them (I was so moved by the whole sequence at Christmas, especially, with Torma and the nightdress!).
Secondly, this book solidified some thoughts that I have been having for some years now.
This will sound controversial at first, but hear me out.
It is well-known (to the point of becoming cliché) that at this point in history, people in the western world are lonelier than they have ever been. Caught between rapid digitalization, hyper-capitalism, and ever-increasing individualization, community ties have been fraying for the past forty years, if not longer. Few people know their neighbors, let alone the family who lives around the corner, the guy who delivers the mail, or the person who runs the local bakery. Much of our lives are spent online.
While none of these things are bad developments per se, they are when they take away community without replacing it with anything else. When that happens, what is left is a void, filled by loneliness and (in some cases) discontent. In this way, the deterioration of community ties also plays into polarization: if people from the fancy neighborhood are in no way connected to their cleaning ladies or bus drivers and vice versa, then it is easy to start seeing one another as coming from entirely different worlds. I know I am stating the obvious here, but that kind of us/them thinking readily breeds resentment.
There is none of that at the Matula, because everyone has a place. Everyone has a place, and was part of the same community. The porter who watches over the school gate. The director in his office. Girls of all ages and all backgrounds. Sister Erszébet, who cooks for the entire school. At one point, it is even mentioned that parents who cannot afford their daughters’ tuition pay the school in produce, thus still affording them a chance at a good education by providing what they do have: their farmed goods.
(The same seems to be true for Downton Abbey-type households at the turn-of-the-century: everyone, from the scullery maids to the valets to the drivers and upperclass family members belonged to the same household. They belonged - together).
Sure - it was all very hierarchical. I am not claiming it was a perfect system, nor am I saying we should return to the kind of society in which your heritage determines your station in life. Definitely not.
But I do think books like these, which depict life before hyper-individualization took over, underscore the necessity of community and the sense of belonging and purpose that often go hand-in-hand with it.
It leaves me with a lot to think about.
Before you are turned off by my reflections on the state of society, however, let me reiterate that this book is not a pamphlet in anyway. Yet, it is SO much more than it may seem at first glance. It is neither simplistic nor straightforward; neither polemical nor apolitical. It’s a true coming of age story in the Hungarian country side amid World War II, where Gina learns more about life than she has in all her preceding fourteen years. As she reflects herself, looking at her school and schoolmates:
“Far from unrelieved bitterness, they had brought her light and joy and love and laughter. It was only years later, when Árkod and the massive bulk of Matula loomed up in her memory like rocks surfacing from under the retreating tide, that she came to understand exactly what she had felt that evening” (281).
Hungary, 1943. Fourteen year-old Gina Vitay is sent away to live at a strict religious boarding school: the Matula Academy, in the rural town of Árkod. Her father, who has a high rank in the Hungarian army, tells her it is “necessary” he takes her there, but he fails to impart why this might be. Gina, being only fourteen, is more upset about being torn from her familiar surroundings (especially her dad, governess, aunt, and suitor) than with the larger picture: World War II is raging, drastically impacting everyone’s lives. As the war comes closer and closer to Árkod, Gina is trying to find her place in the strict girls’ school. She gets into trouble often, struggling to adhere to the school’s “black and white rules,” as she calls them.
Yet, what starts as a simple (but already interesting) story about a teenage girl attending boarding school, soon takes on a whole new dimension. It’s difficult to say anything without ruining the plot, but suffice it to say that despite the struggle of adapting to her new school, Gina slowly starts to realize something: she is much safer inside its buttressed walls than outside it.
About a quarter in, the story really picks up, hurtling towards its finale at warp speed. And yet, despite this velocity, Szabó never loses any of her characters’ complexity in the process. In fact, the whole cast of characters only grows more layered over time.
There is so much I loved about this story. Of course, the boarding school setting is already a huge plus - I love narratives set against a school backdrop. But it would be a mistake to simply relegate Abigail to the realm of “school stories,” as if it were another Enid Blyton series.
The setting is no mere backdrop to fun adventures. On the contrary, it is pivotal to the narrative, and shapes it to a large degree: the Matula limits Gina’s freedom and cuts her off from the people she loves, but it also provides her with security and community while the war rages outside. Much of the action stems from the tension between those two realities.
Aside from Gina’s fantastic coming-of-age process, the other thing that elevates the story from ordinary boarding school tale to literature, is the recurring presence of the eponymous “Abigail.”
