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lilyfathersjoy 's review for:
The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie
by Muriel Spark
Being, once again, unspeakably lazy, I'm just copying-and-pasting my reactions from the Woman Who Talked Too Much Benign Book Dictatorship:
Like many people, I read the book after seeing the movie, and the first time I read it, as a teenager, I remember being taken aback to learn that one of the girls was "famous for sex". The book was a bit over my head at that time. I was a late-bloomer, somewhat dense about social signals (unlike Sandy, who starts picking them up at the age of eleven when she first notices the "Edinburgh good morning"), and was confused by the line of the book's narrative which runs back and forth in time, rather like poor Mary McGregor in the hotel fire. Also, I don't recall ever having a crush on a girl, and am beginning to wonder if I missed a crucial stage of development. (It would explain a lot.)
Re-reading it this time (or rather, listening, as I had the audio-book version with Geraldine McEwan narrating), I was struck by how much I most clearly remember of the movie is not in the book. Jean Brodie is dark with strong Roman features, for example. Even on the cover of the audio-book, a water-colour portrait shows her with short, red hair. Maggie Smith certainly left an indelible impression on us as Jean Brodie.
Other quotes I treasure ("And the aieege of chivalry is daieed!" or "Mary McGregor. I always wondered by you called her by her full name. I think it's because you had trouble remembering who she was.") don't appear in the book either. The screenwriter was Jay Presson Allen adapting his stage play, so the characters are streamlined (four Brodie girls instead of five, with Mary McGregor covering for two characters in the book, a strictly chronological story line, etc.) skilfully, mind, but it's a very different story, isn't it?
The book is an unflinching look at the childhood and adolescence of girls, with all its subtle cruelty and thoughtlessness and bewilderment.
At the close, my thoughts keep being drawn back to the heart-breaking fate of Mary McGregor, always the scapegoat, always at fault, running back and forth helplessly in the hotel corridor, trapped by fire.
Actually, come to think of it, I didn't find the book that funny at all. Maybe I really did need a girl-on-girl crush...
Like many people, I read the book after seeing the movie, and the first time I read it, as a teenager, I remember being taken aback to learn that one of the girls was "famous for sex". The book was a bit over my head at that time. I was a late-bloomer, somewhat dense about social signals (unlike Sandy, who starts picking them up at the age of eleven when she first notices the "Edinburgh good morning"), and was confused by the line of the book's narrative which runs back and forth in time, rather like poor Mary McGregor in the hotel fire. Also, I don't recall ever having a crush on a girl, and am beginning to wonder if I missed a crucial stage of development. (It would explain a lot.)
Re-reading it this time (or rather, listening, as I had the audio-book version with Geraldine McEwan narrating), I was struck by how much I most clearly remember of the movie is not in the book. Jean Brodie is dark with strong Roman features, for example. Even on the cover of the audio-book, a water-colour portrait shows her with short, red hair. Maggie Smith certainly left an indelible impression on us as Jean Brodie.
Other quotes I treasure ("And the aieege of chivalry is daieed!" or "Mary McGregor. I always wondered by you called her by her full name. I think it's because you had trouble remembering who she was.") don't appear in the book either. The screenwriter was Jay Presson Allen adapting his stage play, so the characters are streamlined (four Brodie girls instead of five, with Mary McGregor covering for two characters in the book, a strictly chronological story line, etc.) skilfully, mind, but it's a very different story, isn't it?
The book is an unflinching look at the childhood and adolescence of girls, with all its subtle cruelty and thoughtlessness and bewilderment.
At the close, my thoughts keep being drawn back to the heart-breaking fate of Mary McGregor, always the scapegoat, always at fault, running back and forth helplessly in the hotel corridor, trapped by fire.
Actually, come to think of it, I didn't find the book that funny at all. Maybe I really did need a girl-on-girl crush...