What a powerful raw chapter! Brilliantly written. I love the way the old woman is linked to the adolescent. What strong currents flow through our lives from our adolescent years. The theme of wanting to run away is so well done. As Emma describes, I did actually run away from the same school. I remember most strongly the shock on the faces of my mother and my brother and my sister-in-law when I appeared like a ghost in the garden of our house in South London where they were all having tea. And as Emma describes, my mother drove me straight to Waterloo station and put me on a train back to school. I remember my brother's protests as we left the house "For God's sake Mum, let her at least have a glass of Ribena!" But I don't feel anger towards my mother. She was in anguish. I can remember knowing that as we drove through London to the station. And I remember a strange sense of calm coming over me in the car sitting next to her at the knowledge that the worst had happened--I was being sent back--but I was still there, in the world, with the streets of South London outside the window.
I've just listened to this three times. It's a beautiful interweaving of Maudie & memoir, third & 1st person narrative, and there's a surprising & tender moment when you address your mother, "Mum what did you actually feel?" Because feelings are something that our parents' generation tried to avoid feeling, let alone expressing, hence they were able to put you back on that boarding school horse again. AMG is a great cliff-hanger on which to end the chapter, and I'm hoping that, in the writing of Axe's demise, there'll be a catharsis, not just for us readers, but for you too. You will, in a very real sense be re-writing your own narrative, and experiencing that sense of agency, that has, at some deep level eluded you. I can't wait to hear the dénoument.....
Thanks for this, Emma. Much of it chimed with my experience of being in a boarding school. Especially the stomach churning at seeing the village name (which was the same as the school name) on a sign (or anywhere for that matter) and the seeing oneself as a character in a story rather than fully inhabiting oneself. Existential as you say! Yes too to the parallel between adolescence and old age.
Thank you, Emma. Yes, on a sign or ‘anywhere’. Amazing how just the sight of a name can trigger that somatic lurch. Interesting that you too relate to the ‘not fully inhabiting’ oneself.
What a raw and powerful chapter. I can't believe your sister was delivered straight back to the station!
I didn't go to boarding school but had a bad couple of years of bullying at school in my early teens. I remember one day, pleading some fake illness because I really couldn't bear it. Mum must have recognised that at some level - she let me stay at home, we went for a walk in the park and talked about her childhood. It was enough. Back to school the next day, but I treasure the memory of that respite.
Good for your mum, Anna. I know what you mean by it being ‘enough’. Paying attention to a child’s feelings and just giving them the space to spend time in the safety of a beloved adult’s zone is often all that is needed.
That "get back on the horse" approach you describe so vividly, is a very tempting way parents use to dodge underlying fears, isn't it? I really feel for your sister here.
Thank you, Wendy. Yes. But it’s interesting to read in my sister’s comment that she doesn’t feel anger towards our mum because she could sense the anguish.
AMG... brilliant. As for the picture, the Quarry was my safe space in senior school... I could scrabble up the almost vertical sides, from the bottom so fast that I could get to class on time on hearing the bell for lessons toll... knowing the paths was important.
Is Maudie the title of a previous book? I can't remember.
It is interesting reading your book. I have rather romanticised my memories but I know others who hated school. I used to go off for walks on my own and make up stories about who I was and where I was!
I like the idea of you weaving stories about yourself. I think the power of make believe is a child’s best friend. Maudie is the children’s novel that the narrator of this memoir (me) is writing in parallel to the memoir. Scenes from Maudie first appear in Chapter One and then crop up throughout the memoir.
What a powerful raw chapter! Brilliantly written. I love the way the old woman is linked to the adolescent. What strong currents flow through our lives from our adolescent years. The theme of wanting to run away is so well done. As Emma describes, I did actually run away from the same school. I remember most strongly the shock on the faces of my mother and my brother and my sister-in-law when I appeared like a ghost in the garden of our house in South London where they were all having tea. And as Emma describes, my mother drove me straight to Waterloo station and put me on a train back to school. I remember my brother's protests as we left the house "For God's sake Mum, let her at least have a glass of Ribena!" But I don't feel anger towards my mother. She was in anguish. I can remember knowing that as we drove through London to the station. And I remember a strange sense of calm coming over me in the car sitting next to her at the knowledge that the worst had happened--I was being sent back--but I was still there, in the world, with the streets of South London outside the window.
Beautiful response to your memory, beloved sister. It belongs in the chapter.
I've just listened to this three times. It's a beautiful interweaving of Maudie & memoir, third & 1st person narrative, and there's a surprising & tender moment when you address your mother, "Mum what did you actually feel?" Because feelings are something that our parents' generation tried to avoid feeling, let alone expressing, hence they were able to put you back on that boarding school horse again. AMG is a great cliff-hanger on which to end the chapter, and I'm hoping that, in the writing of Axe's demise, there'll be a catharsis, not just for us readers, but for you too. You will, in a very real sense be re-writing your own narrative, and experiencing that sense of agency, that has, at some deep level eluded you. I can't wait to hear the dénoument.....
Thank you dear Lal for this thoughtful and insightful comment. A prompt for me to do some deep thinking. And thanks for listening so closely!
Thanks for this, Emma. Much of it chimed with my experience of being in a boarding school. Especially the stomach churning at seeing the village name (which was the same as the school name) on a sign (or anywhere for that matter) and the seeing oneself as a character in a story rather than fully inhabiting oneself. Existential as you say! Yes too to the parallel between adolescence and old age.
Thank you, Emma. Yes, on a sign or ‘anywhere’. Amazing how just the sight of a name can trigger that somatic lurch. Interesting that you too relate to the ‘not fully inhabiting’ oneself.
What a raw and powerful chapter. I can't believe your sister was delivered straight back to the station!
I didn't go to boarding school but had a bad couple of years of bullying at school in my early teens. I remember one day, pleading some fake illness because I really couldn't bear it. Mum must have recognised that at some level - she let me stay at home, we went for a walk in the park and talked about her childhood. It was enough. Back to school the next day, but I treasure the memory of that respite.
Good for your mum, Anna. I know what you mean by it being ‘enough’. Paying attention to a child’s feelings and just giving them the space to spend time in the safety of a beloved adult’s zone is often all that is needed.
That "get back on the horse" approach you describe so vividly, is a very tempting way parents use to dodge underlying fears, isn't it? I really feel for your sister here.
Thank you, Wendy. Yes. But it’s interesting to read in my sister’s comment that she doesn’t feel anger towards our mum because she could sense the anguish.
AMG... brilliant. As for the picture, the Quarry was my safe space in senior school... I could scrabble up the almost vertical sides, from the bottom so fast that I could get to class on time on hearing the bell for lessons toll... knowing the paths was important.
What a great image! You scrabbling up the side of the quarry. That ‘out of bounds’ place must loom large in so many ex pupils’ memories.
Is Maudie the title of a previous book? I can't remember.
It is interesting reading your book. I have rather romanticised my memories but I know others who hated school. I used to go off for walks on my own and make up stories about who I was and where I was!
I like the idea of you weaving stories about yourself. I think the power of make believe is a child’s best friend. Maudie is the children’s novel that the narrator of this memoir (me) is writing in parallel to the memoir. Scenes from Maudie first appear in Chapter One and then crop up throughout the memoir.