Technically speaking, Abigail is a beloved statue in the school gardens that is surrounded by mystery: she is said to come to the aid of any girl who needs it. Gina dismisses this story as superstitious school lore - until she receives a message from Abigail herself. Needless to say, that’s when things truly take a turn.
I could not put this book down. I wanted to keep reading to stay in the world of the Matula Academy, with Gina and her friends Mari and (Piroska) Torma, the strict-but-kind deaconess Susanna, their Latin teacher Kőnig, the elusive Mitsi Horn, and the perpetually-irate head of school Gedeon Torma. Even when I started to suspect something about Abigail pretty early on, my hunch did not at all detract from my pleasure in reading this story: a testament to the complexity of Szabó’s writing, which was never just about Abigail.
Aside from just enjoying this immensely, there were also things that struck me, reading this as I am in 2021:
1. The implicit critique on “appropriate” gender roles
2. The sense of community
To start with the gender roles: this story was published in 1970, but set in 1943. Szabó herself came of age during the 1920s and 1930s. Those time stamps all leave an imprint on the novel: superficially, the girls (including Gina) all adhere to very strict, traditional ideas of Christian womanhood: they are all expected to be obedient, self-effacing, and ready to marry young. The girls themselves also have very fixed ideas of masculinity: they adore their history teacher Kalmár, who is young, handsome, and fit, and always chronicling the glorious victories of Hungary’s past. They see him as the ideal man: virile, unsentimental, ready for battle. Their Latin teacher Kőnig, on the other hand, is universally hated for his kindness and gentleness, which they perceive as effeminate and weak (side note: that perspective really drove me nuts throughout the book, because he’s such a nice guy!).
Those are just first appearances, however. Looking closer, Szabó (much like Austen or Brontë a century earlier) actually critiques the gender norms her characters seem to adhere to so readily. After all, virtually all the main characters are very spirited, feisty women. Gina is never restrained, and never ready to submit. Even Susanna, the pious deaconess, is much more than she seems.
And while they all behave well, all of the girls in Gina’s year collectively roll their eyes at their ridiculous school rules and jump at any chance to subvert them (I was so moved by the whole sequence at Christmas, especially, with Torma and the nightdress!).
Secondly, this book solidified some thoughts that I have been having for some years now.
This will sound controversial at first, but hear me out.
It is well-known (to the point of becoming cliché) that at this point in history, people in the western world are lonelier than they have ever been. Caught between rapid digitalization, hyper-capitalism, and ever-increasing individualization, community ties have been fraying for the past forty years, if not longer. Few people know their neighbors, let alone the family who lives around the corner, the guy who delivers the mail, or the person who runs the local bakery. Much of our lives are spent online.
While none of these things are bad developments per se, they are when they take away community without replacing it with anything else. When that happens, what is left is a void, filled by loneliness and (in some cases) discontent. In this way, the deterioration of community ties also plays into polarization: if people from the fancy neighborhood are in no way connected to their cleaning ladies or bus drivers and vice versa, then it is easy to start seeing one another as coming from entirely different worlds. I know I am stating the obvious here, but that kind of us/them thinking readily breeds resentment.
There is none of that at the Matula, because everyone has a place. Everyone has a place, and was part of the same community. The porter who watches over the school gate. The director in his office. Girls of all ages and all backgrounds. Sister Erszébet, who cooks for the entire school. At one point, it is even mentioned that parents who cannot afford their daughters’ tuition pay the school in produce, thus still affording them a chance at a good education by providing what they do have: their farmed goods.
(The same seems to be true for Downton Abbey-type households at the turn-of-the-century: everyone, from the scullery maids to the valets to the drivers and upperclass family members belonged to the same household. They belonged - together).
Sure - it was all very hierarchical. I am not claiming it was a perfect system, nor am I saying we should return to the kind of society in which your heritage determines your station in life. Definitely not.
But I do think books like these, which depict life before hyper-individualization took over, underscore the necessity of community and the sense of belonging and purpose that often go hand-in-hand with it.
It leaves me with a lot to think about.
Before you are turned off by my reflections on the state of society, however, let me reiterate that this book is not a pamphlet in anyway. Yet, it is SO much more than it may seem at first glance. It is neither simplistic nor straightforward; neither polemical nor apolitical. It’s a true coming of age story in the Hungarian country side amid World War II, where Gina learns more about life than she has in all her preceding fourteen years. As she reflects herself, looking at her school and schoolmates:
“Far from unrelieved bitterness, they had brought her light and joy and love and laughter. It was only years later, when Árkod and the massive bulk of Matula loomed up in her memory like rocks surfacing from under the retreating tide, that she came to understand exactly what she had felt that evening” (281).
dark
emotional
hopeful
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
mysterious
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Complicated
lighthearted
mysterious
medium-paced
adventurous
challenging
emotional
reflective
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
i so loved everything about this book 💗 so beautifully written and translated, gina was such an amazing main character i felt that i shared all her sentiments and funny ideas. all the side characters were amazing as well, in particular mari kis and torma and of course kőnig 💗💗💗 will not stop thinking about this book for a long while i can already tell 💗 and sweet general 😭😭😭😭😭
2.5/5
"در حال برگشتن به محل سکونت موقتش همان احساسی را داشت که گاهی توی خانه سراغش میآمد وقتی بخاری خاموش میشد و به نظر میرسید گرما از لای دیوارها بیرون میرود. آگاهی به زندگی در جهان غریبهها به او فشار میآورد. زندگی تحت انقیاد مقرراتی که مدام در ضرب آهنگ زندگیاش خلل وارد میکرد زندگی در جایی که هر چیزی که به او تعلق داشت، هر چیزی که جزئی از او بود خیلی خیلی دور به نظر میرسید. در حقیقت آن شب با هیچکدام از آنها احساس صمیمیت نکرده بود: او هم مثل تورما یتیم بود..فقط آدمهای بزرگسال میتوانستند به اندازه او، ورای اشک و آه، تنها و غربب باشند. غوطهور در اندوهی شبیه اندوه آدمهای مسن."
حقیقتا نمیدونم دقیقا چه احساسی راجع به این کتاب دارم.
قبلا از این نویسنده، کتاب " در " رو خونده بودم، و اون کتاب من رو تمام و کمال شیفتهی خودش کرد.
اما از ابیگیل خیلی خوشم نیومد.
با اینکه کتاب یک قسمتهاییش به شدت دوست داشتنی و جذاب میشد، و من رو در احساسات (خوشی، غم و ..) غرق میکرد. در بیشتر مواقع، روند اتفاقات کتاب بسیار روتین، معمولی و خسته کننده بود.
بیشتر از همه خسته کننده.
خوندن این کتاب با این قطع و ۶۰۰ صفحه، یک ماه تمام زمان برد، انقدر که اتفاقات این کتاب خسته کننده بود برای من و نمیتونستم ادامهاش بدم و گاها خوندن یک صفحهازش خستم میکرد.
شخصیت پردازیها اصلا قوی نبود، و تقریبا میتونم بگم الان که کتاب تموم شده هیج درک خارق العاده و عمیقی از هیچکدوم از شخصیتها ندارم.
کتاب، سراپا قابل حدس بود، من از ریزترین اتفاقات، از هویت ابیگیل، از جاسوسی ژنرال ازش صحبت میکرد، همهی این هارو، با همون اولین اشارهها به این مسائل حدس زدم.
یک چیزی که بیشتر از همهههه چیز منو اذیت کرد، قهر بچهگانه و رفتارهای بد بچهها با گینا بود. که در مسخرهترین و احمقانهترین شکل خودش قرار داشت و خیلی الکی ادامه دار شد.
من خودم یک زمانی یک دختر ۱۴ ساله بودم، و بهتونمیگم که اصلا از این خبرا نیست، این لول از خویشتنداری، غرور، بدجنسی و هزاران چیز دیگه، اصلا در اون سن وجود نداره.
تنها نکتهای که دوستش داشتم، رابطهی بین ژنرال و گینا بود که بارها قلبم رو گرم کرد و چشمام رو پر از اشک و وجودم رو پر از حسرت.
یک چیز دیگه هم که دوستش داشتم توی این کتاب، روند نوشتار بود. این رو قبلا هم گفته بودم، سابو، داره یک صحنهی خیلی احساسی یا شاد رو توصیف میکنه، و یکهو انگار از وسط اون صحنه فاصله بگیره و بیاد عقب و عقب و عقبتر، و اتفاقات بدی که قراره سر کاراکتر ها بیاد و اونها هنوز ازش خبر ندارند رو برای خواننده در عادیترین حالت ممکن و بی احساس ترین شکل بیان میکنه. و این تضاد خیلی برای من دوستداشتنی بود. دقیقا عین روند زندگی بیرحم. و بارها اشکم رو در آورد.
درمجموع، خوشحالم که خوندمش چون با خودم عهد بستم کتابهای نخوندهام رو بخونم و نصفه کتابی رو رها نکنم، ولی، اگر به عقب برگردم، این کتاب رو نمیخرم و هیچموقع هم نمیخونمش. خوندنش چیزی به من اضافه نکرد.
پ.ن: کتابی که من خریدم، چاپ خیلی قدیمی تری بود، و اصلا ویراستاری درست حسابیای نداشت که این خیلی اذیتم کرد.
"در حال برگشتن به محل سکونت موقتش همان احساسی را داشت که گاهی توی خانه سراغش میآمد وقتی بخاری خاموش میشد و به نظر میرسید گرما از لای دیوارها بیرون میرود. آگاهی به زندگی در جهان غریبهها به او فشار میآورد. زندگی تحت انقیاد مقرراتی که مدام در ضرب آهنگ زندگیاش خلل وارد میکرد زندگی در جایی که هر چیزی که به او تعلق داشت، هر چیزی که جزئی از او بود خیلی خیلی دور به نظر میرسید. در حقیقت آن شب با هیچکدام از آنها احساس صمیمیت نکرده بود: او هم مثل تورما یتیم بود..فقط آدمهای بزرگسال میتوانستند به اندازه او، ورای اشک و آه، تنها و غربب باشند. غوطهور در اندوهی شبیه اندوه آدمهای مسن."
حقیقتا نمیدونم دقیقا چه احساسی راجع به این کتاب دارم.
قبلا از این نویسنده، کتاب " در " رو خونده بودم، و اون کتاب من رو تمام و کمال شیفتهی خودش کرد.
اما از ابیگیل خیلی خوشم نیومد.
با اینکه کتاب یک قسمتهاییش به شدت دوست داشتنی و جذاب میشد، و من رو در احساسات (خوشی، غم و ..) غرق میکرد. در بیشتر مواقع، روند اتفاقات کتاب بسیار روتین، معمولی و خسته کننده بود.
بیشتر از همه خسته کننده.
خوندن این کتاب با این قطع و ۶۰۰ صفحه، یک ماه تمام زمان برد، انقدر که اتفاقات این کتاب خسته کننده بود برای من و نمیتونستم ادامهاش بدم و گاها خوندن یک صفحهازش خستم میکرد.
شخصیت پردازیها اصلا قوی نبود، و تقریبا میتونم بگم الان که کتاب تموم شده هیج درک خارق العاده و عمیقی از هیچکدوم از شخصیتها ندارم.
کتاب، سراپا قابل حدس بود، من از ریزترین اتفاقات، از هویت ابیگیل، از جاسوسی ژنرال ازش صحبت میکرد، همهی این هارو، با همون اولین اشارهها به این مسائل حدس زدم.
یک چیزی که بیشتر از همهههه چیز منو اذیت کرد، قهر بچهگانه و رفتارهای بد بچهها با گینا بود. که در مسخرهترین و احمقانهترین شکل خودش قرار داشت و خیلی الکی ادامه دار شد.
من خودم یک زمانی یک دختر ۱۴ ساله بودم، و بهتونمیگم که اصلا از این خبرا نیست، این لول از خویشتنداری، غرور، بدجنسی و هزاران چیز دیگه، اصلا در اون سن وجود نداره.
تنها نکتهای که دوستش داشتم، رابطهی بین ژنرال و گینا بود که بارها قلبم رو گرم کرد و چشمام رو پر از اشک و وجودم رو پر از حسرت.
یک چیز دیگه هم که دوستش داشتم توی این کتاب، روند نوشتار بود. این رو قبلا هم گفته بودم، سابو، داره یک صحنهی خیلی احساسی یا شاد رو توصیف میکنه، و یکهو انگار از وسط اون صحنه فاصله بگیره و بیاد عقب و عقب و عقبتر، و اتفاقات بدی که قراره سر کاراکتر ها بیاد و اونها هنوز ازش خبر ندارند رو برای خواننده در عادیترین حالت ممکن و بی احساس ترین شکل بیان میکنه. و این تضاد خیلی برای من دوستداشتنی بود. دقیقا عین روند زندگی بیرحم. و بارها اشکم رو در آورد.
درمجموع، خوشحالم که خوندمش چون با خودم عهد بستم کتابهای نخوندهام رو بخونم و نصفه کتابی رو رها نکنم، ولی، اگر به عقب برگردم، این کتاب رو نمیخرم و هیچموقع هم نمیخونمش. خوندنش چیزی به من اضافه نکرد.
پ.ن: کتابی که من خریدم، چاپ خیلی قدیمی تری بود، و اصلا ویراستاری درست حسابیای نداشت که این خیلی اذیتم کرد.